by Alex Bobl
Too late. I hadn't made it. Blank and McLean had already shipped their cargo to the Fort. Why was I so sure Mira and the baby were still alive? The captain could have killed them and left for the gasometers to join his reserve squad which was fighting the settlers even as I stood here.
After a while, I dismissed my premonitions and began preparing for the flight. Most likely, Blank would rather temporarily cede control of the portal machine than lose the hostages and with them, the possibility to manipulate me. While the captain didn't know that I'd reached New Pang, I still had a chance to rescue Mira and the baby. And this chance was by a surprise attack from the sea from which they weren't expecting us.
Standing firmly on a flat rock, I estimated the wind's direction and strength and took off. But not as successfully as the last time: one of the thrusters was retarded, spinning me around in the air. I had to maneuver the handles in order to straighten myself up and avoid falling into the water.
Fighting for my life, I flew far from the shore which I'd planned to follow in order to penetrate McLean's estate. Now there was little left to do: if Blank (and I didn't doubt that he was at the estate) wasn't monitoring the area with his armored vehicle's radar, they would detect me within a minute or a minute and a half at best. But if things were like I thought, then...
Two small figures appeared in the air over the bay: two cyber troopers in Centurion suits had launched from the roof of McLean's place. Too bad. The element of surprise was now lost. They might shoot me down as I approached and I'd lose speed and be unable to free the hostages in time.
What is a minute of dogfighting to an observer? He wouldn't have time to understand anything. Amid the flashes of firing and the swift maneuvers, a rookie wouldn't be able to follow who was attacking and who was defending. But a trained soldier always acts concisely and by the book: he knows the enemy's combat potential and follows the situation, applying procedures already refined in training. Only now the two cybers were about to face a master specialist. Despite the makeshift jetpack on my back and the absence of a combat suit, these two who were now flying toward me had lost too much time. They should have taken off earlier.
Just as I expected, they split up. This was a standard trick: one of them flew above me while the second one tried to flank me in a wide arc from the shore leaving me an open space over the sea to maneuver. This was a mistake: the cybers lost out on speed.
I banked into a sharp turn to scan the bay. Data on the enemy flooded onto the helmet's monitor. One of the buggies took up a position on the pier while the other raced along the edge of the cliff toward the tip of the cape. They wanted to prevent me from landing there. The memory chip detected several more targets: a group of soldiers in McLean's courtyard. Carrying digital gear, they were in intense radio communication with the armored vehicle whose radar had locked on to me. Its operator could at any moment have launched a guided missile at me. But for some reason, he hadn't done it yet.
A second later, I got all the answers. Blank sent me a message via an open channel requiring me to land and surrender before they shot me down. He hovered in the air high above me mercilessly burning his fuel - apparently sure that I wouldn't dare challenge him. This was why the operator in the armored vehicle hadn't shot at me: they needed me alive. Oh well. The captain had just freed my hands.
The cyber who had flanked me from the shore realized his mistake too late and was tardy to turn around. I fell in behind him and shot him just once from close range with my pulse gun.
His jetpack exploded in a fountain of sparks, flames shooting in all directions. I zoomed up. The soldier, enveloped in flames, tumbled into the sea. I didn't look any further. I straightened out and headed for McLean's estate paying no attention to Blank's attempts to intercept me.
While I was dealing with the cyber, the captain had time to descend and was now heading toward me at the same altitude intending to head me off. The distance between us decreased. The memory chip sent new calculations to the monitor: we would collide some two meters away from McLean's verandah on the cliff.
I swerved trying to reduce the distance to Blank and fired a long burst sending the pulse downward. The captain soared up avoiding the shots. Not quite what I'd had in mind.
The sensor in my helmet bleeped as a missile shot up above the estate and headed toward me trailing smoke.
I turned and went after Blank trying to catch up with him. Having lost me, he had nothing else left to do but to shoot me down. The only safe place now was next to the captain. The flames from the nozzles of his jetpack kept oscillating as he tried to save fuel and make it to the shore.
