Over the last hour she’d been working her tongue and lips to loosen-up the gag. But she needed to be extra cautious. Careful not to let Orloff know she could almost push the gag down to chin level. When the time was right, she’d be able to warn Ryan.
Thick branches shifted as Orloff descended the tree. Dust particles, captured in sunlight, streamed down from above, swirling in the air’s invisible currents. This place—this mini planet—was harsh yet very beautiful. Wendy only hoped it wouldn’t be her final resting place. Or Ryan’s.
Orloff, sliding down the base of the tree trunk, landed hard on the ground. Brushing bark and short, almost pine-like needles from his pants, he eventually looked over at her. His intense, cold-eyed stare made her uneasy—like he was able to read her thoughts.
Orloff moved over to the rocks and retrieved his rifle. He checked its load in a series of quick, well-practiced, movements. Approaching her, he stopped a short distance from her outstretched feet. “Once you’ve gotten that gag all the way off your mouth scream as loud and often as you like.” He then did something she’d never seen him do before, he smiled. Then he was off … running into the trees.
* * *
Ryan stopped midway up the sandy hillside to wipe the sweat off his forehead with the back of his sleeve. For the hundredth time, he wondered if, in that very moment, Orloff had his riflescope trained on him. So far, he’d done his best to stay low, keep out of sight, but numerous wide-open areas loomed just ahead. He stared toward the distant raised bluff, which now looked more like a plateau, noting the high buttes surrounding it. He still couldn’t see if there was a body of water there. One of the things Orloff had said to look for. Apparently, he wasn’t high enough yet. He wondered if he was even heading in the right direction?
Trudging on, Ryan permitted only two things to occupy his mind—Wendy and Orloff. And that was a mistake. The Two-ton AI had made it very clear other life forms were present on this same space rock. He’d already come in contact with several species. So when he finally crested the hillside, huffing and puffing, he didn’t expect to see the beast waiting for him.
It was huge. Immediately, Ryan cursed the AI for not mentioning this—whatever it was—creature. Sure, it said life forms were present, of human-size parameters, but not any the size of a pickup truck—a truck with an oversized head and a near-white, furless, body. Ryan stayed perfectly still, watching the beast’s ears flatten; it slowly opened its mouth wide and—catlike—hissed at him. The thing definitely had feline features, but the bulk and hide of an elephant.
And then Ryan noticed its four paws, which sported eight-to-nine-inch claws. It was truly a killing machine—he could be ripped apart in seconds.
The beast sniffed the air—bringing its nose somewhat nearer to Ryan. He thought about the Tavor he’d stowed in his pack. But no way—the smallest movement and the beast would be all over him.
Maybe giving the large animal some space would work. Ryan took a tentative step backward. The beast leapt, its front claws out, and in a blur, pinned him to the ground; its moist hot breath misting wetly on his face. Ryan felt himself rising—going closer to the creature’s face—and noticed its eyes’ inner-eyelids opening and closing as it brought him still higher. Inspecting, it seemed, the human he was about to scarf down. I’m going to die … I’m going to die right fucking now!
The beast’s ears twitched as it suddenly looked away toward the distance. Hearing something, obviously, Ryan tried to listen, but he was much too scared. All he could hear was his own heart—beating like a jackhammer in his chest. But then he did hear something, though he doubted what he thought he was hearing was actually accurate. Moments passed and he realized, yes … it was. When it came to cheesy 80s music, Huey Lewis and the News was right up there at the top. Now getting closer and louder, Ryan was sure it was Hip to Be Square. It sounded like it was coming from an old transistor radio. Filled with static, the catchy song echoed into the valley below, seeming to fill all space. Ryan could feel the pressure on both his chest and back release some, as the beast’s ears twitched. It loudly hissed.
Just let me go! The fearsome elephant-cat lowered and eased several steps backward. No … don’t take me with you! Drop me … let me go!
Now, with the scratchy music, sounds of an engine could be heard—and a powerful one, at that. Cresting the same hill he’d just ascended, it was now upon them.
