Krillaz

by Morris Kenyon

CHAPTER 5: I SEE THE LIGHT.

   

  With my peripheral vision I saw Hari Thalami wheel around. He saw the cluster of bodies. He hosed us with his Gatling PPD. A hailstorm of plastic flechettes tore into the Krillaz, ripping their bodies to bits. My enhanced ears rang from their howls and shrieks as they died. My armour was also damaged but that was the least of my concerns.

  I hauled myself to one knee. The room was awash – literally – with blood, intestines and other bits of organs. Snatching up my Hi-Ripper I took down a Krilla that was crouching, ready to leap onto Thalami's back.

  Looking up, I saw Clemency had taken position behind the operating table, using it as cover. From there she was shooting Krillaz as they came through the door. The others were climbing over the bodies of their mates to reach us.

  Yet litres of blood only enraged the survivors. They paused for one moment of time then charged us. Still on one knee I pressed the trigger. Nothing happened. Out of ammunition. I swore. "Cover me," I shouted above the noise, fumbling in my battle-vest's pockets for another canister. My fingers clutched it, wrenched the old one out and slammed the fresh one in. I flicked off the safety...

  Too late. Sensing my weakness, more Krillaz fell on me. We were being overwhelmed by the sheer weight of numbers. I jerked my Hi-Ripper away from a dark-grey female but still another snatched it away.

  There was silence coming from Hari Thalami's gun as he ran out of ammunition as well. Things were looking more than serious. I don't think these execs expected to be grappling hand-to-hand with ravenous monstrosities. Taking pot-shots from a safe distance was what they'd signed up for. Clemency's Bassoonka fired again, blowing away another Krilla in a welter of gore.

  I freed my left arm and wrenched my dagger from its sheath. This rib-tickler cost me a load, being made from solid diamond. It had been mined on planet 55 Cancri e – a super-massive world only 41 light years from Earth itself. Diamond isn't as popular these days but I like it as it holds its edge well. Also, it has old-time glamour and allure. Diamonds are a girl's best friend? Well, it was mine at the moment.

  Anyway, I plunged the knife deep into the Krilla's guts and twisted hard. It shrieked but even knowing death was coming, it tried to bite my head off. It died as it was born, in pain and hatred. I flung its dying body off me, pulling the blade free and struggled to my feet, gasping for breath.

  Clemency took aim and blew another's head clean off. One of the doors swung open – still more Krillaz poured into the room. With our retreat cut off, we were in deep, deep trouble. I jacked yet another ammo cylinder into my Hi-Ripper, racked the safety and shredded the first of the new Krillaz. It's dying body skidded towards me over the blood-slick floor, knocking me sideways.

  I lost it a bit then. "Hari – stop messing about and help me!" I screamed over the din.

  The neat little exec was flustered, still trying to reload. This was way more excitement than he'd signed on for. If he couldn't get that Gatling PPD firing on all cylinders within the next few seconds then we'd all be overwhelmed. Personally, I didn't fancy becoming rat food.

  Hari Thalami looked at me, wild-eyed with fright. They say Krillaz can smell fear and they leaped and bounded towards him. To say things were looking black was an understatement – it was blacker than the heart of a black hole. Clemency's Bassoonka boomed again and again – but it was too slow against the number of Krillaz crowding the room.

  I wheeled around as the door crashed open again. I aimed my Hi-Ripper at the opening ready to slaughter the first Krillaz through. If I was to die today, I'd go surrounded by dead rat-men. I'd teach them to fear hi-mans in future.

  Instead, Farrie-Galv Kham burst through the door. He processed the scene in one millisecond, set his weapon to maximum fire and – well, he creamed a load of rat-men. It wasn't pretty but it was effective. Çrámerr – for all his faults, their boss was no coward – stepped into the room straight on Kham's heels. His 10mm carbine also added to his bag.

  Relieved from the threat of imminent death, Hari got his fingers and thumbs together, loaded up and then his Gatling wheeled into action. The devastation was appalling. Krillaz are genetically made to be bloodthirsty maniacs. But stupid they aren't. As if controlled by one mind, they turned tail and fled, squeaking and shrieking in panic and terror. Now there were six of us, they knew they were outclassed.

  "Cease fire! Cease fire!" Kham commanded. After a moment, we powered down our weapons.

  "That was close. Thanks," I panted, leaning against the wrecked operating table. I cleaned my diamond blade, checked my armour – which was trashed – and looked around.

  The room was choked with dead and dying rat-men. At least the survivors would have plenty of fresh meat to chew on – cannibalism is another of their nasty habits. Nobody wanted to linger. After all, it wouldn't take long before the Krillaz licked their wounds and decided on another attack. Fresh hi-man flesh tastes so much better than rat-man carrion.

  Keeping together, we made our way out of the charnel house and into the fresh air outside the hospital. The gale was still blowing and this time we were glad of torrential rain washing blood from our clothes.