Blank flew a sine wave pattern and I had nearly caught up with him when all thrust disappeared behind my back.
Extending my body, I reached in front of me trying to grab Blank's ankles. Our speed leveled out: on the armored car's radar screen we must have looked like one dot.
I had guessed it right. A bang came from behind me. The operator had activated the missile at the last moment - most likely, on orders from Blank himself who was afraid to die with me.
The shock wave propelled me forward. I got hold of Blank's foot when his thrusters came back on. Covering my face with my elbow from the blast, I pulled my knees to my stomach and kicked the air below.
We were swirling a couple of meters away from the water. I glimpsed the familiar jetty that separated the seaweed farms from the pier and the verandah suspended on the cliff by its support beams. There, a group of people leaned over the railings watching us.
Blank's jetpack rattled as it burned the last drops of fuel. I reached out with my other hand and grabbed the sheath on his side pulling the knife by its handle. Together, we tumbled into the water between the jetty and the shore.
We both sank to the bottom like stones: me, dragged below by my makeshift jetpack and the gun, and Blank, by his Centurion suit. I would much rather have killed the captain and then tried to get rid of the weight. But I couldn't take such risks: I might not resurface.
My right hand got caught in a net. Carula's long stalks rippled in front of my face. I had to kick myself free from my opponent, cut through the net and surface for a breath of air.
When I dived again, our automatic flashlights on our helmets cut through the murky water. Blank who'd by now got rid of his suit and gear, was frantically moving his arms rising to the surface. When he noticed me, he drew his handgun and leveled his arm at my chest.
I stuck the knife out in front of me and slashed ay his hand grasping his forearm to deflect the gun. Three shots hissed past leaving lines of bubbles - two barely missed my shoulder while one grazed my helmet. I slashed again, this time at his elbow. Blank let go of the gun but grabbed my wrist trying to draw me in.
Our visors collided with a thump. The captain constricted me in a bear hug disabling my arms. But immediately, he let go of me and shot upward as his air supply was running out. I stabbed his hip.
He'd already resurfaced and now he dived back down. I forced him below, stood on his shoulders and kicked with all my might to get back to the surface gasping for air.
A voice came from the pier. I turned my head and met the gaze of a soldier who sat on his buggy's armor plates. He pointed at me shouting something and looking up. The next moment, shots came from McLean's verandah.
I disappeared under water, dived under the jetty and came back to the surface looking for Blank. He was nowhere to be seen.
Had he drowned?
A bullet pierced a plank over my head missing my temple by an inch. Another tore through the jetty right opposite my face and hit the water changing its trajectory and stinging my side.
I took a deep breath, dived down and swam toward the pier and the buggy.
It could be that the trail of air bubbles betrayed my location. Either that or the soldier on top of the buggy happened to have a good eye but in any case, the water behind my back foamed with his pulse charges. But I was already nearing the pier. His pulse pierced the water like tiny f
ireballs without changing their direction, then lost speed, exploding with a resounding crackle.
Damn it! I nearly went deaf while the soldier emptied his magazine into a spot where I no longer was.
Once the shooting subsided, I came back to the surface by the pier and grabbed at a clamp that joined the trestle and the deck. I pushed myself up and found myself by the buggy's back wheel.
The gunman who was reloading his weapon saw me and fumbled with his clip. When he realized he wouldn't have time to fire, he crouched jabbing at my head with his gun. I dodged and grabbed the stock pushing the soldier into the water. Had he been a cyber, I'd never have managed to do it.
Not losing a second, I climbed onto the buggy, stuck my upper body through the open hatch and clasped the engineer's shoulders. He too proved to be a regular soldier and screamed when I pushed his head against an angular flange inside the vehicle. His scream died halfway and the engineer slackened dropping his head onto his chest. I dragged him away from the steering stick and jumped into the buggy. I locked the hatches and pulled a sleeve of wires out of a socket on one side of the dashboard, then connected myself to the vehicle's terminal. Starting the engine, I put it into gear and reversed, simultaneously activating the fighting unit.
