Kurrang looked away, almost thoughtful in a very human way. “No.”
“What do you mean, no?”
“He’ll either run or attack headlong. Reason is not something he will succumb to, and you know this. He has a technological superiority with his jammers and his links to his forces. He monitors their every move. We have to nullify his forces.” Kurrang turned to the fallen Mk 5. “What happened to that CASPer must be recreated.”
The proverbial lightbulb went off in Jessica’s head. Holy shit!
“Lucille? Are you listening to us?”
<
Jessica screwed up her face is disgust. “That’s an awful bug to deploy with a normal system update.”
<
Dad’s company? Jessica shook her head. “What? They sent out this bad update?”
<
Oh, Dad. Not you, too.
Sonuvabitch.
Jessica closed her eyes and tried not to hear Hak-Chet’s voice resonating in her mind. Secrets are everywhere, Jessica. Especially where we least expect them.
My father’s not a traitor.
Then why did he not want to be found?
Godsdamnit! Jessica clenched her fists and tried to clear her mind. She opened her eyes and saw Kurrang and Tara looking at her. Her friend, ten meters away, raised a thumbs-up. Step one was underway. “Kurrang. Can your squad be counted on to operate without you?”
“Of course they can.” Kurrang lowered his wide chin. “What do you have in mind?”
Jessica curved one side of her mouth into a half-smile. “I want them to harass the command ship and keep it from getting off the ground. The last thing we need are airborne guns.”
“What would you have me do?”
“You need to get word to Tirr. If he can get two of his guards out, he can get the rest of the MinSha out. Once they’re clear, we can go after your daughter.”
Kurrang bounced his head awkwardly. “Peacemaker? When my daughter sang this morning, she told me many things. One of them was that Tirr had sent help. I didn’t expect them to find us so soon, so I said nothing. I won’t make that mistake again. This morning, my daughter also said that Tirr has a plan he is prepared to execute. I believe he may already be moving.”
Jessica walked over to the CASPer’s ladder. “Can you give me a boost up, Kurrang? There’s not a moment to lose.”
* * * * *
Chapter Twenty-Seven
MinSha Compound
Weqq
The longer the human occupation lasted, the more intelligence Tirr and his soldiers were able to gather. Hushed conversations were ripe fruit. Humans didn’t understand that even their softest whispers moved the air around them. A MinSha sitting still and focusing on their antenna flexions could decipher the words with alarming accuracy. But most of the rowdy mercenaries had stopped whispering within hours of occupying the MinSha compound. They raided every compartment for valuables and anything they could trade with each other or keep for future prospects. By the end of the first day, when they’d tapped whatever reserves of alcoholic beverages they’d either found, scrounged, or made in haphazard distilleries, their disgruntled conversations grew in volume and hostility. The longer Reilly kept them on the planet and kept them from carrying out their mission, the worse it would get. Tirr wasn’t sure if that was from bloodlust or simple greed.
Still, the common denominator for all their conversations was actionable intelligence. Tirr and his guards knew Reilly’s expedition to what they believed was the entrance to a cavern system had departed four hours earlier and was taking a southerly course to their objective. To the east, they’d also observed smoke and the noise of an intense battle. When told about it, Reilly had laughed and dismissed it, saying something to the effect of a certain “bitch” wouldn’t be coming home, losing two skiffs and twenty infantry was a good trade, and their overall profit shares would go up. That seemed to placate any resistance to his cavalier approach to death. The logic made no sense to Tirr. He’d known several humans in his life, and all of them had a very different set of values from Reilly and his company. They would’ve protected each other to the very last man, not unlike the MinSha and more than a few of the other known species in the galaxy.
There had been no word from Murrh and Drech, however. Knowing that a battle had taken place gave him little hope that either of the guards would return, as directed, that evening. Ultimately, it wouldn’t matter. With Reilly’s forces split between the mediocre security forces at the compound itself, the relatively few assets in place to protect their downed vessel ten kilometers away, and the bulk of Reilly’s combat power marching steadily away, the time had come for Tirr to protect his colony. He’d carried the duty reluctantly since Psymrr’s assassination at the very start of hostilities, but as time went by, Tirr realized his military background wasn’t much different than that of a career politician, especially a colony leader. Taking care of his colony simply meant more numbers than his typical guard formation. Keep them fed, rested, happy, and well-led, and they would do what he asked, even when it meant that some of them might be killed.
He’d briefed the entire barracks in the hours after Murrh’s departure. There would be a time when they would collectively make a sudden move. It would be dangerous, but it was necessary to keep them alive and further drive a wedge between the human commander and his forces. The hour was early enough that all the MinSha were awake. Some lay in their hammocks, and others milled about the barracks floor. In a few places, children gathered and quietly played games with rocks and torn pieces of paper. All of it was perfectly illusionary. They’d done the same things before and would continue until Tirr took the next step. Everything relied on how the human guard reacted. They knew what had to be done, and everyone, down to the most capable child, understood the plan.
