by Joel Babbitt
Undeterred by the further two heavy sonic guns, and enraged by the pulse laser, the titanosaur barreled forward, staggering only briefly when struck in the snout by Gunner’s much closer sonic gun. With a wild, hungry look in its feral eyes the titanosaur kept lunging forward, regaining its balance as it used its front legs to steady its gait.
“Floor it, Bug!” Alexander yelled as he looked behind them at the lunging titanosaur.
“But Gunner will not have steady…” Specialist Krrrz began to say through his voice-projector.
“Just do it!” Alexander cut the bug-like alien off.
The vehicle immediately began to speed up, but the washboard valley floor shook them all violently until the survey truck got up to speed and started skipping over the tops of the bumps. Up on top of the lead vehicle, Gunner’s heavy sonic gun kept sounding every three seconds as the capacitors charged then discharged, slamming the massive titanosaur like fist-strikes from an equally massive giant.
About the fifth strike the titanosaur’s blood frenzy was disrupted and the massive beast stopped and shook its enormous head to try to clear it from the last, particularly well-placed blow.
“That’s it, Gunner!” Alexander keyed the mic. “If he doesn’t stop, hit him again!”
To the left of the lead vehicle, the other three vehicles’ weapons had all fallen silent as everyone waited to see whether the titanosaur would continue following them. As they reached the trees, found a trailhead, and shot through the gap in the trees under the canopy of the jungle, the titanosaur turned back and, lurching from one side to the other in an unstable walk, it went back to its ambush position.
“That’s it, Bug!” Alexander thumped the ant-centaur-like kiz’zit specialist on the back. “That’s the way to drive! Now, next time listen to me the first time.”
“Yes, colonel,” Specialist Krrrz replied, his antennae waving about excitedly from having lived through a close encounter with a titanosaur.
“Hey Gunner,” Alexander called over the mic.
“Boss,” Gunner replied.
“Great shooting back there. Didn’t miss once that I saw. No wonder they call you Gunner.”
The dour yazri just smiled, but didn’t take his eyes from the surrounding jungle.
* * *
The Mon-Jonesik Clan lay east of the Alta Mountain Chain that Terra Alta Colony mined. Terra Alta lay in the southern jungles to the west of the mountains, whereas the Mon-Jonesik Clan made their home in the massive trees that lay just to the east of the center of the Alta Mountains. It wouldn’t have been that far of a trip by air, but all the dodging and weaving around the various terrain features to get to the high pass that led to the home of the Mon-Jonesik made the trip easily twice as long as it otherwise could have been. Still the company was able to make it to the base of the high pass by nightfall, and to the top of the high pass not long afterward. There, to their surprise, they found a tall palisade made of massive logs, many of them upward of five or more meters thick and all of them jutting about thirty meters out of the ground. The great palisade completely closed off the pass at its narrowest point, the sheer cliffs on either side bookending the palisade.
“What do you make of that?” Shannon Washington asked no one in particular as she stepped out of the vehicle to get a better look at the palisade.
Jim Ryker had come up next to her. “I’d say someone doesn’t want us to go this way,” he answered.
“Yeah, I guess so,” Captain Washington said as she shook her head and went back to the vehicle to get a set of magnigoggles. By the time she got back out in front of the vehicle, Colonel Alexander was standing there assessing the obstacle as well.
“What do you see, Shannon?” Alexander asked as Captain Washington scanned the ridges to either side of the palisade.
“Sir, it looks to me like we might be able to get up on that left ridge,” she answered.
Colonel Alexander nodded and looked appreciatively at the northern ridge. “Yeah, I’m wondering if the lip of this ridge to our left is wide enough for these vehicles.”
Captain Washington spent a few more moments scanning the ridge line. “Sir, the dimensioning readings on these magnigoggles show that the lip of the ridge could provide up to a five meter-wide trail.”
Alexander’s eyebrows raised. “Well, more than I expected!” He spoke into his linker. “Sergeant Thompson.”
