Chapter Nine
Running Hard
Unknown to the Edenite military, the Gatherers had already reached the road to Hilbrok and would have crossed it if they hadn’t found something more interesting blocking their path.
The wreck of the Furnace of Charity lay to the east of the road to Hilbrok, the debris it had thrown up in the crash littered the road itself. With Anaxilea’s help and even more determination, Phoebe had managed to keep the ship in the air for as long as she could before the Furnace of Charity finally came to earth. The crash was a jarring impact that saw the smashed ship bounce in the air before it finally came to rest. By then many of the crew were already dead, but those who had survived the crash, like Phoebe who sat in a crumpled heap in Medical with a hand clutching her broken ribs, a worse fate now awaited.
The Gatherers of the Keruh Host had found the smouldering wreck in their path and had quickly swarmed around it. For a while, the last maser cannon that was operable on the ship kept the black tide at bay. Tens and hundreds of the Gatherers were blown to pieces, but more kept coming. Soon they enveloped the ship, clambering over it at all sides, jumping through the holes torn in the hull. Not long after, the maser cannon fell silent, its crew taken by the Gatherers.
A vicious and selfish fight for survival now took place inside the wrecked hull. Those who were trapped in the wreckage or too weak to move were abandoned by those who could still get away. The Gatherers snapped up those left behind without remorse, their wounded, lithe forms smashed and crumpled in the powerful jaws. Most died as they were taken, the life squeezed out of them. Screams and shouts filled the darkened corridors as the Klysanthian survivors fought with the Gatherers in the broken confines of the ship. The Gatherers carried no weapons while the Klysanthians had armed themselves with laser rifles and pistols. They shot relentlessly at the advancing Gatherers, but as each one fell in the barrage of fire, another would clamber over it, its jaws snapping and its great three-fingered hands reaching out. They cared nothing for their lives; they only cared about taking the Klysanthians and crushing them in their great jaws.
Anaxilea shouted hoarsely at anyone who would listen. “Pea! Eumache! Keep firing! Keep them back as long as you can! The rest of you! Come on! Help me! We have to close this bulkhead door!”
While Cassiopea and several others fired at the ever-advancing Gatherers in the corridor ahead of them, Anaxilea and the rest of the survivors struggled to force the bulkhead door across their path. Another of the crew was taken before the door was finally pushed in place. She was grabbed around the waist and snatched through the gap even as it closed, her screams ending with the metallic clang as the bulkhead door sealed. It immediately rang with the impacts of the Gatherers as they head butted it, causing dents to appear in the steel.
Anaxilea looked around at the blood-spattered survivors as they all leaned against the bulkhead door breathing heavily. Even Cassiopea’s blonde hair was stained red and black.
“Come on!” she urged them. “We have to keep moving! It won’t take them long to get around this door! They’ll just break through the hull somewhere else! Let’s get back to Medical!”
They moved away, the sound of the impacts on the steel door dying away behind them as they ran. Only the sound of their heavy breathing filled the darkened corridor. There were no more than a dozen of them left.
When they reached Medical, Phoebe was on her feet. There were five others sitting about who were wounded and two more who tended them. Everyone collapsed in exhaustion as soon as they got there, dropping down on the beds or even on the floor. Anaxilea shouted at them straight away.
“Celaneo! Get everyone a com-unit! Deianeira! See that all those who are wounded are paired with another! We’re going to have to make a run for it!”
Cassiopea looked at her in shock. “We’ll never survive out there in the open!”
“The Charity’s lost!” Anaxilea snapped back at her. “If we stay here we’ll be taken one by one!”
Cassiopea was equally forceful. “But out in the open, surrounded by them, in Edenite gravity, what chance have we? It’s getting dark outside, Lea! It’s suicide!”
“Staying here is suicide. They know where we are and they love this kind of terrain. It’s just like the hive to them. They think in three dimensions, they’re used to tunnels and confined spaces. They’ll come up through the floors, drop down on us from above, burst through the weakest walls. The Charity’s dead, and we’ll be trapped in the dark inside her. We have to get out. We have to get out and make a run for it now, before it’s too late.”
Cassiopea was used to the way Anaxilea thought during battle. It was as if she could cut off the human side of her mind and just concentrate on the tactical problems that faced her. But the decisions she made were often as frightening as they were logical. To go outside, to try to run through the Host was madness. But no one faulted her assessment of their current position. Cassiopea, like those around her, was already looking at the ceiling and the floor when the lights went out.
Phoebe looked up at the extinguished lights. “They’ve reached Engineering. That’s two decks below us.”
There was a sudden jolt and everyone gasped. Some of them fell to the floor. Phoebe was one of them. She tried to get up straight away, but she found it so difficult, as if she had lost all her strength. She wasn’t the only one struggling. Even those who had kept to their feet had grabbed on to something for support. Many leaned on the wall or slumped over monitoring consoles. They all knew the reason for their sudden weakness, but Anaxilea didn’t waste time drumming it in to them.
“They’ve cut off the main power. We’re on Edenite gravity. So much for being better off in here!”
Cassiopea shook her head. “We can’t do it, Anaxilea.”
“We can!” Anaxilea stressed.
Still no one moved. Anaxilea went to stand in the middle of them all. “There’ll be on their way here! Now! Right now! Do you want to wait for them? Come on!”
Slowly, sluggishly, they all started moving. Celaneo gave out the com-units and Deianeira made sure that each of the wounded was supported by another able-bodied person. Taking the wounded along with them would slow them down. It was bound to be a risk, but there was too few of them left now to think about leaving anyone behind. They staggered from Medical, jogging and trotting briefly, then walking before running once more. They headed down a darkened corridor toward the hull, already gasping for breath in a suddenly heavier world.
