Alien Worlds (11 page)

No one was in sight. Glancing about, Trace waded to the edge of the pool and climbed onto the rough bank.

He reached a hand to Larry. “Come on.”

When they were both down, Trace tiptoed to the mouth of a tunnel. He took his flashlight from his belt and clipped it to his wrist. With a deep breath and a silent count of three, he leaped inside.

It wasn’t a tunnel. It was a cave. A stockpile of rusted scrap metal. He saw posts and doors, even a pilot’s chair.

“What the…?”

Larry bumped into his back. Trace spun around at a familiar clicking sound.

Two bugs stood behind them. They wore loose, colorless togas similar to the queen-feeders he’d met at the feast. Still clicking, they stepped into the cave.

“No! No!” Larry struggled as one lifted him and carried him into the corridor.

Hurriedly, Trace snapped his mask in place. If they were going to throw him back into that putrid pool, he wanted his face covered.

The bug recoiled as if confused by its reflection. In that instant, Trace blasted it with his stat-gun. It fell. Stunned. He narrowed the beam and shot it in the head. Ichor splashed the floor. Trace rushed out of the cave, determined to save Larry.

Larry wasn’t alone. A half-dozen bugs had joined the one holding him.

A cloud of defeat settled over Trace. He lowered his head and holstered his gun. Bugs took his arms and marched him toward the torch-lit cave at the end of the hall. He leaned back, boots skidding as if he could stop them. He didn’t want to know what was in there. Didn’t want to die.

A shove sent him sprawling through the cave mouth. From his prone position, Trace looked up at the ant queen.

She shone jet-black and huge. Her long, segmented body hung from the ceiling by a birthing sack. Piles of pulsing, translucent eggs heaped the floor around her.

Slowly, barely breathing, Trace got to his feet. Her eyes followed his movement. Black. Fathomless. His flesh prickled beneath his skinsuit. He took out his gun. Beside him, Larry rose to his knees and rocked back and forth.

“Be ready to run,” Trace whispered.

In a single rapid movement, he shot the queen then dove beneath her crackling body. Two feeders rushed through the door. On all six legs, they skittered toward him. He shot one. It fell covered in blue sparks. The other continued to advance.

The queen reared and thrashed as if shaking off the stunning effect of his weapon. She couldn’t see him beneath her, so she struck out at what was nearest. The advancing bug. She lifted it into the air, ripped off its head then threw the body. It struck Trace in the chest and knocked him flat.

Lying beneath the decapitated carcass, he saw Larry steal out the door. He saw the first bug regain its feet. He fired again, but his aim was off. The energy ricocheted and struck a cache of eggs.

The shells exploded with brilliant flashes. The bug looked about as if amazed. Kicking out from cover, Trace strafed the floor with bolts of energy. The delicate eggs sizzled and burst, spewing their contents onto the floor.

With an ear-grating screech, the queen doubled over and looked directly at Trace. He saw his mask reflected in her black, glassy stare.

For a petrified moment, he froze. Then he fired between her eyes.

<<>>

I
mpani walked beside Missus, her attention upon her resonator. “Readings show the fault line receding in that direction. If you keep your perimeter guard on this side, there’s no chance of the ants getting in.”

“I’ll put relays here and here.” Missus shook her head. “I never thought to look for faults in the granite. You just saved us all.”

“Yeah. I’m a real hero.”

Missus stopped and glanced around. “What are they doing?”

The ants patrolling the outskirts of the paddock ran about on all six legs. They even climbed on top of one another.

Impani straightened and rested her hand on her holster. “Are they going to attack?”

“I’m not certain. I’ve never seen them act this way.”

“Let’s get those relays in position.” She snapped the resonator onto her belt then waved at a group of colonists who stood staring at the ants. “Hey! Don’t just stand there. Get everyone on this side of camp!”

Bedlam erupted as if she’d pulled a switch. People poured from their homes. They screamed and ran as frantically as the ants.

“Help me with this!” Missus wrestled a bulky dish across the yard.

