by Dan Davis
Instead, it was the other wheeler standing there, the small one. The one he had rescued from the lava tube. In upright wheel configuration.
It held a wheeler pistol in its hand.
Ram froze.
The alien placed the weapon back on the workbench and rolled slowly back through the twisted, broken cage and settled itself in the corner.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Kat slipped into the back of the hall while that mad bitch, Director Zuma was banging on to the assembled masses. The shuttle was almost ship shape but it was irritating to be summoned to the assembly while there was real work still to be done. But people liked meetings, for some reason. Meetings, group discussions. It was like a sickness that some people were unable to shake off. Meetings were a way to defer, diffuse or deflect cowardly individuals from taking decisions. Meetings were the opposite of action.
But, she was an officer in the UNOP Navy. So, she attended, as requested.
“The wheelhunters are massing once again, yes,” Zuma was shouting out to the mumbling crowd. “But we have time. We know they advance slowly, methodically. Once this meeting is concluded, however, we shall all take our posts, yes.”
A voice shouted. “What about the alien already inside? We can’t have one loose, even if some of you are treating it like a pet! What’s to stop it doing what the other one did?”
Around the hall, a few voices were raised in support of the general sentiment.
“The remaining alien prisoner is under control,” Zuma said. “It is safely contained. And it was that alien that killed the other one and saved Rama Seti’s life in the process.”
The giant loomed at the side of the hall, at the front. His eyes were staring at nothing, a thousand yards away. Kat had seen the look plenty of times, most of those times were recent. Maybe half the people in the hall had the same look. But they weren’t covered in dried blood, like Ram was. His short black hair was thick with clots and his armor was caked in flaky, brown blood.
“Now,” Zuma continued, “the most senior military officer is Lieutenant Tseng.”
Around her, Kat heard the grumbles and murmuring about the man’s suitability. While the Marines officer limped onto stage, the crowd muttered questions about his ability, physically and mentally, and Zuma’s judgment for backing him.
“Yes,” Lieutenant Tseng said as he dragged himself upright. “I am the ranking officer on the planet. And I am now in command of the defenses. We have lost Captain Cassidy. Sergeant Gruger survived the attack but is gravely injured. But please, everyone, do not despair. We are as strong tonight in arms and physical defenses as we were this morning and we shall fight off this next attack successfully. You all know the tactical situation. To those of you civilians who volunteered to bear arms, we all thank you. Our medical support teams are fully prepared. You who will carry ammunition to where it is needed and relay messages between fire teams will do so courageously, I have no doubt.”
He stopped, looking around as if searching for what to say next.
Kat winced. No doubt. It was a poor choice of words to end on. It was everyone’s doubt about Tseng that was the problem. She wondered if he would avoid it or address it.
“You were expecting Captain Cassidy to lead you into this battle. We all were. But the UNOP Marine Corps is not about any one man or woman.” Tseng looked at face after face in the room, as if he was attempting to make eye contact with all of them. “You were each chosen for the mission for a reason. You are experts in your field, you are dedicated. You are creative problem solvers. Amongst the best that humanity has ever produced. And the Marines here are no different. Every private, corporal and sergeant on this outpost knows their business and each of them will do whatever is necessary to keep this outpost secure. The plan is good. We are well supplied. Now, all we need do is to each play our part and we will secure this planet for humanity against our enemy.”
No one spoke. No one cheered their new military leader, which, as far as Kat was concerned, might be a worry. Then again, no one chucked anything at the man, so that was something, at least.
Kat wished she could somehow bring Sheila to these things. It made sense to limit the breadth of data that AIs had access to but it would have been entertaining to have Sheila’s insights and comments. Even the new version of Sheila with the savaged memories would be better than standing at the back, alone, listening to adults needing to be reassured, as if they were children. What the civilians needed was for someone to stroke their hair while whispering that everything was going to be alright.