Phoebe was able to run on her own. The pain in her midriff was intense, and her breathing came in short gasps. She could taste blood in her mouth. Deianeira had told her that her lung was punctured when she had bound her broken ribs. If it wasn’t for the others who were weaker than her, she probably wouldn’t have been able to keep up. Especially now, in this stronger gravity. She felt so heavy, her legs and arms leaden. It was so hard running.
Running near to Phoebe was Eumache. Phoebe looked at her thoughtfully.
“Do you think we’ll make it?” she asked in a pained and breathless voice as they hurried along in the dark.
“I’ve never known Lea make a wrong decision in battle,” Eumache replied in delicate tones. “If any of us survive, it will be because we followed her.”
“I won’t be able to keep up once we get outside. Maybe I should stay behind and try to hide?”
“I will help you. Don’t worry, Phoebe. Once we get outside, we’ll live or die together. I don’t think any of us would want it any other way now.”
As darkness began to spread over the land, a nightmare run began. It was a race with the devil in the dark. From one of the many holes torn in the broken and blackened hull that had once been the brightly colourful Furnace of Charity came a stream of tiny figures. They ran for the distant road, away from the horde of dark and ugly shapes gathered around the wreck. But they didn’t run unnoticed for long. One by one, the ugly shapes bounded from the wreck and gave chase. Soon the entire Host spread
over the smashed hull in a wave and rushed on. It was a scene filled with sadness. Sadness brought on by the simple fact that the wreck of the Furnace of Charity had been of interest to only part of the Host.
Unknown to Anaxilea as she led her surviving crew in a desperate race for life, a vast wave of Gatherers had already swept by the wreck on one side and reached the road ahead of them, their progress hidden by the fading light and rolling countryside. Escape was now a forlorn hope. Many of the Gatherers were already running along the road across their path. And many more had spilled across the road and continued on in their search for fresh food. And where the Gatherers led, the Receivers soon followed.
It was a sickening impact. Everyone in the back of the truck was thrown forward in a jumble of arms and legs. But it could have been much worse. Rather than hitting a brick wall or some other solid object, it was as if the truck had hit a huge jelly. There was a squeal of tyres on the road as the driver hit the brakes, a thump, and then the truck decelerated in a very, very short distance. Right at the very end, when everyone inside was in a jumbled heap at the front, the truck tipped over.
Breda was underneath everyone. Someone’s foot was on her face, and she could feel other feet, elbows and knees digging into her body as they all began to scramble out. There were shouts and screams, but then the screams rose to a sudden crescendo. Just when Breda was getting to her knees, the scramble in the back of the over-turned truck became a mad panic. Everyone suddenly changed direction and began to fight their way back across the truck. A knee hit Breda under the chin and she was knocked over. Someone stood heavily on her stomach, winding her, and a moment later several feet stamped and trampled over her. Breda felt the fingers on her left hand being stood on. She tried to cry out, but then someone actually stood on her head, ramming it down against the wood of the truck.
Silence. Nothing.
Breda raised her sore head and looked around. Everything seemed distant and remote. She was alone in the back of the truck. It was on its side and the canvass tarpaulin that had covered it at the back was now torn loose and hung over the broken frames. It was dark outside, and behind the crashed truck Breda could see the headlights of other trucks in the distance that had been following them on the road. The headlight beams waved about as the trucks swerved to avoid each other as they came to a screeching halt. Several trucks collided with those in front. Breda could see the jarring impacts and hear each sickening crunch. The truck right behind them must have managed to stop in time. It was stopped on the road only a short distance away. Across the path of its headlights she could see the fleeting shadows of people running about. But there were other shadows too. Big, oddly shaped shadows.
As Breda stared at the shadows and the lights, the shadow of a single person suddenly appeared transfixed in the headlights. At that instant, another shadow encroached on the first, and the person was raised in the air, legs and arms flailing.
Screams. Shouting. Gunshots.
The world suddenly came to life in a barrage of sound. Everywhere there was shooting and screaming, and people shouting. And among the obvious screams of terror were the even more obvious screams of pain.
Breda climbed to her feet, her whole body shaking. They were here. The Keruh. They had caught them. As these thoughts filtered across her mind, the canvass tarpaulin was suddenly ripped away from the truck. She looked up as the tarpaulin waved about in the air above her. It was only then that she saw it. It was so clear, so distinct in the lights of the parked trucks on the road.
Enmeshed in the crushed cab of the overturned truck was an enormous black creature. It heaved at the truck, staggering forward, its legs straining under the weight. The truck scraped forward with it, lurched, and then rolled back. At that instant, a gush of black fluid spurted from the side of the creature.
Breda had fallen over as the truck had rocked beneath her, and now the black fluid spilled and splashed over her. The fluid was hot, and it stung her skin and stank of decay. But it wasn’t just liquid, there were things in it, unspeakable things that landed on her or fell to the wood of the truck with a splat. Soon the whole of the truck was bathed in the evil, steaming fluid, and Breda rolled about in the putrid mess, screaming and crying. But then she heard something that instantly froze her and silenced her screams. Or she thought she heard something. It was like a deep, resonant, almost whistling voice, a voice that demanded attention, a voice that terrified her.
“FREE ME!” hissed the voice in a demanding bellow. “FREEEE MEEE!”
It was almost as if the words had formed inside her own head. They were so powerful, so demanding, and so urgent, that Breda almost felt the urge to get up and run to the creature’s aid herself. But while she lay there frozen in terror, others quickly fulfilled the insistent demand.
