We approached one of the aircars through the dusty backblast of the exhaust. The skin was active lizard camfax, or the DX equivalent – it was clearly a military car. A large door slid open on the fuselage. There was a symbol on the door, an open white hand with one of those Bright lightning bolt weapons superimposed over the hand. The Bright motioned me in. I stepped in, pulling Blackie after me. The Bright followed me in. All right, that's it. Captured by the enemy. Peace and love be damned, my squad was gone and I was captured by aliens. Did it matter if they were Brights or Demons? Maybe they'd put me in a cage, learn my language and see if I responded to their equivalent of choco donuts.
Damn it! But we had done the mission, hadn’t we? Delta had done it! Blasted the hell out of those bastards. Mission accomplished! I felt good about that. And they'd never take that from me.
Δ
Saka looked up and saw a cloudy grey sky, and a ship shot past overhead. Saka only had a glimpse, but it was not a D ship. It was one of those Bright delta ships. Saka was in his A-suit, but the visor was up. His flesh was icy cold. Then another delta ship circled, almost warily. A forest. Saka was in a forest. He knew it was all over. They were finished. The sky was flickering. The trees were very black. He knew he didn't belong there. More ships, more delta ships, hovering. Landing. Saka raised his E. He felt – exhausted. As if his task was done and it didn't matter what happened now. He was going to die alone.
Then one of the Brights approached Saka on foot. He was brilliant, it almost hurt Saka's eyes to look at him. Glittering silver armor. The Bright raised his visor. He glared at Saka fiercely. He looked right into Saka's soul. His eyes were burning into Saka's. Saka didn’t have the energy, or the will, to shoulder his E. He knew he was going to die under strange stars, alone. And, strangely, the thought of dying did not bother him. But dying alone, that was tragic. He thought of Lan Hwa.
Δ
The antimat that destroyed the Golden Lotus hurled Scout into the forest, where he bounced off a tree and crashed into the bush, unconscious. He awoke, aching all over, to the insistent commands of his tacmod urging him to get up, run from the ship and take cover. The wreckage of the ship was flaming like a star and the heat was casting Scout's A-suit cherry-red. Scout scrambled to his feet, clicked the safety off his E and headed away from the ship until he figured it was safe. It was hard to hurt yourself in an A-suit. He looked around – he was in a dark forest of titanic black trees, under a cloudy sky. Several blazes flickered in the distance in that lofty cathedral of noble trees.
"Delta, any Delta, Scout. Respond please. Tackie, fix the tacmap. What's the story?"
"Scout, the tacnet is down, probably due to enemy jamming," his tacmod said in a calm, quiet feminine voice. "The tacmap is also down. Sorry, Scout. I do not recommend further transmissions as the enemy may be monitoring and tracking your position."
No commo! No tacmap! Scout was stunned and enraged and instantly energized. He ran back to the crash site, flattening tall undergrowth like a human tank. When he entered the wide smoking antimat strike area around the crashed spacecraft, he began to circle the craft, flames licking up his armor as he dodged huge fallen trees and massive burning branches. He was looking down, up, sideways, all around him. He was so close to the glowing ship that his armor began to turn pink again, and Tackie was issuing warnings. Scout ignored her.
"Bees! Bees! Bees!" He called out for her on the tacnet. There was no answer. He got as close to the ship as he could, and found nothing. Then he moved further out, making wide circles into the scorched trees and undergrowth. He was terrified of what he might find.
"Deadman! Deadman!" he called out. "You keep her alive, you hear me? You keep her alive, Deadman! If you kill her I'm coming after you, you bastard! I'll fight my way out of hell and fight my way into Heaven to find her and then I'll track you down and kill you, you son of a bitch! You keep her alive!" He kept up this one-way dialogue as he frantically continued searching until he spotted a scorched A-suit, almost hidden in some smoking bushes at the foot of a huge tree.
It was Bees. She lay there on her back, motionless in her A-suit. Her armor was burnt black and burning hot, smoking and pitted with hundreds of small shrapnel holes. Scout snapped his visor open. He was shaking as he activated Bees' visor. It opened. The heat rushed out. Bees face was scorched, the skin peeling off. Her eyes were closed. Her skin was bright red but charred and scorched and her face was swelling up. A stink like frying bacon hit Scout in the face.
