“Strike, we shall,” Fenaday promised. “Mr. Duna.”
“Every evidence we can find,” Duna began, “indicates that the assault radiated out of Barjan. Here, the slaughter took minutes, if that long. The entire disaster was over, planet-wide, in hours. As the captain says, we are the first force to survive the initial attacks. We are in range of the enemy, alive and armed. There is—there must be—a chance.”
Shasti looked up from stroking Risky’s fur, as if to speak. Fenaday caught her eye and she subsided.
“We will attack in this fashion,” Fenaday said. “Shasti, Connery, Li, Mmok, and the bulk of his HCR and crab robot force will accompany me as we descend into...”
“Captain,” interrupted both Duna and Telisan simultaneously. Fenaday looked at them in surprise.
“I must go, Captain,” Duna continued. “None of you has ever even been in an Enshari city. You cannot recognize the signs, much less read them.”
“Duna,” Fenaday said, “you could give directions.”
“No, Robert,” Duna replied, “not well enough to help, but there are other reasons as well. You were brought into this through my actions. We have lost a quarter of our force, killed or wounded. I bear the ultimate responsibility for this. I dragged you here to face monsters. I must stand with you when you do.
“Finally, I am the only member of my race on this planet. This is my home, the place I buried my wife, where we had our children, where some of them died. In the name of all who have died, in the name of all that we lost, an Enshari must be there to strike the blow.
“Give me a place in this fight,” the Enshari demanded, his eyes brilliant.
There was silence in the room.
“It’s not necessary for me to give you what is yours by right,” Fenaday said softly. “You fight with us in the morning.”
The Enshari sat on the floor, his hand-paws covering his eyes. Telisan placed a long fingered hand on his shoulder. Duna grasped it tightly.
“I too, must go,” Telisan said, “for my comrades on the Earhart, for my friend Belwin and to buy back a lie.” He looked directly at Fenaday. “I demanded an oath from you, and you have been true in all things. I knew of Duna’s fears that some ancient menace had been uncovered. I knew the stories of the demons and monsters, what you call the Shellycoats. I did not tell you even after I was your officer. I have not lied in any matter of honor before. I must go to buy back that lie.”
“You don’t owe me,” Fenaday said. “I’m not some noble adventurer tricked into a quest. Shasti and I were forced to go by the government when our pasts caught up with us. Had you told either of us what you suspected, we would have thought you mad. Even if you’d told us and we believed you, what else could have been done?”
“Then it is myself I owe,” Telisan replied.
“Who will command the team to go to the spaceport and find a ship?” Fenaday asked.
“Send Fury,” said Telisan. “I am a fighter pilot. She actually served on freighters before the war. In any event she knows ship systems better than I.”
Fenaday looked at Telisan and smiled. “You’re a damn fool, but I’ll be glad to have you along. I’d rather be going anywhere else myself.”
“For once we agree,” Mmok added.
“All right. Fury will take Rask and half the ASATs and LEAFs back to the port, along with any of our engineers or other people she feels she’ll need. Rigg, you’ll take command here. I’m not going to give you any orders. Once we are gone, it’s your shop.”
“Mmok,” Fenaday said, turning to the half-cyborg, “I assume you can rig a variety of different time delay detonation sequences for me on that nuke.”
“In my sleep. How long a delay do you want?”
“I need four settings: three days, twenty-four hours, six hours and one for two seconds.”
The last fell on them all like a shroud. There was only one reason for the two-second delay, to replace a painful death with a quick blast of nuclear light.
“We’ll take one of the multi-fuels in the morning,” Fenaday continued. “Duna, draft a map of where you think the excavation might be. Everyone will carry one. It shouldn’t take all of one day to get there and back. It’s not much of a plan, but there it is.”
“The underground will not be so bad as you all imagine,” Duna said. “We Enshari evolved from denning animals, but we hunted on the surface. Our eyes see somewhat better in darkness than do yours, our sense of smell is better, but we do need light. In addition to all the shaftways bringing down light, there are bioluminescent panels almost everywhere. Remember, our genetic engineers developed them to a high art. They do not need replacing during their lifetimes and live twenty years or more, if tended properly. There will be sufficient light to see by.”