As the creature twisted and turned, shaking the truck, other figures began to appear, more of the Keruh Host. They were bigger than those Breda had seen in the city, and they all rushed to help the creature that was trapped. One appeared above Breda. It was standing on the raised side of the truck. In a moment it had jumped down, landing with a heavy thud right beside her. More of the black, steaming fluid splashed her. She cowered beneath the figure, staring up at it in terror. It turned toward her, stepped on her, and walked on. It went to help the others, totally ignoring her.
Staggering and stumbling, shaking all over, and with her eyes round and staring, Breda ran from the truck and disappeared in the night. She ran without thinking, and without any direction. Again and again the enormous shape of one of the Keruh would appear out of the dark, and again and again, they ignored her. One even ran into her knocking her to the ground. It didn’t even stop. Breda climbed to her feet and ran on. She didn’t stop to think why she was being so lucky, to try to understand why she was being ignored. She just prayed for it to continue. Unfortunately, it didn’t. And the next time she ran into a shadow, she wasn’t ignored.
The Gatherers swarmed over the trapped and wounded Receiver. They pulled and pushed at it, smashing and punching at the broken metal of the truck that refused to let go of it. Finally they freed it, dragging and pushing it away until it faded from the light.
Jutlam City burned, the night sky above it bathed in an orange glow. A single ship hovered over the centre of the city. It fired down at something below it and a bright yellow flower blossomed and then faded slowly. The thump of artillery sounded like distant thunder, and sporadic gunfire chattered briefly among the darkened streets. All the streetlights were out. There were no lights in the buildings either. Only the fires that burned in the city gave any light. One of the fires engulfed a hotel. The fire that had started in the foyer had gradually taken hold, spreading to other floors. Soon the smoke began to rise up the stairwell, and the soldiers had to give up their vigil and close the fire doors. Even so, Gusta had smelt the smoke. She had become frightened, but the soldiers had seemed calm.
“It’ll take time for the fire to reach us,” the Corporal had said. “By then it will be dark and we’ll be off across the roof and down the next building. Don’t worry. So long as that fire burns, the Keruh will leave this block alone.”
Waiting for the darkness to fall with the smell of smoke beginning to catch at their throats was not a happy experience for Gusta. When they finally left, she was grateful to be on the move. Even climbing across the roof in the dark was better than sitting in a burning building waiting for the flames to reach them.
The next building was a department store. Like the hotel, everything was in darkness and nothing worked. They walked down the stairs slowly, the Corporal leading the way. It was difficult in the dark. Gusta couldn’t see anything. She hung on to the handrail with one hand and Didi with the other. Even so, she stumbled more than once. But she wasn’t the only one. Even the Corporal stumbled in the dark and slipped down several steps. They all had to be careful. A twisted or broken ankle was not something any of them wanted now.
They were all relieved when they fin
ally got to the ground floor. It was still dark, but it didn’t take them long to realise that they were in the food hall. Didi looked sadly at the food laid out on the dark freezer shelves and cold counters.
“It’s all going to go to waste,” he whispered as he paused by one of the counters.
Altus, who was helping Pedomoner limp along, stopped next to Didi. He also kept his voice low. “The main power to the city must be cut. Why don’t you take some? Replenish that holdall of yours.”
Didi looked at him in surprise. “That would be stealing, looting.”
The Corporal looked back at them. “It’s only food. Don’t worry about it. Anyway, I’m in charge here, and I hereby commandeer all food in this store that we might need. All of you, grab what you need. But don’t overdo it.”
The soldiers didn’t need any more encouragement, and Didi quickly moved around the counters taking the best of what was available. While the soldiers stuffed things in their mouths or in their pockets, Didi wrapped each piece carefully and put it inside his holdall. Gusta helped him, and Kiki found some more bottled water.
The Corporal soon grew impatient with his loitering charges. “Come on!” he said in a loud whisper. “We haven’t got all day!”
Didi shouldered his holdall and they hurried on, the last of the soldiers leaving almost reluctantly.
Crossing the floor, the Corporal led them to the back of the building. Away from the public areas, in the warehouse section at the back, they found a service entrance that led to an access road behind the building. This was where the Corporal signalled them to wait while he opened the door carefully. He only opened the door a crack but they could all immediately hear the sound of the fire burning fiercely in the hotel next door. The Corporal peered out along the road. It was deserted. The only things that moved were glowing embers that slowly fell to ground from the fire. Light cast by the flames flickered against the wall of the building opposite giving the whole scene an orange glow. He opened the door wider and looked around it. The road was equally deserted in the other direction. But that way the flames from the hotel spilled across it blocking the road with a wall of fire. The Corporal felt the heat on his face.
The Corporal pulled the door gently closed again and turned back to face them all.
“Now comes the hard bit,” he whispered. “The fire next door is lighting up the road a bit. We’ll have to move fast and head for the shadows as soon as we can. I’ll take the lead. Stay close to me and do as I do. And watch for my signals. When I wave you down, get down. When I wave you on, you follow. No hesitation. Understand?”
Didi, Gusta and Kiki all nodded. And Altus said, “Yes, sir, Corp!”
“Good! Eastomoner, you take point at the back. Altus, keep Pedomoner on the move.” He pointed at Didi, Gusta and Kiki. “You three keep in the middle! Now no talking and no hanging back!”
The Corporal turned and opened the door again. After another look outside, he suddenly threw the door wide open and darted forward. The soldiers followed him one after another, with Didi, Gusta and Kiki coming next. Altus, who came last, paused long enough to shut the door behind them.
