Trek It!

by Robert T. Jeschonek

  At first, Swift had a flashback to the noisy, boisterous crowd that had tormented him earlier…but the three Vox weren't even looking at him. He quickly realized that they were directing their bid for attention at the guards in the corridor on the other side of his cell.

  It took a while, but one of the guards eventually noticed the clamor (or chose to acknowledge it) and turned his head. The three young Vox persisted in making a fuss, and he finally turned around to give them his full attention.

  Lyra let loose a stream of chatter and gestures, but the guard just answered with a few syllables and a sound like a deep laugh. Altis joined the fray, but the guard could spare no more than a few words for him, too.

  Lyra pressed onward, adopting a louder, sterner tone…and that got more of a reaction. The guard shot back his own string of speech, this time delivered in an angry shout without any laughter.

  Uvo got involved, and another guard, and the voices didn't get any calmer or more conciliatory. The five of them went back and forth for a while, blasting across the cell as Swift listened and tried in vain to understand a single word.

  When the two guards finally marched off down the corridor, he had no idea as to the outcome of the exchange. To be honest, he didn't have any idea what had been said, either, and whether Lyra, Altis, and Uvo had been trying to help Zeke at all.

  A moment after the guards left, the situation became clear. Something caught the attention of Uvo, and he alerted his companions. The three Vox looked down the street and immediately became agitated; their heads bobbed and whiskers twitched as they gaped at something out of Swift's eyeshot.

  As he got up and rushed to the window wall for a better view, the two males darted in the opposite direction from whatever they had seen. Stealing a quick glance at the sight that had sent her friends running, Lyra chattered hurriedly at Swift…then caught herself. Before she leaped off after Altis and Uvo, she spoke to him in his own language.

  "Lyra help Swift," she said. "Lyra help Zeke."

  And then she was gone.

  A moment later, Swift understood why she and the others had left. The two guards from the corridor charged past the window wall, chasing off the three confrontational young Vox.

  So there was the answer to two questions: yes, the three Vox had likely tried to get help for Zeke; and no, that help would not be forthcoming.

  Which left one more question unanswered: would Lyra and the others return?

  If the guards didn't catch them and toss them in a cell, would the three Vox even dare to come back? Would guards be posted in the street to drive off the troublemakers? And if they did return, would they be able to do him any good? The results of their first attempt had not been promising.

  It would be a shame if he had finally made a breakthrough among the Vox, only to find that it was all for nothing.

  Peering down the street, Swift could see no trace of his newfound friends or their pursuers in the dim glow of the phosphorescent buildings. His best hope at the moment – the only three Vox on the planet who didn't seem to want to torment or kill him – was out there somewhere, lost in the night, unknowingly carrying the fate of the away team and perhaps the entire planet on their furry shoulders.

  The pain in his side flared and he stepped away from the window wall, grunting and gritting his teeth. He was so absorbed in fighting back the shooting surge that he was surprised when the heavy knock came; he jumped, momentarily forgetting the pain and firing a glance in the direction of the sound, toward the gallery wall.

  The two guards were there, returned from the chase. Baring their teeth, they pounded their fists on the wall and shouted at him. Though he couldn't understand a word they said, he thought the aggressive tone of their voices and the quick, hostile motion of their gestures spoke for themselves.

  No, there definitely wouldn't be any medical treatment anytime soon.

  But there was a bright side. The guards had returned empty-handed.

  Which meant that unless they had been killed in the street, Lyra, Altis, and Uvo were still at large. Swift had hope.

  He thought their survival was probable, given the short amount of time it had taken for the guards to chase them and reappear at the window. He was also convinced that the guards would have been in much happier moods if they had returned from the hunt victorious.

  So the three Vox were still out there, somewhere; he was sure of it. He still had a chance, however slim, to save Zeke, find the others, and warn the world of the approaching invasion fleet.

  At the gallery window, the guards let loose a final round of threatening roars and gestures, then stalked off. Swift just smiled, replaying Lyra's last words in his mind, clinging to her promise of help…

  And struggling to come up with a viable Plan B in case the three young Vox didn't return.

  *****

  Chapter Fourteen

  Though trained in martial arts from an early age, Hephaestans were not raised to be fighting machines. Preeminent in the Hephaestan way of life were the application of logic and a philosophy of infinite tolerance for the differences among living things. Neither logic nor infinite tolerance encouraged the use of violence as other than a last resort.

  The Vox street fighters who crossed paths with J'Tull would have been surprised to learn this.

  She cut through them like a force of nature, mowing down one pack after another in a whirlwind of motion. They fell upon her in a frenzy, hellbent on mayhem, gouging and slashing and swinging weapons…only to fall away in a heartbeat like stalks of wheat before a scythe.

  Unfortunately, for every gang that fell, another appeared out of the night. For all intents and purposes, there was an endless supply of Vox marauders to test the Hephaestan's stamina.

  Therein lay another fact that would have surprised the Vox who had the misfortune to encounter J'Tull. As fiercely and efficiently as she fought, as effortlessly as she dispatched them, she was running on fumes.

  By her own reckoning, she should have collapsed long ago. Whatever reserves of energy she had been tapping, they were nearly exhausted.

  And still, her pursuers kept coming. As soon as she put down three, five more charged around a corner; as she fought through six, she heard seven pairs of feet running toward her.

  They were wearing her down with sheer numbers, just as she had known they would…and she was nowhere nearer her goal.