“Yes, sir!” the answer came so quickly that Alexander was certain the sergeant was expecting the call.
“Captain Washington’s readings show a five meter-wide lip on that ridge to our left. How’d you like to go see if there’s a way past this palisade?”
“On it, sir!”
“As I remember it, titanosaurs don’t like heights,” Colonel Alexander said.
“Yes, sir,” Captain Washington confirmed. “Looks like the Mon-Jonesik are trying to keep the big ones on the west side of the mountains. Can’t say I blame them.”
“Me neither,” Alexander said as he turned to walk back to the truck.
Within a few minutes Sergeant Thompson and Priest had made their way around the rippled ridgeline, following what on closer inspection was obviously a trail across the top of the ridge used by the Mon-Jonesik to bypass the palisade. Their headlights pierced the inky blackness of the primordial night, otherwise lit only by distant stars on this night of twin-new moons.
As their vehicle got up to parallel with the palisade Sergeant Thompson reported that the way down on the far side was clear and within moments the remaining three vehicles were on their way to the base of the trail that they now knew led past the palisade.
* * *
“Mon-Jonesik, this is Colonel Alexander of Marik’s Marauders. Come in.”
“We see your headlights coming down from the pass. What brings Marik’s people to our clan,” a terse, human voice answered almost immediately.
“We’re in need of shelter for the night, and we believe we have some news that will be of interest to your leadership,” Alexander answered.
Several moments passed before the voice came back over the linker. “You may proceed to the Place of Outsiders. You are not Mon-Jonesik, so you must not enter the clan hold, but the Place of Outsiders will provide adequate shelter and protection for the night.”
“Very well,” Alexander replied. “Map passing enabled via linker. Please go ahead and give us a map read.”
Within moments the three-dimensional map that floated in the divot of the dashboard between Colonel Alexander and Specialist Krrrz went from the rough, pixelated terrain map that the vehicle’s sensors produced to a much smoother, refined map that included all of the structures that the Mon-Jonesik had constructed amid the trees. On the forest floor on the edge of the stand of giant trees where the clan made its home a large cabin surrounded by an enclosed palisade of sturdy logs was pulsing yellow.
“We have your map, Mon-Jonesik, and see the cabin and compound you’ve marked for us,” Colonel Alexander remarked. “Much appreciate the hospitality.”
“Do not deviate from the path on the map. You must all stay in the Place of Outsiders. No intrusions will be tolerated. Mon-Jonesik out.”
“Well, they don’t appear to be very friendly,” Captain Washington said from the back seat as she was analyzing the map in her situence glasses.
“Makes you wonder what they want to hide,” Jim Ryker said from the other back seat.
“I don’t know, but there seems to be plenty of strange going on here,” Alexander replied.
Chapter Eleven
Rianna Firstwave was no stranger to Terra Alta, nor to the state of politics between the various colonies, which was why she was surprised to hear that Colonel Baker had not upheld his end of their agreement. Now, as she stood in front of him in his command center, a tower that looked eerily similar to Principay’s command center, she couldn’t hide her frustration.
“I don’t have to explain myself to you or your boss,” Colonel Baker said.
Sitt
ing at a console nearby, Major Martius scoffed. “We told Commander Brutian that we wouldn’t supply Alexander and his folks with vehicles, and we didn’t! They got Minetech trucks. Resourceful, I’d say.”
“That’s all the explanation you’ll get. If your boss has problems with that, tell him we don’t play dictator down here in Terra Alta. Commerce is still very much free here.”
Rianna frowned, turned and left the tower, jogging lightly down the stairs toward her waiting quadcopter. It was obvious to her that Colonel Alexander and his group had had some effect on Colonel Baker and his staff. If the cold reception hadn’t told her that, the quip about free commerce, something Titus Brutian had abolished years before in Principay Colony, told her that attitudes in Terra Alta Colony were shifting.
