by Thomas Stone
“But why?”
Harry shook his head. “Great plans are coming to fruition, but they haven’t told me or maybe they have and I just don’t understand… yet.”
Fagen leaned back and, for a moment joined Tringl in watching the animated characters. After a moment, he looked back to Harry. “We’re going to locate this deadfall and take a look. Can you find it again?”
“I’m certain I can.”
“Good. Maybe we can learn something.” Fagen picked up his boots and stood up, then turned to enter the berthing quarters.
“One other thing,” added Harry.
Fagen stopped. “What?”
“The beacon.”
“What about it?”
“It served its purpose. It sent a message to the Tec’Lissir. They’ll know it was somehow triggered.”
“So?”
“They’ll respond. Eventually, they’ll return.”
*
Although Jennings insisted it was a waste of time, Fagen and Harry cleared the ancient foundation of the sand that had blown over it. They searched the entire area, walking over every square foot, but came up empty. All the slabs remained as rigid as the rock from which they had been cut. When they finally gave up their search, Jennings said, “I told you so. Infected people say all kinds of things.”
*
Once again, Jennings and Fagen huddled together, but this time it was in the lounge of Minerva’s truck. A holographic screen displayed maps of the area while Jennings compared it to his own personal maps. He pointed to a place on the screen. “This,” he said, “is the next point of interest. I’ve seen changes here over the past two years and not just sand building up to be blown away. As a matter of fact, sand never builds up here.”
“So what kind of changes are you talking about?”
“The rocks. The boulders you see there?” Jennings pointed and Fagen looked, then nodded his head.
“Well, they weren’t there two years ago.”
“Any chance some of your people moved them there?” asked Fagen.
“Look at the size of those things, Edward. There’re as large as houses.”
“Well, you were in the mining business. I’m sure moving them would be no problem for your heavy equipment.”
“This location is nearly a thousand kilometers from Jennings Bank – that’s a thousand kilometers of travel through sand and unexplored territory. I don’t have those kinds of logistical resources. No, that rock formation appeared practically overnight from unknown sources.”
“How close are we to the location?”
Jennings cocked his head to one side as he considered the question. “Less than a hundred klicks.”
Fagen nodded slowly. “Then I guess we have our next destination.” He looked at Jennings. “Let’s hope it turns out better than your first.”
The move to the new location took a full day. Instead of splitting up this time, the two groups remained together with Jennings in his truck leading the way. When they came within ten kilometers, they slowed their pace and finally stopped behind a series of hills. They had moved out of the dunes into a desolate, hilly country. A few bushes sprang from the ground here and there but there was little else to see. The trucks were concealed in a dry wash, worrying Fagen about flash floods. He reasoned they would not remain there for long.
From orbit, Minerva and Bart pressed their electronic search for the younger Ellis but failed to find anything. The senior Ellis had always been a quiet fellow but now he practically disappeared. He sat quietly in the cab watching the scenery pass or he busied himself cleaning and preparing equipment, but he said nothing even when spoken to, preferring to answer questions with a nod of his head or a barely audible grunt.
Griswold was contrite as well. Embarrassed and angry about the incident at the ruins, his conversations with Jennings were brief. When they arrived at the new destination and began setting up sensor equipment, he said nothing to Fagen or the others. At one point, Fagen pulled Jennings to the side and asked if Griswold was going to make more trouble.
Jennings watched Griswold for a moment as he lugged an instrument casing up a slope. “I don’t know,” he said finally. “He’s hard-headed and mean-spirited. We’ll have to keep on eye on him.”
“Um-hum,” hummed Fagen, then added, “Who’ll keep an eye on you?”
Jennings looked sharply at Fagen but said nothing.
When the sensors were set up, they began their observations. The rocks marking the supposed lair remained concealed behind a series of low-lying hills. Fagen sent up his drones to check the surrounding area and Minerva watched closely as they flew around the site relaying video. Coming up empty, Fagen recalled them.
