Animus Intercept

by Lawrence Ambrose

  "One hundred and twelve."

  Zane nodded fatalistically. They were going in regardless.

  "Do they have an electronic communication system?" Zane asked Patricia.

  "Not that I've detected. I haven't detected any form of artificial electricity."

  "Well, that's something," said Mallory.

  "How close to the roof are the sixteen people who might be ours, Patricia?"

  "Just over three meters below the roof."

  "We could blast a hole in the roof a safe distance from them and enter that way," said Mallory. "If we set down on the ground they could send an army against it. They must have security forces around here somewhere."

  "Plus we have to break through a hundred of them getting to the third floor," said Zane. "I don't think we have any option. We need to go through the roof."

  "What's the roof's composition?" Zane asked.

  "The building's essentially adobe," said Patricia. "A SHE blast should only cause isolated damage – the walls have independent strength so there wouldn't be a catastrophic failure. A round placed twenty meters from the center shouldn't harm the Peacemaker crew, if that's who they are."

  "Right," said Mallory, tapping his chin. "We blow a section of the roof, drop down on them, and get our people out before the flyboys can mount a counterattack."

  Zane nodded slowly. "Sounds like the best option. Patricia, tell the leader to position us over the west end of the roof at our current height. As soon as we blow the hole, we need to descend as quickly as possible. David and I will drop into the building. You keep things kosher up here. We'll keep in touch."

  "No problem, sir."

  Patricia entered into more tedious pictorial dialogue with the alien leader, who directed the new pilot into a slow circle around the west section of the mushroom building's roof three hundred meters below.

  "He'll descend on my command," she said.

  "Okay," said Zane. "Here we go."

  Zane leaned out through a window and targeted the west corner of the roof. He squeezed and held the trigger. Two seconds later, the roof burst in a cloud of earthen hues. Zane ducked back inside as particles peppered the air ship.

  Before the dust had cleared, the pilot, following Patricia's urgent downward motions, set the air ship into a swift descent, halting a few meters over a gaping twenty meter-wide crater in the roof. Shattered furniture and bodies lay immediately below. Zane steeled himself. His father had once said that "a war without collateral damage exists only as a fantasy in liberal and pacifists' minds."

  "Are we good?" Mallory asked.

  "Close enough."

  The fifteen-foot drop to the floor below was easily absorbed by the PA suits. The room was covered in debris and brown dust. A pair of furry legs protruded beneath a crumpled table a few feet away. Something stirred under a mound of rubble, emitting a low, mournful cicada chirp.

  "Let's go," said Zane grimly.

  The archway supporting the only door in the room had partly collapsed. They kicked the door outward and crawled through a narrow space into a hallway that appeared clear of damage. An instant's indecision – and Zane led off to their left.

  As they rounded the corner they ran flush into a group of fly people. Three of them bounced off them and hit the floor, while Zane and Mallory seized another one by its long, slender arms. It stared at them, its eyes glowing an alarmed red. The other aliens fluttered to their feet, wings beating, and half-flew, half-stumbled away down the hall.

  "Now what?" Mallory rasped.

  Zane observed that their new captive was shorter and more slender than any alien they'd encountered so far. A youth? Female?

  Wishing Patricia was there, Zane followed the only thought he had – drawing a stick figure on a wall coated with dust from the explosion. The alien pulled back in their arms, shaking its head, while Zane jabbed the figure, himself, and then his captive. Mallory shoved the barrel of his rifle into the alien's head and pointed with deadly emphasis to the stick figure. Zane could only imagine what was going through its head - assaulted by incomprehensible beings after an inexplicable explosion.

  Zane scrawled another couple of human figures beside the original, adding long hair to one. The slender alien stiffened in their grasp. It extended one shaky, fuzz-covered finger down the hall in the direction they'd been going. Mallory tapped its chest, none too gently, and pointed in the same direction. The alien slumped in their hands for a moment before rousing itself and starting down the hall in their grasp.

