The Omcri Matrix

by Deborah Chester

  Haufren could hear his own breathing, ragged and harsh. He swallowed hard, every sense alert as they waited for Duval to help Nogales up.

  “All right, Wob?”

  Nogales nodded, then bit off whatever he had been about to say and sank down again, clutching his leg. His raddled face paled to sheet white.

  Haufren cursed beneath his breath, scanning the clouds hanging low and black overhead. The day seemed darker now than it had at dawn. He shivered from more than cold. “Duval. A sprain?”

  The patroller crouched beside Nogales and ran an exploring hand over the ankle. By common consent, no one had dared switch on a field-scanner. They all knew Omcris were attracted as quickly to the energy fields of operating equipment as to living flesh.

  “Nothing broken,” whispered Duval.

  Nogales choked back a moan. “My knee…”

  “Dislocated. Maybe I can shift it back.”

  Frowning, Duval moved swiftly, and Nogales jerked with a choked cry. He was perspiring, and his dilated pupils made his eyes look black. But at least he made no further sound.

  Haufren kept glancing over his shoulder, hating this delay out here in the open. They were easy targets; he felt something watching and hoped with all his heart he was wrong.

  “I’ll walk,” Nogales was saying hoarsely, levering himself to his feet with Duval’s aid. “I’ll make it. Oh—”

  Haufren, who had been limping steadily all morning on a leg that still seeped a little blood through the bandage Silta had slapped on it, frowned but held back the sharp comment he might have said. He was field trained; Nogales wasn’t.

  Silta growled softly deep in his throat so that only Haufren could hear. “Civilians. We should have left him.”

  “Agreed.” Haufren tried to shake off a growing sense of foreboding and glanced over his shoulder again. “I don’t like this place. Too open. Let’s move on.”

  As they hugged what cover they could find, Haufren tried to reassure himself. There had been no attempt to probe them yet. His own abilities told him that. And yet, it was too easy.

  Duval stopped so suddenly Nogales nearly tripped over him. He glanced back, his weathered face revealing fear for the first time. “I just remembered,” he said, glancing at the strifer in his hand. “These won’t kill them. We haven’t got a chance.”

  “A strifer does more than you think,” said Haufren.

  Duval grimaced in exasperation. “I fought them—”

  “Easy,” said Haufren, but with the snap of command. He glanced at Silta, who nodded, and then dug into the Zethian’s pack. “Use this.” He tossed Duval a charge pack of special manufacture. “Our lab has done some research.”

  Duval caught it with a frown of anger. “This is rather late to rearm us, Major.”

  “And what of me?” demanded Nogales in alarm.

  Haufren scowled at him. “You can always pull out that Omcri wand you’re hiding.”

  “Its power is exhausted. I use it only for effect.”

  Haufren raised both brows and said curtly, “The supply is limited. If you load your strifer with that charge pack, Duval, you go in first.”

  Duval glared at him for a hot moment, then surprised Haufren by tossing the pack at him. “You go first, Ranger. This is your show.”

  Silta made a faint sound of admiration. “It is time for the scanner.”

  “You always claimed you could smell Omcris.” But as he spoke, Haufren was already pulling a field-scanner from his pack. He set it to low power and cautiously switched it on. The reading blips were faint but steady. He took a directional swiftly and shut it off. “Follow me. Take the rear, Duval. Silta is going to have to concentrate more than ever.”

  Tucking Tith under his arm, Haufren set off in an unsteady run diagonally across the street, trying not to favor his leg. He could hear Nogales puffing and blowing loudly behind him, laboring to keep pace, his feet slapping the ground with the noise of a blundering orph. The building indicated by the scanner as having the strongest readings stood closed to them by a high wall scarred by the recent explosions but not breached. Its door was immovable, and Haufren did not have the patience to try to unjam its circuits.

  With a grunt of impatience, he put Tith down and moved to the corner where roughly forty-five centimeters separated this building from the next one. If he took no deep breaths and kept his head pointed over his shoulder, he just fit between them.

