The Lodestone Trilogy (Limited Edition) (The Lodestone Series) (121 page)

“That settles it,” Lyall said. “We go tonight. Any questions?”

“Just one,” Alondo said. “Assuming we manage to evade the humans and destroy those things, then how do we get out?”

Keris looked around at the roomful of lives that she was about to extinguish and felt the terrible weight of it on her shoulders.

“Leave it to me,” she said.

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Chapter 12

As the cart carrying McCann bucked and pitched over the rugged terrain, the bearded human struggled, knotting his arm muscles and flexing his wrists against the restraints. The cords that bound his hands and feet were of some sort of native fibre—like coarse twine. His Kelanni captor had tied them as tightly as he could manage, and they chafed against his skin whenever he attempted to move. However, if he was going to loose the bindings, then move he must. McCann gritted his teeth, ignoring the discomfort.

A sturdy knife—even a penknife—and he would have been free in seconds. Trouble was, McCann didn’t have a knife. He didn’t have his gamma either. The datapad he had been using just before being knocked senseless was probably still lying on the floor of the bedroom in the house from which he had been taken. He still wore the same undershirt although, mercifully, he had somehow acquired rugged leggings and a pair of native boots while he was unconscious. He supposed he had his young Kelanni friend to thank for that.

The alien boy reminded him of his cousin Max. Mac and Max—it had been something of a joke when they were growing up. Max was a nervous kid with bulging eyes—the result of a thyroid condition—and a quick smile. He and Mac were known for getting into trouble together. When the war with the outer colonies broke out, Max had signed on, against his mother’s wishes. His ship was blown up over a craggy moon known as Himalia on the outer edge of the Jovian system. He was seventeen.

McCann had no wish to harm the kid, but that created a problem. Assuming he managed to free himself and overpower this Yaron, then what? Letting him go wasn’t an option; there was too much of a risk that the boy would get in touch with the authorities and raise the alarm before McCann could arrange passage back to Helice. On the other hand, if he contacted Wang’s Kelanni agents with Yaron in custody, they were just as likely to view the kid as a loose end and arrange for his ‘disappearance’.

If the Captain could hear me now, he’d think I’d gone mad.
Why chew your nails over the demise of one Kelanni youngster when you were preparing to eradicate the whole brood? It was like saving one ant, only to pour boiling water over the nest. Pointless.

Of course, it was not the first time McCann had been involved in such wholesale destruction. Shortly after they had arrived on this planet—before the war with the Kelanni began—Wang ordered him and some others to test a chemical weapon on a remote forest beyond the mountains. The testing was eventually abandoned in favour of developing the Accumulator Device, but not before the forest, with its huge tree at the centre, had withered and died. He remembered flying over the scene. Blasted trunks; grey, leafless branches; soil turned to dust and ash. Even from high up, the devastation and death were all too evident. It almost felt as though he could hear the forest scream.

That was sixteen years ago. He had been much younger then, and everything had seemed so much simpler. If his Captain commanded him to do such a thing now... ?
You’re getting soft in your old age, Mac.

It took fewer than ten more minutes of grunting and grimacing before one of his embattled wrists suddenly pulled free. He sat up, ripped the loose twine from his other hand and from around his legs, massaged the red welts acquired during his struggles, and contemplated his next move.

The wooden cart groaned and the axle creaked. The path they were travelling on was scarcely more than a track—jagged stones poking up through a mixture of mud and slush. McCann wondered briefly why they were not travelling by avionic. It would have been so much faster than this bumpy crawl. Perhaps the boy was too young to pilot it. Or perhaps the family was too poor to own one. Whatever the reason, he was grateful. If it were not for that, then he would likely already have been in Kieroth and in custody.

Time to take charge.
McCann’s gaze rested on the discarded length of twine at his feet. He picked it up and snapped the rough fibre taut between his fists. A grimace played briefly about his lips. Carefully, he crept up to the backboard. The youngster sat hunched over in his fur coverings, fully occupied with the task of controlling the draught animal and trying to avoid an upset. McCann reared up behind him, looped the cord around the boy’s neck, and jerked as hard as he could.

Yaron let out a strangled cry and fell backwards. McCann saw a flash of the young Kelanni’s bulging eyes and wide-open mouth before the alien boy toppled backwards onto him. The two of them fell in a heap and rolled off the back of the cart, landing on the muddy trail with a thick splat.

Somehow, McCann still had the boy in his grip. He pulled once again, trying to constrict the boy’s breathing. He did not want to strangle Yaron, but if he could cause the Kelanni to pass out, things would go a lot easier.

McCann had the edge in physical strength. Humans originated in a higher-gravity environment and although, like the others, he had been stranded on this planet for sixteen years, he had kept in reasonable shape through a strict regime of physical exercise, coupled with supplements designed to counteract bone decalcification. The Kelanni, however, was surprisingly agile. He thrashed about in the icy muck, twisting and contorting like a python in McCann’s grasp. The engineer felt his grip slipping as his hands grew slick with ooze.

Suddenly, the youngster pulled free, got his feet under him, and bounded away, leaving McCann lying on his back, clutching his former captor’s fur coat. The cart rumbled slowly away down the trail, the striped animal continuing to pull it as if nothing had transpired. Yaron was moving away across country, but he appeared to be limping. Maybe his ankle had been twisted during the scuffle?