  They followed the hallway in a slow jog. Zane had the sense it was gradually spiraling downward. The alien paused at what first appeared to be a downward step but was a four or five foot drop-off to another corridor. They followed the fly creature's lead in a short jump to the lower level, but in midair their loosened grip allowed the alien to wriggle free. It burst into flight with an explosive blast of air, double-wings furiously whirring.

  Mallory reacted first, springing after it with augmented strides. The 5x strength didn't translate into five times speed, but it did transform an ordinary guy into a world class sprinter, and Mallory was no ordinary guy. He caught the alien by an ankle after five bounding strides and hauled it to the floor. Zane was right behind him.

  A sharp rap from Mallory on the alien's back stopped the frantically fluttering wings. It folded up on the floor.

  Zane withdrew his BADD telemeter, scanning toward what he judged to be the center of the building, picking up plenty of humanoid shapes. One group stood out: several individuals sitting in a cluster, making casual, measured gestures that looked human to him. The overall shape of the aliens was annoyingly close to theirs, but the way they moved was different – faster, jerkier, like people on stimulants. He could see they were three walls in, but the device showed no clear path to them.

  "Are we close to them?" Mallory asked.

  "I doubt more than fifty feet away. But this isn't exactly drawing me a map of how to get there."

  The slender alien was stirring awake, rising onto its knees. Mallory jerked it to its feet.

  "Easy," said Zane. "She could save us some time getting there."

  "She?"

  "She seems female to me." Zane shook his head. "Let's keep going."

  The alien stumbled along under Mallory's ungentle grasp in the same direction. Another curve, a doorway, and then a stretch of narrower corridor followed, ending in a broad metal door. To one side of the door was a small, thick, rounded bank teller-like window. A single alien sat behind the window, hunched down, eyes glowing red which Zane was beginning to interpret as a universal sign of distress or surprise for the fly people.

  They strode to the window, Mallory tapping it with his rifle barrel and gesturing to the door. The alien ducked down and hustled out of sight. They tried the door, which predictably didn't budge.

  "Laser," said Zane.

  They unsnapped their mini-lasers from their tool belts and cut lines through the suspected lock bar locations by the handle and the bottom of the door. A final laser slice near the top right corner and the door swung free.

  What appeared to be a row of cellblocks on either side of a corridor extended before them to a sunlit window fifty meters distant. The only difference Zane noticed from human jail cells was the heavy duty metal grating instead of steel bars.

  Inside the corridor, Zane's heart sank as the first few cells held aliens. Then a familiar voice carried hoarsely down the hall.

  "Is that you, Zane, or has Spiderman come to rescue us?"

  Zane made out part of a nose and grey stubble poking out through the last cell grate. "Horse?"

  He and Mallory broke into a jog to the front of the cell. Horace was leaning against the metal grill. Behind him, fifteen or so Peacemaker crewmembers were shuffling to their feet, faces radiant with hope. They were all wearing the bright, shiny patchwork of vests and shorts that the aliens favored, and in the case of the five women and one chunky guy they barely covered critical areas. A few wore bandages. The fly c
reatures weren't entirely lacking in common decency, Zane thought.

  "Zane, you son of a bitch," said Horace. "What the hell took you so long?"

  "We took the scenic route."

  His old mentor sputtered out a laugh. "Who you got with you?"

  "Your fairy godmother," said Mallory.

  "Damn, Lieutenant. I was hoping for Cinderella."

  "Are you all okay?" Zane asked.

  "Fine - other than being pissed off and bored out of our fucking minds."

  "Stand back and we'll burn open your cage."

  Zane drew his laser and sliced through two locks at the center and top edges of the grill.

  "I take it you have a ride out of here?" Horace asked.

  "With any luck."

  "When I heard the explosion I assumed it was you, though I have no idea how you found us."

  "It's a long story. We flew in on one of their dirigibles. Blew out a section of the roof."

  The cell door swung open. A sharp clank behind them caused Zane and Mallory to spin around. An alien unlike any they'd seen stood with its hands gripping the cell's grate. A deep, iridescent blue, near-black wings and a more conical face, it reminded Zane of a blue wasp much more than a fly. Shiny black horns – or antennae? - curled a few inches out of its head. Light blue specks glowed deep within its obsidian black eyes. It projected an unmistakable deadliness. Not especially tall for a fly creature, but it appeared thicker, more armored.