  “Haufren—” began Silta in alarm, but ignoring him, Haufren started making his way through, scuttling sidewise as fast as he could and trying not to think about what he might find at the other end.

  All he found was a gigantic crater with the rear of both buildings fallen in. Climbing with caution over the rain-slick stones, Haufren made his way like a shadow into dark, empty chambers smelling of bitter herbs and cold. When he reached the front courtyard and stood outside in the mist once again, he released a breath he had not realized he had been holding and found the controls to the street door. The panel was modern, though filled with dust, and everything still worked. Moments later, Duval, Silta, and Nogales stepped warily into the courtyard.

  Tith wrinkled his nose. “There is a stink here.”

  “Come,” said Haufren and led them inside. He dared use the scanner once more as they paused inside a vast round chamber containing only a single chair in the center. Silta prowled about the circular archways, running an exploring finger along the damp stone, and stopped with distaste at the small pile of clean-picked bones before him.

  “Jillian!” said Nogales suddenly. He rushed past Haufren to stoop behind the stone-hewn chair. “She has been here!”

  “Quiet,” said Haufren, but Nogales was glowing with excitement.

  “Look!” he cried, thrusting a fist-sized cylinder at Haufren. “A spent power cell. She must be close by, or else she was…” His voice trailed off uncertainly, and he looked pale again. “No,” he whispered.

  “Come,” said Haufren to the others. “Behind this room.” He could no longer contain his impatience. The lack of guards here where he had expected the trap to be sprung convinced him that the Omcris had gone. And if they took Costa and her fellow prisoners beyond reach…

  He quickened his steps, whipped through the archway and into the next room in a swift crouch, his weapon ready but unneeded. There he found a trap door set into the floor.

  “Through that.”

  “Moii,” said Duval, staring at it.

  “Jillian wouldn’t be down there,” said Nogales, still clutching the power cell. He turned about as though he would walk off, and Silta grabbed him by the sleeve.

  “Stay close,” said the Zethian. “There is no one living in this building besides ourselves.”

  Haufren heard him and looked up sharply from his efforts to pull open the trap door. “Beware of that, Silta. No mind scans while—”

  “Scanning is unnecessary for something so elementary the senses pick it up,” replied Silta haughtily and dragged Nogales over to the others.

  Grasping the cold iron ring, Haufren crouched down, set his feet, and pulled until the muscles in his back and legs quivered with the strain. The massive wood panel moved slightly, giving Duval enough room to get hold of the other end.

  “Now,” he said, giving a hard push.

  The panel grated back over the stone floor, and a dank miasma lifted up from the blackness yawning below them. Haufren sat down, daunted in spite of himself, and Duval made a furtive sign of warding.

  “If they are gone, then why don’t we let the matter be?” asked Nogales shrilly.

  Silta glanced at Haufren, who sighed and said wearily:

  “Because if they are convinced this is an easy access point, they will return through here. We assume their plans are not complete, that they are still searching for the ideal route in. They have explored other planets. So far we have been alerted by increased numbers or activity and have been able to drive them away. But I think here they have made their choice.”

&n
bsp; “No,” said Duval.

  “Playworld is perfect. It is in an isolated system, yet all space lanes lead here. Its native population is small. It is deliberately kept undeveloped, its natural state preserved so that vast areas of the continents are either uncharted or never visited. Patrollers can’t cover everything all the time. There aren’t enough of them. And sooner or later, every important personage of this galaxy comes here. They could wait, ensnaring heads of state as they chose, or they could mass here. I don’t know. But they are coming.” His eyes stabbed to each man as he spoke. “If we can stop them—if there’s the slightest chance of it—then we can’t turn back now. So it’s up to us.”

  Silta lifted his head. “We are ready. I sense nothing ahead.”

  With a nod, Haufren took out the special charge pack and loaded his strifer, hoping that this time the lab had the right power base. The last time he had used these charge packs against Omcris, they had failed, and half of his squad had been killed. But now was not the time to mention that. Taking out two miniature deton-bombs from his pack, he fitted them carefully into his pockets and clipped a small torch to his belt along with the field-scanner.

