by JE Gurley
The archaeologists had found no statues or engravings of the Huresh, but their buildings with their rectangular, human-sized doors and the methods of construction denoted a bipedal species very similar to humans. Traces of Huresh DNA indicated many similarities with humans, even in the same number of chromosomes. As Cici had stated, the two races could have been cousins. Dax wondered if they felt what he was now feeling, as they huddled against the Raver onslaught – a sense of hopelessness.
The dead Raver lay just a few meters away as a vivid reminder of their peril. He had studied it until his eyes hurt, but he still didn’t understand it. It was an ancient killing machine, almost perfect in its organic simplicity, created by an unknown race and unleashed upon the hapless Huresh twenty centuries earlier. It had done its job and had slept away the intervening centuries. During that time, its creators had not returned for it. That intrigued him. Were they that afraid of the weapon that they had created, or had they become victims of their own creation, like Victor Frankenstein and his monster?
Something had awakened them from their deep hibernation, and they had resumed their former occupation as killers. If there were only four of the creatures as Ivers had stated, only one remained. If, as seemed more likely, its creators had unleashed many of the creatures, it was anyone’s guess how many remained. Dax always preferred to err on the side of caution. His vote went to more than one remaining monster. That made their choice easier. In a headlong rush to the surface, they might make it, though he doubted they could lift off before the creature damaged the ship. If more existed and trapped the humans between them, they would die quickly and in a most grisly manner.
Cici sat on one of the walls, tossing stones one at a time at the dead Raver. Because of the heat, she had loosened several buttons on her shirt, revealing the curvature of her breasts. She had Romeo’s undivided attention. For lack of anything more productive to do, Dax stared at them, too. He had decided they were not quite as large as Tish’s, but worthy of ogling nonetheless. If not for the heat and Tish’s presence, he might have hit on her. If she was aware of the effect of so much bare skin on the men around her, she did not show it. Too many academic types, he thought.
She abruptly grabbed a handful of stones, jumped up, and threw them all at the creature. “Grr! Now I know why Gregor risked running,” she said. “This waiting is driving me crazy.”
Her sudden eruption worried Dax. In their current situation, impulsiveness could get them killed. “We’ve only been here three hours,” he reminded her. “He was down here for two days.”
“He didn’t have weapons.” She held up the .338 caliber rifle she carried.
Dax snickered at the change in her attitude about guns. “That thing wouldn’t hurt the creature if you shoved it up its ass and pulled the trigger, assuming it has an ass.”
She scowled at him with pursed lips. “Then why did you insist I bring it?”
“I felt better with everyone armed. Besides, it’s a great little noisemaker.”
He glanced at Ivers, who had stopped pacing after pounding the same footsteps for the better part of an hour. “The captain is right, I’m afraid. The ion disruptor is effective against it, but with a laser, you have to hit a vital spot. Out there, we would be helpless. We have the missiles, but they can point in only one direction at a time. For any chance of survival, we must make it come to us.”
“Then why is it waiting?” she whined.
“Perhaps it isn’t hungry enough yet,” Dax said.
“I don’t understand …” She went silent and her face paled as the implication of his statement struck home. “Oh, I …” She shook her head, buried her face in her hands, and began sobbing.
Tish shot an icy glare at him. “Dax, sometimes I think you don’t give a shit about anyone.” She walked over and placed her arm around Cici to comfort her.
He shrugged. “Sorry if the truth hurts. Maybe it’s best to understand why we’ve found no bodies. For me, it’s an added incentive for survival.”
He had been harsher with the biologist than necessary, but the waiting was getting to him as well. The heat was stifling, and the Raver smelled even worse dead than it did alive. Worst of all, he didn’t have his blues tunes to ease the strain. He was angry with himself for giving in to the humanitarian urge to search for survivors. His first instinct had been to drop Ivers off and leave. First instincts were usually the best.
“If there were more than one, wouldn’t they have attacked by now?” Andy asked.
