The Blue of Antyllus

by Michael E. Gonzales

  ○O○

  The rain was falling so hard that the factory wall, only one hundred meters away from Nash, was no longer visible. Nash began to laugh.

  Hoofnar looked at him like he had lost his mind. Nash shouted at her above the din of the storm, “See I told you, a gift from Eya’Etee Ki Kee. We are now invisible!”

  Nash’s soldiers approached four doors on the west side of the factory, an airlock, a vehicle airlock, then another airlock, and to the north, an emergency exit no larger than a household door. All of them were widely separated.

  Nash’s soldiers had breaching charges with which they planned to blow open these entrances and, thus, pour inside en masse. With any luck, the other teams were doing the same thing right now.

  Nash, two of his demolition experts, and about thirty other soldiers approached the emergency exit. Other demo teams were closing in on the other doors. “Quick,” Nash ordered, “get those charges in place and blow it open!”

  ○O○

  Joe, Janet, and Isso, carrying Serenity, slowed as they tried to figure what the noise they were hearing could be. Isso was about to suggest tihsad when a horrifically loud cracking explosion ripped through the massive factory, shaking it to its very foundations. It was an extraordinary clap of thunder only experienced before by Isso, as the others had all been inside the well-insulated walls of New Roanoke during past rains.

  As the thunder faded, the sound of hundreds of mercs reentering the factory from the roof filled the air.

  “Run!” Joe urged.

  They sprinted forward. Isso was running much slower than he could have been had he not been carrying Serenity cradled in his arms. Still, he led the small band forward. Behind him ran Janet, and bringing up the rear was Joe, who was watching the mercenaries in the catwalks above. All any one of them had to do was look down and they would be showered with lead.

  Joe had seen one of the mercs make eye contact with him, but the man did not sound a general alarm. Instead, he ran along the catwalk and into a small room lined with windows suspended from the ceiling like a dangling house trailer. One of the windows opened.

  Joe kept running, weaving his way through the machinery.

  The lights in the chamber on the ceiling went out, and a rifle barrel emerged from the darkened open window. Joe dodged behind a mechanism just as the sniper mercenary fired. All human conversation ceased with that report. Every merc reached for his weapon, and every eye searched for the target. The PA system came to life and squealed a moment. Then a voice boomed out, a male voice, an angry voice, “He’s mine!”

  Just as those words split the air in the factory, Joe found a small opening between two parts of the machine behind which he had taken cover, and through it he unleashed a magazine of rounds at the window.

  Joe squatted down to reload just as a bullet passed through the small opening. Damn, Joe said to himself, this guy’s good.

  The machine in front of him sat far enough off the floor to allow Joe to crawl under it. On the other side, he dodged left, then right, around the next machine, always heading toward the northwest.

  A voice above shouted, “He’s over here!” and a laser targeting device pointed out his position. Joe was under good cover, so no shot rang out. Joe followed the red light up to a point in the rafter to his left. It was to this point that Joe dispatched three rounds, and the laser went out. A heartbeat later, a body fell to the floor.

  “You sonofabitch!” another voice cried out from someplace above, and Joe could hear feet running along the catwalk. He prepared himself for the encounter.

  The voice on the PA called out a warning. “You there, stop! I told you he’s mine!”

  The pounding footfalls did not stop. Joe could hear that the angry runner was now on a set of metal stairs, heading down.

  The rifle shot took Joe by surprise, as did the sound of a body tumbling down the steps. The sniper had killed one of his own men.

  The PA squawked again, “I said he is mine. I mean it.”

  Joe swallowed hard. This guy was both a good shot and a full-fledged lunatic.

  Joe tried to catch a glance toward the emergency exit to see if his friends had made it or not. He estimated he was still several hundred meters away, based on his examination of the ceiling.

  First, Joe heard the bullet strike the pipe to his right, then he heard it zip past his head. The sniper had seen Joe’s shadow and attempted a bank shot. It almost got him.

