Ancestral Machines

by Michael Cobley

  Pyke nodded, biting his lip as he glanced from holoscreen to viewport and back while his fingers worked the touchboard. It was just under three minutes since those missiles were launched and hopes now lay with the AI-controlled forward shielding, which had been configured to maximise heat channelling and dissipation. Meanwhile, the centre section fields had been reshaped into aerofoil-forms to augment the ship’s flight capabilities.

  But in entering a planetary atmosphere at this angle and rate of descent, the Scarabus essentially had all the aerodynamics of a falling brick.

  One part of Pyke’s holoscreen showed an isometric map of the area around the location of Khorr’s ship. It was a rudimentary representation but details were being added all the time as the sensors fed through the updates. Pyke’s attention, though, was thoroughly focused on the possibility of imminent catastrophe.

  “Any other sign that we’re being tracked?” he said.

  Ancil shrugged. “I was certain that we were invisible back there yet they detected something… wait a second… yes, you little charmer! The squawker has snared the lot–all the missiles are on its tail.”

  “And looks like those other jacker ships are moving out on intercept courses, too,” said Pyke, grinning as he watched the trails on another holopane. “Ah, y’see what happens when ye mess around with the Scarabus crew, eh?”

  “Shall I engage deceleration mode, Bran?” said the ship AI.

  “Go ahead, Scar. Time we got down to the business that we came here for.”

  The ship’s inertial dampening shielded the crew from the effects of momentum shift but in his imagination Pyke still felt it as the Scarabus’s braking jets howled against the dive, forcing it into a curved trajectory that grew shallower by the second. At the same time the ship banked to port, its forcefield wings flexing with the fierce airflow and carrying it into a spiral descent which tightened as the airspeed fell.

  “Nicely done, Scar,” Pyke said. “Ancil, what’s the latest?”

  “Squawker’s squawking, heading for open space with the missiles still chasing. No other activity from the jacker ships. Stealth systems are maxed out–we are just ghosting in!”

  Pyke gave a smiling nod. “Time to pay Khorr a visit, I reckon.”

  The isometric overview of Khorr’s location was now well detailed. Khorr’s ship was sitting at one end of a wide, wooded valley in a hilly inland region of the largest continent on Tigimhos. And it wasn’t alone. In a scrubby clearing a second vessel sat about a hundred yards away from Khorr’s, going by the scale of the picture, and some kind of slender structure was positioned roughly midway between them.

  “What is that?” said Ancil.

  “Hechec said something about shroud-pillars,” Pyke said. “Kinda implied they were something to do with the planet-jacking process. Scar, what do you think?”

  “It seems very likely, Bran–in total there are four of these structures placed equidistantly around the planet, all giving off an interesting spectrum of energies.”

  “The thing is, chief, who knows when their plan swings into action,” said Ancil.

  “And I don’t want to be down there when it starts to happen,” Win said sharply.

  Pyke nodded. “I thought about using the grav loaders to head in there along these defiles, but they give off a very definite energy signature so we’ll need to get in as close as we can, and use all of our sneaky skills.”

  “If I shut down some of the onboard systems,” Ancil said, “we could really cut back on the energy profile. Probably have to rely solely on the suspensors for ground-level mobility.”

  “Bran, there is actually a direct route,” said Scar. “Our descent will bring us down south of the foothills of a range of steeper rocky hills; several deep river gullies cut through them to the northern uplands where the target vessel is located.”

  “Good news, Scar–didn’t much fancy a cross-country hike with nightfall moving in.” On Pyke’s display the isometric had pulled back to show the greater locale, and a red dotted line that wove between the hills before doglegging into a high rocky pass. The pass led to wooded slopes overlooking the jacker ships and the structure. “Now that’s a sweet path for the cunning. So what’s the timing on this–how long before we can be knocking on their door?”

  “Planetside, my stealth systems still give us an advantage,” said Scar. “We’ll be at the start point in twenty minutes and the rocky hills will conceal our approach from there on suspensors. It may take between sixty-five to seventy-five minutes to reach the entrance to the ravine, and the last section on foot might last up to forty-five minutes.”

  “Sounds like a plan,” said Ancil. “But is it a plan that we like?”