The youngest member of his crew was holding up well under the circumstances. In fact, his entire crew was coping with their circumstances better than he was. He was a man of action. He hadn’t always been a sedate cargo ship captain. He had begun his career working on an independent trading ship as assistant cargo officer. By the time he was Andy’s age, he had been in his fair share of scrapes with local overlords, militias, and the U.N. Navy. Only when he had assumed the responsibility of his own ship and crew had he settled down. His former life was trying to superimpose itself over his present life. If it had been just him and Ivers, he would prefer to go down fighting. The trouble was he had made a promise to his crew. He would not risk their lives unnecessarily.
Ivers answered. “One or more, it doesn’t matter. It’s a hunter, a predator. It can smell fear. Fear makes prey weaker. When the scent of our fear reaches a certain level, it will attack. Waiting increases our fear.”
“And then what?”
“We live or we die.”
“That’s just great,” Cici said. She was already in tears from Dax’s comments. “I suppose you’ll die happy knowing you’ve killed two of them.”
“Technically, two kills and one assist,” Dax countered, but both Cici and Ivers ignored him.
“It’s what I do, Doctor Adar,” Ivers answered. “I’m a Marine. We don’t like throwing our lives away, but if necessary, we will die for the Corp. My primary goal is to get someone out alive to warn the Navy about these creatures. After that, well it doesn’t much matter if I die here or on some dirtball world fighting some tin pot dictator with higher ambitions. Dead is dead.”
“I have been considering our present predicament.”
Dax looked over at Plia. The taciturn cargo specialist had been quiet for quite some time, as was usual for her. Gone was her ubiquitous sour expression, replaced now by a pensive one. “Find any solutions?” he asked.
“Perhaps. If we go back into the lava tube and there is more than one Raver remaining, we face attack from either direction. Our chances of survival would be abysmal.”
Dax was disappointed. “You considered this a long time, have you, Plia? Tell me something I don’t know.”
She scowled at him but continued, “We could increase the odds in our favor by using one or two of the missiles to bring the roof down deeper in the tube. Then, we would not have to watch our backs. If the Raver is between the surface and us, we could face it with a missile and our weapons. The odds increase slightly in our favor.”
“A bold plan, but what if there are more than one of the creatures between the surface and us?” Dax pointed out.
“In that case, we would all likely die.” Her delivery bore no trace of humor. To her, it was simply a given to consider.
“Are you crazy?” Cici burst out. She seemed incredulous that Plia had suggested such an idea. “That’s not a plan; that’s a death wish. Besides, we have to check the lower levels for survivors.”
Ivers’ concern was more practical. “Would a single missile collapse the roof? Using two missiles places us at a serious disadvantage if we’re attacked.”
“Perhaps it would, if we chose the proper spot. I once visited South Africa on Earth. The rock here is very similar to Kimberlite, a loose aggregate found in lava pipes in South African diamond mines. It should fracture easily. Two missiles would do a better job, though.”
Dax looked at Plia in a new light. In the eight years he had known her, he had not known she had visited Earth.
She never spoke of it. In truth, he knew very little about her. She did her job well, she presented an exceptionally strong poker face in the weekly card games, and she never complained. That was all he had bothered to learn about her. Maybe I should make a better effort to know my crew, he thought. If we get out of this.
Ivers objected. “No. Using two missiles is too risky.”
Cici shook her head in dismay. “I can’t believe you two are even discussing this. We came here to rescue my friends. Now you want to cause a cave-in and kill all of us.”
To Dax’s surprise, Tish was in favor of it. “Waiting here feels wrong. Maybe taking the initiative will catch it by surprise. Besides, dying that way might be preferable to the Ravers.”
“No one’s dying,” Dax snapped. “I promise.”
“You can’t keep that promise, Dax,” she replied.
“I … I …” He turned away. She was right. He wasn’t in control of the situation, the Ravers were. “I can try,” he said, but his words fell flat to his ears. Tish looked unconvinced.