Gusta felt strange to be outside, exposed somehow. It was warm and it seemed to be raining glowing snowflakes, and the sound of the fire was quite loud. She ran behind Didi, her hand clutched in his. They all kept low, sticking close to the wall as they ran along the road away from the fire. One of the embers landed on Didi’s head. He quickly brushed at it, and it sparked as it died under his hand.
They ran on, across the road and then to the main street. Here the Corporal waved them down and they all stopped and dropped to their knees. It was a brief pause, and then the Corporal waved to them again and darted round the corner. One by one they all followed.
Gusta felt her heart beating faster than when they had climbed the stairs. It was silly really, they were hardly moving very quickly at all. But she knew why she was feeling that way of course. When she and Didi had stood among the ruins of Breda’s office building, Gusta had felt nothing but despair. What Kiki had told them about the evacuation filled her with hope. She had to believe that their children were safe, that they were each in an army truck somewhere on the road to Hilbrok. She wanted so much to be with them, but their inability to escape in what was probably the very last truck left her in despair again. They were trapped in the city while their children were safe. Now she was terrified, excited, anxious and happy all at the same time. They were out of the building, on the move, and looking for escape and safety at last. It didn’t matter that they were on foot. What mattered was that they were on their way. And somewhere on the way they would find Breda and Tipi, she was sure of it now.
On the road to Hilbrok, the Gatherers attacked and surrounded the suddenly stranded trucks at the front of the long convoy. With only a few armed soldiers to guard them, hundreds of the evacuees from Jutlam City were snatched away in the dark in only a few minutes. There was complete and absolute panic. People jumped from the trucks and ran in opposite directions, some even ran in circles, many ran right toward the waiting arms and jaws of the Gatherers. Some couldn’t run. They just sat and waited for the inevitable.
Farther back in the convoy, desperate drivers swerved off the road trying to avoid the stopped trucks in front of them. There were several, multiple collisions, the occupants of the stricken trucks easy victims for the rapidly approaching Gatherers. Many of the drivers started to turn back, some even heading across country in an attempt to escape. They radioed back for help as they drove along, wrenching at the steering wheels as the Gatherers appeared in the dark before them.
The driver of one truck that drove across country actually ran over two Gatherers, smashing a third aside. He kept on going as fast as he could, even though he could no longer see with both his headlights smashed. The truck careered on, bouncing over the uneven land and rocking from side to side. The jarring and jolting was so violent that several people were bounced out of the back of the truck.
Tipi landed heavily on his back and rolled several times. By the time he came to rest in the long grass all he could see of the speeding truck were its red taillights. As he watched, there was a bright, orange flash and then a loud bang. The truck had hit something and exploded. In the glare of the sudden fire, Tipi could see the metal side of a crashed spaceship. Thinking only of Bibi and his College friends, he jumped to his feet and ran toward the burning truck.
It seemed to take ages to cover any distance. The burning truck couldn’t have been very far away, but no matter how fast he ran, it never seemed to get any closer. He ran faster, hardly able to see anything in the dark. Then he tripped over something that screamed. Tipi fell in a heap for the second time. Sitting up in the grass and squinting in the dark, he looked back and saw the blonde haired girl from the College of Learning. She didn’t look happy.
“You stupid idiot!” Kelandra shouted at him as she rolled over, brushing at her leg. “You stood on me!”
“I didn’t see you,” Tipi replied tamely.
“You should be looking where you’re going!”
Tipi paused and then began to get up. “I haven’t got time for this. I have to find Bibi.”
Kelandra watched him get up and turn away. “Where are you going?”
Her voice now sounded more frightened than angry. Tipi looked over his shoulder as he jogged away.
“The truck’s burning! Come on!”
Kelandra looked passed him at the fire, clambered to her feet, and chased after him.
“Wait for me!”
Tipi didn’t, and she was forced to chase hard to catch him up. When she finally managed it they were a lot closer to the burning truck, and Tipi began to see shadows moving about in front of the flames.
“They’re still alive!” he said. “Come on!”
“Wait!” Kelandra suddenly grabbed his arm, digging her heels into the grass and bringing him to a halt.
Tipi turned to her in surprise. “
What’s the matter with you? We have to save them! Come on!”
“They aren’t people!” Kelandra ground out in a powerful but hoarse whisper.
Tipi saw the terror in her eyes and turned to look. He saw the shadows flash passed in front of the fire. He couldn’t make them out. And then something jumped onto the back of the truck and the silhouette was quite clear.
Tipi and Kelandra both dropped to the ground. Tipi stared at the moving shape on the back of the truck. It was pulling something out.
“They must be trying to rescue them,” he said more than hopefully.
Other shadows moved in front of the flames, and what they carried in their jaws quickly gave away their true intent.
“Oh, no they’re not,” Kelandra said.
Tipi went cold. What he felt he had never felt before, and it was clear that Kelandra shared the feeling. Without a further word to one another, they both got up and ran away as fast as they could, all other thoughts driven from their minds.
A huge column of trucks was parked up on the road end to end. All that could be seen was the back of each truck where it was illuminated by the lights of the truck behind. By the side of the long line of trucks was an Armoured Personnel Carrier. Colonel Falamunus was standing by the open doors at the back screaming down the radio at his central command.
“We need more than two armoured units! We’re dying here!”
The crackling voice that replied wasn’t too helpful. “They’re the only two that we can spare—”
“Damn the armoured units! We need air support! I don’t care what you’ve got left, get it up here!”
“We haven’t got enough planes to—”
Falamunus shouted his interruption. “Get me General Orbanta! Get him on the line now!”
“Yes, sir.”
Falamunus hardly listened to the weak reply; he was already shouting orders to the men around him.
