To Well And Back (The Deep Dark Well)

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To Well And Back (The Deep Dark Well) Page 12

by Doug Dandridge


  “Aye sir,” yelled the com, while the bridge crew started Orca down the glide path to low orbit, where the Commodore’s ships already were.

  The pyramid disappeared around the curve of the planet, and the bridge crew immediately relaxed as they realized it. The Admiral continued to grip the arms of his chair as he watched his other ships following. There could be other batteries, he thought. But at least we’ll be out of range of that killer. And then the last of his ships was below the horizon, and the Admiral allowed his hands to relax on the chair arms.

  “The Commodore is asking if he should continue the bombardment with the smaller weapons,” said the Com Officer, looking back at the Admiral with a face that seemed to beg a no.

  “Tell him, do not fire anything at the surface at this time,” said Gerasi, feeling his own face pale. “Tell him to get his Marines back to that base and to prepare for extended ground action.” The Admiral turned toward his Tactical Officer. “You concur?”

  “There didn’t seem to be any trouble when we were just chasing them on the ground,” said the officer, stopping to take a composure breath after the words left his mouth. “The defense system only took notice of us when we started a heavy bombardment. So it should be safe enough to put Marines on the ground.”

  “Very well,” said the Admiral, turning back to the Com Officer. “Tell all ships in this force to put all available Marines on the Suryan landing base. All are to leave a one company reserve on board.”

  “Aye sir,” said the Com Officer, turning back to his board.

  We’ll see if you can outfight ten times your number of elite ground troops, thought the Admiral staring at the still rising mushroom cloud on the viewer. Even if that demon and his vixen are aiding you. You are mine.

  * * *

  Watcher looked up as the seismic sensors registered rumblings to the west, near to where he was heading. “Computer,” he asked, looking at the viewer that was giving a take from the microsats he had seeded in orbit. “What is occurring?”

  “From the seismic readings, kinetic strikes are coming down on the area that is our target. Weapons appear to be in the twenty kiloton range.”

  What are you getting into now, Pandora, thought Watcher, grimacing. He was sure that she was in her battle armor, he couldn’t think of her bailing from her ship without it. And possibly some of her battlebots. Even that hardware would not survive a direct hit by a twenty kiloton kinetic weapon. But a near miss was next to useless with the protection she had.

  The seismic meter continued to show strike after strike, while the microsats showed a flurry of bright flashes on the surface. Then, as suddenly as it began, it stopped. Several minutes went by, and then a sharp spike appeared on the seismic meter and a terrific flash appeared on the ground.

  “That was a twenty megaton weapon,” said the computer.

  “Shit,” said Watcher, shaking his head. A near miss by that might kill her despite her armor.

  Suddenly the sky overhead glowed with a bright light. Watcher switched the take on the microsats, looking up, expecting to see what he actually saw. It still surprised him to see a ship being cut apart in real time. The beam had to be something like the poor fanatics had never imagined, and something they would now covet. He continued to watch as the beam struck the second ship, with the same result, glowing sections of hull and the spark like smaller pieces flying into space as bodies spilled into the vacuum, many, the lucky ones, to be vaporized on contact with the beam. The beam then switched off.

  Watcher looked at the carnage for several minutes, also taking note of the other ships, intelligently, diving for the cover of a lower orbit, though they would still have to come in range of the pyramid sometime in that path unless they went into a staggered polar track. Or continuously ran their drives to stay in place. I guess they must have really pissed off the planetary defense system, thought the immortal human, a small smile on his face. While he didn’t really like to kill intelligent beings, he considered the xenophobic members of the Nation of Humanity to be barely such.

  “Bring us up above the tree line,” he ordered the computer controller. “Let’s make some distance while we can.”

  “What about the hostile warships?” asked the artificial intelligence.

  “If you get even a peek of them duck us back down. Immediately. Even if we have to scrape some paint and alloy off the hulls.”

  “Acknowledged,” replied the AI. The hover tanks pushed up through the canopy of the great trees. Cracking branches and knocking a rain of leaves that fell around them. Within seconds the star flecked sky was clear, and the tanks moved up to several hundred kilometers an hour, cruising through the air. Watcher wasn’t sure how long he would have the luxury of traveling like this, but he would take it while he could.

  * * *

  “This really is beautiful,” said Pandora, looking up at the stalactites that were growing from the roof, some joining with their mirror stalagmites to form rippled pillars. “Reminds me of some caves near my home.”

  “On old Earth?” asked the Admiral, wonder in his voice. “A world of legend.”

  And no longer there, thought the woman, a feeling of intense sadness coming over her. My beautiful Yellow Hammer State, the University, the whole U S of A, gone to aliens who wanted us all dead. Of course, she had learned the entire story from Watcher and the library computer on the station. The humans had met the aliens again, and had kicked their asses back to their empire, soon eliminating it from the Galaxy. But the Earth, the mother planet, had still been lost.

  “Do not be sad, Ms. Latham,” said the Admiral, misinterpreting her sorrowful expression. “You did all you could, and we could not have expected better from anyone else trying to save us.”

