“I’ll take it under advisement,” Fenaday said, expressionless.
“So where does that leave us?” Mmok interrupted.
“Pulling out,” Fenaday said. “We’ve landed on Enshar, survived, gathered more information than has been learned before. We are even on the scoreboard, actually one up. I don’t want to give whatever the hell is down here the chance to start a tally. I think it’s time for the Confederacy to take over.”
“With respect, Captain,” Duna protested, “everything we have learned here has been transmitted to the starship and the satellites. And what is it we know? An inimical force haunts Enshar. It hates my kind but doesn’t care who else it kills.”
“It’s confined to Enshar,” Fenaday said, leaning back on the shuttle and crossing his arms.
“Do you know that, Captain?” Duna asked. “Will you chance that the creature will never get off my world? It came from outside, if the legends are true. And you met one of those legends today.
“What if there are others out there? This one must have been in a weakened state. Else, why do we live? Now is our chance to try and destroy this enemy, to free Enshar and give my people a chance for survival.”
“I vote we stay,” Mourner said, obviously moved by Duna’s speech. “I know the whole medical staff is with me.” Behind her, Dr. N’deba nodded. A few others murmured assent.
“This isn’t a democracy, and you don’t get a vote,” Fenaday snapped. “We have a contract, Duna.”
“You may be the Captain, Fenaday,” Mmok said, “but you’re not the owner. You know Mandela’s conditions. You pull out now, and he is not going to regard that as fulfillment of the bargain. What good does Duna’s agreement do you without Mandela’s?”
“Some of us have orders in such an event,” Rigg said reluctantly, and evidently surprising Mmok. Mmok looked displeased, but said nothing.
“Do not threaten the captain,” Telisan rapped.
“Whose side are you on?” Mmok said.
“I wish to stay,” Telisan said. “To defeat this evil that has very nearly murdered a race. My life is sworn to this purpose, and I will use every honorable means to stay. But do not threaten the captain, or my hand is against you.”
Fenaday felt the situation slipping from his control. Shasti coiled, cat-like, on the wing next to him. He could see the other HCRs in the dimness beyond the shuttles. Shasti’s trouble team stirred as well. Some additional LF troops, sensing the trouble, looked warily at the ASATs near them. The situation headed for explosion.
“Captain,” Duna said in calm, measured and pleasant tones, “may I make a suggestion?”
Fenaday nodded warily.
“We are fortified in a strong position here. Let us sleep on it, as you humans say. Perhaps the sun will bring us new counsel and wisdom.”
Fenaday looked around, as if weighing the odds. The old Enshari had been a politician, and he was providing Fenaday with a way out. Clearly he could not force the expedition off-world just now. Perhaps he could at least engineer a temporary retreat to the Sidhe.
“Very well,” Fenaday said. Tension in the area collapsed visibly, hands slid off weapons, and people breathed again. “We don’t have a good launch window till mid-morning anyway. We could make a low orbit tonight, but there’d be risks.
“When we reconvene in the morning, we’ll consider a temporary pull back to the ship, while we figure what’s going on. I don’t think that’s unreasonable,” he added, pleased to get a few spontaneous nods.
“Shasti, Telisan and Duna, please stay. Everyone else, dismissed.”
The others drifted off. Mmok looked unhappy about not staying, but he’d probably bug them anyway.
Duna studied the human. “Captain,” he said slowly, “you may have a political future yourself. All you intended was a temporary retreat. Very clever. Advance a proposition you cannot defend and replace it with one more reasonable.”
Fenaday yawned. “It also served to clarify the sides.” He looked up at Telisan, “So, whose side are you on?”
“I gave you my word,” Telisan said, his face drawn and tight. “So long as you got us to Enshar and made no move against the personal safety of my patron, I am your officer.”
“You disagreed with me a minute ago,” Fenaday said.
“Forgive me,” Telisan said, “but I hate ambiguity. I disagreed but made it clear that I am your man. I will follow your orders, even if it means killing.”
“Yes,” Fenaday said, more gently. “Thank you, Mr. Telisan. As regards the matter of your resignation, can I rely on your giving me fair warning if I encroach on your oath to Duna?”
“Yes,” Telisan said, clipped and tense.
