by David Estes
“The red planet. It’s hot and rough. There are said to be monsters here, though I’ve never seen them. Being a Chameleot, I was welcomed on arrival both times. A mage guard was sent from the official landing pad to escort me into the closest Grem city, Gurook. The City Without Day.”
“What sort of monsters?” Vee asked.
“Holy godstars,” Frank said, staring at the rear holoscreen. The sunlight streaming over the ridge crept past their ship and behind, shimmering on the edge of the still star-rig, which looked like a dead beast made of metal. All around it were corpses, the ground splattered with gore.
They were not human.
Frank zoomed the camera closer, isolating one of the dead.
Vee bit the side of her mouth and looked away. Minnow made a vomiting sound. Miranda cursed under her breath. And Terry said, “Those sorts of monsters. Welcome to Urkusk. Let’s take a walk, shall we?”
Chapter 28
Urkusk
Being inside the ghoulish mouth of the cave was better than Dacre had expected. It was cooler for one. Behind them, the sun would be rising and the temperature would be reaching for a spot between boil-me-alive and seared-human-flesh.
No wonder the Grems live underground, he thought, already gaining a greater appreciation for the locals. Most assumed they were cave dwellers because they were strange. He wondered whether much of their appearance—the hunched backs and rough, gnarled skin—was simply an act of evolution. After several thousand years underground, he suspected humans would look different too.
At first the tunnel was much like the outside planet—rough and unfinished. But then, like brackish water filtered clean, the tunnel transformed. The rough walls turned smooth. Not just shaved and sanded down, but constructed of expertly cut marble, cool to the touch. Dacre ran his finger along it, marveling at the craftsmanship. And yet, this was supposed to be some sort of a back entrance, unguarded.
He stopped. The others didn’t notice and continued along until he said, “Wait.”
Coffee turned first, his eyebrows lifting, his face illuminated by the edges of his gun-light. “Shit,” he said, realizing exactly what Dacre had a moment earlier.
What? Kukk’uk clicked. Now that they were in the tunnel and headroom was minimal, the Cir’u’non had tucked their wings behind them and returned to their feet.
Coffee said, “This is too easy.”
Dacre nodded. “The Grems wouldn’t just let strangers walk through the backdoor. Heck, there wasn’t even a door at all. Just an opening.”
Easy? Kukk’uk said. Those monsters were not easy.
“Even if the Grems could somehow control the monsters, or convince them to guard this entrance, they wouldn’t assume they would stop all intruders. They would have a backup plan.”
“The scary mouth thing,” Coffee said. “Only a bunch of idiots would go inside.” He offered a thin smile.
You want to turn back? Kukk’uk said. Go knock on the front door?
Dacre was learning something new about the Cir’u’non every day. Now they were capable of sarcasm. Apparently. “No. I’m just saying we tread carefully. Coffee goes first.”
“Very funny,” the man said. “But I will if you will. We can lose our heads together when massive blades swoop down from above.”
“Fine,” Dacre said, taking up position at the front. The two men walked slowly, side by side, glancing furtively about them. Dacre felt aura swarming his system in anticipation of whatever might come. His mag-blade glowed brighter.
“Easy there,” Coffee said.
Dacre took a deep breath and his sword dimmed slightly. His finger remained at the ready, however. A quick spell could save all their lives.
An hour later, they were still walking, and the tension had eased somewhat. Time and boredom did that. “The Grems are smart,” Coffee said. “They’re wearing us down. Making us easier targets.”
Or this tunnel leads to nowhere, Kukk’uk said. Why would a map of this part of Urkusk be readily available on the galactosphere when so much of the planet is unknown?
“Then why would they spend so much time on the walls?” Dacre said.
“Another ruse?” Coffee suggested.
It was possible, Dacre supposed, but still seemed like an awful waste of effort. Then again, the Gremolins had often shown that they were willing to play the long game if it meant protecting their way of life and avoiding giving in to the Alliance.