  The creature shook the grill again, causing Zane and Mallory to instinctually step back. Horace chuckled.

  "That's Zzuull." He pronounced it Zoole. "Full name, Zzuullzhrun. At least that's our best pronunciation."

  "It looks like it could totally sting you," said Mallory.

  "Actually, she could. She's a member of the warrior class species, but she worked as a scientist until she ran afoul of some bureaucratic or religious imperative, from what I can tell."

  "Fascinating," said Zane. "But we need to go."

  "If she wants to go, release her, Zane. She's been a helluva help while we've been in here."

  "You're sure about that?"

  "I completely vouch for her. All she's done from the beginning is try to help us. And she might be invaluable to us out there. She knows her people and this world. She's even learned some English – including her name."

  "ZZZZoooolle," the alien croaked obligingly in a high-pitched helium version of Kermit the Frog.

  Zane motioned her back and sliced through the locks. Her door squealed as she shoved it open.

  "Thankzzz," she hummed.

  "You're welcome." Zane waved Mallory ahead. "David, take point."

  Zane hung back with Horace, who was hobbling his way into a slow jog.

  "You okay?"

  "Just sitting on my ass too much. Plus some damn wolf on steroids sank his teeth in my hip. Getting too damn old to fight wolves."

  "Yeah, we ran into your battle site. We got attacked ourselves."

  "How did you do? I suppose you kicked some hairy ass with your rifles and PA suits."

  "We lost Malcolm." Zane winced inside his suit as memories of the science officer's severed head burned through his brain. "But we fought them off. The wolves we encountered since then avoided us."

  "I'm sorry about Malcolm. As you know, we lost a lot more than that. Most of my crew is out there rotting or being digested. The bugs, whatever their motivations, did us a big favor by abducting us. We were not equipped for surviving in this world."

  "How did you get here?"

  "Those little fuckers that took out my ship."

  "The Guardians."

  "Is that what you're calling them?" Horace shook his head and grimaced. "They entered the ship somehow. I have a fuzzy memory of things that looked like small flashlights – and then it was lights out. We woke up in the Land that Time Forgot."

  "More like the land that time misremembered," Mallory snorted. "They almost took us out, too. But for some reason they didn't finish the job."

  "Lucky for us," said Horace. "The alien machines must've drugged us and taken control of our ship."

  "They left us for dead in the Cheyenne. But we managed to make it in here." Zane helped his old friend up one of the "drop-off" steps. "Long story again."

  "I can imagine. This whole damn mission is one long story."

  "Patricia," said Zane. "Any sign of a counterforce?"

  "There are thirteen figures moving toward you. So far, nothing outside the building."

  Aliens with official-looking orange uniforms and pellet gun-shaped rifles charged into the hallway twenty meters ahead. Zane sprinted to the front of their group.

  "Form behind us!" he shouted.

  Mallory didn't need instructions: he moved shoulder to shoulder with Zane, creating a protective wall as the alien soldiers or guards or whatever they were leveled their weapons. As much as Zane disliked it, the gloves had to come off completely. He wasn't letting anyone get in the way of rescuing his people. But he could show one small mercy.

  As Mallory aimed his rifle, Zane whipped out his laser, sending an unfocused but hot line of light across the fly soldiers' arms. Mallory jerked out his own mini-laser, joining Zane in sweeping their opponents with beams that would raise blisters but not sever limbs or bodies. The tactic worked: the aliens dropped their weapons, buzzing out pained screeches, and fled.

  They arrived at the debris-filled room. Zane experienced a brief alarm at seeing only blue skies above, but then the air ship edged into view a few meters over the roof.

  The air ship descended. After a bump or two, the gondola lowered snugly into the SHE crater. Patricia ushered out the alien occupants except the leader and the pilot. Their former captives focused on "Zzuull" more than anything else. Zane had no confidence in reading their body language, but the way they gave the blue wasp-like alien a wide berth suggested caution if not fear. They seemed to know who or what she was. Zane wished he did. Too much was lost in translation to be sure what or who they'd released.