Ryan tried to make some sense of what he was seeing. As Huey belted out the lyrics, a bright red, beat-to-shit, hovercraft had appeared, piloted by an odd-looking robot. It was almost too much for Ryan to absorb.
The beast, quickly releasing him, leapt away into the rocks. Ryan continued to stare at the robot, watching its head bop up and down to the beat of the music.
“Don’t you just love Huey Lewis and the News?”
Ryan recognized the voice. “Two-ton?”
CHAPTER 35
As the disturbed swirling dust settled, the Two-ton AI robot yelled over the sound of the old craft’s engines, “Are you going to get in behind me … or just lay out there?”
Ryan, mystified, wasn’t quite sure what to do. The ridiculous-looking bot had the voice of his friend Two-ton, though Two-ton was dead. The Two-ton AI, and a very clever AI, at that, seemed to have found itself a body … of sorts.
A distant report, from a high-powered rifle, cracked and echoed across the valley floor and into the rocks. Ryan then noticed the robot had a new, perfectly round hole in its metal chest—close to the shoulder. He estimated it was from a .50 caliber round.
Ping—the sound of metal hitting metal. A second, same-sized hole appeared on the hovercraft. Then, another distant report cracked and echoed.
“Get in!” the robot yelled.
Ryan, scurrying to his feet, launched himself at the hovercraft, while the Two-ton robot gunned the throttle. Nearly losing his grip, Ryan hauled his body into the bucket seat, positioned directly behind the robot. The soaring hovercraft’s engines pulled both against the seat backs as they climbed the steep, rocky hillside.
Ryan pointed over the robot’s shoulder: “There! Get us into that scrub up ahead … out of sight.”
“You think?” Two-ton yelled back.
Terrific! My smartass AI is now a smartass robot. Ryan, pointing ahead, said, “There’s an opening … gun it!”
Ping … ping … ping. Although Ryan couldn’t see where the hovercraft was last hit, he heard the three bullets strike home. He looked toward the distant plateau and the grouping of tall buttes. And then, he caught it—the instantaneous, bright, reflection—Scope glare. Gripping the back of the robot’s seat, Ryan fought against the g-forces. He reached over the robot’s shoulder and slammed the controls to the left. The craft abruptly swerved left—the engines straining.
“You need to keep changing course. A steady target is a dead target!”
Ryan was suddenly thrown back against the seat as the robot, taking his advice, abruptly turned to the right, while accelerating. So much dust was being displaced with the vehicle’s back and forth aerial motion that a dense reddish cloud had formed all around them, making it almost impossible to see where they were going. On the bright side, they were a much more difficult target to hit.
Something brushed against his cheek. He reached a hand up to his face, fearing he’d been hit by one of Orloff’s rounds. Looking at his fingers, he saw blood. Suddenly, seeing a blur of black scraggly branches flying toward him from up ahead, he leaned forward—bowing low—sheltering behind the robot’s bulk. A bullet hadn’t grazed his cheek, only the scrub brush. He risked a peek over the robot’s shoulder and noticed a massive tangle of thorny bramble that seemed to go on and on. A small clearing lay just up ahead.
“Cut the engines!”
Two-ton set the vehicle down within the clearing, cutting the engines. Music still blared the last verse of Hip to Be Square until Two-ton hit a switch on the dash, then everything went deadly quiet.
Ryan patted the robot’s shoulde
r. “Okay … out with you … I’m driving.”
Two-ton awkwardly turned around in the seat and, for the first time, Ryan could take in its odd-looking metal face. Stifling an urge to laugh, Ryan had the immediate impression that a metallic, oversized, crash-test dummy was staring back at him.
It took some wiggling for the robot to extricate itself from the narrow cockpit and stand on solid ground. Ryan gawked up at the giant mechanical figure and, also climbing out, he continued to stare.
“First of all … thank you for saving my life. That … thing … was going to eat me. And second, how … ?” Ryan queried, gesturing first at the robot then at the strange-looking hovercraft.