  Joe knew he could not sit here. He had to move and move fast, exposing himself for as short a period as possible. He inched to his right toward the end of the machine that was providing him cover. The gap between his hiding place and the machine on the other side of the walkway was only five meters. He guessed he’d be exposed for no more than two to two-and-a-half seconds.

  Joe took a deep breath and burst out toward another protected spot behind another machine across the walkway.

  The bullet creased the back of his neck resulting in a painful and bloody trench in his flesh, but it did not hinder him. It only served to remind Joe that this guy was not to be toyed with.

  This game of cat and mouse went on for another fifteen minutes before Joe noticed that the angle of attack had changed. The sniper had relocated. Up in the cat walks, he was silently moving forward to Joe’s left, trying to improve his line of sight.

  Based on the estimated trajectory of the sniper’s last round, Joe had a general idea where this guy was, and just what he was trying to do. He was trying to get on Joe’s flank where he could fire down the columns of machines.

  Joe estimated he had three hundred meters yet to go to reach the emergency exit.

  Chapter 11

  NOTIFICATION

  Sergeant Cimarron had managed to weave all the civilians and the CDF soldiers now under his command all the way to the eastern exit without incident. He knew he had been singularly lucky. Standing now at the airlock door, he was quite sure his luck had run out. He realized that as soon as they all started running away from the building, every rifle barrel on this side of the factory would launch death at them in the form of a tidal wave of lead. All he could think to do was spread the people out along the wall and have them all run independently, in a zig zag pattern, out toward the cool blue forest…three hundred meters away.

  “What’s that sound?” someone asked.

  Everyone stopped and listened. “Maybe they’ve turned on some of the machines somewhere,” a woman suggested.

  “No, listen!” Sergeant Cimarron said, and bent his ear to the odd, muffled roaring sound.

  The sergeant was just thinking that, except for this sound, it had become strangely quiet. All the gunfire had ceased.

  Sergeant Cimarron reacted to the tremendous clap of thunder as he would have the impact of incoming artillery. He was certain they had been discovered, and attacked with an explosive round of ammunition.

  The detonation came as the end of the world. The veterans fell to the floor. Everyone else bared their teeth, covered their ears, and crouched. The very air could be felt to compress, and the sergeant’s ears were left ringing.

  Sergeant Cimarron got up off of the floor and entered the airlock. Looking out the window in the sealed door into the outside world beyond, he first thought he was looking into a heavy fog. Looking down, he saw the raindrops splashing on the concrete outside. The odd noise they had all heard was being caused by rain! A rain so heavy it was blinding everyone.

  Cimarron spun around and shouted, “Respirators on! Everyone get in here!”

  They all crowded into the airlock that had been made to accommodate half their number. As the gasses were exchanged Cimarron shouted out his instructions, “When this door opens, everyone run, straight ahead, fast as you can, just keep running!” He was fearful the rain might stop and leave them all exposed in the middle of the kill zone.

  When the door opened, the thunderous roar of the pounding deluge assaulted their ears. It was so loud that everyone just froze and looked out at
the terrifying sight.

  At the back of the room Cimarron shouted, “Run, dammit, run!”

  He watched as a brave young woman bolted out from under the lee of the building. A single drop of water struck her right shoulder and spun her around, causing her to slip in the mud and fall. Without hesitation, she regained her feet and pushed on toward freedom.

  The others were slow to realize that this horrendous rain hid them from enemy gunners, but with Sergeant Cimarron’s urgent prodding, they quickly followed, and vanished into the storm like ghosts before the sergeant’s eyes.

  Once he was sure everyone was out of the airlock, he went back in and looked through the window of the interior door. There was no one left behind. More significantly, there was no sign of Lieutenant Billen.

  The sergeant took one last look, then turned and headed out into the driving rain.

  Not twenty meters from the wall of the building, he looked back, but the factory was completely obscured by the cascade. As long as this storm lasted, he knew they would all make it back.