  "Good luck," he said to her, but Zzuull held his arm and jabbed a clawed finger at the dirigible.

  "I'd recommend bringing her," said Horace. "She's casting her lot with us. And as I said, she knows what's up in here."

  "If you say so."

  Zane nodded to her, and helped hustle Horace and the others inside. He jerked the door shut behind them and turned to Patricia.

  "Let's get the hell out of Dodge."

  Patricia conveyed that order to the leader who hummed a shrill message to the new pilot. The gas burners flared up and they were rising. Through the windows they watched the mushroom building diminish and the habitat loom ahead. It was a slow-motion getaway, but Zane hoped that was all they needed.

  Zzuullzhrun was moving from window to window, peering intently through each as if expecting company. When she edged in next to him, Zane couldn't help noticing how closely his uniform and dark carbyne eye goggles matched the color of her own eyes and skin. She seemed to notice it, too, running her fingers over his forearm. Her six fingers sprouted one-inch needle claws, and Zane felt a sharp tingling where they touched as his suit rearranged itself molecularly to resist the threat of penetration. It was a strangely sensuous motion, almost a caress, he thought. He was sure it was mere curiosity. Their new guest wasn't shy about expressing herself. Zane couldn't deny that standing so close to what could've been a giant wasp – the type of wasp that had once made his face swell like a grapefruit as a child – made him uneasy.

  Patricia edged in on his other side.

  "Have you checked out these creatures’ DNA?" Zane asked her.

  "Yes. They are relatives of our own insects. They also have large numbers of genes in common with us."

  "How is that possible?"

  "I estimate the probability of that occurring through natural evolutionary mechanisms as astronomically low."

  "Genetic manipulation, then?"

  "Very likely, yes." Patricia frowned out the window thoughtfully. "There's obvio
usly a connection between Earth and Animus. I'm guessing the aliens were experimenting with life forms on Earth, as well as attempting to preserve them."

  "No question about that," said Horace, coming up behind them. "Besides the woolly mammoths, Dire wolves, and other prehistoric animals, we ran into some Stone Age people who were kind enough to donate some of their weapons and help us construct some of our own. We probably wouldn't have made it without them."

  "Yeah, we ran into them, too," said Mallory. "Some of their men were captured by the bugs. They were holding them there." He pointed down to the habitat, passing slowly by to their north. "We freed them before coming for you."

  "Good," said Horace. "What's that place about? Looks like bleachers rising from enclosures. Zoo? Coliseum?"

  "We were wondering the same thing," said Zane.

  "Speaking of things," said the redheaded ensign, Adele O'Brien, pointing at the window on the other side of the cabin. "What the hell is that?"

  Everyone shuffled over to her. The winged creature hovering fifteen or twenty meters out looked for all the world to be a giant, yellow jacket hornet. It even had what appeared to be a stinger protruding from its lower abdomen. It was carrying a long, tubular device that looked to be a variant of the aliens' pellet guns.

  Everyone gave a start as Zzull emitted a siren-like screech. When they turned to her she stabbed a clawed finger at the yellow jacket and smashed her left fist into her right hand. She repeated the gesture as the people stared at her. Zane noticed that an identical-looking stinger, slick with a pungent yellow juice, was now sticking out of her lower torso.

  Zane turned to Mallory, who was closest to the window.

  "Shoot it," he said.

  But as Mallory raised his rifle, the yellow jacket buzzed upward out of sight.

  "I believe that's another warrior-class bug," said Horace. "Like their Special Forces or something."

  "Great." Mallory stared along with the others at Zzuull, who was now thrusting a finger urgently upward. "What's she saying? It's gonna puncture this fat-ass blimp?"

  "I'd say that's a good guess, son," said Horace.

  Nothing dramatic happened. Zane figured there was no way they'd hear a leak with a turbine engines running. Zzuullzhrun was tugging at Mallory's arm, gesturing for his rifle.