"Bees! Bees!" He grabbed at his canteen and poured water over her face. Most of it turned to steam immediately.
"Damn it! Bees! Bees!" He got ahold of her helmet and snapped the links open and carefully lifted it off her head and tossed it away. He poured more water over her face, supporting her head with his other hand. Then he dropped the canteen and fumbled at his waist for the medkit. He extracted the medprobe and touched it to her neck.
"Reading, reading, gimme a reading!" he demanded.
"Life signs fading fast, subject in shock, A-suit cooling system malfunction and overheating, recommend immediate cyro, serious third degree burns over face, neck, possibly life threatening, recommend…" Alive! Scout tossed the device away and began to unlink Bees' armor, discarding each piece as it came off.
He forced some water into her mouth. "Bees, Bees, answer me! Please!"
Her eyes fluttered – blinked. Her lips moved. Scout watched her through a full body orgasm of joy. An angel of the Lord was standing by their side, reaching out to Bees with healing hands. Scout did not believe in God, but he knew that angel was there, even though he could not see him. It was Bees' personal guardian angel. She had told Scout all about that angel.
"Bees! Talk to me!"
"Hot. It's so hot. Scout," she whispered.
"Yes, it's me. I'm with you. You're going to be all right."
"No, Scout." She looked up at him with swollen, cloudy eyes. "I'm dying."
"No, you're not! You're not dying! I'm right here, and your angel is right here, and we're not going to let you die!" By then he had the cyro field unit and pressed it against an arm, injecting the substance into her bloodstream.
"Yes, I see him. Oh he's beautiful. He's calling me away."
"What? No! No! No! You can’t leave me! Don't leave me! Don't you dare! Here, I've got your armor off. You're coming with me! You tell that angel to keep his hands off you!" Scout was shaking with emotion, his blood running ice cold in his veins.
Scout pulled Bees all the way out of her smoking armor and lifted her up in his arms and started staggering through the forest with her, lost and despairing. All that he knew for sure was that he was not going to let go of Bees, not even for an angel, not even for God.
"Pain…gone. Nerves…gone. I'm…going to…die…in your arms, Scout. I love you," she gasped.
"You are NOT going to die, Bees. You are my girl and you have to do as I say. I ORDER you to stay alive. Don't you love me? You can’t leave me! We’re almost there – we're almost at the medunit. Keep talking to me. Don't stop!"
Of course, there was no medunit. What Scout was really looking for was a miracle.
Chapter 18
The Hand of God
They took me to the blockhouse – at least that's what I immediately dubbed it, in my mind. We exited the aircar outside the walls. The blockhouse was a gigantic structure built of titanic rectangular pink stone blocks, piled two high. It looked like a fortress for giants – brutal, impersonal and intimidating. Each block must have weighed thousands of tons. They appeared to be so closely fused together that I don't think a needle could have been forced between them. The finish of those stones was a smooth satin. They reminded me of similar megalithic stone building blocks from Earth's prehistory. Some of those old granite blocks were just as meticulously polished as these, and some had been lifted to the sides of mountains by unknown forces.
It was clear that these mighty stones had been effortlessly sliced from the rock by some amazing instrument tha
t cut stone like butter. I assumed that these stones were moved by antigrav, but I had no idea how they were cut from the quarry.
They took Blackie and me in through a huge open doorway between two gargantuan blocks. Colorful pennants and banners floated in the air and indecipherable runes were cut into the blocks here and there. We entered an extensive open area full of trees and bushes and flower gardens and footpaths and little ponds and fountains and even a small creek that ran through the site. This great calm refuge was completely surrounded by the gigantic stone walls, but was open to the sky.
Brights strolled through the gardens, males and females, clad in white garments, tunics and loose fitting pants and light shoes. They seemed very relaxed. There was something about their skin – it glowed lightly. It made the females look like angels. Perhaps it had something to do with Dimension X.