“Is the tunnel curving?” Coffee asked, gesturing to the wall. “Or is it just me?”
Dacre stopped. Squinted. It was hard to tell in the poor light. In truth, it would’ve been hard to tell in the light of day. “Can those lights get any brighter?” he asked.
“I don’t want to run down the batteries or we’ll be toast,” Coffee said.
“Just for a second. Shine it straight forward, as far as it’ll go.” Dacre silently cursed himself for not thinking to perform such a test earlier.
Coffee tapped the holoscreen attached to the weapon and the light began to brighten. More and more of the tunnel before them appeared, the shadows fleeing before the eye of light. And then—
It disappeared to the right, the left wall having curved bit by bit in the same direction. A long, slow loop. “Dammit,” Coffee said.
“It doesn’t mean anything. The city might just be toward the right.”
“Or we’re walking in a huge circle. That would explain the no-security thing. That would explain why we haven’t been attacked or stopped. The Grems aren’t worried about a bunch of mice running on a wheel to nowhere.”
Dacre hoped he was wrong, but they’d already gone so far they didn’t have any other choice. “All we can do is move forward and find out.”
No one offered any better suggestions, so that’s what they did.
Three long hours later they saw a light. It was just a halo at first, but eventually morphed into an arched exit. Or entrance. They were one and the same. The tunnel had led them back outside, where the temperature felt almost thirty degrees hotter.
But where were they?
~~~
“No claw marks,” Terry said, bending over to inspect the footprints in the dirt.
Vee did the same, taking in the dozen or so sets of prints, all of which were shaped like boots of various sizes and shapes. Not all were necessarily human—most races wore some kind of footwear, after all—but clearly none of them were Jackals.
“The Jackals would’ve taken advantage of their wings,” Miranda said. “Especially after the attack.”
Vee couldn’t disagree. They’d already searched the battle site. There were holes in the ground, small, narrow crawlspaces. Evidently the monsters had burrowed through the earth and attacked from beneath. The Jackals wouldn’t like being tied to the ground when something could grab them at any second. Hole, she didn’t like it either.
“He’s got a crew now,” Vee said. “Or at least temporary allies. Not just Jackals. Someone he picked up in the asteroid field.” She frowned, cupping her hand over her eyes, trying to create some shade as the scorching sun beat down upon them. They couldn’t survive out here for long. They either needed to find some shade or a way inside the ridge of mountains flanking them to the north.
“I wonder how many of his allies were killed or injured,” Minot said.
Vee wondered the same thing, but the star-rig had been sealed up tight. They couldn’t use magic to break inside, given the magium construction of the huge tanker. Brute force was an option, but also a risk. They didn’t know whether any injured in the attack would try to fight back. Plus, the rig itself might have a deadly security system given the value of the payload it hauled across the galaxy.
In the end, they’d decided to leave it where it stood and follow the footprints they’d found leading away. North, exactly the direction they wanted to go.
The comms inside Vee’s implant came to life. “Frank Stallone to squadron leader,” their cat pilot said.
“What do you want,
Frank?” Vee said. Minnow offered her a sideways look that said Just say the word and I’ll skin him and make you a nice fur coat.
“I’m bored.”
“Watch a holo-vid. Play a game. Hold your breath and count to a million.”
“Funny. Hear me laughing? No? You won’t be either when you’re ready to make the leap from this dusty ol’ rock and you’re short a pilot.”
“Fair enough. We need you. And you need us. For entertainment. If we don’t return to the ship, you’ll die of boredom. So quit bothering us.”
“Fine,” the cat said, though there was a note of pouting in his voice. “I’ll take a catnap. Seems that’s all I’m needed for right now.”
“Good plan.”
The cat offered no further response, and Vee refocused on the rough terrain set before them.
They rounded a bend in the canyon and Vee had to shield her eyes as shards of bright light reflected into them from the ground just ahead. Her companions had to do the same, each of them cringing. What is that?