“That’s not a bad idea,” Plia said. “What we need is bait to draw the Raver to the right spot. Crushing it beneath tons of rock would be better than trying to trap it.”
“Are you volunteering?” he asked Plia.
His sarcasm was lost on her. She wrinkled her nose. “No, my desire to escape does not include volunteering as bait.”
“I’ll do it,” Andy said. He stood rocking on the balls of his feet, as if pumped up on adrenalin.
Dax envied him his youth, but not his stupidity. “Whoa, now,” he said. “No one is going to act as bait. We’ll figure something out.”
“I’m faster than any of you.” To Dax, he sounded like a high school kid boasting to his friends. “I can draw the Raver to the right spot and get away before the roof collapses.”
“You’re not faster than a Raver. That’s suicidal. I won’t let you do it.”
“You can’t stop me,” Andy retorted. He took a few steps toward Dax.
Dax accepted the challenge and met him halfway, glowering at him. Jabbing a finger in Andy’s face, he said, “The hell I can’t. I’ll reduce you in rank to assistant cook. You can fly a sauté pan with Romeo. I’ll, I’ll fire your ass.”
“Then I quit!”
“Boys! Boys!” Tish yelled. “Stop your testosterone prancing.” She stared at Andy until he averted his gaze. “Andy, in his own blundering way, Dax is trying to say he doesn’t want you to risk your life.”
The tenor of Andy’s voice dropped at Tish’s admonition, but his blood still ran hot from the argument. His eyes flashed, but he was more sullen than hostile, as he said, “We have to do something.”
“It’s my job,” Ivers burst out. “I’ll do it.”
Everyone turned to stare at Ivers. His face was grim. “I’m the professional soldier here.” He walked over to Dax, handed him the ion disruptor, and held out his hand. Stunned, Dax gave him his laser rifle. “I’ll move fifty meters down the tube and make some noise with this.” He held up the laser and looked at Plia. “When the Raver investigates, you fire a missile at the roof above us. If this works, and the roof comes down, you head for the surface. You’ve done your job.”
“That’s suicidal,” Dax told him. Ivers’ blithe willingness to die bothered Dax. It also touched upon his guilt for not volunteering, but he tried to shunt that inconvenience aside. “Worse, it leaves us one gun shy when we leave. Let’s concentrate on all of us getting out of this alive.”
“Do you have a better idea?” Ivers challenged.
Dax clenched his jaw to fight back a sharp comment. “I’m working on it.”
The sergeant’s eyes were squinted as he stared at Dax. “Sometimes things come at a cost. Sometimes that cost is a sacrifice.”
Dax chopped his hand through the air. “No blood sacrifices. We’re not Aztecs or Mayans. We figure something out.”
Myles raised his hand as if in a meeting; then, when they ignored him, spoke up. “I think I have an idea.” Both men glared at him. He looked uncomfortable being the center of attention. He removed his glasses and tapped the earpiece against his lower lip as he spoke. “The plan as proposed will not work. We passed a junction on Level 2, a secondary tunnel.”
“So?” Dax said.
“It comes out on Level 4. Even if we trap the Raver deeper in the tunnel here, it could simply circle around and come up behind us again.”
“So what’s your plan?” Dax asked.
Myles blinked several times. “We could go deeper into the tunnels. The creature would likely follow us. We utilize the bypass tunnel on Level 4 leading back to Level 2. At some point before it reaches Level 2, we seal the cavern behind us and run like the dickens for the surface. The Raver would have a much longer distance to traverse, giving us a fighting chance to beat it.”
The idea of going even deeper into the lava tubes struck Dax as almost as suicidal as Ivers’ plan. “If we can’t seal the tunnel, what then? We’ll have twice as far to go with one of those things snapping at our heels. Or what if there are more than one?” He shot a withering look at Myles. “I think you just want to search for your friends.” He shook his head. “I’m against it.”