Kathleen and Bobbi went through their routine with the simulcons, insuring the machines were cleaned and prepped for another mission. Harry assisted them, always with Tringl close at hand.
Tringl didn’t mind. It gave him something to do besides watch videos. He remained in the truck, though, for two reasons. First, his presence seemed to upset Jennings and his crew. It was understandable. Tringl was an alien from a race few had ever seen. He was large and strikingly shaped like a pear with flaming orange hair sprouting from his head. His forearms were thick and muscled, thinning to smaller biceps attached to sloping shoulders. Legs and buttocks were twice as wide as his shoulders with enormous wide feet. The same orange hair grew atop his arms and sandaled feet. As if all that wasn’t enough, he maintained a natural, comical expression on his face that, while amusing at first, became somewhat unsettling to those unaccustomed to Malaaz culture. The second reason he stayed in the truck was the desert heat. While Tringl was used to the tropical heat on his world, the dry desert air and sand made him sneeze and sweat profusely, so much in fact that after only a few minutes outdoors, phlegm streamed from his nose like a river, mixing with the sweat and causing allergic whelps to appear on his exposed skin. Harry recognized the danger to Tringl and asked him to return to the truck. Tringl had no problem with it and trudged back, large drops of sweat falling off the alien onto the ground.
The benefits of having Tringl at Harry’s side were noticeable. While Harry seemed to be able to operate efficiently out of Tringl’s presence, he was quiet and sometimes appeared distracted. When Tringl was physically close to him however, Harry was quite like his old self. The whole crew noticed, especially Kathleen, and urged Harry to remain inside with Tringl. Harry, on the other hand, wanted to be outside, but did not argue when asked to take a less active role.
Six hours later, while Ellis watched a live video feed, he noticed motion in the area of the watched coordinates. He alerted Jennings, who, in turn, advised Minerva to direct her attention to the location. Unknown to Jennings, she had witnessed the event and was already analyzing the recorded media.
The video was captured by telescoping visual cameras placed atop the hill adjacent to the campsite. Minerva watched the camera feed for additional movement, but the hilly country and distance concealed much. A quick replay confirmed a momentary blur of motion but little else. She notified Fagen who was napping in the berthing compartment.
Fagen checked on Harry and found him with Tringl in the lounge playing a video game. Both were enjoying themselves and barely paid attention as Fagen passed through the compartment.
Kathleen and Bobbi were in the lower quarters inspecting the simulcons.
“We may have something,” Fagen said. “Let’s make sure the robots are ready to go.”
“They’re prepped,” said Bobbi. “All we have to do is get them outside.”
“Make it happen,” said Fagen as he reached for a pair of binoculars and opened the outer door. Heated desert air flowed through the opening as he climbed outside. The small fleet of miniature aircraft had been recalled prior to the sighting and now sat lifelessly on the sand beside the truck.
Jennings exited his truck and wordlessly joined Fagen. Together they climbed the hill, dropping to crawl the last few meters before reaching the
crest. They lay next to the thin sensor antennae and peered toward the location. As they scanned the horizon, Harry crawled up from behind, the only one without proper desert gear.
Fagen gave Harry a questioning glance. Harry leaned close to Fagen and whispered, “I can smell them. Thought you’d want to know.”
“Them?” questioned Jennings.
Harry nodded and held up two fingers.
Jennings didn’t believe him but Fagen showed concern. It would be difficult enough dealing with one of the creatures. He hoped Harry was mistaken.
Jennings nudged Fagen and pointed. Fagen zoomed his vision enhancers and scanned the low hills. At first, there was nothing, just a horizon of small yellow hills with flat gullies between. Motion caught his eye. In the distance, something appeared for an instant; a light-colored shape that he probably would have missed had it not moved directly through his field of vision. The readout on his HUD verified the distance: two kilometers.
Below, simulcons climbed out of each truck.
Harry moved away from the two men and looked into the distance. A hot desert breeze blew directly into his face.