Impani grabbed a rung and helped lug the relay over the rough ground. While Missus powered it up, she glanced at the colonists. Their haphazard scurrying alarmed her. She didn’t want to shut anyone out when the perimeter went up.

“This way!” she shouted. “Over here!”

Missus grimaced. “My house is on the other side of the paddock. Out of the zone.”

“I’ll get the last relay in place. You get Lathi and Timothy. I’ll meet you at the power station.”

Missus ran off. Impani dragged the final dish. Metal squealed on stone. She cringed at the sound and glanced at the ants.

They crawled over one another in a mass of arms and legs. Snapping with their beaks. As if driven insane.

Then she noticed a much larger horde massing in the distance.

I
mpani powered up the final relay. As she stood, she called to the fleeing colonists, “Over here! Get to this side of camp.”

She watched them, bemused, then noticed that many people carried blankets and other supplies as they sprinted back and forth. Not quite as panic-stricken as she’d thought.

Dodging through the crowd, she searched for the power station. Then she saw it—a gray cube about a meter high. Missus ran toward her from the opposite direction. Her young son bounced in her arms. Lathi looked horrified.

Impani shouted, “The relays are in place.”

“Give me your gun!” Missus slid Timothy down and dropped to her knees beside him. She opened the grip of the stat-gun.

The power coil nestled into red and white connectors. It looked much smaller than Impani had anticipated. What if it wasn’t compatible with the perimeter coils after all? What would they do then?

She smacked the corners of the control panel with the heel of her hand, trying to open it, but grit and gravel had jammed it shut. With a grappling hook from her pack, she pried an edge. The panel popped, exposing an interior layered with thumbnail-sized circuit chips. They looked like a rainbow.

Missus tapped the gun’s power unit into her palm. Stripping off the connectors, she hot-wired the coil into a spot for a component twice its size.

Impani winced with a sudden jab of panic. It wasn’t going to work. They had to standardize the output. She studied the board, struggling to concentrate over the screams around her. “You should remove that shunt.”

“No. We need it to channel excess energy to ground.”

“But now you need to send any surplus to the smaller coil.”

Missus glanced up. “This isn’t the time to experiment.”

“It will work.” Impani brushed the woman’s hands away and disconnected the shunt. “We’ll set a jumper to keep it from arcing.”

“Not bad. Did you learn that at your academy?”

“Some.” She shrugged. “Mostly, I’m self-taught.”

“That explains why you can think beyond the manual.”

Shouts cut the din. “Soldiers! It’s soldiers!”

Timothy whimpered and clung to his mother’s coat.

Missus frowned. “Here they come.”

Hundreds of ants swarmed toward them. But they didn’t march like an army. They seemed disorganized, jostling each other, even climbing over one another in their effort to reach the compound. Skirmishes broke out. Blades flew.

Impani pulled her gaze back to the control panel. Her hands shook. She couldn’t reach inside. “Give me a minute.”

“We don’t have a minute!”

She tore off her gloves and immediately regretted it. Her fingers numbed with the cold. Fumbling, she set the jumper. “Done!”

Missus flipped a lever. A rising whine joined the yells of the colonists. Impani sat back, scarcely breathing, staring at the approaching ants. Sunlight glinted from their spearheads, from the black orbs of their eyes. Then a flash encased the nearest ant. Another flash. The ants fell back.

“It’s working,” Missus whispered.

Impani stood. The camp blazed with brief flashes of light. The ants couldn’t get through the perimeter guard. “We did it.”

“You did it,” Missus told her. Tears shone in her eyes.

The alarmed cries of the colonists grew into a deafening cheer. People converged upon them, hugging Missus and slapping Impani on the back.

Smiling and nodding distractedly, Impani pulled on her gloves and tucked her frozen hands into her armpits. She watched the ants beyond the barrier.

The frenzied creatures battered the guard. Fights broke out among them. Suddenly they were slaughtering one another. Blades sang. Beaks sank into mid-sections. The white stone ran with yellow blood.

The cheer fell.

“What are they doing?”

“They’re killing each other.”

“Keep this up, and there will be no more ants to fear.”

