Relic Tech (Crax War Chronicles) (64 page)

“O’Vorley, Keesay,” ordered Sayrah, “load one of these heavy lasers onto that wagon. The other on the truck.”

Several of the conscripts helped load crates filled with small arms and ammunition. Two others refueled the truck from a ten-liter canister. The diesel fuel fumes again reminded me of the
Kalavar
.

I shook it off and followed Sayrah into the bunker. “The armored column is moving slow but closing,” I said. The bunker was half empty but still held rows of artillery shells and crates of weapons.

She went to work. “Just setting a little surprise.” Sayrah connected a wire to a laser pistol, wedged and aimed at a stack of diesel fuel cans and broken artillery shells. She picked up a can of diesel. At the top of the steps she tipped the can, allowing fuel to spill onto the soil. “Cover the smell below.”

I nodded in approval and looked over my shoulder.

“Keesay,” said Sayrah. “You’re competent under fire. In the wagon. Man the laser. O’Vorley, on the ATV.” She climbed behind the truck’s wheel and yelled out the window. “Old man, up here next to me. Anybody else who’s coming, in the back now.” She put it in gear. Everyone boarded. “O’Vorley, go on ahead. If any Crax are ahead of us, you be the rabbit they’ll chase. We’ll rumble on behind.”

“Sure thing, Sergeant.”

I tossed a couple of the wagon’s food sacks into the window and then to some of the hands calling over the truck’s railing. I handed O’Vorley an abandoned canteen. He took several swallows. I took two gulps and tossed the half-empty canteen to Sergeant Sayrah. “Let’s go.” I looked back. “They’re closer to us than we are to the city.”

“Where to?” he asked.

I scanned the pillars of smoke rising from the distant city. “Know where the hospital is? It’s near the café. Let’s try for it until something better comes along.”

Kent gave a lopsided grin. Most of the paralyzing toxin had been neutralized. “Hang on, Kra. And look sharp.” He gunned it.

We’d raced for almost two miles through the fields, leading Sergeant Sayrah’s truck and pulling away from the mechanized Crax regiment. O’Vorley managed to avoid most of the ruts and ditches, making my wagon ride tolerable. He slowed as we passed by a dozen dead, bloated goats scattered among the dying vegetation. I knew the soil was dead as well. I signaled for O’Vorley to move on. I didn’t want to picture two days hence when fallen soldiers would similarly litter the countryside.

“From what I’m getting over the com-set,” I yelled to O’Vorley, “they’ve advanced through the north side. Scattered troop drops throughout. Street-to-street fighting.”

“Better chance there than out here in the open,” replied O’Vorley.

I scanned the sky again. “Oh, crap! Ground assault shuttle three o’clock.” I swung the heavy laser around and waited for it to come into range. “Any cover?”

“Their sensors can read through concrete. If they take an interest in us.” He hesitated while negotiating a steep bank. “You’ll have to take them down.”

“Understood,” I said, trying to keep the tripod in place. The food packed around helped. “Slow down. Here they come.” I lined up, giving much less lead than I would with my shotgun or revolver. I depressed the trigger. Right on target. “It’s got a shield up!”

O’Vorley accelerated. I sent several more blasts. The rough terrain made all go wild.

“We’ll head for the quarry,” said O’Vorley.

I’d seen a gravel pit on the way out to the trench line. “Good idea. Cover.” I watched the shuttle approach. “They’re trying to decide on us or the truck.”

“The more they hesitate, the closer we get.”

“I’d hate to see Sergeant Sayrah have to face them with that crew.” I aimed and fired, on target. The shuttle vectored toward us. “Made up their mind.”

“What’s the plan?” asked O’Vorley.

“Plan? Gravel pit’s your idea.”

“Figured we’d stand a better chance in the rock piles and equipment. Against ground troops, too.”

“Sounds good,” I said. “If we can get there. We’ll split up so we can get shots from behind.” I fired again and missed.

“Avoid the shields,” said O’Vorley, looking over his shoulder. “They’re getting close.”

The ventral turret spun to life. “Turret active!”

O’Vorley slowed and turned sharply toward the shuttle. “Take a shot when she flies over.”

I struggled to keep the wagon from tipping and the laser from going over the side. “Sounds good.”

A stream of caustic pellets raked the ground ahead. O’Vorley cut left, too sharp. The wagon tumbled. I rolled away as it unhitched. Several pellets stuck its bottom and ate through.