The machine gun on the buggy's roof turned toward McLean's estate and rattled spitting out bullets. The camera sent the image to the monitor: the burst of bullets hitting the cliff under the verandah collapsing one of the support beams in a cloud of chipped wood and rock. The spiral staircase sank and careened toward the cliff; two men fell with it one after the other.
When the buggy rolled out onto the shore, I ceased to fire, turned the vehicle round and pushed the control column. Tires screeching, the buggy sped uphill. After a couple of bends, I rammed the fence barely missing the personnel carrier in the middle of McLean's courtyard. I opened fire again sending the few remaining raiders scurrying to the house's entrance and scorching the empty personnel carrier's wheels. Then I rolled back to the gap in the fence positioning the burning vehicle between the estate gate and myself.
I hadn't forgotten the other buggy which had escaped as soon as I'd seized the one I was now driving. My current position might seem disadvantageous as the burning vehicle wouldn't allow me to open fire on the second buggy arriving. But by the same token, the buggy's thermal viewer wouldn't be able to detect me behind the burning vehicle, and when the enemy had to drive past me, I...
The sand buggy's squat tortoise shell-painted shape loomed up between the crosshairs from behind the personnel carrier. I jabbed the fire control button on the control column and darted forward to draw near to it.
Their machine gun burst into a cascade of fire before it had a chance to turn in my direction. I rammed the other buggy's side smashing my own front valance and the cowls. I reversed and did the same again, only this time I didn't have to shoot.
After the second ramming, the enemy's buggy tipped on its side. The front hatch opened, and a shell-shocked engineer fell out onto the ground. I didn't wait for the gunman to appear from the rear compartment and sped up the courtyard into Mclean's wide front doors. My right wheel got caught on his lounge table and dragged it along for a couple of meters before I stopped the vehicle, its deformed panels butting up against the staircase.
I got out onto the armor plate and had a quick look around wincing from the bullet scratch on my side. Then I jumped off onto the table and up the steps. In a flash, I was upstairs. Here, a thick cloud of dust hung in the air. The room was in a shambles. Part of the verandah's scorched floor and roof supports were missing. The chipped remains of floorboards faced the ocean. The banister was gone, but the serving table by the verandah entrance had survived the impact, complete with the tray, the bottles and the cigar box.
In the far corner of the room, a heavy cabinet leaned against the wall. I heard a faint rustle coming from underneath it. Then, a groan. I leaped to the cabinet and looked under it.
The mute steward - the one who'd very nearly shot Wong during our first meeting - stared at me groaning, his eyes pleading for help. Sitting sideways, he kept pointing on the floor under his arm.
Another person lay there, one with an eye patch and a scar across his cheekbone. McLean.
I nearly screamed in despair realizing he was lying there motionless and probably unconscious too. In his hand Mclean clenched a cracked earpiece and a microphone whose cable reached inside the cabinet.
I bent down and peeked inside it. On a shelf, a disemboweled army radio gaped at me with its rusty insides. The only reason it hadn't crashed against Mclean's head was because of some hefty old bolts holding it to the shelf.
Its front and the tuning scale were peppered with bullet holes. Through the radio's dislodged side panel I could see the corner of an exploded battery and a scorched circuit board drenched in battery fluid.
McLean had tried to contact someone. I recovered my train of thought and grabbed the steward's collar.
"Where's the girl and the baby?"
He made a muffled noise. I gave him a good shake and repeated my question, adding, "Just point!"
He shook his head as if trying to explain something. I let go of him and he started crossing his hands in front of himself pointing at the door. It was as clear as mud.
"They're are not here, are they?" I grabbed his collar again. "Where are they?"
