by Gary Gibson
She could see the dome more clearly from the next hilltop, beyond which lay only level plain stretching towards the cache’s abyssal pit. She saw now that, mixed in with the ruined buildings, there were what appeared to be the remains of a huge spacecraft broken into several sections and half buried in the dust.
As Dakota jogged down to the edge of the plain, she realized the dome was a lot bigger than it appeared at a distance. It had to be at least a hundred metres across, but no more than twenty in height, and it had presumably been designed to withstand whatever forces had destroyed the buildings surrounding it. Trader was well ahead of her by now and, as she started to make her way across the level ground, she saw him pass inside an entrance in one side of the dome, the sparkle of his field-bubble faintly illuminating the interior of the passageway beyond.
She soon reached it herself and stepped into its interior, noting how the relatively tiny inner space emphasized just how thick the walls were.
Dense drifts of dust gradually began to appear out of the gloom, as the filters over her eyes adjusted for the lack of light. She saw waist-high racks stretching from wall to wall in orderly ranks, with wide aisles running between. Identical flat, smooth plates were mounted in haphazard order within the racks, though, at a glance, less than a third of the racks contained them.
Is this what we’re here for?
Trader guided his bubble down a side aisle, his huge eyes swivelling from left to right.
Dakota turned in time to see the spiders were now threading their way in through the entrance, sending brilliant beams of light cutting through the darkness. Nancy followed them in soon afterwards.
Nancy sent.
The Meridians slaughtered each other over possession of the cache, Dakota replied. But it all happened a long, long time ago.
Nancy merely watched at first as Dakota started pulling the disc-shaped field devices out of their slots, dropping them to the ground for the spiders to collect. Then she started to help, pulling the discs loose and placing them where the spiders could get to them easily. Trader meanwhile simply hovered in his bubble; in truth there wasn’t much he could do but watch them.
What about them?
A couple of dozen, Dakota sent back. Why?
Why are you so suddenly keen on giving me your opinion?
Nancy stopped working and stared over at Dakota.
A long time ago, Nancy.
Dakota directed an angry glance towards her. They were at war. Shit happens.
Dakota picked up one of the field-generators and studied it for several moments, thinking.
Trader, when I met you on that other world, were the drones you gave me . . . guarding anything?
You said you didn’t hear back from some of the probes you sent down into the cache. Any idea why?
As Trader floated in his bubble, his manipulators remained immobile for at least half a minute.
The discs were a lot heavier than they looked, and Dakota’s implants had picked up faint queries coming from them, which were interpretable thanks to the Meridian command structures Trader had given her. Once she had built up an idea of their internal structure, she transmitted this data back to Lamoureaux on the Mjollnir.
Ted, take a look at this. What do you make of it?
His reply came barely a moment later.
According to Trader, it is. And the interface seems to be straightforward enough, so it shouldn’t be a huge problem setting up an interface with the Mjollnir’s defence stacks.
Hang on, I’m going to try activating one myself first.
Dakota lugged the device over to a clear spot between two rows of racks, and triggered it by depressing a button on one side. The shaped field that surrounded her a moment later sparked and crackled with light.
The effect was so startling that Dakota almost dropped the device; the field was far brighter – and therefore more powerful – than anything she had so far encountered. It had started out as a sphere about four metres across, centred on herself, but then it began to shrink, slowly at first but with increasing speed. She quickly deactivated it before it could shrink any further and crush her to death.
Two aisles over, Dakota could just make out an expression of shock on Nancy’s face through her faceplate.
I think it’s safe to say they work just fine, she sent back.
Chapter Thirty
They had to abandon a number of the field-generators after they proved to be broken on closer inspection, their outer shells cracked and brittle. But at least fifty appeared to be undamaged.
After a couple of hours’ work, the last of these were secured on top of some of the spiders, and sent back over the hills to Trader’s yacht. Dakota took one last look around the interior of the dome, wondering what it must have been like in those last hours before the colony was obliterated, and if the creatures who had built it had realized what was coming. Then she stepped back outside to join Trader and Nancy, who were waiting for her amongst the ruins.