I staggered to my feet. O’Vorley pulled around. “Get on!”

I eyed the quarry a few hundred yards away. “No. Split up. Without the laser they can close and nail us. With me on it’d be too slow,” I lied. I didn’t wait for his answer. Shotgun in hand I broke into a sprint.

The returning GAS didn’t give time for debate. “Keep low, Kra!” He gunned the throttle.

I waved but didn’t turn. I concentrated on hurdling a ditch. A second ditch thirty yards beyond angled toward the road leading into the quarry. It’d offer some cover.

The sound of the ATV faded. I looked over my shoulder just in time to see the GAS make a touch landing, dropping a squad of Stegmar and one Gar-Crax. The shuttle then flew off after O’Vorley.

I had a 120 yard lead when they touched down and added thirty before they organized for pursuit. I gave up on the ditch and headed straight for the gravel pit road. If they got a lucky shot, oh well.

A few pellets flew past as I huffed through the quarry’s chain link entry. No one had bothered to close it. The Stegmar sounding intensified. With the CNS modulator it wasn’t a problem, but it told me they were closing. Stegmar can’t run as fast as a human but they can fly for short spurts, and Gar-Crax can reach thirty miles per hour.

I made it around a rough boulder marking the edge of the descending road. It sizzled with impacts. I popped over the top and returned fire. I caught the ten Stegmar and Crax leader at forty yards, charging in the open. I dropped three Stegmar and injured one. I didn’t bother with the leader. Two Stegmar returned covering fire while the rest made for the ditch. I wounded two more with buckshot. The leader kept coming so I fled left, descending the dusty road along the quarry’s west wall.

What I wouldn’t give for a grenade, I thought. I slid behind the fourth edge-lining bolder just before the Crax leader made it to the first. Unless he was both blind and stupid, the settling dust would indicate my location. But he’d abandoned his support. Unwise, just like armor outpacing supporting infantry. But what if they were spreading along the ledge?

I peered over the edge at a sixty-foot drop. A shallow pool of water ran along the rough wall. I slung my shotgun and slid over the edge. Not enough time to descend, so I located handholds and perches while maneuvering to my right, toward the distant fifth boulder. I made it under a six-inch overhang before drawing my revolver left-handed. I thumbed the hammer and waited. It was a fifty-fifty chance. If the Crax came around the boulder and looked, I was betting he’d look around to the right first. I might get one shot inside his shield.

Thirty seconds passed. I’d caught my breath but my right hand began cramping. Then the fourth rock sizzled. Heavy treads approached the edge followed by a clucking hiss. The big reptile’s halberd-rifle emerged over the ledge first. The Crax leaned and searched right. I risked a quarter-second aim.

The AP round struck the Crax in the jaw and burst through its skull. The Gar-Crax tumbled into the pond below.

I holstered my revolver and risked a wild descent. Twice, I almost fell before hang dropping eight feet. The Stegmars reached the ledge but their angle was poor. One attempted a scaling descent. Another flew out and around. I nailed the one in flight and popped away from the wall to waste the second. Then, I waded through the thigh-deep water to the dead Crax. I searched his body. Anything electronic I smashed, thinking something might be a locator. Grabbing its halberd, I moved away and depressed the trigger. Nothing. No safeties. Must’ve been protected from unauthorized use, so I tossed it on the floating corpse before shooting an AP round into the magazine. That did it. I ran from the water when the torso erupted in froth.

I looked over my shoulder. Near the entrance two Stegmar pointed. One held up a small box to its mandibles. A radio. They backed away when I turned to fire. “Damn,” I said. “Reinforcements.”

I made my way past several huge gravel mounds and the conveyers that had piled them. I climbed onto a large dump truck to survey the quarry. There was only one exit with two Stegmars posted there, watching my movements. How long before reinforcements? The armored regiment couldn’t be far behind. Trapped. I wondered if O’Vorley or Sergeant Sayrah would make it to the city.

I’d read that Stegmar eyesight was better close than far, picking up only distant movement at best. I estimated my distance as 300 yards before raising my shotgun as if to fire. They took cover. I maneuvered around more equipment, stepped in view and repeated the threat. They retreated after hesitation. Was it sight, or disbelief that I’d fire? I guessed a little of both.

If I was fast enough, I could reach the east wall and attempt to climb. I picked my way, going under equipment, staying in shadows and between gravel piles and debris.