This was information that Titus Brutian would certainly want to know, but as she sat down on the saddle of her quadcopter Rianna reached up and felt the newly reconstructed flesh over her high cheekbones, and thought about the new teeth the doctor had grown for her just that morning, and then she thought of his threats against Alyssa’s three daughters.
Yes, Titus Brutian was a monster, of that she was certain. And it appeared that here in Terra Alta Colony his threats were beginning to lose their hold. She just hoped that the same held true elsewhere in the eastern colonies—but more than that, she hoped and prayed that Titus Brutian’s threats and beatings might lose their hold on her best friend Alyssa.
Putting on her helmet, Rianna lifted off, slowly turning her quadcopter toward the power station for a quick charge before she checked into the transient quarters. Night on Camallay was certainly no time to be flying about over the jungles of the eastern continent.
* * *
“What do you have to report, human?” the smooth, condescending voice on the other side of the linker came through clearly.
“Great lord,” Rianna started.
“Enough with such flattery, I am but an assassin,” the voice corrected her tiredly.
“Yet you serve the great ones, my lord,” she said humbly, “and someday, master race willing, you will also be a great lord.”
There was a momentary pause, then the voice continued. “Yes, perhaps someday. But that is not why you linked me.”
“My lord,” she said, and this time her Solkin handler did not correct her, “there is a rift beginning to develop between Principay and Terra Alta.”
“What? Internal human politics? And why should this concern me?”
“My lord, Titus Brutian is determined to rule the eastern colonies. If the other colonies do not acquiesce, then there will be war,” Rianna said.
“And what does the Solkin Dominion care about such petty conflicts?”
“My lord, it is rumored that Titus of Principay Colony is seeking weapons sufficient to dominate the other colonies,” she answered.
The voice on the other end of the link was silent for a moment. “What weapons is he seeking? Does he have a source of contraband?”
“My lord, there are rumors of an electromagnetic pulse weapon, to quickly subdue the Far Point Colonies,” she answered.
“And what of these rumors?” the voice was harsh. “Is there truth to them?”
“Josh Langdon, who is Titus Brutian’s lieutenant, let slip that he was acquiring such a weapon one night when he was drunk. He then disappeared for almost a month, and when he reappeared he was very happy with himself.”
“Circumstantial!” the voice dismissed her logic. “There must be more proof. We Solkin do not conduct a hit on such paltry, circumstantial evidence!”
Rianna knew that wasn’t the truth, but she wasn’t about to argue with her Solkin handler. “My lord, I am working to gather further evidence, of course” she said. “I only bring it to your attention so that you can designate sensors to watch for such an event, should it occur unexpectedly.”
“Yes, yes,” the voice answered tiredly. “We will put all sensors in place that are required.”
“Yes, my lord.”
“Very well, you are dismissed,” the voice said, cutting the link.
Rianna Firstwave smiled as she put the linker down on the small table next to her bed. Tomorrow would be a better day, and perhaps, if Titus did what she thought he might be doing, someday Alyssa might be freed from the hell that was her life in Principay Colony.
* * *
“And what is Brutian’s henchman doing here in Terra Alta Colony still?” Major Martius called from the railing of the colony’s command tower.
“Just looking for a part for my quadcopter,” Rianna answered as she walked quickly by on the perimeter road.
“I’ll give you thirty standard minutes,” Martius answered.
Rianna raised her hand in a mock salute. A few minutes later she found herself in the small cluster of buildings where Minetech’s shipping operation in Terra Alta was based. Finding the correct side building, she quickly slipped in the door and closed it quietly behind her.
“Rianna?” the surprised young man in the cramped little office stood up in embarrassment at the mess about him. It looked like a sweeperbot hadn’t been in the room for several months.
“Hi, Bryan,” Rianna said with a smile as she came out of the small entryway into his office.
Bryan quickly grabbed the manifests he had stacked on the only other chair in his little box of an office. “I’m sorry about the mess,” he fretted.