Dakota watched as the machinery-laden spiders followed one another up the slope of the nearest hill. Maybe it’s time to activate those drones I detected, see if they wake up.
Trader’s manipulators wriggled underneath his belly.
The Meridian drones had either burned or dug their way deep beneath the surface long ago. As the three of them now started moving towards the foot of the nearest hill, Dakota sent out a command-level activation signal that she hoped would override whatever instructions the drones had been left with.
Less than a minute passed before she was rewarded with a faint tremor that rippled the dust beneath her feet. Dakota stopped and turned in time to see rock and gravel fountaining upwards from all around the cache-mouth, as drone after drone punched its way back out of its hiding place. They rose quickly, spinning and glittering in the harsh sunlight, with debris sliding off of their mirrored carapaces as they accelerated away from the surface.
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Dakota realized she had forgotten to warn Nancy what she was intending to do.
Sorry, I should have warned you. Those are the drones I detected on our way here. I’ve ordered them to head for the frigate, but they had to dig their way out of the ground first.
Hey, I said I was sorry.
Yes, Nancy, I hear you.
Dakota did her best to ignore the flash of resentment she felt at Nancy’s tone, as she headed for the nearest slope. The spiders had already scaled the summit and were well on their way back to Trader’s yacht.
Trader himself kept abreast of her as she ascended the hill, Nancy not so far behind them this time. Dakota glanced back and saw that debris was still slowly raining down on the ancient ruins. The drones were by now out of sight.
Dakota turned away and pinged the drones, finding they were functioning at peak capacity, and all accelerating hard towards the frigate. She fired a warning to Lamoureaux to make sure the others understood they were not being attacked.
Just doing my job, Dakota sent. Once we’ve got these field-generators back on board, I want to take the ship down inside the cache. We should take a good look at it while we’ve got the chance. Do you have any objections to that?
Yes, why?
Dakota stopped to look back at Nancy, who was standing just a little further downhill, with one foot up on a boulder. Beyond her, the interior of the cache had indeed become brighter, emitting light that flickered as if derived from a hundred different sources, each one moving constantly in relation to the rest. It was as if a horde of giant fireflies was flying up the mouth of the cache from somewhere deep inside.
Dakota loped up to the crest of the hill with long, striding bounds to look back down at the cache from a slightly higher vantage point. When she looked again, the light had grown brighter, becoming noticeably more so even as she watched. Another tremor rolled through the ground beneath her feet. She glanced over at Trader, who had also turned to look back, and she felt an unpleasant churning sensation inside her chest.
Trader, what the hell is that light?
Dakota felt a chill. Those probes you said you’d lost, is it possible they ran into something down there?
The sense that something very bad was about to happen overwhelmed Dakota, and she turned to look the other way, to where she could just see the uppermost spines of Trader’s yacht poking up above the crest of a hill about a kilometre distant. She also spotted the train of spiders, still making their way back, in an undulating file, across the intervening hills and valleys.
She queried the recovered Meridian drones, hoping that they might be able to tell her what was going on. It took a few attempts to navigate her way to some kind of answer, and her eyes opened wide in horror when she got it.
We have to get out of here, she sent to the others. We have to get out right now.
She started running down the other side of the hill, desperate to get away from the cache, her legs moving with what felt like dreamlike slowness. She ordered the drones to reverse their trajectory and to return to the vicinity of the cache, but they had already lost precious seconds.
There are hundreds of unmanned Emissary scouts inside the cache, Trader, and we just woke them up.
Trader started heading back towards his yacht without further hesitation.
I already called them back, but I don’t know if they can get here in time.
Dakota stumbled once, picked herself up and kept going. She could hear from Nancy’s panicky breathing that she had finally taken the hint and started running as well.
On reaching the crest of the final hill before they arrived at the yacht, Dakota paused to glance behind her. She saw Nancy approaching the foot of the same hill, but Trader had already overtaken them both. She turned back towards the yacht in time to see him slip through the open hatch, and for one terrible moment she wondered if he meant to abandon them.
By now the spiders had neatly stacked the field-generators beneath the open hatch, in which two of them stood waiting as their brethren began passing the generators up to them with their instantly extendible arms.
