by Allen Wold
"Even armor isn't good enough," Petorska said. His chest-plate had been cracked in the first dust-devil attack.
"Then keep to the wall," Sukiro told him, "but keep somebody between the softies and the machine."
Rikard didn't like being referred to in that way but had to acknowledge the wisdom of the action. The few times a dust-devil had brushed against him had hurt enough, and those had been just love taps compared to what some of the goons had taken. Lakey and Delamar, as well as Petorska, had suffered damage to their armor.
They went around the second corner of the machine, from where they could see that the third wall was one huge, open archway, beyond which was a truly tremendous chamber, twice as big as the one before this one. But unlike the first three chambers, it was not filled with its machine.
The device here, as huge as it was, was dwarfed by the cubical chamber in which it stood. The machine was standing, in the center of the floor, on a convoluted spindle, rising halfway to the ceiling, with above it a spike that continued up to just short of the ceiling. Ramps led up to balconies that encircled the chamber, with long catwalks that led to other balconies encircling the device itself, but there were no workstations at the spindle or spike. And this machine, too, seemed to be operational.
They moved into the chamber, under the massive machine bulking over them. Besides the arch by which they entered there were two other doors in this wall, one on either side, and three doors in each of the other walls, and other doors at various levels of the balcony.
"I get a bad feeling about this," Rikard said.
And sure enough, as soon as everybody was well within the chamber, and fanned put to cover all directions, the dust-devils started their attack. They came in from all the iris doors and the arch, some even entered from balcony doors above and whizzed down the ramps. None of them moved in a straight line, each of them zigged and zagged, traveling not only at high speed but also at odd angles, zipping in to hit a goon now and then. The platoon drew closer together, keeping the vulnerable in the center, trying to get off a good shot when they could.
"These guys aren't armed," Rikard said with sudden realization.
Braced against the attack, and firing at impossible targets, the goons who were hit by the speeding dust-devils weren't as badly battered as when they had been taken by surprise before, but Gerandine was hit hard from behind by a dust-devil that managed to streak right through the clot of defenders. She smashed to the ground, the left arm of her armor half popped off, her helmet cracked hard on the deck.
The attack had come so quickly, and the goons had reacted so quickly and were pressed around him so tightly, that it was a long moment before Rikard was able to draw his gun. He did not try to aim it but just gripped the butt, and concentrated his attention on focusing on a passing dust-devil, even as he felt his time sense slow. The attackers were still moving so fast that it was hard for him to even keep his eyes on them, but he did manage to get a passing glance at one or two who were moving more or less directly away from him.
The creatures he saw were like huge caterpillars, the foreparts of their bodies half raised up from the deck. The lower body, maybe four meters long, was slender and tapered, with stiff cilia instead of jointed legs. The upper portion was composed of four segments, each with a pair of four-jointed arms. Their heads were spherical, but he could not see their faces. They were dark gray in color, shading to pale gray at the ends of their bodies, except for their heads, which were almost black. At least, that was as much as he could see.
He tried to bring his gun to bear on the nearest of the receding creatures, but Dyson, beside him, was too close and hindered his movement—which, after all, was only two or three times faster than normal even though his perceptions were ten times normal—and by the time he got his gun up and saw the concentric rings in his eyes move to the general vicinity of the dust-devil, it had turned aside and sped away.
He carefully moved away from Dyson, to give his gun hand room to move, and tried to pick another target. The goons around him were shooting, not aiming now but laying down a general barrage of fire. Rikard was fascinated to see one of the dust-devils turn its hard, shiny head just as Colder shot. It seemed to watch the blast, which was traveling faster than any bullet, as it crossed three-quarters of the distance toward it. Then it jerked away so quickly that even Rikard's hyper senses couldn't see it as movement, and dodged the shot, which passed within centimeters and blew a chunk out of the wall behind it.