“However,” Lieutenant Tseng said, raising a finger, “we are ultimately relying on Admiral Howe’s Stalwart Sentinel defeating the alien ship, in orbit. And, as many of you know, we have information about the enemy’s attack on the Victory that might just save the Sentinel from the same fate. And you also know, without our satellites and due to the continuing wheelhunter interference, we are unable to send a signal. And that is why we must deliver a person. A person who can hand over the data to Admiral Howe. Is Lieutenant Xenakis here?”
Kat was only half listening but woke to the mention of her own name. She opened her mouth to respond but someone elsewhere spoke instead.
“She’s out fixing up the shuttle.”
Zuma sighed. “That woman was ordered to attend,” she said to Tseng, clearly audible to everyone in the hall.
“I’m bloody well here, ain’t I?” Kat shouted.
You old bitch.
She managed to bite off the end of her sentence before she spoke it. No need to go full throttle with such little provocation.
Her spoken words got a pretty good laugh, at least. Over everyone’s head, she saw Rama Seti chuckling and casting an evil glance at the Director.
“Ah, good,” Zuma said, with a magnanimous tone and a shit-eating grin. “What is the state of the shuttle? Are you ready to lift off?”
“Lift off?” Kat said. The people in front of her shuffled aside to make a space. All faces turned toward her. “The shuttle is fully operational. Batteries enough to get us through the atmosphere, fuel to get us to orbital velocity and fast enough to intercept the Sentinel. In theory. I will leave immediately after I finish here.”
“What about passengers?” A voice called out. A familiar voice. “Evacuees?”
“Is that you, Dr. Ahmar?” Kat shouted, chuckling. “Surely, the Head of Planetary Science would rather stay on the surface of an actual planet? Are you trying to sneak back on to my shuttle when the last time you were on it, you attempted to hijack it and murder me? Sir, you will never board any shuttle of mine.”
Zuma shouted the noise down. “Alright, alright. How many people can you carry out, Lieutenant?”
“It’s not about how many, it’s how much. I can get into orbit fully laden but we just don’t know how much delta-V we’ll need to rendezvous with the Sentinel. I suppose I can take two tons or so. Say, twenty people, with some light personal equipment?”
The giant, Rama Seti spoke. His voice rumbled through the room. “May I make a proposal?” The eyes turned to him. “The Lieutenant’s journey is one of necessity. One of vital strategic importance. Right? The secret needed to defeat the wheeler ship. What if we also had the secret to defeat the wheeler civilization?”
Silence.
“What are you talking about?” Zuma said. “If you have something of that value, simply share it now and—”
“The wheelhunter prisoner,” Seti said. “The one in the biology lab. It should go on the shuttle, to the Sentinel.”
His suggestion did not go down especially well with most people in the hall. Kat had to hand it to the man. Seti had a distinct lack of social finesse. She could empathize.
“No way that monster gets to leave while we have injured humans who need it more. Who would we be if we favored our enemies over our own people?”
“That thing would take the place of five of us. More, even. How much does it weigh?”
Seti stayed silent while they ar
gued.
“Thank you for your comments,” Zuma said, shouting them down. “I’m sure we can all agree, then, that the lives of our own people are worth more than the imagined value of this prisoner. I believe we have eight wounded who require evacuation. That leaves a few other spaces. We will not draw lots. I will choose those who can no longer assist this outpost while it is so threatened with attack.”
“If I may!” the ancient Dr. Fo hobbled up to the front. His scrawny neck poking out of his EVA suit like a tortoise peeking out of its shell. “If I may, Director Zuma. Far be it for me to attempt to dictate policy—” A number of people in the hall laughed at this. “—but I must say, madam, that I strongly disagree with your conclusions. I have been reviewing Dr. Rothbard’s data and examining Red.”
“Red? What is that?” Zuma looked shocked. “Did you name the alien?”