“I believe you,” Fenaday said. “Please retain your commission.”
“I also believe you,” Shasti added, to everyone’s surprise.
Telisan nodded, evidently not trusting himself to speak and looking almost weak with relief.
“Poor Telisan,” Duna said, his fur rippling with anxiety. “It is I who did this to you. Blame me for any failure you feel there has been, Captain.”
“We all do what we have to do, Duna,” Fenaday said, “and justify it later. No one is pure here. At least I can understand and admire your motives; that’s more than I can say for most people.”
“Well, perhaps you can start calling me Belwin then,” Duna said, hopping off of his rock podium.
Fenaday smiled. It was almost impossible not to like Duna, despite the predicament. “Good night, Belwin.”
“Good night, Captain,” Duna turned and walked out of the lantern light.
“I’ll take first watch,” Telisan offered. “I am too keyed up for sleep.” He nodded to Fenaday and also vanished into the dark.
Fenaday turned to Shasti, anxious for her assessment.
“Do you have another chocolate bar?” she asked.
Chapter Twelve
Fenaday’s fortified campsite stood on the southeast coast of an island almost twenty kilometers long. Near midnight, on the northern side of the island, a huge mechanical shape drifted down toward the rocky beach. The name on the immense floating platform would have translated as Industrial Seacatcher #14 had there been anyone to read it. Nothing warm-blooded had moved on the giant processing platform in nearly three years. Nothing since the nightmare of terror ended for her crew on its derrick and net-filled decks. Pitiful skeletons littered those decks, splintered and fragmented.
Seacatcher wandered with the current, much as her designers intended. A few functioning automatics and luck kept her from grounding. On her port side, a small ferry lay wedged and partially submerged—a companion in death also crewed by bones—collected on some unwitnessed occasion.
The heart of her automatics had now failed and Seacatcher, which floated over the horizon when Fenaday’s force landed, drifted into shore. High above, Sidhe orbited. The starship noted the approach of the derelict. Despite the upload of the attack at Belwin Duna’s home, it never entered Perez’s prosaic mind that the derelict could pose any threat. The chief engineer lived in a secure world of math and science. Imagination was not his strength. He noted the powerless derelict’s drifting approach, but ignored it. It was, after all, merely another dead wreck.
Seacatcher came to rest on the other side of the volcanic ridge that bisected the island. The pounding roar of the surf masked much of the grinding, metallic cacophony of its arrival. Distance and the heavy night air attenuated it further.
On the derelict a shape formed, taller than an Enshari, nearer the height of a man. It drew its substance from paper, plastic and bits of bone and metal. The shape canted across the deck, heading toward land. As it moved, pieces dropped off and new ones took their place. The gusting wind seemed to shred it at times, as if the energy or attention keeping it together waxed and waned. When it reached Seacatcher’s landward edge, it simply toppled over into the surf. Fragments washed up along the beach, and it took some time for the manifestation to collect itself. It moved on, pulling sand, dr
iftwood and shell into its body. Down the wind-swept beach it danced, with only the rustling sound of wet paper and sticks. It slipped along lightly, now with greater speed, now with lesser. Sometimes, it came close to dissipating, as if its outraged component parts demanded rest, a return to their natural state. The shape negotiated the open areas of the island, avoiding the heavy forest where it could. Eventually, it reached a point on the headland, above the spacers’ encampment. It stopped in line of sight of the camp, but not near. Having reached its objective, the collection of bones and bits settled lower to the ground. Its substance became denser, whirling with less energy. It called.
On the deck of Seacatcher, unlife stirred. An army, resting from its previous mission of slaughter, reassembled. It incorporated its previous victims’ bones, metal, plastic, anything handy. They varied in size, but six giants made from girders and scaffolding stood like field marshals in the midst of the resurrected force. The ghastly army, its mission renewed, began to disembark. Above it, as if in cooperation, the heavens joined the assault with a rumble of thunder and a deluge of rain.
*****
Fenaday’s people slept comfortably, under cover from the rain and the lightning. This time only the robots stood out in the storm, on watch. Their airborne sister, the scout robot so useful on Mars, sat in a shuttle, grounded by the wind and rain.