Fagen concentrated on the same spot. After a short time, two forms passed his field of view. First to the left and then back to the right. They circled one another almost as if in a ritual greeting. Their camouflaged features blended well with the environment, making it difficult to make out details. The general outline was that of an upright lizard, not long and lean, but flowing with graceful power coming from muscular legs attached to a bell-shaped torso. Upper appendages were smaller but in balance with total body impression. That was all Fagen could take in before the figures moved out of the line of sight.
Jennings backed away from his perch until he was below the top of the hill. He began speaking rapidly into his headset, informing Griswold and Ellis of the sighting and passing exact coordinates. Since they were all on the same circuit, Kathleen and Bobbi received the updates as well.
Jennings sidled closer to Fagen and covered his mic with his hand. “This is a golden opportunity,” he whispered forcefully. “I say we move now. Your simulcons to the right and mine to the left. We’ll surround these suckers. You and I take the middle on foot.”
A quick decision had to be made. It wasn’t what Fagen wanted. He had intended to make a move on the lair with the simulcons, get in quickly, subdue a trapped single creature, and get out even quicker. Jennings wanted more. He wanted trophies to display for the people of Jennings Bank.
Fagen did not answer immediately. Instead, he scooted back up to the ridge and took another look. The two creatures appeared briefly, moving in unison through his field of vision before disappearing from sight again. He turned back to Jennings. “All right, let’s do it,” he said.
Jennings didn’t bother passing directions via the radio. He turned his gaze to the simulcons directed by Griswold and Ellis and waved his hand, directing them to move out on the left. Fagen spoke into his mic requesting that Kathleen and Bobbi move out in the opposite direction.
When Harry saw what was occurring, he crawled back to Fagen. “You’re going after them, aren’t you?”
“Just get back to the truck. You’re not supposed to be out here anyway.”
“Edward, this is a bad idea.”
“It’s not your call. Now, please return to the truck.”
Harry peeked over the top of the hill again and took in another breath before shaking his head in resignation. Without another word, he backed away down the hill.
*
The pairs of simulcons moved fast, much faster than a human could, passing over the terrain while keeping cover between themselves and the targeted coordinates. Recklessly, Griswold and Ellis separated by fifty meters but Kathleen and Bobbi stayed side by side. A half klick from the designated spot, they coordinated a stop. The range was still too far for their motion sensors but Minerva assured them the kitzloc were still in the same location, apparently unaware they were being stalked.
On command from Fagen, everyone switched their weapons from safe mode to ready-to-fire. In camouflage mode and with weapons prepared, Fagen and Jennings started forward. Wordlessly, they picked their way through meandering gullies as the simulcons held their positions on the flanks.
Minerva wanted to rev up the drones, but Fagen, afraid of alerting the kitzloc, nixed the idea. For the first time, Fagen wished he had more men, as well as more firepower. Second-guessing himself, Fagen questioned the wisdom of allowing himself to be goaded into action. Perhaps he and Jennings should have manned their own simulcons instead of proceeding on foot.
To their advantage, the wind was still in their faces. Waves of heat wavered in the distance over the tops of the small hills. Where Fagen and Jennings stepped, clouds of dust rose. Although they were relatively invisible in their hunter’s suits, their tracks and the dust they raised gave away their changing position. Even with the coolant running through his suit, sweat ran down Fagen’s face, falling into and stinging his eyes. He paused in his advance and lifted his helmet in order to wipe the back of his gloved hand across his forehead and eyebrows. Jennings glanced backward and motioned for Fagen to continue. Radio silence was the rule, but the circuits remained open. Sounds of respiration gave away both their exertion and their nervousness.
At two hundred meters from the site, Fagen checked his onboard sensors. They revealed nothing. No motion, no bodies of heat. Had their targets caught wind of them and fled? There was only one way to tell and that was to keep moving forward. Fagen clicked his mic twice and the two teams of simulcons begin moving forward in a pincer movement. The next click would order them to hold position.