The barracks door opened, and one of the guards outside handed Antoine a canteen of water and what Tirr believed to be a ration pack. As the burly, dark-skinned guard moved to a rickety table and set down his ration to prepare it, Tirr cocked his head and made eye contact with his senior lieutenant, Flynt. Two minutes passed, and Tirr made eye contact with every MinSha who would meet his gaze. His unspoken message was clear.
It’s time.
Tirr looked back at Antoine and saw the human’s weapon on the table next to an open ration pack. The guard leaned against the wall and chewed what looked like the gods-awful thing humans called crackers and the butter of peanuts. If he took a big enough bite, Antoine might not even be able to call for help. Tirr took a deep breath and, as soon as the human guard prepared another large bite of cracker, stood and moved toward the front of the room. The heat of every MinSha looking at him seeped through his chiton and threatened to make him perspire.
Antoine popped the cracker into his mouth, and Tirr accelerated his pace and stood before the guard. “I’d like to request further maintenance of the ventilation system. This room is far too warm for MinSha.”
The human rolled his eyes and chewed. He looked away for a moment, reac
hing for his canteen, but his hand never closed the distance. Tirr slashed across his body with a short-bladed knife and embedded it into Antoine’s larynx, swiping hard across the neck, severing arteries. The bright, red blood sprayed in an arc that caught the low light of the room and spread across the rectangular window. One of the guards outside, a wide-eyed, bespectacled, black man called Edwards, gaped at the display and used a shaking hand to securely lock the door from the outside. Edwards’ mouth moved in a silent scream.
“Go!” Tirr pointed at his guards along the rear wall. The screened conduit cover flew to one side, and the one hundred and thirty-six MinSha remaining hustled toward the opening without a shred of panic. Children jumped into their parents’ arms, leaving beloved toys behind without a tear or cry. It was closer to perfection in a hasty movement action than Tirr had ever seen. All were to be commended. Tirr knew the pleasant feeling was something humans would call pride, but it couldn’t be helped. His colony knew what was at stake and were prepared to do everything necessary for their survival. They swarmed into the tunnels much faster than Tirr had imagined in his planning process. Flynt remained behind as the last of the scientists and citizens filed into the tunnels below the MinSha compound.
Tirr met his lieutenant’s eyes. “You know what to do. Gather volunteers to collect weapons from the central cache, and we’ll disable the human ship. Split the rest of the group and disperse them to the shelters. I will let you know when it is safe to emerge. If we do not survive, you have orders to attempt emergency communications. Close the tunnels behind you and prevent the humans from following, should I fail.”
Flynt touched a claw to his chest carapace in salute and ducked into the conduit system. Tirr followed him but took an immediate right into the wall structure, avoiding the descending steps into the tunnels below. Five meters into the wall system, Tirr heard the guards close the tunnel blast doors below. He waited another thirty seconds and felt the rumble of the rock tunnel as it collapsed. The first stage was complete, and there was nothing more he could do to assure the safety of the colony. He’d planned and executed what he could to support them. Completion of the mission now fell to his junior officers, but they were, in turn, relying on Tirr to complete his two-fold mission.
Despite the temptation to take command of the escape and reconstitute his forces to support whatever the TriRusk planned to do, Fuul had remained behind with the TriRusk child, and his responsibility was to them. Tirr consulted his slate. The persistent interference from the human mercenaries kept him from receiving communications feeds and data, but the only thing he wanted to check was the time. Fuul had two opportunities to initiate her part of the plan. If she heard a human alarm or recognized the rumble of the tunnel collapse, she would trigger the isolation chamber doors and a supplemental blast door that would protect her and the TriRusk child until he could make his way to them. By his own estimation, he had less than three minutes to make it through the conduit system to the infirmary and collect his two remaining charges. Once he had them in tow, he could worry about their escape. As long as the humans didn’t find the supplemental tunnel entrance under the northwest corner—less than twenty meters from the isolation chamber—they could make it.
Alarms brayed to life around the MinSha compound, and Tirr moved as quickly as he could into the tight wall spaces. Nearing the infirmary, he heard excited human voices from the walls outside. Fuul had activated the blast doors. All he had to do was get around them through the ventilation system and figure out a way to get word to the Peacemaker. Maarg had told him Jessica was alive and with the TriRusk, but that wasn’t enough. They needed her protection. At the exterior of the infirmary’s spaces, he heard Raleigh’s voice scream over the external communications speakers.
“Check all spaces! Check all internal spaces! There are tunnels under this complex, and the MinSha are fleeing. Get down into the tunnels and kill every last one of them!”
* * *
“Godsdamnit!” Raleigh tore off his headset and slung it across the command suite he’d taken over from Psymrr and the MinSha leadership. He ran for the door, pausing only to grab a laser rifle, a belt of ammunition he slung over his shoulder, and a small black plastic case. He’d made a mistake thinking the MinSha would simply sit docile in their captivity. They’d waited until the precise moment when his forces were unable to stop their escape, and they’d fled into the jungle where he could not stop them. The bulk of his forces were deployed forward and ready to attack the TriRusk’s settlement. His CASPers would not be able to get into the tunnel complex, and that meant his pilots would have to go down dismounted and face a numerically superior MinSha force.