“Captain! Have all the armoured vehicles take station on the east side of the road! Lieutenant! Keep our forces between the trucks and the Keruh!”
Finally, another voice came over the radio. The voice was deeper, older, but it was also sad.
“Falamunus? Orbanta here. I have your message.”
Falamunus instantly raised the microphone. “It’s bad here, General! We only have two armoured units to defend the entire column! We need air support!”
“I’m sorry, Colonel. All of our air forces are committed to the defence of the landing fields at Nemen and Kalahar. And most of our armoured divisions are bogged down out there. I don’t need to tell you that the situation is desperate.”
Falamunus knew all about desperate. “But the Keruh are swarming all over the place, General! The road to Hilbok is cut! We drove straight into them! All I’ve got is a handful of men—and they’re spread out all along the road! Who knows how many truckloads the Keruh have taken already! I don’t even know if any of the trucks got passed them! We need air support now! We’re dying here, I tell you!”
“I understand, Colonel,” General Orbanta said almost apologetically. “But I won’t lie to you. What planes we have left are refuelling and rearming now. Even at the best estimations, we can’t get them to you for at least another thirty minutes.”
“Thirty minutes!”
“Twenty, twenty-five, tops.”
Falamunus threw down the microphone and ran along the side of the road, waving at his men.
“Turn the trucks around! Head back to Jutlam City! Move it!”
General Orbanta handed the microphone back to the worried radio operator.
“Contact the C-in-C of Air Power at Delmatra. Tell him to get some air cover out there as soon as he can.”
The operator nodded. “Yes, sir.”
The radio operator set eagerly to his task. He was one of dozens of radio operators in the Communications Room who was busy sending and receiving messages. Orbanta turned away and walked back toward the Operations Room. It was only a short distance from the Communications Room, but he seemed to fight against a torrent of moving figures all the way, and it made the distance feel longer. The corridor was filled with a constant stream of people with anxious faces running back and forth, all of them clutching reports and messages. Some hurried to send them, while others were rushing back with the answers.
The Edenite Emergency Command Centre was housed in a very deep bunker in the Brok Ridge Mountains near Hilbrok. It was at the same location as their nuclear arsenal. As that was stored in the safest place they could find, it seemed logical that the Command Centre should also be built there. It was a large installation, with several levels and many rooms, offices and living quarters. There was even a decent sized Council Chamber, although the Ruling Council never expected to use it. Many of the Council had even been against the construction of the Command Centre, and some had vowed that they would never set foot in it. They were unfortunately proved to be correct.
General Orbanta felt no joy at the final use of the installation he had insisted be built. If anything, the current emergency proved how poorly prepared they were for an extra-terrestrial attack. Their armed forces were doing their best. But it wasn’t going to be enough.
Back in the Operations Room at last, Orbanta looked down at the relief map of Eden spread out on a raised stage in the middle of the floor. Elengrad was like a volcano from which poured forth a black tide of death that spread over the land. Jutlam City, Nemen and Kalahar and the highways between them were equally bathed in black. Around the raised map, Officers from all the military services jostled, argued, leaned over and pointed at the map, and then gave instructions to the constant stream of uniformed men and women who then hurried to the Communications Room.
Orbanta saw Air Marshal Addi Joventa on the other side of the map. Joventa looked up and saw him. Orbanta instantly raised his hand and pointed at one of the offices that were built around the room. Joventa nodded in understanding and then began making his way around the map toward the office.
Orbanta paused by the open door to his office while Joventa came in. As soon as he was inside, Orbanta closed the door and leaned against it.
“What’s happened while I’ve been away?”
“It’s all going down the toilet as you well know!” Joventa replied in an angry tone, and slumped down into one of the chairs. “We’ve had no contact with the Control Centre at Kalahar for over thirty minutes, and Brigadier Lemanta’s last report was that the Keruh had broken through—and we all know what that means!”
“What about Nemen?” Orbanta asked calmly.
“Just as bad! Two of our armoured divisions on the western perimeter have been overrun. The last reports indicate that the Keruh probably control between thirty and forty percent of the base. The only good news from Nemen and Kalahar is that the Klysanthians destroyed most of our ships on the ground in the bombardment. But the fact that the Keruh can’t use any of them against us probably means virtually nothing!”
“And the Defence Net?”
“Still closed, but with the speed that the Keruh ground forces are moving at Nemen, they’re bound to control it soon. And Heaven help us when their main fleet gets here!”
“How many ships do we actually have left?”
Joventa shrugged. “About a dozen. Two are on the ground at Delmatra. Another one is down somewhere on the outskirts of Jutlam City. The rest are airborne between Jutlam City and Elengrad. They’re shooting at everything that moves, but they can’t see much in the dark. The Keruh don’t use any vehicles, so there’s nothing to track. What we really need to do is plug that portal at Elengrad.”
Orbanta nodded. He moved away from the door at last and went to sit on the corner of his desk. “We don’t have much choice, do we?”
Joventa replied by asking his own question. “What did the Council say?”
“The junior clerks and assistant secretaries that have survived are not the Council, and they are in no way able to rule. They have accepted M
arshal Law. They don’t want to make this decision. They can’t make it. And we can’t ask them to make it.”
Joventa looked up at him and sighed. He shook his head. “The spread from a nuclear explosion will take out most of the major cities and inhabited areas in the lowlands between Hilbrok and the coast. All the calculations show that even a low yield device will render the area uninhabitable for years. And most of our armed forces and nearly all of the civilian population are still trapped down there. We can’t do it, General.”