“Oh, don’t worry about it,” Rianna tried to sooth him. “It’s fine.”
Putting the stack of manifests down on top of the much taller stacks of manifests that lined the side wall of his office, he sat back down in his chair and quickly cleaned the crumbs of breakfast off his desk into the wastebasket.
“What brings you here?” he asked. “I thought you had business on the western continent and wouldn’t be back for a while.”
“I’m back!” she smiled.
“Oh,” was all he said.
“Bryan, I need some help,” she said.
“Of course, dar…” he almost said ‘darling,’ but then remembered where they had left things off last time she had been here. Still, a familiar eagerness shone in his eyes.
Rianna ignored the emotions he obviously still felt. “I need to know about Principay Colony’s shipping operations.”
Bryan’s eyebrows raised and he looked at her in surprise. “What do you need that for?”
Rianna just smiled—a clear, pleading smile that seemed to promise good things in the future.
“Well, um, Minetech, you know, isn’t part of Principay’s ‘centralized economy,’ I’m sure you know,” Bryan looked at Rianna, who just continued her enchanting smile. “The North Sea is usually choppy, you know, so they typically ship things by light cargo ship—nothing so large as the big Marik vessel that someone sunk last month. Over the North Sea, that’s how most of their cargo goes.”
“You say most?” Rianna prompted him.
“Well… yes, most of it. There are convoys that go to the Mon-Jonesik from time to time, and back before the Primus Colony incident they had convoys that went there as well,” he said, referring to the desolating plague that had killed everyone at Primus Colony to the south of them years before.
“They don’t have convoys that come here, or to the Far Point colonies?” Rianna asked.
“They’ve had convoys here from time to time, but they’re getting less and less frequent. I don’t think we’ve had one for over a month now, and I don’t know if they’re making runs to Far Point, but I would doubt it, politics being what they are,” Bryan said, referring to Principay’s ongoing land dispute with Far Point.
“And is that it? They don’t have traffic that goes anywhere else?” Rianna pressed.
Bryan sat back and sighed. “Well, I guess they have those hunting convoys that head out toward the caribou herds out east in the great plains, or eastern steppes as most people call them. They never let our folks go along on those, though. I don’t see why not. Some people really like hunting. S
eems a bit selfish to me.”
Rianna’s eyes narrowed, then quickly she smiled and stood up.
“Uh… wait!” Bryan said awkwardly. “The way we left things off last time… can we talk?”
Rianna smiled a strained smile. “Oh Bryan, you are a good man.” Bryan’s eyes lit up like a puppy’s. “I’m just not ready to commit yet. I need to resolve some things first.”
His eyes turned sad again, much as they had after their last talk.
“Please don’t give up on me,” Rianna said, an equal sadness in her voice, though her sorrow was for Alyssa’s awful situation. Turning to go, she looked back briefly, then walked quickly out the door.
Behind her, Rianna could hear Bryan say ‘I won’t’ as she quietly closed the door.
Chapter Twelve
“Hey Ryker-man,” the voice came over the linker far too early for Jim Ryker’s liking. Looking at the device, he could see it was his Camallayan contact Barabas.
Opening both bleary eyes and clearing his voice, he rolled over and blinked.
“Hey Ryker-man, you no be sleeping, no?”
Ryker held the linker up to his mouth. “No, no, it’s only midnight over here, why would I be sleeping? So, what’s up Barabas? What do you have for me?”
“Well, you say let you know soonest when I find beautiful woman for you,” Barabas’ disembodied voice resonated through the cabin of the armored survey truck where Ryker had decided to bed down for the night.
Ryker sat up quickly. He was now fully awake, concern for his sister Rianna bringing him fully alert. “Yea, okay, I’m awake. Where is she?”
“Now, this may be strangeness,” Barabas said, “but my man in Principay say she meet with boss-man of Principay today-time.”