“Don’t look directly at it,” Miranda said, which Vee thought was a pretty obvious suggestion. They moved forward slowly, using their hands to block out the blinding reflection. Soon crystals crunched underfoot, and, without looking, Vee bent down to pick one up, shielding it from the sun with her hand so she could get a better look. It was a clear crystal, cut perfectly, each facet forming a symmetrical angle with the others. It was just the sort of gemstone one might expect to find in a rare and powerful magical artifact like the one Dacre had stolen. And yet here they were littered about like worthless trinkets.
“We should load up the starship and get the Hole out of here,” Minnow said. “Forget the end of the world. We can retire and buy a first-class ticket out of the galaxy before everything hits the fan.”
Vee dropped the crystal and said, “Let’s keep moving.” Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Minnow stuff a couple handfuls of crystals into his pockets. “Leave them.”
Minnow looked at her, agony crossing his face. “All these Vectors…” he said. “We’ll never work a crappy security job again.”
Vee grinned. “We have our own starship now. After this is over, we’ll change careers. Start a shipping company. Better yet, we’ll become bounty hunters. I think we’ll be good at it. And we can always come back.”
“Promise?”
“Promise.”
“Let’s go.”
Crystals crunched underfoot, though none of them shattered. They were the real deal. Ahead of them, the canyon ended in a large mouth cut into the ridge. It was carved into a hideous face. The mouth was supposed to be the entrance into a cave, clearly.
Unfortunately, the way forward was sealed by a wall of rock, smooth and impenetrable.
~~~
The wall was unbreakable. They’d tried everything. Blasters. Pulse rifles. Railguns. Even magic. First Vee, then Miranda. McGee hadn’t come out from wherever he was hidden on the starship, so they’d eventually had to leave him, which meant he couldn’t help. And the cat wizard was bound to the ship. Not that it would’ve mattered. These doors clearly couldn’t be opened from the outside. None of what they’d tried had left even a dent.
“They’re protected by some powerful magic,” Miranda said.
Vee placed a fist against the wall, frustrated. The footprints led right up to the doors. They didn’t turn left or right. It was as if Dacre and his comrades had walked right through the wall. Clearly, that wasn’t possible. The doors had been open when they arrived, only to close sometime after, sealing them inside.
“There must be another way in,” Vee said. They were hot and tired. Despite their efforts to ration, their water supply was running low. Their starship wasn’t too far away, but Vee really didn’t want to go back, defeated. But what other choice did they have? On a whim, Vee pounded on the door. Like a knock. Thunk thunk thunk.
Minnow chuckled. “Shame there isn’t a doorbell. Or an intercom. Hello, Grems? We have a package to deliver. Yes, you’ll need to sign for it.”
“Hilarious,” Vee said, slumping to a sitting position, her back to the wall.
Miranda said, “What now?”
“I don’t know.”
“Not good enough. Dacre might’ve already found the weapon.”
“Maybe. Maybe not.”
“There are other ways inside.”
“Probably.”
“Get up.”
“Make me.” Vee knew she was being somewhat childish, but this woman irked her like she’d never been irked before. The sound of her voice, her face, the self-righteous curve of her lips, the lips she’d once thought Dacre had preferred to her own. All lies. This woman’s very existence was a lie. And yet Vee knew she needed to see this through to the end, regardless of whether it would be a monumental disaster or a great victory. She stood up, her pity party over.
“We need to get to higher ground,” she said. “Scope things out. It’s time to climb.”
~~~
Dacre blinked and the day was gone, the heat of the day lingering in the air, now dark and smudged with thick shadows cast by the canyon walls.
What the actual Hole?
Coffee said, “You don’t see that every day.”
It was the understatement of the millenium. It wasn’t like night had fallen so much as come crashing down. The godstar, which, a moment ago, had been burning bright and fiery in the sky, was gone. Vanished.
Impossible.
Well, maybe not impossible, considering Dacre had witnessed it with his very eyes. But very unlikely. And yet, here they were. Coffee’s crew’s gun-lights were still on, casting blades of light across the dark terrain.