As she reached the yacht, she swiftly climbed up on top of one of the spiders and pulled herself through the hatch. The two spiders already inside scuttled back into the yacht’s interior to get out of her way. Once inside, she accidentally crashed into a pile of field-generators, and just managed to stop them toppling back out of the hatch. At that moment, she spotted Nancy making her way down the final slope, kicking up a huge cloud of dust that must surely have been visible for kilometres around.
A torrent of dark shapes shot upwards from the location of the cache, moving with such colossal velocity that Dakota barely had time to register their passage. Part of her attention was now focused on the approach of the Meridian drones, as she caught an equally brief glimpse of them vectoring in towards the Emissary scouts.
Around the yacht, the ground began to quiver yet again, sending up thick, choking clouds of dust that soon obscured the summits of the nearby hills.
Nancy stumbled and flailed about, and Dakota heard her yelling over the shared comms.
It’s the Emissary scouts, Dakota replied. Get back here as fast as you can.
Nancy picked herself up hurriedly, staggering past a shoulder-high boulder. She was almost at the yacht.
she yelled over the comms.
You were right. We should have checked things out more thoroughly.
Incandescent light suddenly blazed from the direction of the cache, as a beam of focused energy struck the crest of a distant hill, which erupted in a terrifying display of violence. At that same moment, something dark and oblong flew close above them, followed by a wave of intense heat that briefly overwhelmed Dakota’s filters.
Nancy?
Dakota dropped from the hatch to the ground, and darted over to where the other woman had collapsed. Gravel pattered down all around them, falling slowly in the low gravity. The dust was so thick it made it nearly impossible to see more than a couple of metres in any direction. Dakota finally stumbled across her where she was crouching on her hands and knees, her breathing sounding ragged over the comms link.
Dakota hooked one arm around the woman’s shoulder and pulled her upright, hearing her moan in pain. Together they managed to stumble back to the yacht, where Nancy almost collapsed again once Dakota let go of her.
C’mon Nancy, need to get you inside.
She hoisted Nancy on top of one of the spiders, then climbed on behind to get a secure hold of her under both arms.
Grab hold of the lip of the hatch, and then I can help heave you up.
Just get inside so I can take a look at you.
With a groan, Nancy reached out with both hands and grabbed the rim of the hatch. She started to pull herself up, as Dakota pushed her by grabbing her hips. Fortunately, the low gravity made things a lot easier, but Dakota still had to comm
and one of the spiders already inside the hatch to grab hold of Nancy and help her up.
Dakota pulled herself in next, feeling the subtle transition from low to zero gee as she entered the ship.
We’re all on board. Let’s get out of here, Trader.
The Shoal-member didn’t reply, but the hatch spiralled shut behind them, sealing out the dust. Dakota pulled the other woman’s helmet off and found Nancy had passed out. Her skin was looking horribly red and blistered.
Finally Dakota answered a priority signal from the Mjollnir, that had been hovering at the back of her attention for the past minute or so.
There were Emissary scouts hiding in the cache, and they just got loose. We’re back on board Trader’s ship with the field-generators, but Nancy’s been hurt.
She opened up a visual link to let Lamoureaux see what she herself was seeing. She could sense his horror when he saw just how bad a state Schiller was in.
A lot of this is radiation damage, Dakota sent. If you haven’t already, you need to get Mjollnir prepped for an emergency jump. I don’t know just how well the Meridian drones are going to hold up against a couple of hundred Emissary scouts, but if those scouts reach the frigate, we’re in serious shit.
Dakota glanced around the crowded chamber, where everything seemed perfectly still and silent. There wasn’t the slightest clue to suggest the ship had so much as moved. Spotting her wadded-up jumpsuit, she started to pull it on, while letting the filmsuit drain itself back inside her body.
Then, for the first time, the ship rocked gently around her, sending fresh beads of moisture caroming through the air.
Trader?
Dakota closed her eyes and locked into the drones, immediately finding herself submerged in a chaotic whirl of data. The drones had reverted to their original programming, and were now fighting to push the Emissary scouts back down inside the cache.
