A killbeast!
screeched Fryx in his mind. A wash of numbing horror swept over them both.
Seventeen
“Lieutenant Ferguson, main doors, are you ready?”
“Affirmative, Chief.”
“Team A, aft doors?”
“Check.”
“Auxiliary portals?”
“We’re ready, sir.”
“All right, let’s take back our hold,” said the Security Chief, moving down a steep service shaft behind a squadron of his green-suited troops. Beads of sweat matted his hair inside his helmet and made his face and neck itch intolerably. It was with great trepidation that he led his men into the hold in search of the mech platoon. His right hand, healed over with nu-skin, still pained him, but it wouldn’t keep him from pulling the trigger.
On close-range intercom, one of his sergeants tapped his shoulder and said, “I’ve got a full load of grenade-launchers right behind us, sir. The Lieutenant Ferguson’s Marine weaponeers are packing their mortars as well, just in case.”
“I hope we won’t need them.”
“So do I, Chief.”
The Chief hoped they wouldn’t have to use explosives even more than his men did. The Captain had used the direst threats in conjunction with even carrying such things near his precious cargo. The Chief had ignored his orders and brought them along. He wasn’t about to send his troops against combat mechs without everything available in their hands.
For the first hour or so, the hunt in the great hold was relatively uneventful. Except for pre-arranged, tightly-beamed communications between the teams, communications were kept to a minimum. Closing on the mechs was extremely difficult in the miles of equipment. Tracking them with sensors, the original plan, was impossible, as the mechs had immediately destroyed them all.
Crouching beneath a giant packing crate containing a construction crane, the Chief activated his phone. It was time to find out how the other teams were doing.
“Main doors? How’s it going, Lieutenant?”
“Check, we’ve moved in about a mile, nothing to report.”
“Aft doors?”
“No contact, sir. Are we sure they’re still in here?”
“Auxiliary portals?”
Silence.
“Auxiliary portals? Report your status.”
Due to the perfection of the technology, there wasn’t even the hiss of static to entice him. The Chief began to sweat profusely.
“All teams, head for the Auxiliary portals. Back-up teams head for the flitter bays. We may have a breach.”
* * *
The mech lieutenant slid his optics carefully over the corpses, looking for signs of resistance. There was none. Silently, he ordered his platoon forward. Padding past the dead men and through the auxiliary portals and into the service shafts, the mechs moved with unnatural speed. They were little more than a pack of massive gray shadows, nightmares of flesh and metal.
They didn’t head for the flitter bays, however. Instead, they ran through the dim-lit shafts of the
Gladius
to the engine rooms. Brushing aside the panicked engineers who fled for their lives, they took a few hostages, trained their weapons on them, and dictated their terms.
* * *
A white-faced comm officer signaled desperately, trying to get the Captain’s attention. Sitting comfortably in his quarters, the Captain ignored his efforts for several minutes. He was viewing a particularly good erotic holo and grew angrier by the second as the damned intercom kept chiming. Finally, he paused the holo and activated the intercom.
“What? What is it now, man?”
“Sir, we have an emergency.”
The Captain groaned, heaving his great bulk erect. Even the half-standard gravity, provided by centrifugal forces as the
Gladius
rotated, was becoming an annoyance. He would have to
consider lowering it to one-third standard, and damn the health regulations.
“What’s the problem?” he barked.
“It’s from the engineering room, sir—”
“Just put it on the holo, will you?” he said, slamming down the handset.
The comm-officer clittered at his keyboard. A shocking image flickered into life in front of the Captain’s easy chair. It was the mech lieutenant. Implanted in the steel head-encasement in the midst of a face of waxen flesh, the thing’s optics slid about disconcertingly.
“What is THIS?” demanded the Captain. Thinking that a horror-holo from the ship’s library had somehow been patched into his personal system, he hammered his fist on the control console.