In the base of a refuse pile I spotted a frosty plastic box. I’d seen similar aboard the
Kalavar
, holding some of Mer’s frozen fish. The scanable ID marking was missing. I looked around and spotted an area surrounded by a tall, rusted, chain link fence. Razor wire lined the top. Scattered beyond rested broken-down equipment. It reminded me of the junkyard near my uncle’s farm. The fence was chained with an impressive padlock. Nothing else I’d seen was locked. Why this?

Further inspection revealed holes in the fence and the rock beyond. This wasn’t the only place Crax caustic bombardment had gone astray. I crawled through instead of risking the razor wire, and also revealing my position.

The distant rumble of war accented by nearer tank and artillery fire kept me alert. I wove my way to the back where the most stripped and useless equipment rested. Behind a damaged bulldozer blade was a large cast iron door. Weather had taken its toll. A battered sign whose red paint had faded to pink hung by a single bolt. It read, ‘Danger, Demolition Equipment.’

A bolt of Crax acid had dissolved the base of the iron door. An oval hole two-feet high and nearly as wide invited inspection. A few gravel tosses convinced me the acid residue was inert.

I peered into darkness. My penlight didn’t reveal much more. It offered possible concealment, so I shoved my shotgun ahead and climbed through. Inside I found a few scattered crates, and some sort of glassy wires running into holes along the walls, and one into each crate. The wires gathered together in a bundle. I followed them down a thirty-foot corridor to a wide set of stairs. No lighting was apparent.

I returned to the door, climbed out and looked around. I found a flat tire still on its rim and hauled it back. After climbing back inside I maneuvered the tire in front of the hole. Then, I reexamined the stone stairway. Before my boot touched the first step a pulse of energy coursed through my body. Blackness followed.

The number of extinct alien cultures far outnumbers those currently known to exist. Those that never reached the stars most frequently perished because of natural disasters, followed by disease, and then war. Clues of cultural decadence are rare but not unheard of during the waning period of a sentient race’s existence.

For those far more rare species that reach the stars, a natural disaster may be a catalyst, but rarely the ultimate cause of its demise. Except for two documented instances where disease drove a space-faring race to extinction, all others were directly related to war. Sometimes an invading race is the cause. Sometimes an aggressive or unwise race incurred the wrath of a more powerful foe. Sometimes internal strife and resulting conflict brought a race to its end. Internal strife and an external aggressor are common denominators in almost three-fifths of known lost space-faring cultures.

I awoke, but didn’t open my eyes. I was on my back, level. A band constricted my chest. As I exhaled, my breath sifted through cloth or a mask. I listened and heard breathing mingled with tapping. Breathing regular, tapping, no pattern. It struck me as familiar. A clicking of sticks on stone approached.

“Keesay, it knows you’re awake.”

I flexed and discovered I was strapped across not only my chest, but arms, wrists, thighs, and ankles. “McAllister?” My voice was muffled. I craned my neck to see. “What are you doing here? Where’s here?” I caught sight of eyes on stalks examining me.

“Probably hasn’t seen a living relic up close before,” McAllister said. Her mismatched green and blue eyes sparkled above a white surgical-type mask.

“Is there a reason I’m tied down?” I scanned the small room. Beyond my feet, a wall of computers hummed with activity. To my right, gray stone. To my left, a wall with large wire-reinforced windows showing a stone corridor. “We’re all on the same side.” A hinged metal door stood ajar.

“I vouched for you, but here I’m only an apprentice engineer.”

The Bahklack sidestepped around the table before clicking its way over to a control panel.

“Where’s here?” I watched the crab-alien manipulate controls. The displays pulsated a rainbow of colors.

“Can’t tell you.”

“Can’t or won’t?”

“I won’t because I’m not in a position to do so.” She shifted positions on the tall stool. “A higher authority will have to sanction it.”

“Being a junior engineer doesn’t upset you?”

“Not under these circumstances.”

“What?” I asked. “That New Birmingham is under assault?”

“Give me more credit than that.”

“The Phibs recruited you? They take their pick from the brightest. Intelligence, you fit.”

“They prefer the term Umbelgarri.”

I looked around, realizing they’d be monitoring. “Umbelgarri then. I’m on their side.”

“This place is pretty important to them,” McAllister explained. “They’re pretty secretive.”

“I know, but strapped down hampers my ability to kill their enemy. Our enemy. Last I knew, the Crax were routing us.”

“I think that’s the only thing keeping you alive. How’d you know that Gar-Crax would look right first?”

