“The esteemed admiral may be a bloody warmonger, as our own politicians keep calling him. But I fear his assessment of the situation is correct. We’re going to have to fight that bloody thing, sooner or later.”
“If that is so, there would seem to be little point in allowing it the respite it evidently needs, or at least desires to have.”
The people from the peace conference had moved their small ship more or less permanently close to the Mukunda.
A majority of the neutral diplomats, professionally cautious as they generally were, had been won over to the faction among them that had begun to plead for immediate intervention in this strange war, prompt action on the side of Earth-descended humanity.
Homasubi had another exchange of views with Admiral Radigast.
Radigast was bold and desperate. “Sir, are you going to fight it, or are you not?”
“Sir, I can only tell you that what I do must depend on circumstances. Let me remind you, honored admiral, that we have as yet no certain determination as to whether there is intelligent life, except for possible Twin Worlds prisoners, aboard this mysterious device. Nor have I any certainty as to its intentions regarding the Huvean world and people.”
The admiral came close to an angry outburst: “You’d rather wait till it starts in on your motherless home system, and fight it there?”
“Is there reason to believe it knows the location of Huvea?”
“Not from me, or from my people. But there’s no motherless reason to believe it won’t know the location of every bloody ED world in the Galaxy, as soon as it goes through the astrogational data banks in one of the little ships it’s captured.”
Then, not waiting for a response, Radigast began to unfasten himself from his acceleration couch. He had some minor difficulty in doing so, as it was for him an unfamiliar model.
“Get me out of this damned motherless thing. I’ve got to get back to my ship.”
“Sir, I will have a scoutship placed immediately at your disposal.”
“Thanks, but don’t bother. One thing I still have enough of is my own bloody scoutships.” Standing on his feet, he said he was going back to his flagship, and planned to hurl his remnant against the enemy in one last attack. “You can fight it with us, First Spacer, or you can fight it afterwards, back in your own sky, praying you can get more help from somewhere than you gave us.”
Meanwhile, Homasubi, methodical as always, was determined not to be rushed into making premature decisions or announcements, and also to put to good use whatever time events allowed him.
Whether the berserker was to be his enemy, oral, though he had to admit to himself that he found such a turn of events looking more and more inconceivable, eventually his ally, it was unarguably his duty to learn as much about it as he could.
He had already ordered his strategists, his tactical planners human and robotic, to study carefully all available recordings of the defeat of the Twin Worlds fleet, Radigast, with nothing to lose, had been generous in providing them, to decide which of their weapons and tactics had actually inflicted damage on the berserker, and which had amounted to no more than wasted effort. And the first spacer looked forward to a detailed inspection of those records himself, as soon as he could find the time.
For several standard years, and with good reason, the first spacer had viewed the Twin Worlds fleet as a formidable adversary. It still shocked him that a fleet could have been so quickly shattered, and the ground defenses of Prairie so swiftly overcome. The story told by the recordings was a deeply disturbing one.
Meanwhile, the niceties of diplomacy were becoming purely theoretical.
Fighting had suddenly broken out between the berserker-destroyer engaged in a refueling mission and the two vessels Homasubi had dispatched to observe the process. At least to the extent of an inconclusive exchange of missiles.
“Our ships are acting purely in self defense.”
The first spacer’s immediate reaction was one of inward relief: He now had additional solid recorded evidence that the berserker had shot first. He asked an officer to confirm the fact, just to be sure.
The berserker was still trying to carry out its refueling process, but one of its tankers was seriously hit when Twin Worlds scoutships hurled themselves at it suicidally. The tanker died in a flare-up of failing fields.
Aboard the Huvean flagship, a spontaneous shipwide cheer went up at the sight.
Missiles launched from the two Huvean destroyers at least disrupted and delayed the refueling operation.
Moments later came the first really bad news: One of the destroyers that had just sped to the scene was quite possibly lost.
Twice now, his fleet had taken human casualties. At the moment he could feel nothing about that, except perhaps a faint relief that the toll had not been higher.
Additional enemy units could be seen accelerating to join the fray. And still more small units were emerging from the body of the great berserker. Surely there must be strict limits on how many it could hatch.
“Sir, do we recall our ships or reinforce them?”
The first spacer opened his mouth and unhesitatingly gave a fateful order.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
“What in heaven’s name are you doing here?” gushed a somewhat older woman in uniform. “Two years since I’ve seen you, honey, but I’d know your mother’s daughter anywhere!”
By sheer accident, Luon had been recognized in the street by an old friend of her family, now an army colonel in logistics, who had a good reason for being in the mid-Capital City war zone.
Which was more than Colonel Eurydice could say for Luon and her friends. “You shouldn’t be anywhere near here, my girl. And you look terrible…. What are your parents thinking of?” The colonel cast an uncertain glance at the two shabby young men, obviously Luon’s companions, who had not yet been introduced.
Pushing back a fallen lock of her blond hair, Luon noticed how deadly stiff it felt. She was going to have to find some way, soon, to get a bath. “Well, actually, ma’am, I was visiting my grandfather. When all this started.”
“Oh? You mean… oh.” The fact of Luon’s grandfather’s identity took just a second to re-establish itself in the colonel’s mind.