Home, I thought as Tourguide gestured to show me a multicube unit set up against the stone block wall. The walls were lined with these residential structures, made of a white plastic-like substance – single story cubes with plenty of windows and skylights. Actually, I don't believe I actually thought the word home myself. By then, I realized it was Tourguide who thought it into my head. Tourguide was the seemingly young Bright trooper who seemed to have been assigned to me. I didn't know his name, but I thought of him as Tourguide. He smiled as he gestured me into the residence. I entered with Blackie, still on a leash. The place was fine – bright and airy, strangely shaped chairs and sofas and tables, an alcove that looked like a kitchenmod, a circular bed, and a separate cube with bathroom facilities where I could identify a toilet, a shower and a sink.
Happy, I thought. No, that was Tourguide. Friends, I thought, where are my friends? He smiled but did not answer. Did they even know how to talk? Maybe not – maybe they did not need to talk to communicate. If so, they probably regarded us as incredibly backward hominids who could only communicate by chattering like apes.
Two more male Brights entered the cube. They were clad in lizardskin camo fatigue uniforms that shifted colors as they shifted position. Tourguide was still in his silvery armor, although his visor was open. The other two wordlessly made it clear that they wanted me to take my armor off. Fine – I had no choice. I stripped the armor off but I detached Honeyhair's medallion and the medpak and the tacmod and retained them. They had no objection to that. They took my armor away while Tourguide remained behind with me.
Pee, Tourguide suggested. Not a bad idea. I entered the bathroom, closed the door behind me, and pondered the toilet. There was no flush required – water continued to flow through it without pause. Convenient.
When I came out, Tourguide showed me a wall closet full of Bright clothes. I dumped my sweaty litesuit and pulled on a silky white Bright tunic and loose white pants. I found some lightweight shoes that adjusted to my feet instantly. This worked right in with my plan. My plan was to find the rest of Delta, as soon as possible, one way or another. And to cooperate, within reason, and find out what limits were set on my movements. It didn't look like I was a regular PW, that was sure. The Brights had gunned down that wounded Demon without mercy. They were treating me differently. Maybe they had found out what we had done on Kratar. I sure hoped so.
Tourguide took me to an outdoor mess hall that was set up right in the gardens, by a little lake full of colorful fish. There were plenty of other diners. It was like an elegant, high-class restaurant, and the dishes were served by darling little Bright girls in what may have been traditional costumes. Tourguide suggested choices on the menu and they were all good. We drank ice water. I didn't see any of my Delta squadies.
"Friends," I said, and thought, My friends. I want to see my friends. Tourguide just smiled like an idiot. When we were through we strolled through the park. I was leading, looking everywhere, checking out all the other cubes along the wall. There were a lot of them.
Those gigantic stone blocks were something. I wondered if they had been built by the Brights or by the Demons. This had been a Demon world, after all, according to the starmap. It had been captured by the Brights. How could they have erected this gigantic structure so quickly? It looked like it could have stood there for thousands of years, even though it did appear brand new. Some sections of the interior walls did not have residences attached to them. Some of the blocks seemed to be hollow, or semi-hollow, as they had huge metal gates and lots of windows or simports to let in the light. I had the impression these were official installations, perhaps even blast-proof.
I stopped at a little table with attached bench seats. I took a seat and so did Tourguide. It was getting dark. The sky was clouding over. I thought I could smell rain. Friends, I thought. He did not respond. I took out my tacmod. "Honey, is the tacnet up yet?" I asked.
"Tacnet is down, Prophet," she replied. It was good to hear her voice.
"How about the tacmap? Can you locate Delta, any Deltas?"
"Tacmap is also down, Prophet. I have been attempting to counter enemy jamming without results."
"Thank you, Honey."
Tourguide watched me without comment. What are you afraid of, I thought.
Nothing. The word almost echoed in my head. Afraid of nothing.
There were a lot of Brights wandering around the park and plenty of them sitting at tables and benches as well. I learned later that they did not spend a lot of time indoors. They thought it un-natural, and preferred to live outside in sunlight and shade and soft breezes.
