Jim Baen's Universe Volume 1 Number 5

by Eric Flint

  She ran back to the thick vault door and its heavy combination wheels. The padlock itself couldn't have been more than a minor deterrent for anyone determined to break in, but it was one extra time-consuming step. She removed the key from the red envelope, inserted then twisted it. When the padlock popped open, she removed it with one hand and set it aside.

  The large combination wheels that locked the heavy vault were ready for her. In her mind she remembered the combination Mr. Reynolds had so vividly recalled, the numbers that her baby had detected with his slan tendrils. 4 - 26 - 19 - 12.

  The baby's bright eyes watched as Anthea turned the first wheel, felt it clicking through numbers. She stopped at the mark for 4, ratcheted the next wheel into its appropriate position, then the third, and finally the fourth. She heard a humming inside. It wasn't just a simple gear lock: She had activated an entire mechanism. Pistons and deadbolts rose up and down, pulling aside, clicking into place, and with a hiss like a tired sigh, the vault door moved out of its frame.

  She bunched the soft blanket to prop the infant's small head as she picked him up from the table. Holding the baby, Anthea stepped back as the thick barrier groaned open. The hinges and heavy hydraulics seemed well-lubricated and maintained.

  She wondered how often anyone ever studied these archives. Considering the security Mr. Reynolds had mentioned and how few curiosity seekers the government allowed, she doubted very many had read the information contained within.

  But now she intended to.

  CHAPTER 17

  With Jommy's car buried under the inferno of collapsed trees, he had sealed off the vehicle's environment systems, opaqued the windows, and switched on the air scrubbers and recyclers. Then he sat back to wait.

  He reassured his companions. "This may look like a normal car, but it's practically a battleship on wheels. The armor is sufficient against any temperatures a mere forest fire can generate. The self-contained air systems can last for a day underwater, so they'll easily filter out a little smoke. It might get a little warm in here, but I prefer to call it cozy."

  "Have you ever tested it under those conditions?" Petty asked, clearly uneasy.

  "Not exactly, but you can trust my calculations."

  While the forest fire burned for the next three hours, the car was buried in a furnace of coals. Though the interior temperature became uncomfortably warm, the four occupants were never in real danger. By the time night had fallen, the blaze had begun to die down. The barricade of fallen trees and branches that had buried them was now little more than a rubble of charred logs and ashes. Even if the two enemy bombers had circled the spreading inferno, keeping watch, they would have departed by now, confident they had destroyed their quarry.

  With the last vestiges of the blaze still shimmering against the purple night, Jommy activated his engines again, cleared the front screens, and slowly crunched their way through the live coals, emerging with a spray of sparks like an orange blizzard. As they drove out of the now devastated woods, the car smoked, covered with soot and ash, but it made it out to the fields, across the bumpy ground, and back to the paved road.

  Jommy raced forward again, back on their way, this time under the cover of a starry night. The car's sharp headlights sent lances ahead of them.

  "I told you Jommy could do it," Kathleen said.

  From the back of the vehicle, John Petty began to laugh with relief and delight.

  By morning, they had reached open country far from Centropolis, passing over a line of hills and into a broad and beautiful river valley. The landscape was green and peaceful, with a smattering of widely separated ranch houses and farms.

  "It's lovely." Kathleen rubbed weariness from her red eyes as she watched the buttery-yellow sunrise come over the hills. One of the larger mountains was distorted, half collapsed, as if a great force had smashed it down.

  This valley had always been a sheltered place where he and a hypnotically modified Granny had built a sanctuary for themselves. Jommy explained to his companions that he had spent four years building underground laboratories, an arsenal, even turning the interior of a nearby mountain into a fortress. But the tendrilless had already struck here, using a gigantic attack vessel to melt part of his mountain fortress in search of his underground laboratories and industries.

  "I don't recall hearing about any tendrilless attack," Petty said, looking at Gray. "How could something like this be kept quiet, especially from my secret police?"

  "The tendrilless controlled the news media, and they wanted to keep it a secret," the President said.

  "I first bumped into one of the tendrilless when I was just a boy, not long after my mother was murdered." Jommy pointedly looked behind him at the slan hunter. "At the time I was thrilled, since I'd been looking for other slans. I knew I couldn't be the only one. I naively assumed the tendrilless would be happy to see me. Instead, they tried to kill me."

  Petty said, "So, even the great Jommy Cross can make a mistake."

  Kathleen glared at him. "The more I'm around you, Mr. Petty, the more I wonder why exactly we've taken you with us."

  "You need me. I still control a sizeable force of the secret police, if I ever get in touch with them."

  "We need a lot of things, but I've learned to live without them," Gray said. Petty became quiet.

  Jommy continued, "When the tendrilless tracked me to this valley, I boobytrapped my extensive laboratories so the enemy couldn't get their hands on my technology. It was the only way. I left everything behind . . . everything and everyone." He had sent Granny to safety in their armored ranch house while he fled in his ship, luring the tendrilless after him.