“I felt useless; an AI stuck inside the van’s confines. With a little exploring, using the van’s limited external sensors, I found there were all kinds of junk parts and electronics lying around. The most important find was this Tromian maintenance bot. It was in pieces, but receptive to Trom audio signals. I got it moving and was able to instruct it on how to reattach its own limbs. I called him Baron. After that, it needed a bit of tweaking, but I soon got it sufficiently operational. I instructed it to find the van’s cockpit, and from there, together, we were able to transfer my AI Pac into the chest of this bot. I replaced Baron’s AI with my own. The interfaces were vastly different so several hours were needed just to do that. Now Trom robots, called mechers, like this one, are notorious for being ridiculously clumsy and top-heavy. So I reprogrammed the internal stabilizers and adjusted the gyros—”
Ryan cut him off, “Okay … got it! And the hovercraft?”
“That actually took me longer to assemble and to get working sufficiently. For the most part, it’s your basic, sustained hover sand-crawler-type vehicle.” Two-ton stared down at Ryan.
“I’m assuming this robot is equipped with better sensors than those on the van?”
“Hell, yeah, man … not that it couldn’t be improved upon. I’d like to—”
“Where’s Wendy?” Ryan asked. Annoyed, getting impatient, he cut him off again.
The robot turned its body and pointed, “There’s a rise over that way. She’s there. I can’t quite determine her condition, but bro … she’s breathing … her body is putting out heat at 98.6.”
Relieved, Ryan said, “That’s excellent! And what about Orloff Picket?”
“The fucker is one hundred-and-twenty-three yards away from Wendy’s location, in a stand of trees.”
“Okay … we’re going to have to deal with that hillbilly first. Wendy, obviously, is bait … used to lure me here.”
Ryan stared off in the direction the robot had pointed to. The overgrowth of the surrounding bramble made it nearly impossible to see much of anything. “I have an idea. Not sure if it’s a very good one, but it’s the best one I’ve got.”
* * *
Perched high up in a tree, Orloff Picket continued to stare off to the horizon. A layer of dust still lingered above the distant thick scrub where, most certainly, they were hiding. He hadn’t anticipated the arrival of the robot. He’d only gotten a quick glimpse of it, but he knew it was his—the same one laid out on a worktable in the second out-building. Orloff peered through his riflescope—trying to find them through its precision magnified lenses. Again, he raised his head, pondering: That robot was left in pieces; had never been operational. Not since he’d scavenged it from a deserted space station several light-years away. So then how? It didn’t fix itself.
Orloff felt a slight tingling—like a buzzing—deep down within his core. He also was aware his heart rate had increased. Was it fear? The briefest of smiles crossed his lips. He’d already underestimated the young deliveryman once. Had he done so again? To say he was resourceful, it seemed, would be an understatement.
Mamma, and his brothers, wanted Ryan Chase alive … simply captured and kept secured until they arrived. But Orloff wasn’t good with orders. And, in this case, the prospect of going up against a worthy adversary—one to one—was simply too great a temptation. Too enticing. Only the rhino-warrior, currently mounted up on his trophy wall, had also shown levels of strategic thinking. In the end—the deliveryman would succumb to the same fate. He’d make a fine addition, hanging alongside his other trophies.
Orloff’s mind turned back to the robot then to the sand-crawler hovercraft. He recalled seeing it, sitting among the junk piles within his compound. He’d watched Ryan for hours on foot—desperately looking for Wendy. So who then re-assembled the robot and the hovercraft? He considered the fact that there could be others, working along with Ryan. Impossible! He’d scanned the Consignment Freight van when it entered the atmosphere and Ryan was the only one on board. And there certainly weren’t others here, already on Alaster-Rei. With very few exceptions, it was almost impossible for anyone to maneuver through the surrounding asteroid fields. And as far as intelligent life here went—they’d all been killed, stuffed, and mounted a long time ago.
Orloff thought about his preparations. The numerous booby-traps. The fact he knew these surroundings like no others did. This was his terrain. By nightfall, the deliveryman would be dead. And then he’d have to decide what to do with Wendy. Another brief smile crossed his lips. Shouldering the rifle, he methodically began climbing down from his high tree perch. In the distance, he heard the sound of an engine starting. The sand-crawler was on the move again.