  “Uh huh,” said Pandi, shaking her head. And I do feel bad about letting so many of your people die, Admiral. But I feel more sorrow for my lost home, damn my selfish little heart.

  “We are quite safe here,” said Krishnamurta with a smile. “We are over a kilometer back in the cave system, with a couple of kilometers of hard rock overhead.”

  “And that will protect us from those KE weapons they’re dropping?” said the woman with a tight smile, looking up at the ceiling while she was monitoring her micro-robot surveillance system that surrounded the jungle around this mountain. She had not seen a kinetic strike in the last half an hour. But she had noted that shuttles were landing at the field twenty kilometers distant, unloading armored troops, then leaping back into the air. She also noted that some atmospheric transports and attack craft had landed and were being prepped for operations. She didn’t know what they would be used for, but her guesses didn’t bode well for her, or her friends.

  “Not if they drop a big one right on top of us,” said the Admiral, shaking his head. “I think that would bring the mountain down on our heads. But they have no reason to know that we are here.”

  Unless some of their people saw us go into the cavern mouth, though Pandora. But I didn’t see anybody that might have seen us going underground. Still not impossible that we were seen, just unlikely. And unlikely might have to be good enough.

  Pandora looked around the large cavern, illuminated by the portable lanterns the Suryans had carried with them. There were about a hundred men and women in sight, and she knew there were more in the tunnels leading here, as well as the sentries at the openings. Still not much compared to the thousands of Marines the Nation could land. And it had been less than twenty-four hours since the Suryans had held this system.

  Her remaining robots were out there with the sentries, and on individual patrols that crisscrossed the jungle. They didn’t need rest or shelter, and it would take weeks to run down their batteries. If it took longer than that to get off this planet then she was really screwed. She didn’t believe Watcher would wait long before putting something together to come get her. She couldn’t think of what he could do, but he was the most intelligent sentient in the Galaxy as far as she knew, and she didn’t doubt he
would come up with something.

  The Suryans were taking out rations and portable heaters, and putting together what they could to eat. There was a strong curry odor to the food, and Pandi wondered again at the people’s origins. They would not say they were from India, in fact they had probably never heard the name of that old Earth subcontinent. But from their skin tones, their slightly polytheistic religion, and now the food they were preparing, she would not be too surprised to learn that these people had originated on the flood plains of the Ganges.

  “I think we will be here for a little while,” said the Admiral, gesturing toward an area where many of his people were now sitting and talking. “If you want to get comfortable, this might be the time.”

  “Comfortable?” asked Pandi, feeling a little confused.

  “That battle armor you’re wearing,” said the Admiral, patting his hand on her hard metal shoulder. “I assume it’s great protection, but it can’t be too comfortable.”

  Pandi thought about that for a moment. The armor gave her links to her other robots, macro and micro, but she could still link in through it from a short distance. And even though the suit’s nanosystems were keeping her clean, she still thought some exposure to the air would be welcome. With a nod of her head she walked over to the nearest wall, turned around, and positioned herself where she was out of the way. With a thought the suit opened along the seams that didn’t exist a moment before. The gloves attached to the legs and her hands came up and out, the arms split open, while the helmet lifted and folded away. The chest and groin section opened and folded back, and with a pair of steps Pandi was out of the battle armor, her skin suit feeling clean and comfortable on her body.

  “That suit is amazing,” said the Admiral, coming closer and studying the mechanism. He put a finger on the metal. “You must have been very lucky out there. I don’t see any hits.”

  “Oh, I was hit, alright,” she said with a smile. “More often than I should have been, really.” And Watcher will give me hell when he sees the video take of the fight. If he has time after he gives me hell about the other things I’ve done. She looked at the suit, then over at the Admiral. “The armor repairs light battle damage almost as soon as it happens. And it will service itself while I am out of it. Only thing is I don’t have a station to recharge it, so once it’s out of power it’s just a hunk of metal.”

  “And how long would that take?” asked the officer, his hand running along the padded inner surface of the suit.

  “About a week,” said Pandi, checking her stores while she had the moment. “In heavy combat take maybe a day or two off of that figure.”

  “Simply amazing,” said the Admiral, a longing look on his face. “And something still far beyond my people.”

  And something you would really like to have for your Marines, thought Pandora, looking at the man and wishing she could do more for him. She had no concern that they would take the armor without her permission. They knew better than to cross Watcher, and valued their friendship more than any single gain. But as good of friends as the Suryans were, they couldn’t just give them all the superior tech they had, lest the kingdom go on the offensive. It was too easy to become the conqueror when given the means to conquer.

  “One day your people will achieve this again,” said Pandi, putting her hand on the man’s shoulder. “You have my word on that. And remember, from when I come from the tech you have is pretty advanced.”

  “As long as the Nation does not surpass us,” said the Admiral, his eyes intensely fierce.

  “We’ll just have to make sure those xenophobic bastards don’t get the upper hand,” said Pandi, clapping her hand on his shoulder, then looking over at the people cooking. She looked back at the Admiral. “Next time I’ll have something a little more lethal under me, now that I know what I’m facing. Now let’s say we have a go at some chow. The suit will feed me what nutrients I need, but it sure doesn’t do anything for an empty stomach.”