  “The only other option is to charge in from the air, make an attack landing, then engage in a frontal assault on Khorr’s vessel,” Pyke said. “Which I’m pretty sure would get a swift and unfriendly reaction from the other ship–oh, and lose the element of surprise!”

  “Hmm, I think I like Scar’s plan more than that one,” said Ancil.

  “Well, it is a good plan.”

  “It’s a very good plan.” Ancil paused to glance at Dervla. “Don’t you think?”

  Dervla’s amused composure was unchanged. “It sounds like a decently cautious scheme. I’m sure that Scar has considered all the risks.”

  Pyke nodded and smiled. “Unlike our captain” was the unspoken zinger there but he decided to pretend that there was nothing out of the ordinary.

  “Okay, Scar, set the course. Ancil, remember what you said about us being like a shadow in the night?”

  “It’s all under control, my captain,” Ancil said. “And as soon as our velocity goes subsonic I’ll start using inverted fields to mask our profile.”

  Pyke leaned back in his couch. “Work your magic, laddie.”

  The final stretch of the descent took almost exactly twenty minutes. Dusk was spreading its grey gloom through the gulleys and valleys as the Scarabus followed the planned river route, gliding along on countergrav energy helices, a vaporous trail of fine spray whirling in its wake. Trees lined the river, their trunks sprouting strange tentacular branches that swayed in the ship’s wake, while small creatures on pale ragged wings fluttered in the encroaching dark. Dervla was capturing data from the main sensor sweep and assembling a basic biosphere flora and fauna list while Ancil and Mojag were discussing the possible config of another squawker missile. But all that Pyke could think about was Khorr and the military scanner and the money and the deaths of Hammadi and Oleg, and how it felt like a deadly personal insult…

  “So is that you starting to realise how mad this is?”

  Dervla’s voice was low as she perched on the edge of his console. Pyke gave her his best innocent-charm smile.

  “Whatever makes you say that?”

  She leaned in closer and a faint flowery fragrance teased his nose.

  “That far-away look you had,” she said.

  “Just imagining punishments for the thieving scum who played us for suckers,” he said. “It’s a macho payback kind of deal.”

  She frowned. “Don’t think I’ve seen the vindictive Brannan Pyke before.”

  “You make it sound like a bad thing! Look, he lied to us, killed two of our shipmates, and stole our gear and payment, so as far as I’m concerned he deserves what’s coming to him.”

  Dervla regarded him sadly. “It’s still mad, Bran, but we’re here so no point in wailing about it, eh?”

  “This is going to work out diamond fine,” he said as she returned to her station. “We’re going to dance in there sharp and sly as you like, even the score, get what we’re due, then slip out and away… Scar, how’s our time doing?”

  “We are ahead of schedule, Bran. ETA is now twenty-one-point-eight minutes.”

  “Great.” He switched his comm channel to shipwide. “Attention–we’ll be arriving at the debarkation point in twenty and then it’s going to be the full encounter team–but one short, obviously. Every
one be at the load-out store in ten minutes.”

  The full encounter team comprised Pyke, Dervla, Krefom, Ancil and Win–and had included Hammadi, whose aim with the hexbow had been deadly. Previously, that would have left Punzho, Mojag and Oleg in charge of the ship, a combination which, Pyke realised wryly, was technically unchanged.

  After his shipwide address, the remaining minutes seemed to fly by. Even so, his impatience got the better of him so he told Dervla and the others that he needed to get something from his quarters then left the bridge, heading for the load-out store.

  Dervla waited until Bran had descended the companionway, putting him out of earshot, then turned to Ancil.

  “Leaving aside the overall craziness of this plan,” she said, “what’re our chances of getting through it alive?”

  Ancil shrugged. “It’s not such a bad plan–the only real flaw is the lack of info on what kind of opposition is waiting for us—”

  “Yeah,” Dervla said. “Just a teeny, tiny flaw that one!”

  “… which is why I’m bringing along an amped-up multi-sensor I’ve been working on. Looks like a regular factab but it’s full of surprises.”

  “Don’t forget that surprise and momentum are on our side,” said Win. “And Kref, of course.”