“We will take torches and lanterns anyway,” Fenaday said. “Daylight is 04:30 standard time.
“Mmok, prepare the nuke. Also, send that scout robot of yours out and see about securing us a decent route to the Barjan Deep. Duna will give you the coordinates.
“I suggest everybody check their equipment and try to get their heads down for a few hours. ‘Boots and saddles’ sounds at 03:00. Any questions?”
Mmok grunted as usual. The others shook their heads.
“Dismissed.”
Chapter Sixteen
Before seeking his bed, Fenaday made a tour of the guard posts. Nothing moved in the tomb Barjan had become. The sky remained clear. Stars formed unfamiliar constellations over his head, crowned by a view of the galactic core unblocked by nebula or clouds. Enshar’s moonless but brilliant night sky gave him an extra feeling of security—their enemy seemed to prefer full darkness.
After he reviewed the defenses, he headed for ambassadorial quarters. Rank, after all, did have some few privileges still attached. He collapsed onto the bed gratefully. He was nearly asleep when he heard someone enter the room.
Without speaking, Shasti joined him on the bed. He turned toward her, looking a question. She laid her head on his shoulder and closed her eyes. With the padding of four feet and the clicking of nails, Risky joined them. He circled at the foot of the bed a few times before settling in with an immense yawn on the rug. Fenaday dropped off instantly.
When he woke some hours later, he reached for her, still half asleep, and said Lisa’s name.
“No,” she whispered.
It brought him fully awake. “God, Shasti, I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be,” she replied. “I am not trying to take anyone’s place. I am here, now, and for my own reasons.” She reached for him. They made love, quickly and urgently, both believing it might be the last time, the last touch.
They fell asleep again in each other’s arms. Then something wet and cold touched Fenaday’s butt. He jumped. Claws clicked on the floor. Risky was awake, too. Shasti struggled to smother a laugh.
He glared at her in the semi-darkness of the room. “A thing like that can give a guy a complex.”
Shasti lost her battle with the laugh and it burst out, a surprisingly high-pitched and girlish laugh for Death’s Angel.
“Oh well,” he grumbled, “I might as well get up. It’s near three, and I doubt I could fall asleep again after that.”
The showers at the embassy still worked. Embassies serving different species had to be, for necessity, nearly self-sufficient little fortresses. Even on a world as friendly and civilized as Enshar, the embassy followed the standard pattern with its own gravity-fed water supply. Shasti joined him in the shower. They enjoyed the utter luxury of being completely clean. When they came out, they dressed in the fresh uniforms that had been among the last supplies dropped in by the Wildcats. They left their old clothes in a pile for the laundry detail to collect, as no one knew how long they would be down-world. The little details of being alive, from toilet paper and soap to ammunition, all required tending.
Their personal weapons they kept with them. The rest of the gear they would pick up downstairs. It felt odd, he thought, sitting
on the bed and sorting uniform parts. Here we are getting ready to crawl into a dead city, on the hope of blasting some unseen monster to bits with an atom bomb, and the day begins with trying to find two socks that fit. The ordinariness of it seemed bizarre. It felt more like going away on a camping trip. The heartsick fear that gripped him on the night before the landing was missing. He didn’t know why; maybe it was that ‘good day to die’ people talked about.
Shasti was her usual contained self. She gave him the look she sometimes used for a smile, though he could see her mind was already on the task ahead. Concentration was rarely less than total with Shasti. In that much, she proved true to the sports-minded founders of Olympia.
Risky wagged his tail, clearly figuring himself as part of the adventure, but they had no plans to take the dog. K-9s were highly trained, but Shasti had not had him long enough for the dog to recognize her as his handler. He might bolt. They could not afford such distractions.
As if reading his mind, Shasti looked up from petting him. “There’s no reason he can’t stay with us through breakfast,” she said.
“None,” he replied, “provided he keeps his nose to himself.”