“Actually,” the girl went on, “I’ve been running little errands for him. Jobs he could give to someone he could absolutely depend on.”
“Oh.”
Luon nodded, combining the gesture with what she hoped was a meaningful glance. Come to think of it, new-President Gregor could have done worse than send her out scouting for him.
In another minute the colonel was answering Luon’s questions with some enthusiasm, as if she hoped the answers might reach someone who could make a difference. Her first complaint was that all the military units on Timber were being forced to operate pretty much on their own, at company and battalion level. By some fiendish enemy trickery, advanced technology, they had for days been cut off from communicating with their own headquarters.
Luon murmured something sympathetic. Talk about being cut off, she was getting somewhat worried about Porphyry, who had been out of touch with her for many hours. According to the robot’s last communication, Porph was trying to find a spot from which it might be possible to establish firm contact with Gregor and the fleet. Communication over interplanetary distances was not a household robot’s strong suit, but fanatical persistence was.
Colonel Eurydice was nodding grimly, as if confirming her own thoughts. “There’s been a lot of disinformation put out by the Huveans, they’re pretty good at that. But if I get my sights on one, I’ll know what to do.”
When Luon asked how the fighting was going, the colonel laughed without humor. She told the girl that Twin Worlds Ground Defense probably had never stationed more than a few hundred heavy armored fighting vehicles on the whole surface of Timber, deployed at what were considered key points across the planet, no one had ever expected the Huveans to ferry a whole army across space, and attempt a ma
jor invasion. An approximately equal number of tanks and similar machines had disappeared along with the habitable surface of Prairie. “We’re moving all our armor here as fast as we can, it’s being used up pretty fast, going against these monsters.”
Having got that off her chest, the colonel evidently thought that she had earned the right to ask a few questions of her own. She beamed at Luon’s two scruffy companions, focusing on the one nearest the girl’s side. “And who is this nice young man?”
“He’s an old friend.” Luon realized she would have to introduce Reggie under a false name, and hide his Huvean identity. Invention came quickly. “Elbert Whiskerbagger Wilde. Wilde with an ‘e’ on the end.”
Colonel Eurydice blinked once at the name. “Very pleased to meet you, young man.”
“How do you do, Colonel?” Reggie was obviously trying to sound engaging and polite, and all the while he was looking at Luon. What name had she given him? Whiskerbagger? And an ‘e’ on the end? How did she come up with these things?
Luon realized that, much as Reggie loved her, he didn’t really know her yet. Well, she could hope there would be time for that.
She and Reggie and his fellow Huveans had been moving from place to place, sleeping and eating where they could, trying to keep in touch with each other without looking like a group, never getting far from the center of the capital city. Wherever they went, evidence of recent fighting against enemy landers was not hard to find.
Some of the members of the band had argued almost continuously over what their next move ought to be. One faction favored a deliberate decision to split up, with a well organized plan as to when and where they would reunite. Others, so far in the majority, wanted to keep loosely in touch with each other on an hourly basis. By good fortune, none of the fugitive Huveans had yet been seriously wounded. Among the ten of them they had sustained a good number of bruises and cuts, mostly while scrambling out of the way of enemy landers and Twin Worlds armor. But, so far, nothing beyond what a well equipped home medical kit ought to be able to handle.
Despite Luon’s broad hints that she was here in the war zone on some kind of secret mission for the new president, the colonel thought it her duty to give the young people a fairly stern warning that they ought to get farther away from the fighting.
Waving goodbye, they retreated away from the city center for several blocks, then circled back, not wanting to stray far from the Citadel and the scenes of fighting, where things were going on.
In the end, it was mainly by accident that Luon and her companions finally got close enough to the fighting machines to get a really good look at them. For a couple of days she had been aware of the presence of several gangs of teenagers in the area, kids who evidently thought war the greatest sport they had encountered yet.
One of these, a gangly youth of fourteen or fifteen, brought Luon and her friends the rumor that a fallen invader a few blocks away was showing a Huvean insignia, a final proof, in this kid’s mind, of who the enemy really was.
Luon could see in some of the Huveans’ eyes that they were still half ready to believe. With Douras leading the way, and guided by the boy who had brought the rumor, the group set out to find the wreckage, if there really was any, and discover the truth about it.
Every day, almost every hour, Luon had heard talk among the capital’s citizens, some sympathetic and some angry, still demanding to know where the Huvean hostages were, and what had happened to them. The general breakdown in communications had kept many people from ever hearing of Acting President Gregor’s decree saying they should be freed.
Porphyry had managed to pick up Homasubi’s broadcast, intended as a message to the general population, telling of the first spacer’s intention to rescue the former hostages. Gregor and Radigast had added their own words to the message, assuring everyone who could hear them that Twin Worlds and Huvea were not at war, had never been at war, and were united in wishing to get the young Huveans out of harm’s way and send them home. The machines attacking on the ground, and the monster in the sky, were of unknown origin, but they had nothing to do with Huvea.
The citizens of Twin Worlds could feel certain, their new president was trying to assure them, that any Huvean they might now detect on the surface of Timber was only there for the purpose of the rescue operation, and with the permission of the Twin Worlds government.