“If this is some cadet’s idea of a joke, I’ll have him doing radiation inspections of the aft exhaust ports until he’s nothing but a mass of tumors,” he vowed.
“We do not require the surrender of your ship,” said the apparition on the holo-plate, “but you will give us four flitters suitable for a combat descent.”
Slowly, the reality of the situation dawned on the Captain. “What are you talking about? Are you one of those mad-dog machines?”
“I am Lieutenant Rem-9. I am assigned to Lucas Droad, Planetary Governor of Garm. My mission is to—”
“I don’t give a frig what your mission is!” shouted the Captain. “What are you doing in my engine room?”
With an air of tried patience, Rem-9 repeated the end of his statement. “My mission is to locate Lucas Droad and defend him from an unspecified emergency situation. You will provide me with four flitters, or we will perforate the stern engine cupola. The resulting lack of lift will cause the
Gladius
to sink into the atmosphere.”
“You’re mad! The ship would tear apart! It isn’t built for atmospheric pressures. We would all be crushed!”
The mech gave no sign of concern. “We will encapsulate ourselves in packing foam and eject during the reentry. Some of us may survive to achieve our mission.”
The Captain argued further, but the Rem-9 was adamant. He provided video feed proving his claims. High explosives taken from the dead security men were already wired into place. Remote control detonators were ready for use. The heavy blast shielding that surrounded the engine rooms had been lowered and sealed; there was no safe way to get at them in there.
Within minutes stark fear replaced outrage on the Captain’s face. If they wanted to, these crazy machines could bring down his ship. For the first time in many centuries of cyro-sleeping between star-systems, he saw the possible end of his career, even his life.
“I should never have come to this miserable system,” he lamented into his phone. “Give them the flitters.”
As soon as the order had been given, his fears redoubled. He sealed off his quarters and refused entry to everyone, including his Security Chief, although he dearly would have loved to discuss the high explosives with him. Foremost in his thoughts was Mai Lee’s reaction to all this. Vengeful and cruel, she had long arms and her agents were renown for showing up at the crucial moment. He put nothing beyond the reach of that cold witch.
* * *
“The Militia reservists are here, sir,” the orderly repeated for the third time.
General Ari Steinbach snorted, then rose up blearily. The coat he had been using as a blanket slipped off his chest and onto the floor of the limo. With a heavy sigh he blinked red-rimmed eyes at the setting sun outside.
After the abortive attack on the spaceport last night, things had reduced to the level of a slow siege. Neither side had made any serious moves toward resolving the issue. Ari had spent much of the night and the early morning calling up the militia commanders he could find, ordering them to mobilize every unit in the province. His alarm had increased steadily as he realized that most of the officers could not be found. In fact, every officer who had attended the Militiaman’s banquet last night was absent.
“Have any scouts returned from the Fort? What’s the situation up there?”
“Still unknown, sir. The earliest scouts we sent out last night disappeared, as you know,” said the lieutenant, absently sipping a cup of steaming hot caf. A light blanket of slushy snow coated the limo. Overhead the skies were still dark and pregnant, although there hadn’t been any snowfall in hours. “The most recent reports indicated that no one can get into the gates. Sniper fire has killed everyone attempting to enter the compound. KXUT claims the Fort, like the spaceport, is in the hands of Lucas Droad the ‘Pirate Governor’.”
“Well, it isn’t,” snapped Ari irritably. He took a proffered cup of hot caf and tossed it down. Donning his coat and stretching he marched for the lifters.
“Major Lee!” he shouted, cupping his hands over his mouth to increase his volume. “Come out of there.”
Major Drick Lee slowly opened the pilot’s cupola and eyed the General with distaste. It appeared that he too, had been asleep.
“I need you to call that witch of an Aunt of yours and get some answers.”
Major Lee appeared disinterested. “Why don’t you call her?”
“Because she isn’t responding to my attempts. I know you have special methods.”