The HCR Magenta detected movement and sound beyond the perimeter. A draw ran from the valley, and by design or luck, the Shellycoat army had marched down it. It allowed them to close to within several hundred meters of the camp without detection. The defenders had not been blind to this danger, lacing the small canyon with mines. At its end, the draw left any attackers facing a hundred meters of open terrain, under every gun of the camp. In a millisecond, the robot checked its target profile and came up with ‘Unknown.’ Fortunately, its programs contained a new instruction. ‘Unknown,’ meant hostile.
Magenta signaled an alert to Mmok back in the camp. In the same instant, she commanded the mines to detonate. Her steel sisters joined her in a blur of flashing metal, leading the reserve of crab robots to the section of barrier wire facing the attack.
In the camp, Mmok leapt to his feet, yelling warnings.
Fenaday sat bolt upright from a deep sleep, grabbing his jacket. Moments later he and Shasti stood on the ramp door of the shuttle, looking for targets in the driving rain. Troops spilled out from shuttles and shelters, running for firing slits and foxholes. Fenaday popped onto the net, hitting his command override button, “All section commanders, this is Fenaday. Hold fire until we have a target. Mmok, your robots may fire at will.”
Telisan and Duna joined them on the ramp, both with sidearms. Shasti left his side racing around the encampment. He heard her calling for everyone to look to their front. Mmok’s robots opened up on the prepared killing ground at the draw’s exit. Anti-tank munitions flashed and boomed, giving hints of what lay beyond the barrier wire. Fenaday saw something that looked like a crane toppling into the dirt.
The Shellycoat army, its size more than quartered by the ambush, burst out the sides of the draw. A wave of creatures charged at the barrier wire, far faster than a man could run over such ground.
“Weapons free,” Fenaday yelled.
Shasti called for fire and everyone, including the top turrets of the shuttles, opened up at once. The Shellycoats seemed to have no sense of survival. They hit the barrier line and flashed into nothing.
“Floods,” Fenaday shouted over the net. The downpour made it impossible to see clearly. Actinic bursts of light from explosions and energy weapons didn’t help.
The floods clicked on, revealing a scene undreamed of even in Dante’s nightmares. Beyond the barrier wire the ground seethed, alive with thousands of horrific, man-like shapes of all sizes. They lurched forward, made from metal, plastic, wood and rock. The most terrifying had skulls and ribcages whirling in their interiors.
The weaponry of the spacers cut huge swaths through the oncoming mass. Shellycoats exploded into mere debris. Barrier wire began to short under the press of material, throwing brilliant sparks to add to the confusion.
Fenaday moved to the front, flanked by the others. He saw Shasti repositioning the ground troops. He didn’t interfere; she knew more of war on planets than he did. Troops ran, slipping and cursing the mud and rain. Mmok’s utility robots began to scramble out from the shuttle area in response to some silent call for ammunition.
Fenaday turned to Telisan. “Get the doctors and the techs to passing out ammunition.”
Telisan nodded and ran off. Duna accompanied him.
Fenaday hit the net. “Pilots, fire up your engines. We may have to withdraw.”
“Karass, roger.”
“Fury, roger.”
“Nusam, understood.”
Fenaday, laser in hand, rushed forward to help in the fight. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Farriq-Dar’s turret swing upward. His eyes followed the gun’s track, and he saw the giant.
It stood sixty feet tall, in an ape-like shape. Behind it came four others, made of gantries, scaffolds and cranes. They strode out of the draw like colossi, eating up ground in huge strides. Weapons fire switched to them. Farriq-Dar’s chain gun tore the first one apart. Then the shuttle switched to the second, which was already taking fire. The giant exploded. Parts of it struck the barrier wire and scattered the defenders. Fire slackened momentarily under the shower of metal. Girders struck Farriq-Dar as the thing toppled forward. The sound of metal crashing on the shuttle added to the confusion of gunfire and screams.
A third giant fell to combined fire as the weapons disrupted the unlife holding it together.
The fourth stepped over the wire as lesser Shellycoats raced through the gaps. Magenta, Cobalt, Verdigris and Vermilion charged in, blazing away. The crab-like robot guns and utility robots also swarmed to the breakthrough engaging the Shellycoats. It gave some of the cut-off troops a chance to run for the shuttles or better positions. Shasti reorganized them quickly and the spacers’ enormous firepower began to contain the threat.