“What? You saw that?”

She nodded.

“A guess. Figured it was inexperienced because it left its Stegmar support. It was working on impulse. My first impulse would’ve been to look right.”

“I told them about your efforts aboard the
Kalavar
and on the quarantine planet.”

“Can’t do much more to convince them,” I said. “If I found this place, they’ll find it.”

“I think that’s what has them worried. Collapsing the entrance now would attract undue attention.”

“Let me go and I’ll leave. Not a word.”

“What if you’re captured? Unlikely, but possible.”

“I can be pretty tight lipped when I want to be. Besides, an intel guy on Mavinrom shot me up with something to prevent me from being chemically forced to reveal information.”

McAllister stood. “Really? Why?”

“Classified,” I said. “What if this is an elaborate hologram?”

The Bahklack turned. A rectangular patch on its large claw flowed patterned colors. A speaker in the ceiling voiced the translation. “Tell us.”

“No. It’s classified.”

“We require the information. Proof or we will terminate you.”

I tried to move my hands. No luck. Damned if I do and damned if I don’t. “Do what you have to.”

“In my expert opinion,” warned McAllister, “I’d say they’re serious.”

“The least they could do is drop me on a nest of Crax. At least I’d go out fighting.”

“This isn’t a hologram, Keesay. It’s not that they don’t think like us, but they won’t hesitate to end your life.” She stood. “Actually, they might think more like you. You don’t seem to hesitate before killing.”

“In the line of duty, no,” I said. “Do you know if O’Vorley got away from the ground assault shuttle?”

“O’Vorley?”

“Young guy. You saw him in our bunker.”

“Shouldn’t you be worried about your own life?”

“Out of my hands. I doubt I’ll manage to escape. O’Vorley?”

“ I don’t know. The Umbelgarri have been monitoring communications. Seems there’s one Gar-Crax, equivalent to a colonel, who the Umbelgarri think is hunting for you.”

I thought a second and smiled. “Probably the elite Crax I stabbed in the rump.”

“He’s on his way to your last sighting. Human with an advanced spear-gun that expels lead balls.”

“Translated from Crax to Umbelgarri, and into English. Still coherent. What about Tahgs? Is she okay?”

“Last I saw her,” said McAllister, “she was assigned to a mobile medical squad. Coordinating communications.” McAllister looked away.

“What is it?”

“I don’t know, Keesay.” McAllister’s gaze hardened. Then she shrugged her shoulders. “When Tahgs heard you were planetside, she suddenly believed we’d repel the invaders. She had more questions about you than I could ever answer. I said you’re an accomplished killer with tenacious sense of duty, and would make an ideal soldier. I explained that our survival rested on reinforcements, not an R-Tech security specialist.”

McAllister shook her head.
“Tahgs was sure you’d be there if things got desperate. You know, her knight in shining armor.”

I knew why Tahgs felt that way. More than once I’d saved her. But my feelings for Janice were none of McAllister’s business. “Accomplished killer?” I asked.

“The truth, Keesay. You’re effective. Nothing more.”

The fate of O’Vorley and Tahgs was out of my hands. “Are there any guppies down here?”

“What? Aren’t you worried about the Crax warrior?”

“No. Our allies are going to do his job for him. I saw something in a debris pile.”

“Maybe. You’re not all there anymore, are you, Keesay?”

“And you’re one to judge?” There was momentary silence. The crab-alien moved busily around the room. “The Colonization Riots,” I said. “I’m truly sorry about killing your fiancé.”

McAllister’s face darkened. “They know about that,” she said. “Don’t try to bring me down with you.”

“I didn’t mean it that way,” I said. “Really. Just trying to clear the slate.” I closed my eyes. “Honestly, I can’t think of a way out of this situation.” That was the truth. I wouldn’t kill any of humanity’s most important ally to save myself. One of them meant more to humanity’s survival than one of me.

I opened my eyes to see McAllister’s raised skeptical eyebrow.

I closed my eyes. “Even if I
somehow
got out of this bed, I’d have to best you and at least this Bahklack, barehanded? And if I did, where would I go? Unarmed out into the quarry, if I could find it before I tripped some A-Tech security measures, or was brought down with one of their golden energy beams?”

I took a deep breath and opened my eyes. McAllister was standing next to me. “I see you got a chain for Gudkov’s ring. Do me one favor.”

“What would that be, Keesay?”