“There will always be more ants. If this tribe falls, another will take its place.”

Impani looked at them. They huddled together, as afraid as they’d ever been. They should never have been sent to this world. It was a mistake. A Scouting mistake. At least with the perimeter guard repaired, the colony had a chance.

A sob hiccupped in her chest. If she had saved Trace, they would have had a chance, too.

<<>>

T
race crawled out from beneath the huge queen ant. Her head had exploded. He backed away, staring, wiping yellow goo from his mask.

From behind him, a bug wrapped its spindly arms about his chest. Trace threw back his head but was unable to strike the creature. He flipped forward, hoping to throw it off, but the bug tightened its grip. Cutting him in two.

The bug jerked and twisted. Something splashed Trace’s neck. It jerked again then fell. Trace grasped his chest and turned around.

Larry swung a lead pipe and bashed in the bug’s head. Gore dripped from his clothing as if he’d been on a killing spree.

“Thanks,” Trace wheezed.

“Found this in the stockpile.” He panted. “Don’t know why we didn’t think of using good old fashioned clubs before.”

“Let’s get out of here.”

But before they could reach the cave mouth, a ruckus sounded outside. Ants poured into the corridor. At least fifty of them. They crawled the walls and each other.

Then blood began to fly.

“What the—” Trace flattened against the wall and peered out. “It’s a riot.”

“Why would they attack other ants?”

“I think I started a war when I killed the queen. Unless another queen steps forward, they’ll keep on killing.”

“What should we do? Wait until they’re all dead?”

“That could take days. And if the fighting should spill into here…” Trace glanced about the cave. His old ant farm swam to mind. “Wait. There’s always another entrance into the queen’s chambers. An air hole in case the tunnel collapses.”

He followed the cave wall, stepping gingerly over broken eggs and body parts.

Larry went the opposite way. “Here. I think I’ve found it.”

“Good job.” Trace hurried to him and shone a light up the narrow, slanted tunnel. He took out his gun. “I’ll go first. Stay close.”

<<>>

I
mpani walked at Missus’ side. She felt like second in command. The colonists watched them intently. Now that the camp was smaller, the paddock felt crowded.

“We need an accounting of supplies,” Missus called. “And some of us have lost our homes, so we’ll have to double up.”

“We should get a head count, too,” Impani said in a low voice. “If anyone was caught outside when that perimeter went up, we’ll need to stage a rescue.”

“You’re right,” Missus said. “I’m glad you’re here, Miss Fix.”

Impani smiled. Then a familiar twist jerked her stomach. She gasped.

The Impellic ring was coming.

What should she do? Should she take off her belt and refuse to leave? It was a horrible planet, but at least there were people. Who knew where she’d jump to next.

But what if Trace was still alive? Should she let the ring take her and hope it picked him up, too? Would it even find him underground?

Missus touched her shoulder. “Impani, what’s wrong?”

She backed away. “I have to go.”

“You’re leaving? Now?”

“I’m sorry.”

Missus held her son, the boy’s small arms about her neck—and for a moment, Impani wanted to hug them, let the ring take all three of them away from this hideous world. But she remembered the creature from the forest-fire planet. The ring could carry only two.

“I swear, if I get back to Base, I’ll send help,” Impani said.

Missus nodded. “I know you will.”

Then darkness blotted out the woman’s face, erased the camp as if it had never been.

Impani screwed up her face against a bout of tears. How could she leave those poor people? How could she not? Her body stretched, and her very molecules threatened to burst.

Please let the ring find Trace. Please don’t let him be dead.

A solid blow drove out all thought. She hit the ground rolling. A caustic gasp blistered her throat. With a strangling noise, she clutched her neck, eyes streaming, stomach clenched.

Numbly, she fastened her mask. She tried to breathe, concentrated upon taking a single breath, but for a terrifying moment, she couldn’t make her lungs work. Liquid fire coursed through her veins. Her limbs twitched. Muscles twisted into painful knots. She rolled onto her side and cradled her chest.

“Trace,” she said hoarsely as if her throat were shredding. Lifting onto her elbows, she called as loudly as she could, “Trace!”