Thoughts flashed through my mind, one worse than the other: what if Blank had left Mira and the baby in the personnel carrier I'd just smoked? Fucking idiot! What if they'd been standing on the verandah when I'd splattered it with bullets from the captured buggy? No, I hadn't - I'd aimed at the cliff, I really hadn't wanted to hurt anyone...
Mclean seemed to have stirred. I crouched next to him, grabbed at a shelf and tried to lift the cabinet wincing from the pain in my side under its weight. I managed to push it to one side and bent over McLean shoving the steward away.
"Tex," I wheezed, "You think you're all right?"
I couldn't move him or even turn him on his back for fear of a broken spine. I leaned toward his ear,
"Where's the woman, the cyber biologist, remember? The one who taught you how to harvest carula? She has a baby with her. Blank brought them to you this morning. D'you know where they are? Tell me!"
I touched his shoulder. McLean forced his eyes open and whispered something.
"I didn't hear," I pulled the helmet off and drew my head close almost touching his cheek. "Say it again."
"Phi- At Philippe's," his voice was barely audible.
"Philippe?" I sat up. "Which Philippe? What's he got to do with it?"
McLean stopped breathing. His stare fixed on the floor.
I wailed in despair and slammed the helmet against the wall. Where's Mira? Where's my baby? How could I stop the barge from delivering its deadly cargo to Earth?
Then I remembered what Kathy had told me about her brother. About... Philippe. He was apparently the one with the radio transmitter. And now McLean had mentioned him, too. What if Mira and the baby were indeed at Philippe's?
I sprang up buckling on the helmet as I took the stairs back down into the courtyard. I jumped over the banister and into the buggy and drove off without closing the hatch heading for the city. Red-roofed houses lined both sides of the road.
Kathy had said that his house was the first from Mclean's. But was it to the right or to the left? Houses here didn't have numbers but logically, it had to be the one on the left. I drove on and parked up by the roadside. A dark-haired man with a carbine stuck himself out of the first-story window and shot at me twice.
The bullets ricocheted off the buggy's hull.
"Philippe, don't shoot!" I shouted as I got out of the buggy. "Please don't! I'm unarmed!"
I raised my hands and jumped to the ground.
"Kathy's alive!" I went on. "She saved my life and I helped her survive, too! You have my girlfriend and baby. I'll just take them and go."
Philippe reappeared in the window aiming
his carbine at me. Behind his back I heard a baby crying.
"You're saying my sister's alive. Why should I believe you?"
"Because Kathy told me about the stash. It's in this room under the bed! The transmitter's there. Go look!"
I turned back to McLean's house. Over its roof, the setting sun struggled through the clouds of smoke from the burning personnel carrier. No one was trying to follow me. The port and the bay seemed deserted.
A loud screech came from the window as if someone was dragging a metal object across wood. Something was clanking.
"Come in," Philippe called out.
My heart raced. Forgetting the pain in my side, I took the dark stairs three at a time, pushed a door open and froze in the doorway. Mira sat on the floor in the far corner holding the swaddled-up baby. She looked at me, tears welling up in her eyes.
I stepped toward them and stopped. Philippe stood by the window next to the displaced bed. He kept a bead on me, distrust in his stare. Some of the floorboards had been removed and the transmitter's steel body glistened between the beams.
"Get the radio out," I walked to Mira and squatted next to her, looking into her eyes and smiling. "Give me one moment... then we'll leave, all of us. I only need to warn the Fort's commander and then-"
"Why should I believe you?" Philippe repeated. "How do you know about the stash? Did you torture my sister?"
"Yeah right. And went straight to you to tell you about it. She hid the radio from you, don't forget."
"What's it all about?" Philippe wasn't in a hurry to retrieve the radio from under the floorboards.
"Later," I knelt beside the stash. "Help me," I got hold of the transmitter's corner and tried to lift it. "Are you helping or what?"
My wounded side exploded with pain. Blood drenched my already wet jacket and I tried to compress the wound with my elbow while lifting the heavy radio transmitter out of the hole.