And then his chance came. He didn't take the time to think about it, he just acted. A dust-devil was charging straight at him, as if it knew that he was vulnerable. His gun was half aimed already. He pushed his arm toward the thing as hard as he could. The concentric rings of his built-in sight centered on the creature's chest. It continued to race toward him with frightening speed. It had six simple eyes, a mouth like that of a spider. Rikard watched as the spot in his eyes, indicating the point of the bullet's impact, moved into the center ring, even as he was pulling the trigger. The gun fired, he watched the bullet's flat arc, watched the devil twitch aside at the last instant, watched the bullet pock the wall as the dust-devil swerved aside, and hit Majorbank.
From the corner of his eye he saw another of the monsters finish Its charge and arc away, leaving Valencis with his body armor dislocated. He wrenched his arm around, focused on the creature's back. The spot in his eyes moved painfully slowly as his hand came around and the creature zigged into Delamar, knocking off her helmet, and zagged into Lakey, breaking his shoulder armor.
It was hard to keep his eyes on the thing, even speeded up ten times, let alone bring his gun to bear. He started to pull the trigger even as the rings of his internal sight bore on the thing's back. The target spot entered the outer ring, the gun went off as the spot moved to the center ring, the creature started to zig again, the bullet flew and hit it in the side instead of the middle of its back. The dust-devil jerked forward but kept running in spite of its terrible wound, and Rikard watched as it zipped out a door.
And then all the other dust-devils aborted their charges and raced away out the doors nearest them. The attack was over. Rikard released his hold on the gun and time returned to normal.
The enemy's departure was so sudden that the goons fired one or two shots more before they realized that the attack was over. Rikard tried to ease the cramped muscles in his gun hand. Then the noncoms shouted orders, the goons regrouped and tried to catch their breaths. Woadham and Brisabane had been wounded by body blows, and Gospodin was now lying still and dead on the deck.
"I've seen our assailants," Rikard said in the silence.
"Impossible," Denny said.
"He can do it," Sukiro told her. "So what did they look like?"
Everybody listened as Rikard described them. "And I was right," he finished, "none of them had any weapons. They were just hitting people with their shoulders or fists as they passed."
"What you've just described," Raebuck said, "sounds exactly like the Tschagan. But how could they move so fast? They moved just like normal people on those tapes I saw."
"They must have slowed the tapes down for broadcast," Su-kiro said. "Did you ever see the Tschagan and other people together?"
Raebuck paused to think a moment. "A lot of the tapes showed other species," she said, "but I don't remember if they were with the Tschagan or not. They seemed to like to hog the stage."
"That's nice to know," Denny said sarcastically, "but how will that help us if they decide to attack again?"
"An awful lot of them went out that door," Rikard said, pointing to one of the irises on the side.
"Then let's see what's out there," Falyn suggested.
Under her command, the goons approached the iris, Colder with her prybar in hand. When the goons were ranked in front of the iris, all with weapons drawn, Colder reached out with the bar to touch the latch-plate. The iris snapped open, and all the goons fired at once. It snapped shut again, and only one or t
wo of the blaster shots hit it.
Colder then stepped up to the iris, opened it with her hand, and stepped into the jamb to keep it open. Majorbank, Charney, and Van vleet, immediately behind her, quickly stepped through into the huge chamber beyond. There were no giant caterpillars. The rest of the force followed quickly.
This chamber was as big as the one they had just left, but its machine almost completely filled the space within. It had been hit a number of times by blaster-fire, though it showed little damage.
But in front of the machine, visible now that they were inside and the lights were on, were smears of organic matter. Rikard and Sukiro were the first to see them.
Most of it was unrecognizable, but there were several of the stiff, jointless appendages that served the Tschagan as legs, and over to one side was a fragment of an arm, with the four mutually opposed fingers of its hand intact. Aside from that, and a few fragments of skin, all the rest was just burned pulp, spread out over a two-meter radius.
"That's two down," Rikard said, "and I wounded one just before they broke off the attack."