  She had to admit–the Henkayan was invaluable. Despite his bulk he was well versed in battlecraft and fast on his feet. Former Phalanx Sergeant Krefom Graxmer in full-on combat mode was a scary thing. More than once she had thanked the gods of infinite space that he was on their side.

  “Attention! All encounter team members to the load-out! Encounter team to the load-out!”

  “Time to gear up,” Ancil said. “Chief sounds just a bit cranky.”

  Dervla was the last to drag herself out of her couch and follow. Aft of the hatch they trooped down the narrow companionway, and before losing sight of the low passage she caught a glimpse of one of the bearded humanoids watching from the corner of the sickbay corridor. She had intended to ask Pyke for the latest on the sick alien but when they reached the load-out storage he was clearly in no mood for anything resembling a civilised exchange. Instead he distributed body armour, weapons, ammo and the harnessed field contingency packs with a terseness that she and Ancil found impossible to ignore, responding with parade-ground sirs and yes-sirs and snappy salutes. Eventually, Pyke could not keep it up, cracked a grin but still poked her and Ancil’s shoulders with his forefingers.

  “Any chance you people could start taking this seriously?”

  “If someone’s shooting at me, my captain,” Ancil said. “I can guarantee maximum seriousness.”

  “Hey,” said Win. “What if they’re shooting at me?”

  Ancil shook his head. “Not when they’ve got bigger targets to aim at.”

  “Hah, he’s talking about me,” said Krefom. “It’s always me!”

  Dervla smiled even as she found herself shifting into that half-relaxed/half-keyed-up mind-state that was her now accustomed method of preparing for a mission. Banter and crackery was part of that buildup, and even Bran seemed less of a self-important chump as they headed along the corridors to the main hold. By now the Scarabus had reached its destination, as helpfully seen on the wall monitor in the hold’s control recess. As the main bay doors and fields were macroed into their activation sequence, they looked at the outside scenes on the monitor. They were parked on an area of level ground halfway up a woody slope, right next to a gulley that led between two craggy hills. The hullcams showed a carpet of split and broken bushes and trees by the light of down-angled external spots, with shadowy shapes in the night beyond.

  “Right, shots first, then night-sights,” said Pyke.

  There was a chorus of groans, which turned into curses and teeth-gritting expressions as the dermal injector was passed around, delivering booster shots for their immu-rez. Most of the crew were overdue anyway, Pyke explained, not bothering to conceal his glee. While everyone was rubbing itchy patches on their arms (apart from Kref whose skin was tough as deck carpeting) Pyke strapped on his wrist-comm and muttered into it. The port-side bay doors cracked open and slid apart, allowing in a wave of cold air. Bright spots lit up the ground outside and the ramp, which extruded smoothly level with the hold deck. As they descended, Ancil sniffed and made approving noises as he unpacked his modified sensor-factab.

  “Smells like… that liqueur they serve on that planetoid in the Kagashir system.”

  “Planetoid T-Grej,” said Win. “The booze was called Revelateur.”

  “Could be the sap from all the trees that the suspensors smashed up,” said Dervla, noticing that an exclusion field had snapped into place across the open shuttle bay.

  “Okay, my shadow warriors,” Pyke said. “We’ll use the harness lamps till we’re clear of the gulley on the other side when we’ll switch to the night goggles.”

  The chest-height lamps had unidirectional heads. Five pale beams winked on and were angled towards the ground. Ancil was about to show round his factab, which was displaying a local physical map, when he paused and pointed over at the ship.

  “What’s Mojag doing here?”

  Dervla looked round. Sure enough, there was Mojag hurrying down the ramp and across the layer of broken foliage to where they had gathered.

  “What is it?” said Pyke. “What’s up?”

  “I don’t know,” Mojag said. “Scar said that you wanted me outside immediately so I safetied my screens and came running—”

  “I never…” Pyke began, then raised his wrist-comm. “Scar, what the hell…”

  “This doesn’t sound good,” Dervla said.

  Win suddenly shouted. “Hey, stop! What are you doing…?”

  At the top of the ramp three figures stood in the open shuttle-bay entrance. G’Brozen Mav and his three followers were carrying a long-limbed form, which they quickly placed at the head of the ramp before stepping back into the bay. Most of the encounter team had already leaped forward in a mad dash but again the exclusion field reappeared. The motionless form was that of the Egetsi Punzho Bex and some of the crew went to his side to check on his well-being. Pyke, though, leaped over him and slammed his fists against the energy barrier.