  He hoped that at least some of his notes and equipment were intact at whatever remained of the old ranch. He'd already begun to imagine how he might rebuild what he needed. Once he got a transmitting station up, President Gray could make world-wide broadcasts, rally the surviving humans, even establish a government in exile. And Jommy could create the arsenal they needed to fight back in an outright war.

  As he drove down the narrow country lanes past other houses, farmers and ranchers looked up and waved congenially. He felt warm inside as he remembered how much he had loved this valley.

  "It certainly seems a friendly place," Kathleen said. "Isolated, peaceful."

  "I helped that along a little bit. In the years I lived here, I used my mental skills and hypnosis crystals to gently guide my neighbors in their thinking."

  Petty seemed indignant. "So you used your mind powers to brainwash them."

  Jommy frowned back at him. "On the contrary, after generations of propaganda and lies, I used my powers to un-brainwash them."

  Driving smoothly along a lane and then up a gravel drive lined by maple trees, they arrived at a ranch house. It was a small affair, painted red with white trimming, but Jommy knew that the walls, roof, and floors were made of reinforced steel. The decorative shingles on the roof had been patched. The familiarity of the place made Jommy grin.

  He parked the car on the gravel pad in front of the house's big garage. The potted geraniums by the front porch were overflowing with bright coral-red flowers. Tulips planted along the front of the house blossomed in bright colors, and a small vegetable garden sported rows of beans, corn, potatoes, onions, and carrots—just enough for one person. Several feral-looking chickens squawked and ran along the front of the house, pecking at insects.

  Jommy climbed out of the car with Kathleen beside him and saw how the vehicle had been battered and scraped. Considering what it had been through, though, it seemed in good shape. Petty and Gray stretched their legs, taking deep breaths of the fresh, clean valley air. The slan hunter rubbed his finger along the hood, smearing a long track in the soot. He wiped his blackened finger on his dark jacket.

  Jommy took one step toward the front door of the house when someone yanked it open. A rail-thin old woman stepped onto the porch. Her skin was wrinkled and leathery, her gray hair pulled back. She wore an apron and a drab work dres
s. Her eyes were like a crow's, black but bright, flickering from side to side.

  He grinned, raising a hand. "Granny!"

  Without acknowledging, the old woman reached inside the door and came back out with a loaded shotgun. She raised the barrel, glaring at Jommy, glaring at them all, and aimed directly at him.

  CHAPTER 18

  Joanna Hillory's ultra-fast ship soared across interplanetary space from Mars to Earth. She would cover the distance in a fraction of the time that the lumbering occupation fleet required. She had only a few days to complete her mission—to find Jommy and make an emergency plan—before the main tendrilless forces reached their target.

  As she streaked past them in space, Joanna gazed at the impressive armada of tendrilless battleships: giant wheel-shaped vessels powered by internal cyclotrons, bristling with atomic-powered weapons. Each gigantic craft was loaded with ground assault vehicles and the bulky equipment needed to crush any remaining resistance and establish an invincible presence. The heavy vessels carried most of the population of Cimmerium in a great exodus to occupy conquered Earth.

  As she sped past the occupation fleet, Joanna transmitted the special signal that verified her business for the Tendrilless Authority. In a flurry of messages, the captains of the giant vessels wished her luck while making brave claims about how much damage they intended to wreak upon human civilization. She sent a gruff acknowledgment, feeling a knot in her chest, and flew onward.

  When she made her final approach to Earth, she encountered a treacherous debris zone in the orbital lanes. A great battle had taken place here. Had the humans found some way to mount a space defense?

  She saw blackened ships hanging dead in space, their hulls ripped open, cockpits and propulsion engines torn away by explosions—either from the tense dogfights or from detonation of the space mines. Hazardous shrapnel consisted of drifting hull plates, globules of molten metal that had solidified in the frozen vacuum.

  Using the sensitive detectors aboard her scout ship, Joanna scanned and then projected a three-dimensional map of all the obstacles, including the remaining tendrilless space mines in orbit. Carefully avoiding collisions, she studied patterns among the wreckage, trying to piece together what had happened. When she studied the ruined hulks more closely, she could not identify the ship design. One hull fragment, though, had colors painted on it and she recognized the insignia. A secret human fleet. Astonishing!

  For the past century, humans had made only minimal attempts at resurrecting their space program, which had once flourished during the First Golden Age of mankind. The very idea of President Gray building enough ships to pose a threat to the tendrilless was absurd. And yet the humans had indeed managed to launch their own space defensive fleet. The brashness and bravado amazed her.

  For a long time now, tendrilless had controlled the airways, industries, and communications centers on Earth. Somehow Kier Gray had managed to create a significant space force without anyone—not even her—knowing about it. Did the humans have unexpected help? Slan collaborators, perhaps?

  Joanna knew that the Tendrilless Authority was far more worried about the true slans. Jommy Cross had proved how frightfully talented others like him could be. Now that she had thrown her lot in with Jommy, she needed to reconcile her loyalties—and in the middle of a war.

