Quickly, he stepped back into the cavern, the door sliding and locking shut behind him once again, and he sat down on the beach, picking up a rock and skimming it across the surface of the water. He looked up, and spotted a light in the distance, flashing around, out over the water. It had to be at least half a mile away, but it looked about the right size to be a Triplanetary-issued flashlight. When it flashed first red, then green, then blue, his suspicions were confirmed. The colors of the Confederate flag, in sequence. Someone was sending him a message, and he read it loud and clear.
Without a moment's hesitation, he took off his boots and walked into the water, kicking off and plunging across the surface to his target. In his youth, he'd swum for pleasure. Now he was doing it for real, swimming towards the source of the light, now invisible once again. Someone was out there, searching for him, sweeping their beam around, and he only hoped that he could reach them before anyone else. Someone they didn't want to find.
His arms ached as he pushed his way through the water, trying to keep his strokes even. The light flashed back again, shining the three colors of the flag once more, and this time it stayed focused on him as it switched back to white, guiding him towards home as he swam ever onward. Finally, he could make out a figure standing on the bank, and dragged himself onto shore, struggling to his feet.
“Pavel, is that you?” Lombardo asked.
“Yeah,” he gasped. “Where are the others?”
“I don't know,” the engineer replied. “We all got separated.” He gestured up at the ceiling, and added, “I dropped into the water right around there. Why'd you swim?”
“What?”
“There's a spur leading to shore.” He nodded to the rear, and Salazar cursed under his breath as he saw a thin line of rock winding its way to the bank, a couple of miles from where he'd dived into the lake. “Didn't see it, huh?”
“No. You could have told me.”
“I didn't know where you were, and I was taking enough of a risk with the torch. I lost my pistol somewhere in those tunnels, holster snapped clean off by a rock. You still armed?”
“Yes, but I've only got one clip. Twelve rounds. Not much to go up against an army.” He frowned, then added, “We've got to find the others, somehow. Though I'm damned if I know how we're going to do it. How far from the lake were you when you split up?”
“Not too far. They're probably around here somewhere. I guess Captain Orlova knows more about this place than we do. Finding her should be our top priority.”
“To say nothing of Mortimer, Carpenter and Clarke.” He chuckled, and said, “This has been one hell of a rescue mission, hasn't it.”
“One for the books,” Lombardo replied with a smile. His face dropped, and he added, “I couldn't see the far bank with my torch. There's no way to tell how big this place is. And so far, I haven't found a way out.”
“Not a problem,” Salazar said. “I have. Just about where I came down. There's the entrance to what looks like a high-speed train. I think they're using it to move the savages around, but there's no sign of anyone out there now. If we can figure out the controls, then we might be able to get well clear of here.”
“Up to the flyer?”
“I was thinking along the lines of all the way back to Base Camp. There must be an exit point somewhere within walking distance. I'd rather face a week or two walking than try and make my way back through the base at this point.”
“We can't leave the others behind, Pavel.”
“No, but we might be able to bring in reinforcements that way.” He paused, then said, “Actually, I was thinking of sending you.”
“Me?” Lombardo asked.
“Simple,” Salazar replied. “You go back to Base. Or at least close enough to send a signal. Anywhere within a thousand miles would be enough. One of the shuttles could make it...”
“One way. Maybe. And it'd use up most of its fuel doing it.” He paused, then added, “Though if it was loaded with drop tanks, it might manage a two-way hop, though the mission would be marginal at best. What about you?”
“I've got to find the others.” Rising to his feet, he added, “Though all of this is academic if we can't get the machine working.”
“If the base personnel is using it, then it can't be that difficult. Give me a few minutes, and I'll figure it out. Hell, how hard can it actually be?”
“That's tempting fate pretty hard.”
“My specialty.” He reached into his pockets, and said, “I have a datapad and a hacking rod. That's about it. Everything else I either left in the flyer or got lost in the drop. You?”
“Pistol, communicator.”
“Well, between us we have about half a standard field load-out. That should do. Any particular reason to wait around?”
“None. We need to get moving before it gets dark again. I can't imagine that they won't send those beasts down here, looking for us.” He paused, then added, “I'm surprised they haven't thrown them at us already.”
“Maybe they can't.”
“Let's not count on that.” Salazar led the way along the rocky outcrop, then stopped, kneeling down on the ground, pushing the rocks aside. “This isn't natural.”
“Nice big pipe. Probably provides the water for the base. There are others under the water, heading all over the place.” Shaking his head, he continued, “Can you imagine what must have gone into constructing all of this? Even if they took advantage of some sort of subsurface cavern, getting it to the state where it would hold this much water must have been a nightmare. And that everything is still working after who knows how many centuries is astonishing.”
“I'm not surprised,” Salazar replied, struggling to keep his balance on the slick, slippery rocks. “Did you see any of those pictograms on the walls when you came in?”
“The wormhole builders,” Lombardo said, eyes widening. “Then you think...”
“I think we're on the right trail, though we've blundered our way into it. Certainly we now have our first solid proof that they were here, in the Sphere. Whether they were involved in the construction or not doesn't matter. They were here, and there's a good chance that somewhere around here is the evidence we've been looking for.”