  “Open this frakking field, ya scum-sucking raker!”

  G’Brozen Mav stepped forward, came right up to the shimmering field and stood about a foot away from the infuriated Pyke, his bearded expression grim and unyielding. One hand came up holding a wrist-comm and when he spoke his voice sounded clearly outside the Scarabus.

  “Your ship is mine,” he said. “Toolbearer Hechec has altered its governing intelligence and it now obeys only me.”

  “Damn your eyes,” Pyke growled. “We rescued you, and now you stab us in the back—”

  “We did not escape to the ruin-world where you found us,” G’Brozen Mav said. “We were abandoned there, tricked by one that I called brother. With this vessel I can return to the Chains, to the Warcage, and undo the damage. If we’re not too late.”

  “Look,” Pyke said, voice hoarse and trembling. “If you let us back on board we’ll help you get to wherever it is you need to go–hell, we’ll even fight for you.”

  “My companions would never agree,” G’Brozen Mav said. “I was advised to assume control of the ship and dispose of you all before even reaching this place, but that would have been an act of shameful dishonour. I wanted you to have a chance, even if it is only a meagre one.”

  For a moment Pyke said nothing, just stood with his splayed-out hands pressed against the exclusion field. Dervla knew from personal experience what that felt like; the field was a sub-molecular energy weave which at first felt tough and spongy to the touch, but it also projected ultrasonic vibrations which could become intensely uncomfortable.

  “I don’t give a rancid rat’s bowel-scraping about your justifications and excuses.” Pyke’s voice was low and raw and angry. “The ship is mine–give it back!”

  G’Brozen Mav’s gaze was unwavering. “My need is
greater than yours. Thousands of lives hang in the balance and I have to do whatever is necessary to save them.” The bearded warrior stepped back. “Khorr’s vessel is still there, near the shroud-pillar–if you hurry, you may reach him before the pillars cast the great net.”

  The shuttle-bay doors began to close and the ramp too was retracting, which forced Pyke to jump down onto the ground. Dervla and the others had carried Punzho Bex several yards away and as she crouched next to the semi-conscious Egetsi she saw Pyke haul out his heavy-calibre sidearm and blaze off a couple of rounds. The exclusion field in front of G’Brozen Mav flashed but he didn’t even flinch. Even as the doors closed and sealed, his voice still came through.

  “I instructed Toolbearer Hechec to make language teachers for you–if you fail to seize Khorr’s vessel your survival may depend on understanding the Omnilect, the tongue of the Warcage. The teachers are in a small pouch secreted in the tall man’s inside pocket.

  “We must depart now. I urge you to waste no time in your pursuit of Khorr, but I will not lie to you–if the great net is cast and you are trapped on this world your chances of survival are low.”

  Countergrav helices were building beneath the Scarabus, tugging at the grassy undergrowth, making a rushing tearing noise. Grassy leaves, pieces of foliage and splinters of wood were whipped up, highlighted by the spot-beams into bright swirling cones of debris. Pyke was standing too close, clothes flapping, hair streaming. Dervla yelled at him to get back but he gave no sign of hearing her, standing there, a mute still figure. She glanced at the others, saw faces full of stunned disbelief, panic and the first signs of fear. Win Foskel, though, was rifling through Punzho’s pockets and produced a small transparent medical pouch which she passed to Dervla. Inside it were a number of what looked like pale ovoid tablets–she stashed it away in a sealable jerkin pocket just as another shot rang out.

  Pyke had fired on the Scarabus again as it moved away down the valley. In the sudden darkness, harness lamps were hastily switched on and by their combined luminance Dervla could see Pyke raising the handgun again, sighting along it at the receding ship, a pose he held for a long drawn-out moment. Then the arm fell limply to his side, hand still holding the weapon. The ship, unaffected, flew away, the halo of its external lights fading, then gone. Despite the cluster of harness lamp glows, the surrounding darkness seemed to deepen, and Pyke was swallowed by it. Suddenly Dervla couldn’t see him at all and was about to call out to him when the small bright beam of a harness lamp winked on and there he was.