  Drawing a deep breath, he groped his way carefully down the crumbling steps into the hole. For a few moments the faint light within the chamber overhead lit his way, but his body blocked most of that inadequate illumination and then he was in complete darkness, moving down one slow step at a time with both hands pressed to the wall on his right. The smell of shadow and age and damp clung inside his nostrils, and the farther he went the stronger another scent became, a scent of something ripe and tainted. The darkness seemed almost alive; it was thick and impenetrable. He passed through levels of air with variant temperatures, and always they seemed to grow colder. It was almost like entering the space between galaxies, into a complete void with no stars, nothing material, nothing of matter existing.

  He stopped, panicked by his own thoughts. Was that what he was going into? Was this darkness the actual gateway he feared he would find? For an instant he imagined the air was thinning, disappearing, that the oxygen was going, that he could not breathe.

  His fingers clawed at the wall, scraping on the stone. The faint sting to his flesh brought him back from the numbness of fear. He drew a deep breath, thinking again. He was standing on solid matter. He could feel the wall under his palm. There was plenty of air; it simply stank. And stone always held cold for a long time. Nothing else could be expected down here where the sunlight never reached.

  He could hear the others groping their way cautiously after him, trying to be silent and failing, their breathing harsh. It was foolish not to turn on a light. They lacked the advantage of surprise, and if a fight came the darkness could only help the Omcris. His fingers moved to his belt; the torch snapped on, flooding the remaining steps in its clear light.

  Six steps down lay a pool of water that shimmered opaquely like molten silver. Haufren drew in a swift breath, thanking whatever watched over him. He had learned long ago never to trust water, or what might live within it. Warily he shone the torch across it, trying to measure its width. Beyond jumping reach rose a wall carved with worn markings and leprosied with pale dank patches of fungus. A landing jutted out from it over the water, and there was a rusted grate standing ajar within a doorway.

  “There’s the way across,” said Duval.

  His voice, though pitched low, boomed through the quiet, startling Haufren. He turned, shifting his gaze to follow Duval’s pointing finger. A tiny ledge wide enough perhaps for a toehold crooked its way up and around the wall circling the pool. Haufren swallowed, considering the risks.

  “Shine your torch up again. I thought I saw something,” said Duval. “Yes, there! A support beam end. If I can hook my grappler into that, and if the wood isn’t rotted, we can use my line for support. I’ll go first.”

  Haufren started to tell him he was insane, then remembered Costa’s skill in the treetops. These patrollers must be trained acrobats. He stood back to give Duval room to throw.

  The first try fell short, and the grappler landed in the pool with a sullen splash. Duval hauled it back and threw again. This time the grapple held. He yanked down hard on it, and gave a nod. Haufren lifted a brow with respect.

  “Very good.”

  Duval’s teeth showed briefly in a smile, then he was busy tying the rope around his stocky middle. He eased his way cautiously onto the tiny ledge, slipping slightly on the damp surface, but keeping his balance with remarkable agility. Haufren watched, holding his breath, and took note of how far Duval’s heels hung over the ledge. The least slip…

  “These patrollers have many talents,” said Silta admiringly as Duval jumped lightly onto the landing and waved. “Shall I go next?”

  Duval swung the line back, and Silta caught it. Deftly knotting it around his lean flanks, he knelt and spoke quietly to Tith, who climbed onto his back and clung tightly there. Silta scrambled up onto the ledge and tested it.

  “Pfit,” he said with scorn. “Whoever carved this had no thought for tall persons. The holds are positioned at wrong intervals.” But already he was moving on along the ledge with his usual gracefulness, undeterred by Tith’s weight.

  “I can’t do that!”

  Nogales crowded Haufren at the water’s edge, sweating and glassy-eyed.

  “My weight. And…I am afraid of heights. No. I’m going back, Haufren, and this time you won’t stop me!”

  Turning, he started up the steps rapidly, puffing and wheezing, as though afraid Haufren would hold him back by force.

  Haufren let him go a short distance, then said flatly: “Jillian is beyond that door.”