  * * *

  Major Dronning Dumas cursed again as he followed his point team through the steaming jungle. He had heard the term before, but had never really experienced it. But here it was, a mass of vegetation that was actually putting hot moisture into the air. What in the Hell was God thinking when he created this mess.

  “Anything to report, Dumas?” came the voice of Colonel Hermann McClain over the com.

  Dumas cursed again, but made sure it was a silent epitaph. He didn’t like this officer, not one bit, and wished once more that Colonel Quaid had made it through the first battle. Instead the Colonel from the Orca was in overall command.

  “Nothing at all, sir,” said the Major, wishing again that he could leave this green hell behind for a nice fight aboard ship, where at least he didn’t have to worry about being swarmed under by killer insects, or stabbed by ambulatory poisonous plants. He shuddered again as he thought about the trooper who stepped onto some kind of nest, and was covered in stinging insects in an instant. His armor protected most of his body, but some of the arthropod like creatures had gotten into the crevices, and the soft part of the suit had not stopped their stingers from going home. The man had died with a scream of agony, and the bugs had continued to fight their way into the bounty that had come to them. They didn’t get to enjoy it, thought the Major with a grimace. Lasers had incinerated the man and the insects, while explosive shells had taken out the depths of the nest. But the man had definitely not enjoyed the revenge that was taken on his behalf.

  Then had come the trooper who had stumbled into some plant that looked like a harmless bush underneath a tree. Harmless until the man had run into it, at which point slender branches shot out and hit the man with hundreds of thorns. As with the insects, most of the thorns had been stopped by the armor, but one or more had penetrated the suit at the joints, and the man had died in moments. Again the cause of death had been destroyed. And again the victim really hadn’t cared.

  “Well, keep an eye out,” came the voice of the martinet officer over the com.

  What the hell do you think I’m doing, you ass, thought the officer. “Yes sir. We’re keeping a close watch for the bastards.”

  “McClain out,” came the reply, a relief to the younger officer.

  “Look out,” yelled someone over the com. The yell was followed by the sound of mag rifle rounds thwacking through the brush, then more screams and cries.

  Dumas ran toward the sounds, while yelling over the com for a sitrep. All he got in return was more yelling and cursing, which told him nothing except there was trouble ahead. The Major burst into the small clearing from which the commotion arose, and cursed again as he saw the creatures his men had run into.

  There were a couple of armored forms lying on the ground and not moving, his men, and checking their telemetry he cursed yet again. One was dead, the other had vitals that were low and dropping. The creatures he took to be Maurids at first. They were of a similar shape, with the same stripped or mottled skins in an orange theme as the alien sophonts. One of the creatures was swinging an armored trooper against a tree, the heavy smacking sounds echoing through the clearing. Dumas noted the size of the creature, gauging it to be at least three hundred kilos, and as it turned its head a bit he saw that the skull was narrower and the jaw heavier than a Maurid’s. It was a close relative, but not the evil alien sentient, as his people thought them.

  This only took a moment to go through the sharp witted officer’s mind. At the same time he was aiming his weapon at the alien predator, lining it up and pulling his trigger. A burst of high velocity rounds ripped into the beast, and its orange fur became spotted with deep red blood. With an almost human scream the creature went down, and with it the man it had been attacking, both to lay unmoving on the ground.

  More Marines joined in, shooting down all the creatures in sight. Within seconds all of the predators had been killed, and there were a dozen orange furred bodies lying in the poses of death.

  “What’s going on?” called the Colonel over t
he com, his voice angry. “What is holding your people up?”

  “We were attacked by a pack predator, sir,” said Dumas, taking a close look at one of the beasts. It had hands, he noted, just like the Maurids, and he wondered at the relation between the two species.

  “How did they get to you, Major?” asked the Colonel, his voice sullen. “Couldn’t your point men have taken them out?”

  “They seem to be arboreal, sir,” said the Major, realizing that no matter what he said he would take the brunt of the blame. “They took out five of my men before they knew what was happening.”

  “Took out? What do you mean, took out?”

  “I have four dead and one seriously wounded,” said the Major, looking over to where the Doc was opening the armor of the one living man. “These things are big and powerful, and they just banged men against the trees until the Marines died of concussive shock.”

  “Well, get moving, Major,” said the Colonel, his voice cold. “The Admiral expects us to find those Suryans, not play with the wildlife.”

  “Yes, sir,” said Dumas, holding his anger in. “Well get right on it, sir.”

  “Move the men out,” yelled Dumas over the com, circling a finger in the air and pointing forward. A movement caught the corner of his eye, just in time for the Major to see another half dozen of the big creatures drop from the trees and go into the attack.

  Chapter Twelve

  Aliens are either soulless creatures, the wretches of the Universe, or they have a soul that is only fit to dwell in the realm of Satan, their creator. Man is the only intelligent creature touched by God, and it is up to man to make sure he is not contaminated by the creations of Satan. What better task can a man devote himself to than the reunion of the souls of the Alien with their creator, to dwell with him in the Lake of Fire. Teachings of the Church of Humanity.

  “One of our sats is picking up something moving on the surface,” called out a sensor officer.

 

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