Orbanta leaned forward. “Addi, if we don’t do this soon, we could lose the whole planet. With every minute that goes by, the Keruh Host are spreading out. Soon we will need not one device, but two. Then it will be three, and then we will be too late. If we’re going to do this, we have to do it now.”
Joventa was still unhappy with the idea. “What about our people? What about Falamunus and the rest? They will be right under the blast. We’ll kill them all, for sure.”
“Falamunus hasn’t got a chance in hell. None of them have. If he didn’t know that before, he does now.”
Joventa scowled at him. “Isn’t that being defeatist?”
“No, just realistic,” Orbanta replied calmly. He had been calm from the start. He was still calm. His decision was made, and his own conscience had already accepted the consequences. “From the moment the Host established itself at Elengrad there was already no alternative. We just weren’t strong enough to make the decision then. Now we have to be. Get one of our ships up here. Have them pull two devices from the stockpile.”
Joventa now looked shocked. “It’s two already? Isn’t one enough?”
“By the time we’re ready to deploy the device, no, maybe it won’t be enough.”
Anaxilea knew now that she had made one too many mistakes. Attempting to run from the Gatherers had been suicide as Cassiopea had foretold. In the increased gravity of Eden, even the fittest of the Klysanthians could only run sluggishly. For them even the air around them felt thick and heavy. For those that were wounded, the run through the dark toward the road was impossible. No matter how many times they fired back, no matter how many of the Gatherers fell in pursuit, the chase never slowed or paused.
Constantly firing back, staggering under the weight of those who could no longer run, the Klysanthians suddenly found more Gatherers ahead of them. In an instant they were surrounded and a screaming shouting fight for survival now took place, as the former crew of the Furnace of Charity were forced together, back-to-back, firing on all sides. The Gatherers fell in a mounting pile of bodies and tangled limbs around them, but still they came rushing forward. But it wasn’t only the Klysanthians who they reached for. Even the Gatherers that had been shot were dragged away. Nothing would be wasted. Nothing that could feed the Hives would be left behind.
Again and again the Gatherers would come forward, reaching out, snatching and snapping. And one by one, the Klysanthians were taken. One was grabbed by her hair and dragged along the ground only to be seized by two more Gatherers. Her screams and struggles ended as they pulled her slender body apart. Another was seized about the waist. She made no noise as she was snatched away. Dead already, her organs crushed and her bones pulverised in the vice like grip. But for every one of the Klysanthians who were taken, nearly four, five, six Gatherers were shot down.
Anaxilea shot one Gatherer as it tried to carry away another one of her crew. As it fell, another Gatherer seized both its dead comrade and the crumpled figure that hung from its jaws. Anaxilea could see that they were both dead even before she shot the third Gatherer.
It didn’t matter. Standing back to back with Cassiopea, Anaxilea knew that all was lost. And then the truck burst out of the night, swerved, rolled, and exploded in flame as fuel spilled over the hot engine. People jumped from the burning truck and ran about in the dark screaming, and flames leapt into the air. Another truck bounced and careered by, its driver’s face filled with panic and terror.
It was a sudden period of complete pandemonium that confused both Klysanthian and Keruh alike. The Gatherers turned and looked around as if baffled by the sudden arrival of so much fresh meat, and even Anaxilea and those with her had stopped firing. Then, as if on instinct, all the Gatherers began to run about in different directions, changing directions, snatching and snapping at the large Edenites who were now running about everywhere.
Anaxilea didn’t waste any more time either.
“Come on!” she screamed. “Run!”
The surviving Klysanthians ran for the road once more, moving away from the fire as all around them trucks careered by and Edenites ran about screaming, the Gatherers chasing after them. But the Gatherers didn’t ignore the Klysanthians either. As they ran, Anaxilea kept looking around, her eyes darting everywhere. And always she kept shouting, her hoarse, cracked voice penetrating the din around them.
“Deianeira! Keep shooting!”
“Celaneo! Watch your back!”
“Phoebe! Keep up!”
Running in the dark, with people being chased by Gatherers milling about all around them, there was never a second that could be spent without concentration. One Edenite male ran passed very close to them, a look of terror in his eyes. Behind him the Gatherer that chased him suddenly snapped out with its jaws and took one of the Klysanthians as it ran by. It just lifted her clean off her feet, the rifle thrown from her hands.
“Keep shooting!” Anaxilea roared at them, and then a large Edenite female ran into Deianeira, knocking her flying. She then ran into Cassiopea, tripping over her legs and stumbling as she tried to run passed her. She finally fell right in front of Celaneo.
Celaneo looked down at the large woman at her feet bathed in a black, sticky mess. She was looking up in fright, a hand raised over her face. Celaneo wrinkled up her tiny nose.
“Ooh, my...What’s that disgusting smell?”
Anaxilea reached down and wiped her hand through the thick goo in the woman’s hair. She sniffed at it and then looked up, her hair flying back and forth as her head darted first one way and then the other. Gatherers still ran all around them, but none of them came close. Now, at the best possible moment, when their concentration had been broken, the Gatherers stayed away. Anaxilea began to rub the black goo hurriedly into her face.
“Quick! All of you! Smear this stuff on you! Quickly!”
They all hurried forward and did as she said. Even Deianeira got shakily to her feet, rubbing her chest, and came forward. Soon they were all covered in the thick black sticky fluid.
Cassiopea rubbed the black muck over her uniform. “Is this stuff what I think it is? Is that why the Gatherers are ignoring us?”
Anaxilea nodded. “The digestive fluid from a Receiver’s stomach, the only biological substance a Gatherer isn’t programmed by instinct to grab.” She looked down at the frightened woman. “She’s been our only luck today. Grab her, Celaneo. We’re taking her with us. Come on, everyone! Let’s get moving!”