"That's what made them quit," Denny said. "That doesn't seem like what you would expect from soldiers."
"Let's not just stand here and talk about it," Falyn said. "At their rate of movement, they could have completely reorganized by now and called in reinforcements. We've got to get out of here."
"I agree," Sukiro said. "They can wear us down faster than we can them, and who knows how many of them there are. If only one-tenth the potential population of this station still lives, the odds against us are at least a hundred thousand to one."
"No problem anywhere but here," Falyn said sardonically.
"Shall we go back the way we came?" Nelross asked.
"We should go on," Raebuck said. "We know they're behind us but they may not be ahead."
"Then let's start moving up," Sukiro said. "There's an iris at the top of that ramp, let's hope it leads to a way out."
They followed the ramps and catwalks built against the wall up to the highest balcony, and to the door there, and went into a low, broad hallway, many times wider than it was high. Even as they did so, Tschagan again zipped at them, but only from behind, and the goons by now had learned to not pick targets but just to set up a random area fire all around. They kept moving even as they fired, and one or two Tschagan were hit, immediately after which the attack stopped.
The way ahead was the only way to go, so they went, spread out along the broad, low corridor, looking for another door or ramp up. At last they found what they wanted, a ramp right in the middle of the corridor floor. It was three meters wide, and led straight up through the ceiling.
4
The broad ramp led them up through the middle of the floor above, into a rather large chamber, where the high ceiling was already lit. There were low, padded rails, like benches, scattered around the far walls, detached counters set between them, and several of the furniturelike objects they had come to know so well, set out in the middle area. There was an iris at the far end of the chamber, and three larger irises along the left side wall, but the right wall was composed almost completely of arches, with modified irises three times normal height and breadth, set into its surface.
As the last of them came to the top of the ramp, the iris in the wall behind them snapped open and a pair of dust-devils—Tschagan—came racing in, arced around the left wall, then went out the iris in the front wall.
Sukiro gave a command and the goons formed a ring, facing outward. Again the Tschagan came, from the end walls and the three arches on the left, moving in fast arcs at the defenders, who shot but hit nothing but the walls and some of the furniture. None of the Tschagan came between them and the wall of arches.
"Looks like they want us to go that way," Rikard said.
"All right then," Sukiro said. "The middle arch, at full run."
The defenders ran even as the Tschagan started another attack, but this time, instead of moving in evasive arcs, the Tschagan dithered around the place where the goons had been, and some even moved in direct pursuit for a few meters.
Majorbank was the first to reach the arch. He slammed the latch-plate, swung astride the jamb to keep the iris open, and the others raced through. He jumped free and the iris snapped shut.
They were in a much larger chamber, by far the largest they had seen so far, with a high vaulted ceiling and a floor that sloped down, away from them, toward what looked like a stage area, an elevated platform that ran not quite the whole width of the chamber, at the far back, maybe three hundred meters away. Halfway to the stage the floor was empty, but the rest of the way, in the wider part of the auditorium, were more of the padded rails like those they had seen outside, placed end-on to the stage, arranged in rows and columns.
The police moved in a loose group toward the stage, nervously waiting for another attack, but for the moment it seemed that they would be left alone.
"Funny thing about their behavior back there," Sukiro said. "If they can move so fast, how come it seemed like we surprised them?"
"Maybe they don't think as fast as they move," Denny suggested.
They reached the first row of rail benches without incident, and paused there a moment to reorganize.
"Do you know where we are?" Sukiro asked Raebuck, who was gazing around with tense and controlled interest.
"I think so," Raebuck said. "It looks like the place where they filmed most of their propaganda broadcasts."
"It looks like a theater to me," Fresno said.
"It is, if it's the same place. It looks the same, except there's nothing on the stage, no trophies or prisoners." She looked up at the ceiling, and pointed to a hemisphere hanging directly over their heads. "That's the camera pod. It comes down when they're filming. When it's fully extended it comes to within about five meters of the floor. But if this is the place I think it is, I have no idea where the museum is."