  "I've never seen anything like that," Clemency said to me as we walked back to the Steg. Nobody fancied going after any more Krillaz today. Everyone was tired and all the execs looked exhausted after all the adrenalin filtered from their systems. Who was I fooling? I was drained as well. Even knowing their reputation, we'd not expected mayhem on such a scale.

  "It got a bit scary for a while," I admitted. "But your Bassoonka held them off just long enough."

  "Should have brought a rapid-fire weapon like yours," she said. Her voice sounded flat and drained of emotion, her French accent stronger than usual. "I'm going to complain to hi-man Resources about this trip when I get home."

  I didn't blame her. This trip was way too dangerous for a bunch of desk-jockeys who fancied themselves as weekend hunters. We reached the safety of the Steg and piled on board, pulling off our helmets and armour as we did so.

  Now we were safe, Çrámerr started spouting. "Now that was a show stopper, wasn't it?"

  Nobody responded. I was glad I didn't work for that idiot.

  "We kicked some butt, didn't we?"

  We? He only appeared at the last minute. Okay, they'd saved us from the Krillaz but it was us, the 'B' team, who'd killed most of them.

  Taking no notice of his colleague's silence, Çrámerr carried on with his management waffle. "You handled yourselves well there, guys. Next time you're facing down our corporate rivals, you'll be able to look 'em in the eyes over the conference table and show no fear."

  Did that idiot really think his execs would really be thinking about rat-men when they were next doing a buy-out or restructure or whatever it is these people do? I doubt it. If they were still thinking about this time, then they wouldn't be concentrating on work. I wondered how long it would take Hari and Clemency to get over nearly dying under rat-men's claws and teeth as, beneath his darker skin, even Hari looked pale and shaken.

  I found a seat, pulled off my blood-soaked armour and checked it. It was chewed-up but fortunately still serviceable. While I cleaned my Hi-Ripper I asked Kham if his group had found any trace of Âgustin's party.

  He shook his head sadly. "Sorry, dost, nothing. Apart from Krillaz, I don't think anyone's set foot in that hospital since the city's fall."

  That figured. It was a long shot at best.

  When everyone had more or less recovered, Kham suggested that was enough excitement for one day. Sensing his colleagues’ mood, even Çrámerr had sense enough to keep quiet. Made a nice change. "In that case, let's ball-park the Steg overnight. Everyone buy-in to that?"

  We nodded. They bought that idea. There was no night this side of Hancox 1, but we knew what he meant. Kham got behind the wheel, brought up the city map on the GPS and headed off to an industrial area on the outskirts. The Steg trundled along, swerving around the deepest potholes and rubble from collapsed buildi
ngs. It started raining again – sharp, sudden squalls lashing against the Steg's bulk.

  Emerging from a thick grove of taller bryophytes I spotted a small troop of Krillaz. They pointed – a surprisingly hi-man gesture and fled back into the undergrowth. Were they still following us? I didn't say anything to the others.

  Kham turned down a side-street and found what he was looking for. The sign, now faded and almost illegible said it had once been a furniture depot. A raised shutter opened into a darkened interior. More importantly, the structure seemed sturdy and easily defensible. I climbed up into the turret and switched on the searchlight. It's billion watt beam – or whatever – flooded the store with light. Apart from some rotted crates and furniture against one wall the place seemed empty. More importantly, there were no Krillaz lurking inside.

  Reversing, Kham backed the Steg inside and switched off the engine. In silence, we heard rain buffeting against the depot. Kham asked me to put on my armour and help set up our defensive perimeter. Of course, Çrámerr also volunteered and that meant his worn-out execs also had to follow suit. No way could anyone not show willing. Clutching our weapons, we laid out trip-wires linked to anti-personnel mines at the depot's entrance, and also a back door that Çrámerr discovered. Kham also set up an infra-red warning system.

  That meant we didn't have to sit in the cramped confines of the Steg all evening. We ate our reheated meals – to be honest, no more than army rations – sitting around a camp fire built up from abandoned furniture. Sitting around the blaze was almost cheerful.

  Needless to say, Çrámerr was life and soul of the party. That man loved the sound of his own voice. He told us about other hunting trips he'd been on. Somehow he'd wangled a permit to hunt the very rare Silver Leap-hards of Farina's Hi-Awale mountains. Or so he said. Fast-Bear-Dogs on Iridium – yes, they also fell to his guns.

  From animals he moved onto corporate deals he'd brokered, companies he'd asset-stripped, successful speculative ventures, mega-bonuses he'd earned. And so on. At this rate he'd be buying a planet. Oh, he already had. "...A small moon orbiting a nearby gas-giant, only a rocky lump, of course. Use it for vacations, not that I've ever had time to go myself, but my fourth wife loves it – uses it as her little getaway..."

  Four wives? Why didn't that come as a surprise? I hope the first three are sticking it to him for alimony.

  "...Views of the gas giant are superb and I've had a few ice asteroids sent our way to give us extra water. My little slice of the big universe..."