But people who did not want to believe the message would not do so.
Porphyry accepted it as genuine, and acted accordingly.
Luon and her companions had come to a halt on the rim of a sizable pit, and the boy who guided them was pointing. “Down there.”
It seemed that once a sizable building had occupied this space, but now there was only a crater, deep and wide enough to swallow a three-story house. At the bottom, surrounded by miscellaneous debris, there lay a massive fragment of an enemy machine, three or four meters long, in shape resembling a crab’s main claw.
The object appeared to be made of some strange, dark metal, and seemed slightly twisted by the force that had torn it loose from the machine of which it had once been part. It seemed completely inert, the surface pitted and blackened, and a raw opening torn at one end sprouted a tangle of amputated lines, rods, and chains.
Reggie walked completely around the crater, studying the thing from every angle, before he spoke. “I don’t see anything like an insignia, Huvean or otherwise.”
The boy made energetic jabbing motions, pointing. “It’s inside, where that thing opens like a jaw. You can see it when you get close. I was down there and saw it.” In a moment he had gone leaping down into the crater, agile as a goat, taking long strides from one solid outcropping to another, but still creating a small landslide. In another moment Douras was following, his movements a few years older, stronger, better planned and more efficient.
Reggie and Luon and the others remained above, scattered along the rim of the pit. A few additional onlookers had joined them. Luon was thinking that down there would be a bad place to be trapped, if a mob hunting Huveans happened to come along.
The boy had dropped down on all fours, right beside the giant fragment, where he could look up into the mouth-like cavity at the joint of the great crab-claw. He was pointing at something there, jabbering in shrill tones. Beside him, Douras sprawled momentarily on the ground to get a look, but then immediately straightened up again and backed away a step or two, shaking his head and dusting off his hands.
Turning his face upslope toward Reggie, Douras called out: “Just looks like a circle with a crinkly edge. Maybe a little bit like the Huvean sun symbol. But I don’t know what it is. Can’t be an insignia. Who would put one in there, where no one would ever?”
Without warning, without the least premonitory twitch, the great claw convulsed, like some fragment of a fresh-killed animal. But this spasm had deadly purpose. The jaw snapped open, propelling itself a couple of meters off the ground. When it closed again an instant later, it had the boy by one arm, right up to the shoulder, and his shrill scream went up.
Douras had instinctively jumped back. From somewhere he had pulled out a pistol, a weapon Luon had never guessed that he was carrying, and was firing one shot after another, all useless, at the mass of metal before him. Then he stepped forward again. With his free hand he had grabbed the boy’s free arm, and was attempting to pull him away.
The great jaw leapt and spasmed once again. Whether by sheer luck or some infernal calculation, this time when it snapped shut there were two bodies caught headfirst inside.
Luon was gripping Reggie’s hand so hard that she feared her own fingers were going to break. She was terrified that he would pull away and go bounding downhill to try to save his friend, a friend who was already dead. But Reggie wasn’t bounding anywhere, only staring, in sick fascination, as if he might be paralyzed.
Dimly she was aware of a cry that sounded from behind her. “Clear the way, people! Coming through with weapons!” She turned to see the approach of reinforceme
nts, more units of the Twin Worlds army with their battle gear.
People on rooftops raised a cheer. Some of them were shooting at the monster with various weapons, having no more effect than Douras’s pistol. Luon was thinking numbly that he must have scrounged that somewhere since their escape.
Over the past few days, she had seen a number of wrecked tanks, burned, burst open, their projecting weapon barrels twisted as if they were candy toys. The machines now coming to challenge the enemy were different, moving with the muted roar of bulldozers. There were three of them, maneuvering quickly to station themselves at equal intervals around the crater. Then, at some invisible signal, all three plunged over and in, converging on the metal monster in a sliding rush.
The killer survived the crashing impact of the first one to get home. The huge claw flipped on its back and opened its jaw wide, disgorging two mangled human bodies. Some kind of heat-ray came lancing forth from inside that deadly cavity, a beam of fire that instantly turned a hardened dozer blade into a spray of molten drops.
The second dozer smashed into the crab-claw a moment later, grinding it beneath its treads. But again the ray shot out.
Just in time, Luon and Reggie dove for shelter, behind the stump of a thick wall. The only heat that reached her was reflected, from a high undamaged wall a few meters behind her vantage point. Even head down behind a life-saving barricade, she could feel a wave of searing, blistering intensity. For a moment she thought a piece of metal wreckage had fallen over her, then she realized that Porphyry, coming somehow out of nowhere, had thrown himself on top of her, metal body blocking the strongest radiance.
Engines were still roaring. Luon looked for Reggie, saw him smiling, nodding, still alive behind a section of the wall. She forced her body up to where she could look over the crude parapet. The second bulldozer, half melted down and burning, died. She saw the cab burst open but it was empty, all the machines must be running on remote control. The third dozer, blade carried low, caught the enemy squarely, pinning half of the great claw beneath its treads, setting its blade against the other half. The engine roared, and on its second or third try succeeded in ripping the enemy in two.
Berserker Prime Page 29