Frowning, the engineer replied, “That might complicate things a bit.”
“No,” Salazar said, shaking his head. “We've got a lead, but that's all we've got. This research team has been here long enough that if there was any such secret here to find, they'd have already worked it out. Nevertheless, at least we know we're on the right track.” He ambled over the rocks, stepping onto the beach, and said, “Damn, it's a lot easier this way.”
“I don't know,” Lombardo replied with a smile. “You needed a bath.”
“Remember who writes your performance evaluations.”
“I'd love to see you file them.”
The two friends chuckled, walking around the edge of the lake towards the metal hatch, gleaming in the torchlight as Lombardo shined it around, still searching for the rest of their party. Salazar looked into the distance, occasionally spotting what he thought were figures moving in the distance, each one proving to be a false alarm, just shadows dancing in the light.
As they approached the entrance, Lombardo frowned, and said, “Damn, I wish I had a hand sensor. That doesn't look like anything we've got, but I'd bet my next month's pay that it would match the materials we found in that underground city.” He pulled out his datapad, and ran the camera over the pictograms, adding, “We might not be able to translate them now, but once we get back to Alamo, the ship's computer ought to be able to do something.”
Glancing at his watch, Salazar added, “Five hours until darkness. We'd better get moving.” He slid his fingers down the crack of the door once again, exposing the silver bullet to Lombardo's eager gaze, the engineer moving forward to examine the vehicle more closely. “What d
o you think, Art?”
“Maglev,” he replied. “Must be. Look at those tracks. Odd, though. I was expecting teleportation, or something a little more...magical, somehow. A series of train tracks criss-crossing the Sphere seems somehow mundane.”
“Who says the Builders put it together? Maybe someone else did, hundreds of years ago. Certainly that bullet looks as though it was constructed a few weeks ago.” Salazar gestured inside, and asked, “Can you guess the specifications?”
“How long is a piece of string?”, he replied. “Though if it matches the high-speed lines we use back home, it might manage a few hundred miles an hour.” He looked around, and said, “No more than that, though. There's no sign of pressurized bulkheads, so it's not going through vacuum. That'll slow it down quite a lot.” Tapping the metal, he said, “Feels different to the door.”
“Controls are at the front,” Salazar said. “Get it working, and get out of here.”
“Hey!” Lombardo added, as the display lit up on his approach, a topographical map flickering into life. “That look familiar to you?”
“Base Camp, and the forest,” Salazar replied, his eyes wide. “That line goes most of the way towards it. Maybe a hundred miles short.”
“Too hell with getting help from the ship,” Lombardo said. “We could walk that in a couple of days at the most.” He paused, and his face fell, adding, “Damn.”
“What?”
“They've been there, haven't they? And look at the cabin. They've shipped a trainload of the savages out there, and launched them at our people.” Taking a deep breath, he added, “Which means that...”
“They have a full Espatier platoon to protect them,” he replied, trying to conceal the anxiety he felt about the safety of his crew. “We don't. See what you can do.” He paused, then moved to the door, and added, “I'm going to take another look outside.” Leaving Lombardo to his work, he walked back out onto the beach, looking around the horizon. There was something in the distance, a shape moving across the shore, and he drew his pistol again, one quick glance behind him at the hatch to reassure him that Lombardo was safe before setting out.
It was a single person, walking with an obvious limp, and for a moment he thought that Harper had managed to find her way out here, in defiance of his orders, but the build was wrong, and as he drew closer, he realized that it was Orlova, gun in hand, and he waved his hand over his head in greeting as he switched to a jog, rapidly moving towards her.
“Captain,” he said, gesturing behind him. “Where's Carpenter?”
“I don't know,” she replied. “We got separated, and I heard guards coming our way. I think they've managed to work their way past the savages, though my understanding is that they're under their control, at least to some degree.”
His face fixing into a scowl, he said, “It's time for you to tell me what you know.”
She paused, nodded, then said, “After we elected to settle here, we decided to strike inland as far as we could. We made it about three thousand miles in the buggies. Understand that we never expected a rescue, and my primary concern was keeping clear of the Hegemony. I made the decision to establish a settlement to act as a base, then to strike out, to see if we could find somewhere worth settling long-term, or a friendly civilization we could join.”
“Why not the Neander?”
“Too primitive,” she replied. “And too close to the Hegemony.” She paused, then added, “After we'd set up our prefabs, I took the first expedition out, striking five hundred miles towards the desert. There were four of us.” She paused, and said, “We reached the fringes of the desert when they came.”
“The savages? They attacked you?”
“Slavers,” she replied. “They caught us by surprise, and loaded us onto a bullet train...”
“We've found one,” he said. “Lombardo's working on it now. With a little luck, we can head all the way to Alamo.” He paused, then asked, “Where are the others?”