“I may have something to even the odds.” Ivers reached into the bag he had been carrying since leaving the Abraxas. Dax hadn’t asked what was in it. He had assumed it was extra power cells for the disruptor or some personal item Ivers couldn’t part with. He pulled out two small square boxes unfamiliar to Dax, each the size of a tissue dispenser.
“What are those?” Dax asked.
“Proximity thermal mines.”
“Prox …” Dax backed up three steps, stunned. His nostrils flared. “Thermal mines. You’ve been carrying proximity thermal mines around on my ship. Are you insane? A single mine could turn Fortune’s Luck into a cloud of molten metal droplets.”
“They’re harmless until activated.”
“How do you intend to activate them? Do you have a remote detonator?”
“No.”
Dax shook his head. “This gets better and better. Expanding the scope of my first question, how do you intend to activate them manually without frying your ass or all our asses?”
“They have a fifteen-second delay between manual activation and when the sensors go online. Of course, in an enclosed environment …”
“Yeah,” Dax chimed in. “Exactly. They detonate when they sense anything within range, like a cavern wall, or a person.”
“Or a Raver. Bang – no more Raver. It should bring down the roof as well from the intense heat they produce.”
Dax glanced at Plia for confirmation. She nodded, but he still wasn’t convinced. It sounded simple, which made the top of his head itch. Simple plans could easily blow up in your face. In this case, literally. “Why not just head straight for the surface and blow the tunnels behind us?”
“There may be more than one Raver. If so, they can come at us from two sides. At the junction on Level 2,” He glanced in Myles’ direction, “they could attack from three sides. The odds would be against us.”
Dax hated the plan, but it made better sense than his or Plia’s. There was a chance that the creatures would not immediately attack if they moved deeper into the network of tunnels rather than try to escape. The more distance they placed between themselves and the creatures, the safer he would feel. He thought it ironic that in order to save his crew from danger, he would have to take them deeper into it.
“I think you kept quiet about the mines because you planned something like this all along – seal the tunnel so we could escape, while you became a posthumous hero by killing the Raver.”
Ivers said nothing, but Dax thought it revealing that he did not deny the accusation. He shook his head. Military types. “Jesus Christ Almighty! If the choice is waiting here until the Raver attacks us, or going deeper into the ground in the slim hope that we can seal the tunnel behind us, I chose waiting. I’d rather miss a few meals than become one.
In fact …”
Myles cleared his throat. “Uh, I’m afraid that might not be possible.”
Dax shot the climatologist a glowering look, annoyed at the interruption of his rant. “Why the hell not?” he shouted.
“I took weather readings before you picked us up at KB. The air pressure has been dropping rapidly for six hours. Another storm is approaching the area from the north, an etesian wind.”
Both Dax and Ivers stared at Myles. “What is an etesian wind?” Dax asked.
“It is a more or less annual occurrence; however, this storm seems to be expanding particularly rapidly.”
“So?” Dax said. “We get a little dusty. No big deal.”
“I’m afraid you don’t understand. Let me show you.” He pulled out his pocket comp. “Here’s the current satellite image.”
Dax and Ivers looked at the small image on the screen. Dax’s stomach tightened when he saw the enormous reddish-brown cloud bearing down on the station from the north. It covered five-thousand square kilometers from just below the northern pole and obscured all topographical details. Even the infrared scanners on the satellite could not penetrate the thick cloud of dust.
“Are you sure about this?” Dax asked
Myles looked as if offended by Dax’s doubt. He put his glasses back on. “I am a climatologist,” he replied.
“Fortune’s Luck could never fly in that,” he said. He looked at Myles. “How long?”
“The leading edge should be here very soon, perhaps two hours. In four, we won’t be able to breathe outside without respirators, which, I might point out, we don’t have. Even these tunnels will become dangerously uncomfortable with choking dust.”
Dax shook his head. He hated choices that all sucked. “So it’s stay here and choke until the monsters come for us, make a run for it and take our chances in a blinding dust storm, or seal ourselves inside the metal room and wait it out, in which case we still have the Ravers to deal with later. How long will the storm last?”