With night coming on, the sky was full of dark purple clouds and it started to rain. I did not realize it at first, but then the rain increased and came down in heavy sheets. I looked up in surprise as none of it was hitting us. The rain was breaking against an invisible shield that covered the entire park, softly roaring as it struck the barrier and blew away into the wind. A warm thrill crept over my flesh. Everyone in the park seemed to be enjoying the rain, looking up calmly to watch it.
Δ
The following morning, Tourguide woke me up early. He had slept on a sofa in the little room. I guess he was the official alien minder. I tried to sneak past him once at night to take a walk, but he had awoken and I gave up on the plan.
I had no idea what was coming. About all I could hope for was that some or hopefully all of my Delta brothers and sisters had survived. After that, I had no idea. Maybe we could all share a cage in the zoo. That's about as far as my thought processes carried me at that stage. Find Delta. After that, anything was possible. After all, we had nothing to lose. I had these visions of stealing a Bright ship and heading for home. It wasn't very realistic.
Tourguide was wearing lizard camfax that morning. He insisted that I leave Blackie in the cube. He didn't take me to breakfast as I had been expecting. Instead we boarded a military aircar just outside the main entranceway. Two other camfaxed passenger Brights were there, as well as the driver. We shot away from the Blockhouse and rode the air as some strange music serenaded us. Tourguide said something brisk to the driver who turned off the music. That was the first time I had heard him speak. So! You don't speak unless you're upset. I filed that away in the memory banks.
We drove away from the Blockhouse, with an extensive forest to our right and a flight of delta sharks darting across the sky. It was a fine, bluish sky with scattered dark clouds. Another giant blockhouse came into view – another! This one was made of dark green stone – almost like marble. It was most impressive. Another gigantic fortress. Blockhouse II, I thought. We stopped outside in a huge aircar park that was crowded with military aircars and airbuses and airtrucks. This was a much larger installation than the first one. Lizard-camfaxed Brights could be seen in the carpark and going in and out of the main entranceway. We got out of the car and walked through an imposing entrance.
They took me to a large office inside one of the second story blocks. As we entered, I noted the room was flooded with sunlight from what looked like skylights, and from a massive wall-to-wall plex window facing outside the installation. It was a spectacular vie
w, but I concluded immediately that both the skylight and the panoramic window were simports since I knew those stone blocks did not have any openings on the exterior walls.
A delegation of Bright officers clad in lizard camfax fatigues were gathered around a large desk, and every one of them was fixated on me from the instant I came through the doorway. I picked out the general immediately, even though I had no idea what any of the insignias meant. You don't need insignias to spot that – the others were clustered around him like subordinates, like bodyguards, alert to his every gesture. He was certainly a general or the Bright equivalent. Tourguide was clearly nervous, one hand on my arm, but he was not sending me any messages.
A general – damn! I snapped to attention and braced. The gang just stared at me. The general came over to me and stood there looking into my eyes. He seemed neither young nor old. Ageless, I guess. The glow from his face made me blink. The others clustered around as if afraid the alien was going to attack the general. I stood there like a statue.
The general reached both hands out to encase my head, without touching it. He stood there for some time like that. Eventually he seemed satisfied, and gestured to another Bright, who did the same, holding his hands palms toward my head. Then another one did it. And another. I guess this was their version of brain scans. And I was thinking only one thing. My friends. My comrades. Brothers and sisters. Delta. I want to see my friends.
One of the Brights seemed reluctant to leave after examining me. I looked closer at him, and was stunned at what I saw. I flashed back to the past: He had been sprawled in the mud, his brilliant armor showing several bad hits in the chest area. I went to my knees, exhausted. He was still moving. His right hand was trembling. His left fumbled at his helmet. A visor snapped open. I looked in. He appeared to be…luminous. Bright. Of course, these were the Brights. He looked almost human – an old, tough soldier, resigned to his fate. His right hand closed over a flask that might have been a canteen. He struggled to get it to his lips but he could not do it. He was fading fast. I reached for his canteen and my hand covered his. I lifted the canteen up to his lips and put my other hand in back of his helmet to hold his head up so he could get at the canteen.
Prophet of ConFree (The Prophet of ConFree) Page 43