  As he ran, he could hear, even over the roar of rain, the thunder of thousands of running feet headed his way. As Sergeant Cimarron topped a slight muddy rise, a massive E’meset warrior appeared in front of him out of the falling rain. The warrior’s rifle was at the ready. He stopped before the sergeant long enough to identify his uniform, placed his huge hand onto the center of the sergeant’s chest and then ran forward past him. The E’meset were also using the rain as cover to attack the factory.

  When Sergeant Cimarron entered friendly lines, he was greeted by several E’meset who immediately escorted him to an area full of massive boulders. One had a large overhang and provided some protection from the pummeling rain. Under the protection of the stone were the thirty-eight surviving former hostages and the remainder of team Seal. The E’meset had produced large furry leaves from the forest that were surprisingly warm when worn as a blanket. Several people had suffered bruises from raindrop impacts. The E’meset were already treating these people with the glowing algae.

  Several of the rescued were in tears as all the stress of their long captivity and rescue came flooding out.

  An E’meset, who wore a gold armband on his upper right forearm identifying him as a commander, was talking to one of the hostages who then pointed the sergeant out to him. He strode over and took a knee in front of Cimarron. “You are Billen?” he asked.

  “No, sir, I’m Sergeant Cimarron. The lieutenant left me in charge. He and Isso went to get Mrs. Lindsey.”

  “You are having the flare?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Will it work among the raindrops?”

  “I think so, yes. But I don’t think anyone will see it.”

  ○O○

  Nash watched as his demolition team set the charges to blow the door off its hinges, a kicker charge would then blow the top inward. After that, Nash’s soldiers would have to charge into the opening without hesitation. This meant none of the E’meset would be involved until the outer atmosphere had completely permeated the factory.

  Nash’s people were just establishing a command link to the detcord and the detonator for the kicker charges when, with the force of an explosion, the door burst open. There stood an E’meset warrior wearing a mask decorated in colored grasses and carrying a badly wounded human woman, also wearing a respirator.

  “Isso!” Nash shouted. “Where’s Joe?”

  At that moment, Janet Lindsey, in her respirator, came out from behind Isso. “Joe is coming, he’s being shot at!”

  Isso, Serenity, and Janet were moved a safe distance from the door and Nash and four of his soldiers ran in. “Joe!” Nash shouted.

  Joe instantly shouted back, “Sniper!” The five men leapt for cover. The fellow who had been standing next to Nash was dead when he hit the floor. The sniper had shot him as he jumped.

  “Where is he, Joe?” Nash called out as he checked the fallen man.

  “In the catwalk above me, two o’clock, four hundred meters.”

  “Okay, guys,” Nash spoke to his three soldiers, “we’re going to pepper that entire area. We’re going to suppress that SOB so Joe can get to us.” Nash raised his voice and shouted at Joe. “Are you ready, buddy?”

  “You just kill that bastard and let’s go home,” Joe shouted back.

  Nash signaled to Joe to put his respirator on, and then he watched as the young lieutenant prepared for the sprint of his life. Joe removed all the equipment that might slow him down, to include his body armor.

  Joe nodded at Nash who, with his three men, opened automatic weapons fire into the rafters from three hundred fifty to four hundred fifty meters out in a wide arch. Insulation began falling from the area like gray snow.

  ○O○

  With the first shot fired, Joe sprang to his feet and ran as he had never run before, but oddly, his feet seemed to be made of lead and his legs felt weak. The harder he pushed, the farther away the door seemed to be. He could feel his heart beating in his throat and everything seemed to move in slow motion.

  The bright rectangle of light through which the remainder of his life waited was now looming larger and larger. He was less than three meters, away now. A broad smile spread across his face. He’d made it.

  Something hit Joe hard in the back right between the shoulder blades.

  What the hell was that?

  He didn’t feel any pain, just the pressure of being hit really hard, like with a baseball bat. He lost control of his arms and legs and was aware he was falling. He wanted to put his hand out to block his impact with the ground, but nothing was working. He watched the ground come up fast, and knew that his face had hit hard, but he didn’t feel a thing.