They left the room, which had been a little island of warmth for them, and headed downstairs. Fenaday’s chronometer read 2:17 A.M. The other members of the team would be awake soon. Telisan had organized a mess hall the day before. Food, and more important, fresh hot coffee awaited them. Fenaday grabbed a few sausage and egg sandwiches while Shasti made up a bowl for Risky.
Telisan, who never seemed to need sleep, sat at a table sipping coffee, a human vice he acquired in the Confed navy. He smiled broadly at the two of them as they came down the stairs. Fenaday tried to forgive the Denlenn for his morning cheerfulness. At least he was quiet about it.
“Sleep well?” Telisan asked.
“Yes, very,” Fenaday replied.
“Ah, good,” said the Denlenn, smiling.
Shasti joined them on the couch. The Denlenn grinned even more broadly at her. She looked back at him, “Something?” she asked.
“Mere envy,” Telisan sighed.
Fenaday began to wonder if he had their room bugged. To his surprise, Shasti returned the Denlenn’s grin.
Duna padded down the stairs next. Fenaday did not know what a sleepy Enshari looked like, but he suspected it looked very much like Belwin Duna. Next came Connery, Li and Mmok. Only the half-cyborg looked in any condition to face the day. He always radiated a metallic coldness, crisp and alert. Daniel Rigg walked in almost on their heels.
With the arrival of the others, the Shasti of last night disappeared, replaced by her expressionless, no-nonsense self. She finished her food and left to check equipment. Everyone began doing last-minute teardowns and cleaning of weapons. Fenaday checked each person for full canteens, a day’s rations, reloads, flares and torches. They went over the detonation procedures. Mmok made them simple but impossible to do by accident.
After everyone had their gear on, Rigg walked with them down the main hall to the front entrance. Guards on the windows called out good luck. Fenaday was surprised to see a cluster of people at the entranceway. The Tok brothers stood there. They had bitterly protested being left out of the assault force, but Hanshi was their only other pilot and Lokashti walked with a bad limp. Most of the medical team with Dr. Mourner showed up along with Rask, Bernard, Fury and Morgan.
The Tok bothers took their leave of Shasti, gripping her by both arms. Fenaday shook hands with the doctors and the others. “Go get 'em, skipper,” Bernard said.
Angelica Fury looked at him. “I’ll see to Micetich,” she said, “if there’s a need.”
“Thanks, do that,” he said.
“Best of luck, Robert,” Mourner said, echoed by Yamata and Vashti. They shook hands with each member of the team.
Shasti held Risky’s collar and snapped an improvised leash on him. She handed it to Daniel Rigg. “Look out for him if we don’t get back,” she said.
Rigg nodded. “You’ll do okay,” he said with the casual assurance sergeants dispense before battles. “We’ll see you on toward nightfall. I don’t have to tell you anything. You’ll be okay.”
She nodded. “Look after him anyway, though.”
“Yeah, don’t worry about it. If you don’t make it back though, he may be looking after us. He’s got the track record on survival.”
“I hate long good-byes,” Fenaday said impatiently.
“OK, let’s go to work, people,” Telisan announced, lapsing into Confed military slang, from his normally formal standard. They boarded the M-2 Rask brought to the front. All three surviving HCRs stood around the truck, motionless in the pre-dawn light. The utility robots, including the one with the bomb on board, latched themselves into position. Eight other crab assault models already hung off the truck. It looked as if flat-gray beach creatures were consuming the vehicle.
Fenaday and the other spacers boarded the M-2. Mmok’s saucer-like reconnaissance robot circled overhead on guard. Duna, Telisan, Shasti and Fenaday rode in the armored box of the cargo platform, glad for their leather flight jackets. Barjan had something in common with the desert: it was windy, and with the sun down, the wind was damn cold. Shasti slid up and into the ring containing the light caliber cannon Rask had mounted, hitting the charging handle on the weapon.
The M-2 hummed to life, pulling away from the embassy. A cheer went up from the spacers left behind. As the M-2 rumbled down the driveway, the gate guards pulled down the barrier wire to let them through the perimeter. Shasti’s Landing Force troops joined the ASATs in a salute.