CHAPTER 36
Jason was seated within the Goliath’s main rear cabin. He couldn’t turn, or even raise his head—but he was aware of the others seated next to and around him in the nearby seats. It had been close to an hour since they’d been hit with the drooler. Since then, Jason had been working, nearly non-stop, at accessing his NanoCom. He’d counted seven separate NanoCom hails coming in from the Jumelle. Hails he couldn’t answer.
By now the crew of the Jumelle would already be on alert that comms from his team had ceased. They’d be readying to send another team. Truth was—he was surprised they hadn’t already. His thoughts turned to the Craing man, Jeebrie. He was back with his device.
Jason’s aching head throbbed. Concentrating for so long—and not achieving any results—on calling up his nano-devices selection menu. Out of the corner of his eye, Jason watched Jeebrie. He was walking up and down the aisle between the seats—taking in the faces of those he’s incapacitated—looking for any indication they were regaining their motor skills.
Jason was, in fact, feeling some control coming back to him—both physical and mental. Jeebrie was at the far end of the aisle now, but ready to turn back. Jason, finally, was able to access the primary NanoCom menu. Jeebrie was on his way back. Trying to initiate voice communications would be a mistake—he’d be hit with the drooler before he got two words out. He accessed the rarely used these days NanoTexting sub-menu and wrote:
All captured. Team hit with drooler. Send help.
He quickly sent the message with no time to see who it was he sent it to.
Jeebrie was standing right in from of him, the drooler in his outstretched hand pointed at his face. Jason continued to gaze forward with a dead stare. He tried to drool—to look as pathetic as possible.
A deep voice came from behind and almost made Jason jump. “He coming around?” Brent stepped into view and lowered his head to within several inches of Jason’s.
“I don’t know … maybe.”
“Well, hit him again … just to be certain.”
Jeebrie said, “The effects are cumulative … getting hit too many times with this and the paralyses becomes permanent.”
Jason felt his mouth twitch. It was a reflex to hearing he was about to permanently become a quadriplegic. His mind raced. Who had he sent the NanoText to? It probably defaulted to the last person he’d communicated with that way. Crap … was it Mollie? She was the one who liked to NanoText more than anyone else … Would she know what to do with the sent message? How long would it take her to reach the Jumelle? Hell, if she was in class she may ignore it completely—until later.
“I don’t give a shit … hit him again … hit all of them again. We’re getting close to the asteroid field. We can’t have any distractions.”
That surprised Jason. He wasn’t aware the Goliath had even left the Craing heavy’s flight bay.
Jeebrie was now using his drooler—it made a very distinctive clicking sound when the thing was activated. He’d started at the first row of seats. Jason wondered who it was sitting up there. Was it Nan? Or maybe Stone and Rizzo?
Jeebrie was moving to the second row of seats. Another voice said, “We’ve reached the outer fringe of the field.” It was Colonel Pope. Jason felt his hands begin to flex into fists. Mentally he forced himself to relax. The clicking sound was getting closer.
Startled, a bright white flash filled the confined space. Jason found he could now blink his eyes—although his limbs were pretty much still limp at his sides. He heard plasma fire and the resulting ozone smell filled his nostrils. He still didn’t know who it was that had phase-shifted into the Goliath. With effort he directed his eyes left and found—Ricket?
He wore a battle suit and was using the two integrated wrist plasma guns. Ricket wasn’t alone, two paces in front of him was another familiar form also wearing a battle suit. It was then that Jason remembered who it had been he’d last NanoTexted … Dira. She fired twice at Colonel Pope and he went down like a sack of rocks. Within seconds, another phase-shift flash occurred.
* * *
It took another full hour before Jason regained his motor skills. Nan, Sergeant Major Stone, Rizzo, and Bristol—all were still paralyzed and recovering in Medical. Billy, who had been seated next to Jason on the Goliath, was also up now and moving around.
Space Chase (Star Watch Book 5) Page 17