Breda let them pull her to her feet; she let them take her along. She gave no resistance although their hands were tiny and their hold on her minuscule. She could have shrugged them off at any time, but she didn’t care. She didn’t care about anything anymore. She had felt so guilty in the truck, guilty because she had fought to escape, fought to be first. Now she had been last, now all the others had escaped and she was the one left behind. But again she had survived and they had all died. What was she to do? What choices should she make? Why did she always survive?
From that moment onwards, not a single Gatherer approached them, and not one more Klysanthian was taken.
They ran through the dark, among the screams and gunshots, fire flickering from crashed trucks throwing wild shadows everywhere. All around them the Gatherers picked off the fleeing Edenites. The few soldiers with them fired back until they were also taken. The Klysanthians also still fired at the Gatherers, despite their sudden invisibility. But there were so many Gatherers around them that it d
idn’t seem to matter.
One soldier by a parked truck was fighting with a Gatherer while two Edenite women cowered on the ground behind him. He struck at the Gatherer with a large iron bar or something he must have got from the truck. Even though he was large, the Gatherer was larger. It looked like he was going to lose the fight when another soldier appeared on the roof of the truck. He shot the Gatherer and it dropped. The first soldier beat it to death with the iron bar. In a few seconds, several more Gatherers rushed forward.
As they had ran passed, Anaxilea had seen the fight and saw the Gatherers rushing toward the truck. She twisted round as she ran, and she and Deianeira both fired at the same time. Most of the Gatherers dropped, and the soldiers dealt with the rest. The soldier on the roof of the truck looked toward them as they ran away. He raised his hand in a wave. Then he jumped down from the truck, grabbed his comrade and the two women, and led them away at the trot.
It was a futile gesture. Anaxilea didn’t rate their chances among the Gatherers for very long.
They kept on running, never pausing or slowing. They reached the road and began to run along it. There were trucks everywhere. Some were crashed and damaged, while others just sat with the doors open, abandoned. There were less Edenites running around here, and in their absence the Gatherers had stripped the trucks. None of them had any tyres on the wheels. And inside the cabs the seats were stripped leaving the bare metal skeleton behind. The wooden floors were also gone at the back, and even the tarpaulin covers were missing. A Gatherer ran by in the opposite direction, dragging one of the tarpaulins behind it.
Anaxilea and her survivors kept to the side of the road, keeping out of the way. And gradually, even the numbers of Gatherers began to diminish. Soon they were alone, the panic of the chase and the fire falling behind them. The road became empty. There were no trucks, no Edenites, and no Keruh. Finally, their muscles aching, their lungs bursting, the Klysanthians staggered to a halt, gasping for breath. They all dropped their rifles and collapsed down on the concrete of the road, even Anaxilea. Only Breda remained standing. She hardly looked tired. She just stood there, staring into the night, as if unseeing and uncaring.
Anaxilea lay on her back on the road, gasping for air, her chest heaving. The gravity here was awful, and the air so thick she could hardly get any of it into her lungs fast enough. What had been a complete disaster had suddenly been turned around by mere chance. She thanked God, but wished that more of her crew had been saved. As she thought of them all, the tears began to run from her eyes and her body convulsed in sobs.
Cassiopea crawled over to her and placed a hand on her abdomen. “Stop it, now, Lea. You did what you could. You were right to bring us out here. All right, not all of us have made it, but we have. There’s Celaneo, Aello, Deianeira and Thermodosa, Philippis and Clyemne, Phoebe—”
As she had spoken each name, those sprawled over the road in the dark had gasped or murmured in response. But the last name had brought no sound.
Anaxilea immediately sat up, her tears forgotten, and called out with sudden urgency.
“Phoebe?”
The black smeared Klysanthians all looked around at one another, but there was no answer.
Phoebe had known that she wouldn’t be able to keep up. Only with Eumache to help her had she been able to keep going at all, but then that Gatherer had snatched her away. It had been so sudden; Eumache had been torn from her very grip. Phoebe had fallen over, coughing blood from her punctured and tortured lung. Her broken ribs were so painful she could hardly expand her lungs to breathe anymore. She couldn’t even see properly.
They had left her behind.
It wasn’t their fault. They hadn’t seen her fall, she was already at the back, and she had no strength to call out, even if they could have heard her. Anaxilea had kept telling her to keep up, but she couldn’t. And now Eumache was dead because of her. Eumache could have run faster, she could have been looking around instead of keeping an eye on her. She would have seen that Gatherer coming. Phoebe tore and beat at the grass. Oh, why hadn’t she been taken instead of Eumache? She was going to die anyway. It was such a waste, such a cruel trick of fate.
Sobbing, crying, Phoebe began dragging herself across the ground, trying to reach an abandoned truck while all around her people ran screaming and fire lit the sky. She could see the Gatherers, see them seizing the terrified people one after another. Sometimes more than one would run at a single person, hemming them in, snatching at them, grabbing them with their great hands and then snapping them up in their huge jaws. Outnumbered, surrounded and confused by panic, the large Edenites were no match for the even larger Gatherers.
Phoebe wanted to hide under the truck. She wanted to cower in the false security of its shadow. It was the only semblance of safety as all around her a terrifying and horrific scene was unfolding as one by one the fleeing people were ran down, surrounded and finally taken. At every instant, Phoebe expected the huge hands to come for her, she expected to be grabbed, to be raised into the air and taken to the huge jaws. She only hoped that the life would be squeezed out of her quickly.
She was nearer to the truck now. She could see the open doors and the empty cab inside. She could see the quiet haven of its shadow underneath.