Jennings crouched and duckwalked to a higher position that allowed him to view the target area. Nothing was there. Fagen joined him and they panned across the entire area. The simulcons were in sight now, closing in. Fagen clicked his mic once and the mechanoids stopped. “They’ve disappeared,” Fagen whispered into his headset. “Stay alert. We’re moving in.”
Warily, Jennings and Fagen walked toward the spot where they had seen the creatures. On arrival, they found a low, flat-topped hill nearly hidden from view by the surrounding terrain. There were no tracks, no disturbances of any kind. Fagen turned in a three hundred and sixty degree circle viewing the surrounding sandy hills, scrub brush, scattered rocks, and the clear, red-tinted sky directly overhead.
“Where are they?” Jennings asked.
Fagen shrugged.
“They were here,” said Jennings, “I saw them. You saw them.” He held his weapon at the ready. It was the old ultra-Vimbacher model with automatic sighting and an interchangeable undercarriage currently holding a dual-purpose launcher. One tube held a mini-rocket launcher, and the other contained a homing net made from woven superstring on the off chance he’d be able to entrap one of the creatures.
Fagen carried a lighter beam weapon designed by Minerva. Depending on the strength of the beam, the weapon discharged a focused burst of particles that could blind, burn, or disintegrate. Fagen was confident it was the best weapon for the job at hand. The last time he’d used it, on Cygnus-2, it had served him well. Surrounded by thousands of ravenous squidlike creatures and separated from Bart and Minerva, he’d held them off single-handedly until Minerva swooped in and scooped him up.
He was a long way from Cygnus-2 now, in both time and space, but in an equally dangerous situation.
Fagen turned his face toward the horizon. The wind was increasing in strength, picking up sand from the tops of the hills and driving it across the flat areas. It wasn’t a full-blown sandstorm like before, but enough so that it began to cut visibility and make walking more difficult.
Minerva’s voice crackled over the radio, destroying radio silence. “Edward, I’m losing visual contact with you. Should I move the truck closer to your position?”
“No,” he replied, “stay where you are while we search the area. Do you have anything showing from the sensors?”
“Just you
and the others. No sign of the kitzloc. Can’t send up the drones again because of the wind.”
With a gloved hand, Fagen wiped his goggles clear and looked at Jennings. Jennings checked his personal sensor array and shook his head.
“All right,” said Fagen over the commnet, “it looks as though our targets have moved. Let’s search the area in teams of two. If we don’t find anything, Jennings and I will return to the trucks and everybody else work your way to the prime location.”
Four separate radio clicks confirmed the other two teams had heard and understood his instructions. Methodically, they began to crisscross a half kilometer section of desert as the wind really began to blow.
*
Bart yawned and rubbed his eyes. He had been in Minerva’s main control room for hours, watching infrared video feeds of a small section of desert. The display currently showed the four simulcons as well as Jennings and Fagen as they closed in on the two large forms. The two targets, the kitzloc, suddenly disappeared, gone in an instant. Bart opened a new window which contained the replay and watched again as they suddenly disappeared. He checked his equipment and the associated data from telemetry. From all indications, they had been there – they were real. But where did they go? Bart’s cursory search showed nothing. They simply weren’t there anymore. Bart frowned. “Hm, how’d they do that?”
Arai heard Bart talking to himself and bounded across the room to settle beside him. Arai peered at the display in front of Bart for a moment before getting bored and returning to the game he’d been playing.
“What did you say?” asked Minerva.
Bart didn’t turn his head. “Did you see that? They disappeared. The two kitzloc.”
“How?”
“That’s the question, isn’t it?” Bart turned to face Minerva, the love of his super-intelligent life, and discovered she had clothed herself in a white summer frock. “What’s with the get-up?”
Minerva shrugged and looked down at her outfit. “It’s summery, it evokes images of coping with the heat.”