"But why did they bring us here?" Sukiro wondered.
"They're going to record their last attack," Raebuck told her, "so they can broadcast it when they let everybody know that they're back in business."
"But why didn't they do something like this with the raiders?" Nelross wanted to know.
Rikard looked at him and said, with sudden inspiration, "Because of the Vaashka." He turned to look at Grayshard. "How much do you want to bet that your warrior's psychic weapons work on Tschagan too?"
"That would make sense," Grayshard said. "The neuro-slavers have been here a lot longer than we have, so it must have been they who aroused the Tschagan from whatever retreat they were in. The projection does not work on all life forms. Most who are affected are slowed, some just suffer from a clouded mind. But in either event, the Tschagan, I think, would hesitate to attack anyone who could do that to them."
"You're a warrior," Rikard said to him, "you can generate that kind of psychic attack."
"Yes," Grayshard admitted, "though I am not well trained."
"But if you do that," Brisabane said, "you'll affect us too."
"Seal up your suits," Rikard suggested. "If we keep out the chemical component, maybe the psychic component won't affect us so strongly."
"It's worth a try," Denny said, and gave commands.
"Perhaps," Grayshard said, "but my own clothing is a better defense. It was designed to be so. I can just open the, ah, front here, while Rikard, and those whose armor is no longer airtight, stand behind me. There should not be much leakage."
"We should keep our face-plates open," Sukiro said to Denny, "until Grayshard actually projects, so we can hear and give commands."
Falyn finished inspecting her squad and turned to face the arches at the narrow end of the auditorium. "What are they waiting for?" she asked no one in particular.
"Reinforcements," Nelross suggested. "Let's fall back to the stage; they'll have farther to travel and we'll have a better chance of hitting them, especially if they have to funnel down these aisles."
"Best
idea I've heard so far," Denny said. "Let's move."
They fell back in an orderly manner toward the stage, though still keeping their attention fixed on the arches. And even as they started down the aisles between the rails, the arches opened and hundreds of Tschagan came pouring in across the sloping floor toward them.
The goons fired as rapidly as they could, but the Tschagan were moving so evasively that very few of that horde were hit. The wave of attackers finally broke halfway to the seats and raced back to the arches, which all snapped shut.
"They're not soldiers," Denny said.
Grayshard was twitching. "They'll destroy me if they hit me," he said as they continued their retreat toward the stage. Without needing orders, Petorska and Glaine took up positions on either side of him, between him and the arches, solely for his protection.
As they continued to back up a second wave of Tschagan came, even faster and more numerous than before. This time Grayshard, with a shouted warning, opened the front of his disguise. The police shut and sealed their helmets in an instant. Rikard, who was well back and directly behind Grayshard, felt a subtle tingle in his mind, a distaste for this huge open space, a dislike for the light everywhere. It was not a strong feeling.
But the Tschagan in front of Grayshard slowed, slowed enough to become visible. Those on the flanks broke in confusion and started to rush away. The goons, somewhat distracted by the intrusive images of Grayshard's psychic sending but otherwise unaffected, now could pick their targets, mostly those who had slowed the most though they were still moving very fast, and brought down a couple of dozen or more before the other Tschagan, accelerating as they got farther from Grayshard, could get away.
The goons hurried back through the aisles of rail benches toward the stage. After a moment there was another attack, the Tschagan streaming down both sides of the auditorium. Grayshard could face only one way or another without exposing his companions to his projection, and chose left. The Tschagan on the right got close enough—running over the rails, not between them—to hit several goons. Grayshard immediately turned in that direction. The Tschagan nearest him stopped abruptly, some of them actually fell. Those a bit farther slowed enough to be seen, and staggered. Those farthest just turned and raced away. The goons in the path of the projection faltered, but the rest took the opportunity and shot as many of the paralyzed and slowed Tschagan as they could.