“The train brought us to an encampment maybe two hundred miles from here. That's when I first met the savages. One night, they attacked in force.” She paused, then said, “The four of us managed to get out in the chaos, and stole a pair of buggies. We were planning on heading out in two teams, try to make it back to the base, though even then we knew it was a long shot. Five, six thousand miles, Pavel.”
“The others?”
“Sanders died before we'd got a mile. Rogue sentry, shot him in the back. Nothing I could do. I had to ride with the corpse for a hundred miles before I could risk stopping to bury him.” She paused, then added, “The buggy died on me five hundred miles later, three days on. So I started walking, and that's when I stumbled across Clarke, and you know the rest. Pavel, we've got to contact my people as soon as we can. There's a settlement out there, thirty-four people, and we need to find a way to get them to Alamo. I'd hoped...”
“Hey!” Lombardo yelled. “I've got this beast going! Tickets to Base Camp available if you come right away!”
The two of them sprinted back to the vehicle, but before they could reach it, a wailing siren began to sound, echoing through the tunnels, and Salazar glanced at Orlova, both knowing that they'd run out of time, that the guards would be on them in seconds. Lombardo peered out of the hatch as they approached, urging them on, as the sound of foots on the ladders rang out all around.
“We're out of time!” he said. “Come on, you two, we've got to go!”
Orlova was first in, and as Salazar followed, he saw a finger dropping down the ladder, sliding from a cable, weapon in hand. He raised his pistol, taking quick aim, but not quick enough, and the sound of a bullet angrily flying through the air was followed by a cry of pain from Orlova, her shoulder erupting in blood.
“Get her out of here!” he yelled, turning to the hatch. “I'll hold them!”
“Pavel, if you think I'm leaving you behind...,” Lombardo replied as he reached for Orlova, struggling in his arms.
“Go! That's an order, damn it! Go!”
Lombardo dragged the protesting Orlova inside, the doors slamming shut, and Salazar turned to the approaching guards, pistol in hand, waiting for them to come. Three of them dropped down the ladder beside their dead comrade, and he leveled his weapon on them, daring each to make the first move. With a loud whine, the train moved way, racing down the long passage, and with a smile, he tossed his pistol to the ground and raised his hands.
“I surrender.”
Chapter 15
Harper looked up at the wall of the cabin she shared with Salazar, taking infrequent sips from a cup of cold coffee, watching as a series of personnel files flickered across the display, finally freezing them at Murphy, Jezebel and Rhodes, Frank. Both of whom now bore the mark 'Deceased' at the top of the file. She saw the recently taken holoimages of the two of them, Rhodes with that damned smile perpetually on his face, Murphy with a smug look that suggested that she'd get the better of anyone up against her. Both of them friends, comrades from late nights in the mess, from battles waged all across two galaxies. And people she'd never see again.
The door chimed once, then more urgently when she ignored it, and finally she heard the noise of an override code being punched into the keypad, the door sliding open to admit a stubble-laden Francis, stepping into the room and sitting at the desk.
“I know it hurts,” he said. “You've seen friends die before.”
“Getting right to the point,” she replied.
“We don't have time for anything else.”
Taking a deep breath, she said, “This is different, Max. It was my fault. You were right. We should have pulled everyone out of the Sphere at the first sign of trouble. None of them would have died if I hadn't pushed to maintain...”
“That's a lot of crap and you know it,” Francis replied. “We were pulling everyone out. The last team only made it back an hour before the attack, and we were
in the middle of an evacuation at the time. Could we have been faster? Perhaps. Could we have done something to prevent it? Certainly, if we'd known it was coming. Nobody could have foreseen what was going to happen, that those beasts would have found a way behind us.”
“I...”
“And as for Murphy, we don't even know how she died, but we do know that it was by her own choice, and against orders, for that matter. We both tried to press on her a need for greater caution. Somewhere out there, behind the singularity, she found a threat to the ship that she was willing to die to protect us from, and she paid that price. My guess is that she paid it gladly. And if you think anything else, then you do nothing other than dishonor her memory.”
With a deep sigh, Harper replied, “It's all building up, though. Murphy. Rhodes. And now Carpenter, Clarke, Lombardo.” She paused, then said, “Pavel.”
“You think he's dead as well, don't you.” It was a statement, not a question.
“What else can I think? It's been twenty-four hours, and that flyer's still sitting out there on the desert. Telemetry suggests that the hatch hasn't been opened since it landed. Their corpses are probably rotting in the sun. Assuming that...”
“Don't,” Francis replied. He took a deep breath, and said, “I sent in a team under Corporal Quiller. To check out Base Camp. It's a mess, but the components of Flyer Three are intact, and I think it might be salvageable. Midshipman Koslowski has volunteered to lead an engineering team to begin work on it at once, and with the caveat that they return to the ship well before nightfall, I've approved. We need to find out what is happening down there, and I don't know any other way to do it. I assume that I have a volunteer to take that flyer out?”
“You know you do,” she replied. “But when I go, I'll go alone. I don't intend to put anyone else at risk, not this time. Too many people have already died for my sins, Max, and I don't want any more dead men on my conscience.”
Secrets of the Sphere (Battlecruiser Alamo Book 27) Page 11