*****
On the Farriq-Dar, Pilot Officer Nusam looked out at the mass of wreckage on his canopy in dazed terror. Debris hadn’t penetrated the ceramic steel of the canopy and turret, but the concussion had. His gunner hung in the belts of her seat, unconscious. All he could hear over the communications net were screams and desperate orders. His shuttle sat where the breakthrough was worst. Outside the cabin he could see monsters made of wood, steel and bone skittering over the shuttle’s sides trying to reach him.
Nusam’s nerve failed and he rammed the throttles forward. Farriq-Dar began to lift. Its thrusters tumbled men and Shellycoats alike.
*****
Fenaday looked up in shock at the desertion. “Nusam,” he yelled into the headset. “Get that shuttle back down here. Nusam! Acknowledge!”
Farriq-Dar rose slowly, thirty feet, forty. Then the fourth giant struck at it with steel arms that had once drawn fishing nets through the deep ocean. Her armored hull withstood the blow, but the port engine nozzle did not. It crumpled, cutting thrust from the engine. Unbalanced, with the other engine running full blast, Farriq-Dar flipped over.
Fenaday was on his headset, still demanding Nusam’s return, when he saw the shuttle turn over and start down directly toward him. “Down, everyone down,” he screamed into the command override. “Everyone drop.”
Something hit Fenaday, throwing him backward, the breath rammed out of him. They got me, he thought numbly as he hit the wet ground. Long, fine, black hair fell into his face. He realized Shasti had knocked them both into a partly rain-filled ditch. They lay face to face—for a second. Then the sky over her shoulder lit up with an orange flash; the ground bucked as the shuttle exploded. They clung to each other, gasping for air. For a moment, it was simply enough to be alive.
Shasti heaved off him and lunged out of the hole. He followed with less grace, half soaked. They hit the ground running, looking for targets.
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The shuttle lay upside down and burning. Its blast must have hit Banshee badly; her top turret had stopped firing. Pooka and her gun still blazed away. Bodies lay everywhere. Fortunately, the blast did their enemy worse harm; Farriq fell on the main breakthrough. The giant that had struck the shuttle stood wobbling as if wounded. Fenaday ran forward, scooping up a fallen tri-auto. He fired a weapon from either hand. The laser set the giant ablaze as the tri-auto ate at its substance with explosive charges, bullets and energy blasts. Other fire joined his and the giant toppled. Fenaday turned, looking for targets. He saw the last giant moving toward Shasti.
She stood at the perimeter, gunning down a group of Shellycoats trying to surround survivors fleeing from the front trench. Her hearing, more sensitive than a normal human’s, must not have recovered from the blast. She did not hear the clangor of its approach, too intent on the enemy before her. She did not hear Fenaday’s scream as he raced forward, firing. He was too far away. Too late, she felt or saw something and began to turn. Forty feet tall and made of suspended debris, the giant swung down a girder arm.
Johan Gunnar sprang from a foxhole, almost at Shasti’s feet. The big Swede hit Shasti with a shoulder, sending her sprawling face down in the mud. The girder missed her by inches. It hit Gunnar squarely. He didn’t even scream. His body lofted into the air, flung like a child’s toy into the forest beyond the shattered perimeter.
Fenaday grabbed another weapon from the bodies on the ground, put it on full auto and fired. It emptied its ammunition in a rush; the particle accelerator spat out metal and energy fitfully. He continued charging, firing his hand laser at what he thought of as the thing’s face. The giant stood, its head a mass of flames as the laser refracted off metal, igniting anything flammable. Even the metal began to glow. The weapon, made for short bursts, grew hot in Fenaday’s hand.
The giant backed away as its girder arms came up to shield its face.
Oh my God, he thought, this one is aware. He shifted to fire around the shielding arms. Shasti appeared at his side, face bloody, eyes wild. Death’s Angel, the crew called her. Now she looked the part. She held tri-autos in each hand and fired them with a scream of hatred. Explosive bullets began to detonate in the giant. Cobalt appeared next to them, firing her heavier weapon. The thing continued backing, then came apart, its pieces thundering into the mud, splashing them with its death throes.
Was Once a Hero Page 15