  Nogales stopped short. “What? How can you say that? How do you know?”

  For a moment Haufren almost pitied the man. “If that power cell was hers, then she was here. And if she was here, the Omcris have her. Simple logic, Nogales.”

  Silta was safely across. He swung the line to Haufren, who caught it and gazed up at Nogales’ stiff back.

  “Well?” he asked. “It’s your turn.”

  Nogales turned and came blundering down. “Damn you!” he said and seized the line with a shaking hand.

  Without a word Haufren made the knot for him, then stood motionless, avoiding looking at Nogales as the man’s thick lips quivered. Nogales stared at the pool for a moment while impatience crawled through Haufren. He started to speak, but Nogales sidled along the last step and hoisted himself with a series of grunts onto the ledge. Once up, he pressed himself against the wall for dear life, his thick arms spread wide. He moved a few centimeters, stopped, then moved a few more. Across the pool Silta signaled for them to hurry. Haufren glanced at him and shook his head. He had goaded Nogales all he dared.

  The sound of crumbling stone followed by quick plops of water brought up his head sharply. His breath caught in his throat as he saw the stone breaking away under Nogales’ feet. The big man clung frozen halfway across with his face pressed against the wall.

  Haufren took a step forward and shouted: “Move! Damn you, Nogales! Move!”

  With a whimper, Nogales remained where he was. “It’s going!” he said. “I can feel it. I can’t swim! I can’t swim!”

  “Wob! Come on!” shouted Duval from the other side.

  Haufren exclaimed and reached for the ledge with the idea of going out after him, but just then stone broke with a loud crack and the ledge fell, crumbling away along the wall like dried plaster. Screaming, Nogales plunged toward the water only to be jerked up short by the line which twanged like a cut bowstring as it snapped. Arms and legs flailing, he hit the surface of the pool with a tremendous splash and promptly sank.

  “Damn!”

  Haufren took time only to switch off the charge on his strifer before diving into the water. The icy coldness numbed him instantly. His outstretched hands scraped stone, and he knew relief. So the pool wasn’t bottomless after all. He arched his back, sending himself up for a gulp of air, then shot dow
n again. This time he ploughed into Nogales and grasped him firmly as he kicked his way back to the surface. As soon as his head cleared the water and he got a breath, Nogales began to fight. Expecting this, Haufren chopped him across the throat, then nearly bobbed under as he struggled to roll the limp Nogales over onto his back. Haufren grasped him by the chin and began to swim with short, powerful strokes.

  Duval knelt on the landing, ready to help. He and Silta reached down to grasp Nogales. They heaved, groaning, while Haufren treaded water and did his best to push.

  “Got him?” asked Haufren at last, flipping his dripping hair back from his eyes. From this angle all he could see was the slime-coated underside of the landing and one of Nogales’ big feet.

  “Mercy of Moii,” came the exhausted answer. “It should be a crime to weigh so much.”

  Silta peered over the edge of the landing, baring his side teeth in a swift grin, and held out his hand. “You always did enjoy swimming. A most disgusting exercise.”

  “It’s freezing,” said Haufren, grasping Silta’s hand and giving a strong kick to boost himself high enough to grasp the edge of the landing.

  He was half out of the water when powerful pincers clamped upon his leg. The pain was immediate and overwhelming. With a shout he arched his back, helpless in that initial moment of blinding agony. All he could think of was that something had severed his leg below the knee.

  “Brith! Brith!”

  Bile, intensely bitter, spilled from Haufren’s mouth as he fell limply back into the water, and then he was choking, unable to breathe or swallow. He knew he was not yet free when the pincers clamped next around his waist and squeezed with intolerable pressure as he was dragged down into the depths of the pool.

  Something plunged down beside him, buffeting him with rapid bubbles of water. Dimly he was aware of a violent struggle going on around him, and he was yanked this way and that as the need for air drummed within him. Then suddenly he was released and floated lower while his body convulsed in one last struggle for survival against the water filling his lungs. I should have scanned the pool, he thought vaguely. Then he sank down deeper into the water, and knew no more.