They stepped out. What now? Kukk’uk clicked, turning to Dacre like he was some kind of a squad leader and this was all part of his planned expedition.
A noise. Not loud. In fact, closer to a whisper than anything else.
Dacre turned.
The way back inside the tunnel was sealed tight by a sheet of rock. His spine tingled. Trying to calm the sudden sick feeling in the pit of his stomach, he inspected the new wall. If he hadn’t just walked from the tunnel, he would have no clue it had ever been there. The rock wall appeared completely natural, without seam or rend. Like it had stood there for a thousand years. A hundred thousand.
What now?
That question wasn’t his to answer, not exactly, because Dacre finally realized that nothing that had happened since they’d landed on this crimson planet had been theirs to control.
“We follow the canyons,” he said.
Wherever the Grems were leading them—into a trap, back to their ship, in circles until they passed out from exhaustion or heat or dehydration—they would see it through.
He would see it through.
~~~
When the lights went out, Vee’s heart was pounding, her skin slick with sweat.
“Holy Hole,” someone said—one of Miranda’s Centaurians. Vee couldn’t see as much as hear him as he lost his footing, or his handhold—or both.
She didn’t know this man from the Archchancellor, but he was still a life to be saved. She tightened her grip on the nub of rock her fingers were clamped around and swung hard to the left, grabbing blindly in the sudden darkness. Something brushed past and she tried to dig her fingers into his clothing, his belt, something.
Nothing.
He slipped past with barely a whooshing sound followed by a breathless scream that vanished when he crunched onto the canyon floor far below.
Sickened, Vee managed to swing back and reassert her position on the cliff face.
Miranda and her other Centaurians began to murmur in some alien tongue, their voices melding into a low drone. Shinnar far lone vie hu, michellione yu see, michellione far lone, michellione vie hu.
The translator in Vee’s implant whirred as if confused, unable to translate the strange language.
The Centaurians went silent. Miranda said, “We move on. His soul has found its place
in the stars.”
Vee said nothing, surprised by the gravity in her tone. Surprised that the Centaurians—that Miranda, the woman she’d always considered to be soulless—believed in such a superstitious notion. His soul has found a place in the stars? Ridiculous.
Despite herself, Vee felt a single tear trickle from her eye. Not for this man, alien, whatever, who she had barely known, but for the one she had lost. Her mother.
She hoped her soul, if such a thing existed, had found a place in the stars too.
~~~
Inexplicably, it was day again. Dacre and his ragtag crew of criminals had marched in darkness for only two hours before the godstar returned. It didn’t rise, but simply appeared, like it had been there all along, obscured by the thickest, blackest cloud on any planet in any system in any galaxy.
Now, its scarlet rays slashed into them with a heat that would burn their skin quickly if they didn’t find cover.
I preferred night, Kukk’uk clicked, which almost made Dacre laugh because of how cliché it was. Pretty much everyone in the Godstar Galaxy thought of the Cir’u’non as nocturnal, like an advanced species of bat. Dacre had learned this wasn’t true at all. Just because they slept upside down and swooped down on leathery wings didn’t make them the subject of a child’s nightmare.
“Me too,” Dacre said. “This side.”
They shifted to the far side of the canyon, where a wide swathe of shade had appeared the moment the light had returned. As it had for the last hour, the canyon trail had continued to curl to the left on a southerly bearing. At one point, Coffee had noted they must’ve done a full circle already. Dacre couldn’t disagree, and yet they’d never returned to the point where the tunnel had been sealed off.
He wasn’t sure what that meant.
All he knew was the Gremolins—or someone—was leading them. For what purpose—whether righteous or nefarious or simply for amusement—he knew not.
Coffee said, “I should’ve stayed in the Alley. This is boring.”
“No one twisted your arm,” Dacre said. “And anyway, we fought monsters with mouths on their stomachs.”