Major Lee gave him a dark look. “Are you accusing me of spying, sir?”
“Forget the semantics. We’re in a serious and incomprehensible situation. Who is in control of Fort Zimmerman? What are all these reports of animal attacks and alien invaders? What is going on out in the Slipape counties? Who is fighting whom, Major? I want answers.”
A tall man with severely short red hair and cold blue eyes crunched up through the snow to join them. An antiquated pipe stuck out of his mouth, inside it a stimulant burned, producing a cloud of bluish smoke.
Ari regarded him with little enthusiasm. “Yes?”
“Are we planning to assault the new Governor, sir? Because if we are, I can’t say that my men and I much like the idea.”
“No, we’re planning to take out one terrorist and self-proclaimed dictator,” replied Ari with sudden fury. Why was it that no one showed him the respect his uniform deserved? “And just exactly who are you?”
“Madison, sir. Militia reservist Captain, Company C, Group Five reporting sir,” answered the man in an unhurried fashion. “I’ve just come in from Hofstetten, and I couldn’t help overhearing that you don’t grasp the situation.”
Ari and Drick both looked at him in askance.
“They’re aliens, sirs,” the man said simply. He sucked on his pipe for a moment then relit it before continuing. “Aliens are all over Hofstetten, that’s why we were already mobilizing and why we got here ahead of most of the other units. Killed a lot of good people last night and today, cut off all our communications, too. The nets are down all over the colony.”
“And what do these aliens look like, commander?” asked Drick contemptuously.
“Sort of like fast air-swimmers, mostly, but they can drop snake-like things out of their bodies. There are other kinds, too, but the worst are the dinosaur-types. They run like ostriches and carry weapons like a man.”
Drick laughed.
“I must say that is a rather amazing story,” said Ari. “It seems remarkable that KXUT hasn’t reported any of these sightings, doesn’t it?”
The man pulled out his pipe, examined it closely, then placed it back in his mouth. “Not really. KXUT’s been off the net for hours. All they are playing now is pre-recorded stuff. It’s not even the right stuff, just yesterday’s daytime programming. No news reports, no live stuff at all.” The man turned and crunched back through the snow to his unit.
The officers frowned after him.
“Whatever is happening, we need to get this business with Droad over with so we can go handle it,” said Ari, rubbing his hands together. “Damn, I’m beginning to wish I’d called in sick this week.”
Major Lee nodded in agreement. “I’ll try to contact the senator. She may know something.”
“If she doesn’t, then no one does. I’ll gather up the men. We have an army of militia troops now and the 1st tactical squad is up to full strength, although God only knows where the 2nd squad is. Let’s finish this thing with Droad.”
He moved off and soon had two ragged lines of six full militia companies formed up. He ordered them to attack in waves, the first leading the second by two minutes. Ahead of the first wave was the 1st tactical squad, eager for a rematch with Droad’s giants.
Hundreds of men moved through the parking lots, firing as they came. The fresh white snow was trampled to gray slush, then splattered red in places as return fire found targets.
“We have overwhelming numbers. We can’t lose,” whispered Ari, half to himself. He eagerly trained his goggles on the area of the baggage lockers in the arrivals section. Already he was planning how to get back his satchel in a smooth manner that would arouse no undue suspicion.
Drick, standing at his side, commented, “You seem unusually eager to see this battle through, General.”
“It’s my job,” answered Ari.
“Yes, but it just doesn’t seem like you—”
He broke off at the screaming sound of missiles in flight.
“The missile batteries have finally opened up!” shouted Drick exuberantly.
“No, damn it, no!” hissed Ari through clenched teeth. He hunkered down and focused his goggles on the front walls of the terminal building, fully expecting to see them disintegrate in a fireball. But instead of falling on the spaceport, sounds of explosions erupted from downtown Grunstein. He looked that way and his mouth gaped in amazement. The top third of the KXUT building, including the dish and the transmitter had been blown completely away.