“There is a rather long serial number assigned to the specimen,” Dr. Fo chuckled, shaking his head. “No idea why. Yes, I have been referring to it as Red, due to the reddish-brown hue of its skin color. It is a highly unusual individual. Drastically different to the others we have found. It has unusual physical properties that may reveal the alien strategy with respect to the entire war. I’m afraid we must send the animal, alive, to the Sentinel. As Rama Seti says, this is of prime importance. It may help our species defeat theirs.” The audience was silent.
“And I suppose,” Zuma said, smirking, “you need to go with it. So that you can explain this importance to the scientists in the fleet?”
Dr. Fo scowled. “I have no wish for a place on the shuttle. I have full confidence in the skills of our Marines and those of us who will bear arms. We will defeat the enemy. And if I personally fall in the assault, I care nothing of that. I am immensely old. But I will only die happy if I know that the red alien is on its way to the Sentinel.”
Lieutenant Tseng stepped forward. “It’s not safe. Our priority must be the data. If that creature gets loose or in some way interferes with the shuttle, it would defeat the primary purpose for the flight.”
“True,” Dr. Fo said. “So, send Rama Seti to protect the shuttle.”
The crowd complained that Seti weighed as much as four normal humans so he was taking up even more valuable space that would be denied to the injured and others who might escape.
Through it all, Rama Seti stayed silent. Watching. Kat saw him exchange glances with the woman giant, Sifa, across the room. What passed between them, she couldn’t say. Maybe a look of farewell between two people who had died once already.
While they were arguing, the alarms sounded. In just a few seconds, the word spread through the frightened crowds.
“We’re under attack. The wheelers are here.”
***
“To your posts,” Lieutenant Tseng shouted, his voice barely audible over the shouting.
Rama Seti’s thunderous voice repeated the order. “To your posts. Now.” So loud it hurt her ears. Kat pushed her way through the people, their faces and voices expressing their shock at the sudden assault.
Where anyone got their information, she had no idea but as she squeezed through them she heard two pieces of information that chilled her.
The first. “They have air support. They have Whipsaw drones in the air.”
And the other. “They’re under the ground. They’re coming up from under the ground, right behind our defenses.”
Was it true? Was it just panic?
All she wanted to do was to reach her shuttle and take off before it was too late but she needed to confirm her orders with Director Zuma and Lieutenant Tseng.
There was someone coming for her. A giant, shoving people aside with ease and making a route for her to the front.
“Lieutenant Seti,” Kat shouted as she reached him. “Where are they?”
Ram looked down at her, smiling as if they were not being overrun. “Call me Ram, Lieutenant.”
“Sorry, and I’m Kat. Where are they?”
“Slipped out that way,” he pointed at the corner door. “I think you need to get to your shuttle and get out of here. I’ll try to bring the wheeler prisoner. Sifa is going to get some of the injured to you, I’ll bring some more if there’s time. But you go as soon as you can. Don’t wait for us. It’s too important that you complete your mission.”
Kat nodded. “Agreed. Alright. Be quick.”
“Same to you,” he said. “I’m going to find my weapons first.”
“Probably a good idea.”
“Ah, hold on, he’s here. I have someone to help you. Sergeant Stirling?”
Stepping forward, the huge Marines Sergeant was armed to the teeth. “Sir?”
“You must see that the Lieutenant here gets to her shuttle. It’s more important than anything else. You understand?”
“I’ll get her there, sir.”
Ram turned and strode away, ducking through the door that lead to the interior of the outpost.
“Sir?” the Sergeant said to her. “Would you like to follow me to your shuttle?”
“Er,” Kat said, as the sound of explosions rocked the walls and ceiling above. “Yes, please.”
***
All she needed was to put on her helmet and she was ready to follow Sergeant Stirling out into the chaos of the attack.
The usual wheeler interference had suppressed their communications and many of their technological systems. Kat prayed to Fate that her shuttle would be shielded enough. That Sheila would be alright, safe nestled within the electronic guts of the cockpit.