  Maybe his captive audience of execs were paid to listen to this garbage but I wasn't. Stretching my legs, I stood, checked the line of anti-personnel mines and looked out over the ruined city. We must be on higher ground here as I had a good view.

  It hadn't changed any – that's one of the downsides of a tide-locked world. It was a dreary, uninspiring view, still raining with thick clouds blocking the sun. I became aware of a warm presence behind me. Clemency rested a hand on my shoulder. Despite the damp, miserable conditions my body thrilled to her touch.

  "Keeping watch are you?" she said in a low voice. That French accent always does it for me.

  "Sort of." I made a little shrug backwards with my shoulder. "He's kinda hard to take, isn't he?"

  "He's not that bad – once you cut through all the management BS. He's very successful. Work hard, play hard. That's one of his mottoes."

  "Thought it would be," I muttered. "You really wanna be like him?"

  Now it was her turn to shrug. "Not really. But I would like his power – I could do some good with it rather than grabbing it all for myself." Her blue eyes softened momentarily. Don't forget, she came from one of those Francophone colonies – a lot of them have philosophy hard-wired into their DNA. Not literally, but you know what I mean.

  "And bank balance?"

  She grinned. "That would be nice. He really does own a moon."

  "Good for him."

  There was a pause, companionable rather than uncomfortable. I could stay standing here with this beautiful woman, looking out over the ruined city for ages.

  "Got a bit lively earlier, didn't it?" I said, after a while.

  "She nodded. "I don't think Çrámerr expected Krillaz to be as savage as that."

  "He should have done better research then."

  "What's that?" Clemency said, her voice sharper than before.

  "Research? Why, Krillaz are..."

  Clemency gripped my arm – her manicured nails digging into my upper arm. "I know what research is. What's that light?"

  Now it was my turn to stand and stare. "What light?"

  "There," she said, pointing out into the deluge.

  I blinked. "I can't see anything." Then I did. It was only the rain and talking to this beautiful woman which had stopped me noticing it before. That's my excuse and I'm sticking with it. A light flashed out in the distance. Well, flashed is putting it a bit strongly. A pinpoint dim flicker in the hazy gloom would be more accurate.

  The light vanished, then reappeared; vanished then reappeared. Now I'd seen it, I couldn't unsee it. The light seemed to flicker on and off at regular intervals. Enhancing my visuals and synchronising them with my neural implant, I noticed that the light lasted exactly 3.141 seconds. Pi in other words. It had to be man-made. For all their cunning, Krillaz haven't yet mastered advanced mathematics. I double-checked but there was no doubt.

  "Kham? Come and have a look at this," I called back over my shoulder. Like myself, our guide had left the fireside and was tinkering with the Steg. Anything to get away from Çrámerr's bragging.

  Not only Kham but everyone got up and looked outside. And everyone checked the frequency of the pulses. We all watched for a while as if hypnotised.

  "3.14159265359 seconds. Definitely pi," Çrámerr said after a moment. Needless to say, his implant outclassed everyone else's. I bet he could have given it to a hundred decimal points if he'd wanted. "What say we go ping that source?"

  There were no audible groans – his team were way too savvy for that – but there was a sense of shoulders slumping at the thought of crossing a Krilla infested city to check out that light source. None of them, not even Clemency would want to be seen as a wimp, but all were exhausted.

  "It must be an automated beacon, dost," Kham said into the silence. "No telling how long it's been broadcasting – maybe years. I think it should keep until we're all fresher. In the morning."

  "Okay – we'll park it until tomorrow," Çrámerr said, trying to sound as if that had been his decision all along.

  I didn't think we were in much danger – not with all the hardware protecting the entrance – so I offered to take first night shift. I sat on a crate with my Hi-Ripper across my knees and Clemency's Bassoonka within easy reach and watched the light glimmering in the gloom. Once I thought I saw a small troop of Krillaz flit across an alley but by the time I focussed my visuals they had disappeared. I guess they didn't fancy being turned into rat-jelly.

  Clemency had the turn after me. I mentioned my possible Krilla sighting and left her to it.

  "Do you think that light might be a signal from Âgustin?" she asked.

  The thought had crossed my mind. I doubted it was a relic from the time the Krillaz originally overran Bas-Hinna. The humid climate here is hard on electronics. "Could be."

  Instead of turning in, I stayed with Clemency and we talked. I told her a little about my life and some of the more interesting cases I'd taken on. She was a good listener.

  "Sometimes I wish I'd gone into something more, well... exciting," she said wistfully. She rubbed her face and yawned slightly. "I didn't have much choice. My family pushed me into getting a good career after university. My father was – is – a small-world physician but knew I could do so much better. Not that I'm complaining. I'm making good money and if I get this promotion then I'll be in the big leagues. I'll be able to do so much more."

  "And buy your own planetoid," I gibed.

  She shuddered. "We're not all like
Çrámerr," she said with a tired smile.

  I was beginning to appreciate that.