Raleigh sprinted toward the main barracks room. Around an angled corner, he glanced into an unoccupied room and saw the large, rectangular conduit cover along the far wall. He stomped into the room, brought his rifle up and fired four quick shots at the bolt attachments. The heavy grate fell to the floor and revealed a space large enough for a MinSha to move through almost unimpeded. The tall, thin space reminded him of an old Tri-V show where technicians crawled around a spaceship in big tubes. It was the perfect escape route.
Raleigh propped his rifle against the nearby wall and opened the small black case. Inside, an elSha-built radar drone that fit easily in the palm of his hand whined to life automatically. Raleigh pulled on his command goggles and linked them to the drone with a touch on the goggles’ frame. The drone’s miniature, ducted fans spooled to life and lifted it effortlessly from the packaging. Programming the drone to map all the conduits and subterranean tunnels took Raleigh a precious minute and a half, but the high-speed drone would be capable of mapping everything in the complex in fifteen minutes or less. All they needed to find was a single tunnel entrance, and the pursuit could begin in earnest.
As he typed the final command, a communications window appeared.
//No contact via radio. Caverns found at INS grid locations specified. Electromagnetic interference identified. Confidence of target type and location is high. Permission to attack?//
Raleigh fumed. His angry headset throw had felt really good at the instant of release, but he’d almost put himself out of communication for the most critical moment of the operation. He flitted his eyes over the response window and typed a response in seconds.
//Attack//
The drone flitted into the conduit as another incoming communication window appeared.
//Kill or capture?//
Raleigh typed slowly and sent, //Kill everything that moves.//
I have what I need, he thought and ran for the infirmary. There might be other children in the TriRusk compound, even ones capable of the same biochemical magic, but it didn’t matter. Profits mattered. The diamonds in his possession would be enough. Nothing was going to stand in his way. He owned the airspace with his flyers and the terrain with his CASPers, and he had far superior fire power. His costs might be a little more, but the profit was worth every last round of ammunition and the prizes to his troops. No more surprises and—
He lost the thought as he met Edwards in the passageway. Raleigh snarled at the young man and ripped away his headset. He tugged it on and called up the command frequency with four quick taps.
“Gryphons! Connect to mapping drone on frequency Theta. Follow the MinSha and report their position. Engage only from standoff range.” Raleigh didn’t wait for a reply as he changed over to the frequency he’d assigned to Tara Mason and her patrol. The reports of a firefight in their vicinity didn’t give him hope, but if they were alive and able to move, he needed all the combat power he could muster. “Deathangel 25, Boss. SITREP.”
A burst of static erupted on the frequency, and he knew instantly from the connection that someone in the patrol was alive, but they’d likely been disabled, at least partially, by an electromagnetic pulse weapon. Mason’s voice cut through the static a half-second later. “Boss, Deathangel 25. Sustained heavy casualties in coordinated attack from the bird-things and the TriRusk. Both
skiffs destroyed. Twenty-eight KIAs. Mike 77 and I are moving your way with heavy damage.”
Raleigh snapped, “Get back here as fast as you can. We’ve lost the MinSha and the operation at your forward location has started. You’ll refit and take charge of the MinSha pursuit—when you find them, you’re going to execute all of them immediately. Is that clear?”
Mason replied simply, “Roger, boss. Deathangel 25 on the move. ETA is sixteen minutes at our present speed.”
“Move your ass, Mason. Your future depends on it,” Raleigh sneered as he terminated the connection. He passed the barracks room and saw the blood across the inside of the door’s glass insert. He began to run and adjusted his goggles’ data feed to accept data from the mapping drone. The little bastard zipped through hidden conduits and piping with incredible precision and agility. Mapping of the compound was already forty-two percent complete, and as Raleigh turned his head from side to side, hidden passageways and subterranean tunnels appeared as light-green highlights. They were everywhere.
Rage flowed through his body, and Raleigh punched the jamb of a door as he raced to the infirmary. A sickening crack flowed through his left fist. He’d broken a finger, maybe two. The rush of pain sobered his racing mind enough for him to realize the infirmary’s external blast doors were closed, and two panicked guards were trying to short-circuit the locking mechanism. They saw him approach and turned back to the panel, trying to get the doors open. Raleigh slowed to a trot and then a menacing walk as he closed the last fifteen meters to the guards.
“Get it open! Get it open!” one of them called to the other.
Raleigh lowered the barrel of his rifle. “Doesn’t matter now,” he said and squeezed the trigger. He fired three bolts into each of them and stepped over their smoking corpses to bang on the blast door with the butt of his rifle.
“Tirr! I know you’re in there,” he shouted, A grin crossed his face as he studied the display in his goggles. There was a tunnel into the chamber and three conduits that looked large enough for a human to get inside. “I’m coming, Tirr, and there’s not a godsdamned thing you can do about it!”
Honor the Threat (The Revelations Cycle Book 12) Page 30