Of all the people chasing about one way or the other in response to whatever the hell was going on, it was only the sergeant and herself who waited inside the southern airlock while it cycled. The airlocks might soon become entirely redundant if the outpost was repeatedly breached again. Impacts and dull explosions rocked the structure around them. The sergeant’s face was impassive inside his helmet, seemingly unconcerned by the fact that the building could come down around them at any moment. Unconcerned but not oblivious. Not unready. He held his battle rifle as if prepared to snap it up and start firing at any moment. Kat knew nothing about ground combat but she knew professional competence when she saw it.
“What do we do when it opens, Sergeant Stirling?” Kat asked.
“If there’s wheelers between us and your shuttle,” he said. “I’ll probably have to kill them. All that matters is you get through to your shuttle. Can you run in your flight suit, sir?”
“I can.” She fished in her drug pouch and took out her final doses of epinephrine. “I’ll use these if I have to.”
He looked confused. “Yes, sir.”
The outer door alarm sounded and the Marine stepped in front of her, raising his weapon. “Stay low, sir.”
“Sure thing.”
It hissed open, revealing the black landscape beyond, all churned up with defensive trenches and banks, sandbagged positions and a pair of automated turrets, both firing bursts at an unseen enemy.
Beyond it all, perfectly framed, was her shuttle. Facing down the airstrip, just waiting for her to climb in and fly into that beautifully clear turquoise sky.
“Stay here,” the sergeant said and stepped out, covering the left and right, and then turning to sweep the roof above them with his weapon. “Come on, sir and stay close behind me. Within arm’s reach of my ass but don’t hold on to me. Stay low.”
“Right behind you,” she said, fighting a mad urge to pinch his ass. Anyway, he wouldn’t have felt anything in his armor.
Kat followed him out, bending at her waist while they advanced into the trench system. It was narrow and just a meter deep. The thinking was that humans could use them but they would be too small for the wheelers. She glanced out but could see very little. Above her, Sergeant Stirling stood tall, weapon facing the hills. The same direction that the pair of turrets fired. All she could see of them now was the long muzzle flashes.
Behind her, the outpost resounded to the bangs of concussive blasts and the vibratio
n of machinery. Battle rifles and autoturrets fired and the strange crackling fizz of the alien weapons filled the air.
“Sir,” the Marine said, slowing to a stop. “We’re going to wait here for a moment.” He crouched and she hunkered down behind his bulk.
Kat was about to ask what the problem was when the nearby turrets stopped firing bursts over her head at the hills. They started again a couple of seconds later. Firing on full auto. Firing toward her shuttle.
“What the fuck are they doing?” she shouted. “They’ll kill my shuttle.”
“Enemy infantry units moving in from the south,” Stirling said without turning around. “Turrets killed or injured two in that first burst. There are four to six units pinned down between us and our objective. The turrets are not hitting your shuttle.”
“But what about, you know, ricochets or whatever?”
“Yes, sir. We’re at the edge of the trench system here. They only have a slight depression providing their cover so I’ll advance under the cover of the turrets and kill the enemy. Give me a minute head start then have a look. I may not be able to come back for you so you’ll have to make your own way in. Keep low, keep moving. Good luck, sir.”
He climbed out of the trench with an unexpected gracefulness and was gone, up into the hail of slugs and plasma fire.
Kat’s ERANS, humming away at a low level, crept up into a higher state. She felt like an idiot for leaving her PDA on the shuttle. The lack of her fully automatic weapon might mean the end of her life. And the end of her life might mean the information never getting to the Sentinel. At least she had left the Victory’s combat data block in the shuttle and had left Sheila with orders to make for the fleet without Kat, if it came to it. The shuttle’s AI would not do so unless it was clear that all the humans in the outpost had been killed and the Lepus itself was at risk of critical damage.
Setting up those criteria had been just good practice when she had done it. Covering the bases. The horror of the looming fact of the fulfilment of those criteria crept up her spine, sending her ERANS up a notch.