  Looking at the wreckage all around her, thousands of shards glinting in slow revolutions as they caught the light from the sun, she admitted that the human space fleet had failed, but they had caused great damage to the tendrilless ships.

  Finalizing her approach, Joanna spotted a few spaceships from the vanguard fleet still cruising around the battle zone. While bombers and small fighters continued to pound the cities below, vanguard scouts patrolled the orbital zone, waiting for the main occupation force to arrive, hunting down any last human spaceships, alert for any last-ditch tricks.

  Unexpectedly, her communications apparatus picked up the steady, rhythmic beacon of an S.O.S. signal. As she maneuvered her ship toward the source of the beacon, Joanna realized that it was a distress call from a lifepod.

  One of the human defenders had somehow managed to eject an escape pod! As the lifepod drifted along, the lone survivor aboard begged for assistance, but all of his comrades were eradicated. He had no chance for rescue, with Earth completely under fire.

  Uncertain what to do, Joanna followed the signal, homing in on a small ellipsoidal container. The automated beacon droned on, calling attention, pleading for someone to come and help.

  Joanna imagined the bravery of this soldier. She had seen enough of human society to know that the man would have been terrified of the inhuman slans, but he would not have known any difference between the tendrilless ones and the "snakes." Even so, when his planet was in danger, he had climbed aboard one of the Earth spaceships—far inferior to the advanced tendrilless vanguard fleet—and launched into orbit to fight against the enemy. What folly! The soldier was either a hero, she decided, or a fool.

  "Is anyone still alive there?" she transmitted, closing in on the drifting lifepod.

  "Yes, I'm here!" came a shrill voice, a young man's. "Captain Byron Campbell, sole survivor of my ship. Gunner and navigator both killed in the explosion. Please, I need help."

  "How is your oxygen?"

  "My recyclers are still operating. I can last for another day or two. Please bring me back to Centropolis. The fight must still be going on down there." Joanna couldn't believe his naivet. "My squadron flew up to engage the enemy, but the dirty slans had planted mines throughout orbit. Booby-trapped our whole planet! Most of my fellow ships were destroyed. Filthy cowards."

  Around her in space the drifting debris could not convey the scope of the massacre. "Captain Campbell, Earth has already fallen. No one will rescue you."

  "But there's you."

  A lump formed in her throat. Before Joanna could respond, another ship streaked in, one of the sharklike vanguard scouts. "Commander Hillory, I apologize for not intercepting you sooner! Welcome to Earth. You'll find that everything is in order. We have taken care of most of the distractions. I'm sorry for this one. Just a loose end to tie up."

  Campbell's voice cracked, full of betrayal. He shouted at Joanna. "You! You're one of them!"

  The vanguard ship swooped in and opened fire with a blaze of energy bolts, disintegrating Captain Byron Campbell and his lifepod. Joanna caught her breath, but did not speak out. The damage was done. The man was dead, the lifepod destroyed.

  "I need to get down to the surface," she said, cold and businesslike. "I have orders from the Authority." She watched the burning debris of the lifepod, chunks of glowing metal slowly drifting apart. "I don't require an escort, so long as you guarantee me clear passage to Centropolis."

  The vanguard pilot transmitted a verification, and she plunged down toward the main cities of Earth. In the turbulence of war she wasn't sure how she could ever find Jommy Cross, but she had an idea where to start looking. She and Jommy had already begun to make plans during his last hours in Cimmerium, but now all those had fallen apart, thanks to the impatient and brash violence of Jem Lorry.

  She had to find him if she had any chance of stopping this disaster. She was sure Jommy was the only one who could pull a solution out of the air.

  With a sinking heart, Joanna cruised over the smoldering ruins. He was down there somewhere, and she knew he must still be alive. Tendrilless ships criss-crossed the air, hunting down any remaining resistance, though Centropolis looked sorely beaten. Rooftops had been blown apart, anti-aircraft guns and defensive measures entirely removed from the equation.

  Zooming in closer, she was dismayed—yet not entirely surprised—to discover that the grand palace had been utterly leveled. Now, nothing remained of it.

  Joanna set down her ship in the vicinity. This was where she would concentrate her search. Amidst the continuing explosions and the chaos in the streets, no one gave a second glance to her small craft. Angular invader ships still scattered occasi
onal bombs to maintain the heightened state of fear.

  Joanna stepped out of her craft, brushing curly brown hair from her forehead. It had been some time since she'd breathed the fresh air of Earth. Curls of smoke from burning buildings rose into the sky, adding a sour, raw smell. She stood in the rubble and looked toward the collapsed fragments and the burned-out zone.

  Nothing could have survived that devastation.

  In her heart she wanted to believe that Jommy had found a way out. But even if he had, how could she link up with him? He wouldn't know that she was searching for him, or that she had come to Earth at all. How could she find out for sure?

  As she stared around the obliterated palace, she had no idea where she should start to look.

  CHAPTER 19

  "Not one step closer," the old woman said. The barrel of the shotgun in her hands did not waver. "You have a lot of nerve to come back here. Granny intends to protect her home."