A large hand clamped itself over her face, grabbing her whole head. She began to kick and struggle as she felt another large hand grab her body at the hips. She was lifted into the air, all four limbs flailing, her tortured body wriggling. It made no difference. Unable even to scream, Phoebe was carried along in the air toward the abandoned truck. It came closer and closer, and then, suddenly, there was blackness.
Phoebe was conscious of a great weight. It seemed to be bearing down on her, crushing her against a wall, or the ground. She didn’t know what was up or what was down. All she knew was that she was being crushed, that the life was being squeezed out of her. She couldn’t even struggle anymore. She couldn’t even move a single limb, not a part of her body. Only her toes wriggled. And everything was dark. She also couldn’t breathe. The great hand was still clamped over half her face. She could feel its fingers pressing into her temples. She hadn’t been able to breathe since she had been taken, and now everything was getting distant and fuzzy. The agony in her lungs, the pain in her ribs, the deadly, constant compression, it all began to fade. Finally, even her toes stopped wriggling.
There was a full retreat in progress on the road to Hilbrok with truck after truck hurtling back in the darkness toward Jutlam City. By the time the jets flew low over the road and the wreck of the Furnace of Charity the battle was already almost over. It was a useless, pointless exercise. The soldiers and the few armoured vehicles they had to back them up shot and blew the Gatherers to pieces, and the low flying jets pounded them again, and again. For a while their combined forces seemed to keep the Gatherers at bay. But it wasn’t to last.
Ziti Harktus brought his jet around for another attack. They had used up all their rockets on their first pass, and could now only fire their heavy machine cannons. It didn’t matter. Belomonor had scored a perfect hit with the rockets, but the fire from the resulting explosion had illuminated the scene long enough for them to see how useless their task was.
The Gatherers were a great, heaving mass, thousands, millions of them. And in their path stood the jammed column of trucks trapped on the road, the survivors they had once carried running around in panic while the soldiers tried to protect them. People were snatched away even as they watched. It was a close quarter’s battle, with the soldiers, survivors and Gatherers all mixed in around the stricken trucks. And the armoured vehicles alongside the road fired at the constantly advancing Gatherers with seemingly little effect.
It was all just a quick, fleeting image, and then the flames died down and darkness shrouded the scene once more.
With tears of anger and despair in his eyes, Harktus dived low over the darkened and shadowy land. He opened fire without even seeing his targets, the bright
stream of tracer fire stretching out before him. The short, bright flashes of the impacts revealed the effects of the heavy cannon shells as they smashed through the Gatherers carapaces, popping them like ruptured fruit, turning them to pulp. But for every Gatherer that fell in mutilated ruin, a hundred others ran on, uncaring, unstoppable.
Once across the road, Harktus pulled his jet up into a banked turn and then dived back down at the Host for another strafing run. It would be the seventh time. But this time he was halfway through his run when the guns on his jet fell silent.
“Damn it, Belomonor!” he shouted into his radio. “We’ve run out of ammunition!”
“It doesn’t matter,” Belomonor said in a quieter voice as he leaned against the side of the cockpit canopy. He was trying to see in the dark, to pick out any shapes and forms on the ground, to try and distinguish people from Keruh. It was impossible.
Harktus seemed to ignore him. “Sabatus!” he bellowed. “Keep at them! We’re going back to refuel and rearm!”
Harktus had already jerked his jet round into a tight turn before Sabatus could reply.
“We’ll be right behind you!” his electronic voice said over the radio. “We’re out, too!”
Harktus swore and pulled the mask from his face. “Damn it!” he told Belomonor angrily. “Delmatra is too far away! We’ll never get back here in time!”
“It doesn’t matter,” Belomonor repeated. This time Harktus did hear him. “What do you mean, it doesn’t matter? They need our help! They’re dying down there!”
Belomonor turned to him, pulling off his own facemask. “You said it yourself, we’ll never get back in time. Even before we touch down at Delmatra it will all be over. It’s nearly over now.”
“But we can’t just give up!” Harktus shouted in despair.
Belomonor reached over the seat and squeezed Harktus’s shoulder “Forget it, Ziti. They’ve already had it.”
Harktus slumped in his seat, the tears running down his face, and they flew on in silence.
From the portal at Elengrad, hidden in darkness, more of the Host continued to emerge in a constant torrent. And the first thought of those who emerged was to get farther away from the centre of the Host than their brethren to find a fresh source of food. It meant that the area the Host covered expanded at an exponential rate that was proportional to their numbers. The more of them there were, the faster they spread out. And with more Receivers arriving all the time, the distance the Gatherers had to travel to return with their prizes was cut ever shorter.
What Colonel Falamunus and the soldiers with him didn’t know was that they were now at the edge of the rapidly expanding Host, and that the numbers they now faced were colossal. No amount of heroics or firepower on the fringes was going to stop the progress of the Host now.
The battle was lost before it was even begun.
Colonel Falamunus screamed at his men as he fired at the tide of Gatherers rushing toward them.
“Fall back! Get behind the APC!”
The previously constant gunfire quickly faded away as Falamunus and his men were forced to use their rifles as clubs in a vicious but short hand-to-hand conflict. It was the last desperate moments as a handful of men fought for their lives, and lost. Even while the remaining jets pounded them, the Gatherers enveloped and swallowed up the Edenites, the armoured vehicles, everything. They poured across the road and moved on, the area they covered increasing and expanding all the time. And behind them they left nothing. They stripped the vehicles of anything edible, and even the grass was torn from the ground leaving behind only the bare, dark earth.
The Friendly Ambassador: The Beginning of the End Page 10