McCann tossed the garment into the mire and scrambled to his feet. His undershirt was soaked through and filthy, the cold and damp seeping through to his skin. He ignored the discomfort and started after the young Kelanni.

As a boy, he had often played hide and seek with Max. The station’s ‘NFT’, or Nutrient Film Technique Hydroponic Section, was a strictly controlled area, off limits to children, but they had never let a little thing like that stop them. Laughing and dashing between the neat rows of peppers and tomatoes, raspberries and squash; hiding out from the cultivators and their ever-vigilant surveillance cameras—it was as much fun as hiding from each other. But this was not the safety and security of Eridani Station. And the boy teetering away from him was not Max. He was not even human.

Yaron jerked his head back, saw the engineer bearing down on him, and hobbled faster, disappearing around a low hill. McCann broke into a slow run. He didn’t want to be chasing this alien all over the countryside. What was more, he was going to need the cart, and it was getting farther away with every passing minute.

As he jogged across a field of purple lichen interspersed with patches of melting snow, McCann heard a high-pitched cry. Perhaps the boy’s ankle had finally given out. That would simplify matters greatly. Then there was another sound.
A low bestial snarl.

McCann froze in mid-step. There were a number of dangerous species on this planet. His datapad held descriptions of them, but he had only ever skimmed the information; why bother, when travel by avionic made encounters with indigenous wild beasts highly unlikely? Until, that is, he had been transported to a tower in the mountains and brought face to face with a bunch of ice-bound, shaggy monstrosities from the third circle of hell. Now he was stuck out on a plain in the middle of nowhere with no weapon, facing God knew what.

His heart beat faster—a precursor to the primordial instinct of flight. His feet, however, remained stubbornly rooted to the spot.
Can’t take the chance that he’ll get away,
McCann told himself. He set off again at a trot.

The bass growling had now become a chorus. As McCann rounded the side of the hill, he saw a pack of prowling creatures. He was reminded of wolves, but these were like no wolves he had ever seen. Fully five feet long, with tangled grey hair. Rows of sharp teeth set in an oversized head. A bald crown sprouting three wicked-looking horns. He spotted Yaron on the ground, one hand raised in a futile warding-off gesture.

Prudence and common sense suggested that he back off and leave the alien to his fate. McCann continued moving forward.
Guess I must not be feeling very prudent today.
As he approached Yaron’s position, the growling grew deeper, and yellow eyes fixed on him, exuding pure hatred. The horned beasts were jostling each other—urging one another to strike. The young Kelanni jerked his head towards McCann, his terror-stricken expression acknowledging a new threat.

The engineer knelt down beside him. “What are they?”

The boy swallowed. “V-valthar.”

“Well, we can’t stay here. Come on.” McCann reached down and grabbed Yaron’s arm, hauling him to his feet. Fear on the boy’s face was now mixed with bewilderment. “Can you walk?”

“I... I’m n-not sure,” the Kelanni stammered.

McCann pulled the youngster’s arm roughly over one shoulder and began dragging him up the hill, whilst constantly checking over his shoulder. Turning your back on these creatures probably wasn’t the best idea, but there didn’t seem much choice. Yaron limped along as best he could.

During the struggle earlier, water or mud or a mixture of the two had got inside McCann’s boots and was making his feet squelch. He just hated that.
Options.
Run away? These valthar looked pretty swift. They looked as if they could easily chase down an unencumbered human, let alone one weighed down with a crippled alien. That left just one alternative. Fight. As he glanced back and saw the rabid beasts bounding up the hill towards them, the notion seemed absurd in the extreme. Still, it was possible that they possessed some sort of vulnerability. “What do you know about those things?”

Yaron stared up at the human. His mouth moved soundlessly, as if he was unsure how to answer. At last he spoke. “I... don’ know. They hunt in packs. They used t’ be found higher up, but now they seem t’ be everywhere.”

“Weaknesses. What weaknesses do they have?”

“W... weaknesses? None that I know of.”

They were nearing the brow of the hill. A small copse of orange- and purple-leaved trees clung stubbornly to the muddy soil. It was poor cover, but better than nothing. McCann made straight for it. The valthars’ deep-throated growling filled his ears. He crossed the tree line and released the Kelanni, who eased himself to the ground. The horned beasts were almost on top of them.

He saw that the Kelanni was carrying a pack. “What do you have in there?”

Yaron clutched his bundle protectively.
I don’t have time for this.
The engineer wrested the pack from him savagely, pulled open the neck, and began rifling through the contents.

The boy’s voice grew querulous again. “W... what ya lookin’ fer?”

A fully charged gamma? An old-fashioned rifle? A claymore or a dirk or a sgian dubh of the kind that might have been carried by one of his ancient Scottish forebears? Heck, right now he’d settle for a good stout club.

Of course, there was nothing of that kind. There were some really unappetising-looking dried food items; McCann hurled them at the milling creatures, ignoring Yaron’s protests. A shrivelled green fruit hit one of the valthar on the head, and the beast roared its irritation. Nothing else inside the pack seemed vaguely useful.