The sky flashed, and the ground shook with thunder. She sat, feeling queasy and weak. She was alone. Her partner was not in sight.

“Trace,” she whispered.

Why hadn’t the ring picked him up? Had he been too deep beneath the stone for the homing beacon to penetrate? Had the ants taken off his belt? What if he was in that hive right now, waiting for her, expecting her to rescue him?

She drew her knees to her chest. Tears spattered her mask. She should have stayed behind to look for him. He was her partner. Partners stick together. But even as she thought it, she knew he was much more. He was brave and smart and… he was gone.

She struggled to her feet. Shades of orange painted the landscape with jagged boulders and rough hills. Flaked rock covered the ground like rust. Overhead, a gas-giant planet filled the sky with muted bands of brown.

She saw no life at all. She was alone.

Suddenly she leaned forward, seized by a fit of coughing. Breath raged in her throat. Her chest felt crushed in a vice.

She checked the environmental sensors on her sleeve. The atmosphere was oxygen-based but with enough toxins to poison her. She would have died with prolonged exposure.

When would she learn to keep her mask in place?

Hands on her knees, she caught her breath. A whining sound drew her attention. Beneath the skinsuit, her flesh prickled.

The world flashed inferno red. A lightning bolt knocked her off her feet. Searing heat shot through her skinsuit. The ground shook and split. A jagged fissure grew where the bolt had struck. Fragments of rock peppered her mask.

Impani ran. Thunder boomed around her. Thick bolts of electricity spiked the ground and branched overhead like tree limbs. Rock flew with each strike. Rifts opened, some over a meter in width. She leaped across, her breath rasping painfully, legs shaking. Her skin tingled with countless minute shocks.

Then a bolt struck nearly on top of her, encasing her in electric brilliance. The world teetered. Her boots slid as the ground dropped. She twisted, fighting the fall, flailing her arms. The fissure opened wider and swallowed her.

She landed on her back with a loud
oof
. Darkness was absolute. She raised a hand to her mask. She couldn’t see it, couldn’t tell if her eyes were open or closed.

Where was the light? How far had she fallen? Was it ten meters or one hundred? She gasped, arms outstretched against the blackness. Thunder shook the rock. It sounded muffled and dull.

I’m blind. The lightning—

Panic erupted from the back of her throat. “Help me!” she screamed. “Somebody help!”

Memories enveloped her, and she was again a young girl trapped in a trash compactor. She felt the rawness of her throat once more, felt fear-sweat on her brow—and the horrific touch of unseen creatures moving. Slithering.

But I’m not a young girl. I’m a cadet.

She slowed her breathing until she could no longer hear it. Searching her belt, she took out her flashlight.

Something touched her shoulder.

Her heart froze mid-beat. Stop it! You’re imagining things. She switched on the lamp.

It wouldn’t light. She clapped it against her palm, her pulse rising like a siren. Fear tickled the back of her neck.

No. Not fear. Something touched her.

She gasped and wrested away. Cold fingers clenched her stomach. Something moved in the dark.

Wide-eyed, she waited.

Gently, a tentacle drifted around her neck. She knocked it away, touching it, feeling it and yet not feeling it, as if it were the darkness itself reaching for her, pulsing, entwining. Panic stripped her mind. She kicked blindly, striking nothing, trying to turn, to crawl away.

Darkness enfolded her in its many arms, tendrils slinking over her, thick pulsing worms winding about her body, sliding, writhing. Consciousness slipped as if her mind took a step back, disconnecting from the horror even as her body sank deeper. Terror gurgled in her throat.

A glove pierced the dark.

“Grab on!” Trace yelled.

Impani blinked. She reached for the hand, felt it tighten about her fingers, pulling her. The darkness resisted, would not set her free. She heard a wet, sucking sound, and then dim light broke over her. She gasped, kicking hard, scrambling upward as if she’d been drowning, crawling from the hole that was three meters deep, not ten, not one hundred. She hadn’t fallen far at all. She rolled onto the surface and sobbed.