  He could see he was sliding on his chest. He saw several hands reach out and grab him, then pull hard. He was pulled out the door, then dragged hard to his left and placed under the lee of the building just out of the rain. Some guy in a mask he didn’t know rolled him over and was screaming to someone he couldn’t see, “He’s alive!”

  Joe listened to the sound of the rain falling, and to the clap of distant thunder. He had never taken the time to just listen to the music of a rain storm before. It was wonderful.

  Over him now was the panicked face of Captain Nash Rastaban.

  “Hello, Nash,” Joe said softly.

  From somewhere under him, Nash brought up his hand. It was covered in blood.

  “Nash, are you hurt?” Joe asked calmly.

  “You just lay still, Joe. Medics are coming up right now.”

  “It’s okay, Nash. It doesn’t hurt.”

  Joe’s vision began to fade and he started to feel cold. He watched as, all around him, the few colors he could see began to swirl together and darken.

  “Nash? Where are you Nash?”

  “I’m right here, my friend. I won’t leave you.”

  “Where’s Isso?”

  ○O○

  Isso had seen the wounded man dragged out of the building but did not know who it was. He was still with Serenity; he had moved her against the building and out of the rain, as well.

  Isso saw Nash look up and over at him. No words were necessary. Isso gasped, and his eyes dilated until they were almost black. He rushed over and looked down. Through the respirator, Isso beheld the serene face of his friend looking back up at him. Isso placed his hand on Joe’s chest and could feel his heart beating weakly.

  Joe tried to speak in E’meset, “Isso, O’et pa ah as E’stuvani—”

  “Speak English, Tuva, how else will I learn?” Isso knew it would be easier for Joe in English.

  “Isso, you have been…my very best friend. I will…remember—” Joe then jerked his head back and grimaced in pain.

  “Nash!” Joe shouted.

  “I’m right here, Joe.”

  “Nash, take Isso with you…find Nista for me…tell her how sorry I am …tell her I was…going to look all over Eya’Etee for her. Tell…her I sudamine her so much. Tell her I wante
d to…to marry her and be together forev— tell her not to be sad. I want her to be happy in her life and I—”

  All present saw Joe’s eyes look to his right and refocus his attention. ”Who are you?” Joe asked. Everyone looked out into the rain but there was no one there.

  ○O○

  As Joe expressed his wishes to Nash and Isso, he could see the brave warrior holding his hand, though he could not feel it. Isso’s huge eyes welled up and tears, were streaming down his face.

  A movement caught Joe’s attention, and he looked off to his left. The curtain of rain seemed to part, and from the opening, a brilliant yellowish light fell across him and warmth flooded through him. From out of this yellow light a beautiful woman appeared. She had the loveliest golden yellow hair he’d ever seen, and eyes almost as blue as Nista’s. ”Who are you?” he asked.

  “Come along, Joe,” the vision said in a voice more music than speech. ”You’ve done all you can here. There is more for you to do on the other side. Come along.”

  “Who are you?” he asked again.

  “I am a daughter of Lu’aya, who has sent me to guide you home.”

  “Home? I’m going home?”

  “Yes, Joe. Now, come with me, there’s someone who wants to meet you,” she extended her hand and Joe found he could now raise his own hand and, with it, he grasped hers. As their hands met, a feeling of hot life surged through him. He got to his feet and immediately noticed he was without his respirator. For a second, he was panicked.

  “You’ll never need that again, Joe,” the woman said, and looked down at the spot where he had gotten up from.

  Slowly, Joe turned and looked down. There were several people crowded around a man who was bleeding badly. He recognized Janet, Nash, and Isso who was holding the poor wounded fellow’s hand.

  Without looking away, Joe asked, “Is that me?”

  “Not anymore, Joe. Now, follow me, and be happy.”

  “How can I be happy? My soldiers and my friends are still in the fight, and…and how can I leave the situation as it is with Nista? She’s going to hate me for the rest of her life.”