“There is rather an air of finality about these farewells,” Duna observed pensively.
“Well, we have very little chance,” Shasti said.
Fenaday looked at her.
“But maybe we’ll get lucky,” she added.
Telisan shook his head ruefully.
“It could happen,” Fenaday insisted.
Duna grumbled something in Enshari that made Telisan laugh and went back to surveying the landscape. Fenaday rested his tri-auto on the cab, watching the HCRs pace the slow-moving M-2 as they wove around debris and vehicles, heading for the city.
The domes and half-domes of the city became clearer as the morning light strengthened. Half-domes were generally industrial or offices. They rose to considerable height but had none of the dizzying perspective of a Terran skyscraper. There were a few ruined towers as well. Up closer, the devastation was more evident. Bones lay everywhere. Empty window frames gave the domed buildings a skull-like appearance. They grew used to the crunching sound of tiny Enshari bones under the M-2’s bulletproof wheels. Fenaday consoled himself with the knowledge that the dead wouldn’t mind the desecration, knowing their mission of vengeance. Still, the scene was oppressive. The courage of morning coffee and a full breakfast faded before the evidence of their unseen enemy’s power.
Fenaday turned to Telisan. The Denlenn seemed the most affected by the sight of the dead city. Maybe it reminded him of what he had seen, or perhaps even caused, during the war. The grim countenance of his usually optimistic and self-assured friend worried Fenaday. He had come to rely on the Denlenn’s sense of humor when things looked dark.
“When we get out of this,” Fenaday said abruptly, “we’ll go up to where the fighters augured in. We’ll locate your folks, your friend’s brother and give everybody a decent burial. Least we could do, I think.”
The Denlenn turned his golden, cat-irised eyes toward the human. “I thank thee, my friend. If we live, we shall do that, but in truth I do not think we will live. A whole world fell to this enemy.”
“If Duna is right,” said Fenaday slowly, “if we’re facing this ancient enemy he suspects, it must be very old. I’ve been trying to remember what I felt when I was in physical contact with the Shellycoat we fought in Duna’s library. I told you before that it felt like I was in communication, receiving something from it. It’s difficult, like recalling a dream after you wake up.
The more you concentrate on it, the more it fades. You’re left with the doubt that you dreamt anything at all.
“I felt a sense of great age and a terrible anger. The anger, I think, was directed at the Enshari rather than any of us. There’s more, much more, but that’s what I have the most trouble remembering. It’s easier to gather impressions than images. I recall a feeling of weakness and confusion, a lack of focus in the thing. Otherwise, I think it would have killed me.”
Fenaday looked the Denlenn in the eye. “After two hundred thousand years, is it possible that our enemy might be senile?”
“Who knows?” murmured Telisan. “It might be. It just might be the case. The attacks on us have varied, some with intelligence and at least a degree of cunning, some not. None displayed the coordinated brilliance of the original two assaults.”
“Let’s hope the thing doesn’t have a lucid moment while we’re trying to put it to sleep permanently,” Fenaday said. “It wouldn’t take much more to finish us off.”
They came to an area impassable to the vehicles. Bones and bits of bodies were strewn everywhere. Vehicles of all descriptions, from trucks and aircars to small motorcycles, formed a nearly solid mass.
“We’re within three hundred meters of the main roadway leading down to Barjan Old Town,” Mmok said. “From here, we walk.”
Crab robots popped off the truck like fleas and moved up to join the three human-form robots. Utility robots, carrying supplies and the warhead, came off the truck more slowly. Fenaday and the others picked up their equipment and shouldered weapons. They formed up in the center of the robot force and began to walk down the sloping road to the tunnel entrance, where the roadway dropped into the earth.
As they reached the entrance, Fenaday stopped, looking around a last time at the sunlight and sky. Then, taking a deep breath, he stepped across the terminator thrown by the roof of the tunnel. They started down the gentle slope, around wrecked vehicles and in some cases, over them.
Was Once a Hero Page 21