Request your superior to give me two minutes notice before they follow through.”

“This doesn’t sound like you, Keesay. Giving up.”

I shrugged as much as my restraints allowed. “Believe me, my mind is working. At least you spoke up for me.”

She rubbed the platinum ring. “Two minutes. I’ll do that.” She paused. “Would you want me to pray for you? The same words you said for Anatol?”

“No. That’d be really out of character for you.” I peered into her mismatched eyes and re-evaluated. “It would be comforting. For me. Maybe for you, too.”

“You’d do it for me,” she said. “Yeah, I’ll make the request.”

“I should’ve taken your advice. Learn to think more than three moves ahead. Good luck in your new assignment.”

I stared a moment at the silent Bahklack. “I am thirsty.” I tried to move and get more comfortable despite the restraints before closing my eyes. “Who’d have figured,” I mumbled. “Put to death like a common criminal for trespassing.” I heard McAllister slip out.

I was exhausted from combat, but I didn’t expect to doze off. My first thought upon being startled awake was that they’d drugged me. Someone tugged at my straps.

“They’re going to let you go,” McAllister announced as she moved from my chest to my arms. “Some luck you have.”

“How long have I been asleep?”

“I don’t know. I left you a half hour ago.”

“Did you talk them into it?”

“No,” she said. “All I did on your behalf was to relay the requested two-minute notice. We’ve got to hurry.” She watched me stand and stretch.

“I smell pretty bad, don’t I?”

“I was thinking you could use a shower, Keesay. Our masks don’t filter that out.” She turned toward the door. “This way. Don’t touch anything.”

I grabbed her shoulder, figuring she meant touching equipment. “What’s the deal?”

“Deal? No deal really. I’ll explain along the way.”

I followed her into the corridor. She went left. The ceiling was irregular in height and texture. Cement had been poured to level the floor. It was damp, and small water channels ran along the walls.

“Wet in here,” I said. “Necessary for the Umbelgarri?”

“Comfortable,” she said. “We’re in a cavern complex. I’m leading you to the quarry. You’ll get your guns and equipment there.”

“And?” I slowed.

“Go out and fight the Crax.”

“Go out and get killed.”

She stopped before crossing a carved, stone-block bridge spanning a shallow pool. “More than likely. That elite soldier just landed outside the quarry. It’s looking for you.”

“Yes, it’ll kill me, but that won’t solve the problem. They’ll still find this place.”

“I’ll explain more as we near the exit.”

“I don’t get my equipment until you tell me the plan? They assess. In case I want to back out.”

“After Capital Galactic’s, ahh, shall we say treachery, they’re less open to simply taking a human’s word.”

Movement in the pool caught my attention. I climbed on the bridge and peered into the shallow water. An algae film covered parts. Small fish, guppies, poked at it. Larger forms, mudpuppies, moved along the bottom. “Are those Mer’s fish?”

McAllister said, “Better keep moving, Keesay.”

“Understood.” One of the mudpuppies snapped at a guppy. “Are those immature Umbelgarri?”

“No,” said McAllister. “They’re not native to Tallavaster. I think the Umbelgarri imported them. Food for the Bahklack.”

“Makes sense,” I said. “Grow local food to their tastes. Don’t care much for goat or buckwheat?”

“No, they don’t.” She sighed and gestured with her hand. “Faster would be better.”

We were pretty deep down, maybe a half mile. We crossed several branching areas and one more pond. Lighting became less frequent as we ascended.

Just before we came to a heavy door McAllister faced me. “Here’s the plan. You’re to wait in or near the spare parts yard until the elite Crax locates you. Lure him in and the Umbelgarri will detonate the explosives. Get out if you can manage it. Nevertheless,
it’ll appear to be your handiwork while sealing the cavern entrance.”

“That Crax took at least ten rounds of auto cannon fire. Point-blank range. Even an explosion that kills me outright won’t get him. And too much will be suspicious.” Then it hit me. I stared at McAllister. “Got to admit it, I’m thinking more than two moves ahead.”

“No,” said McAllister. “That’s not it.”

“It’s okay, McAllister. I can show my face, and then fall on my sword. Make it look otherwise. I know what this place is. How important it is to the Umbelgarri.”

“No, no,” McAllister said, grabbing my shoulders. “You’re right. Any explosion big enough to kill the Crax would draw undue attention.” She led me to my equipment, stacked and cleaned.

I buckled on my belt. I examined my equipment and began to load my shotgun.