  With the most direct route to the podcraft obstructed by a huge crowd of Vox, J'Tull had attempted a detour…only to be driven further and further afield by the torrents of attackers. Each time she diverted her course to avoid the heaviest concentrations of opponents, she ended up drifting further from the shuttle's location.

  As disorganized as her attackers seemed to be, she wondered if that had been their intention all along. It hardly seemed possible that the wild-eyed gangs of berserkers were coordinating their attacks, working in concert to cut her off from her means of escape…but she found it hard to dismiss the results of their tactics.

  They had kept her on the run for hours, had kept her from reaching her objective, and now, though they might not know it yet, they were about to capture or kill her.

  Clearly, she needed to implement a new strategy.

  Fighting her way through the gangs in the streets would not get her to the podcraft before she succumbed. Her attackers were too numerous and their access to her was virtually unlimited. They could easily pinpoint her location in the transparent city and come at her from any street, alley or doorway.

  If she could find another route to the shuttle with reduced access and visibility, perhaps she could limit the number of opponents and ration her remaining strength.

  An underground tunnel or sewer would be ideal, but she could see no entry points along the street. Casting her eyes upward, she saw an alternative that could serve the purpose.

  With a howl, two more Vox raced toward her from a side street, and she turned to face them. With grace that belied her weariness, she struck down one with a
stiff-armed thrust to the chin and chopped an elbow into the other's throat. The second Vox still managed to swing a hatchet toward her chest, but she stepped out of the weapon's path and kicked it from his grasp. Spinning around as he lunged forward, she lashed out with another kick and sent him reeling to the crystalline surface of the street, clutching his midsection.

  Panting a little from the exertion, J'Tull looked up for a moment at the surrounding buildings, quickly assessing them. Again, the city's transparency worked in her favor; gazing through walls and floors, she was able to determine which structures were least populated and would therefore present the fewest obstacles between her and her goal.

  Steadying herself with a deep breath, she scooped up her attacker's hatchet and ran for a nearby doorway.

  When she got there, the door itself was sealed; in fact, the polymer panel was merged seamlessly with the surrounding walls and wasn't even interrupted by a latch or keyhole.

  Which was why she had brought the hatchet. After a few heavy blows to one spot, she managed to drive in the blade, then wrenched it downward to tear a gash in the panel. Wedging her hands in the opening, she forced it wider with great effort and pushed herself through.

  Once inside, she stormed past a trio of screeching Vox children and headed for the pole that led to the building's upper floors. Without hesitation, she took hold of the spiraled pole and scaled it, hauling herself up through a hole in the ceiling to the second floor.

  As she continued to climb, a pair of adult Vox hurled objects at her, striking her once on the back with something heavy. J'Tull just kept going, mechanically pulling herself up to the next level.

  On the third floor, she had to pause and repel an attacker. When the creature ran at her with claws extended, she shot out a leg and landed a kick on its chest, sending it crashing backward. The entire altercation lasted only an instant, after which she continued her ascent.

  More objects were thrown at her on the next two levels, but only a few struck glancing blows on her shoulders and hips. On the sixth floor, a Vox leaped onto the pole above her, trying to block her progress while two others swung their claws at her. Latching onto the ankle of the Vox overhead, she yanked him from the pole and flung him at his companions, knocking them down in a furry tumble.

  No one interrupted her climb on the seventh level, but on the floor after that, a Vox tried to slide shut a hatch over the entry to level nine. Before the hatch was sealed, J'Tull scooted up the pole and kicked the Vox aside, then wrenched the hatch from the opening and continued on her way.

  By level ten, she had run out of steam…but she managed to drive herself onward through the last two levels. On the twelfth floor, she finally hopped from the pole and closed the hatch leading to the levels below. Mimicking the gestures of the Vox who had tried to close the hatch on level eight, she was able to activate the invisible control surface set into the transparent floor panel and trigger the process that sealed the hatch seamlessly into the floor around it. She didn't know how long it would keep out the pursuers who were even now climbing the pole from below…but at least it would slow them down and add to her head start.

  Turning, she spotted her objective: an entrance to the network of elevated tubes crisscrossing the city. Though the transparent pathways offered no decreased visibility, they at least would raise her above the roving gangs in the streets and reduce the number of pursuers she would have to fight at one time. As extensive as the network was, it might even lead her to the podcraft, or close enough that she could avoid the crowds obstructing the most direct street-level routes to it.

  There was only one problem that she could see at that point. Since the Vox were equally mobile on four legs as they were on two, the tubes were not built to accommodate erect, walking bipeds.

  She would have to crawl through them on her hands and knees.

  Though she had seen Vox scurry through them on all fours with great ease, she knew that her own progress would be significantly slower; it might not be much slower, though, than running through the streets and having to stop every five minutes to fight gangs of Vox.

  J'Tull crossed the floor and stopped before the oval tube opening in the wall, taking a moment to catch her breath and prepare for the next stage of her flight. Briefly, she turned her attention inward, seeking the calm and strength supplied by her Hephaestan mental discipline.

  Instead, she found weakness and turmoil. Though she believed she was in a better position now to reach the shuttle and effect a rescue of her shipmates, she was uncertain of her ability to complete the work ahead. She had already endured longer than she had thought possible; she had pushed herself so far beyond what she had thought were her limits, she had no idea how much further she could go before collapsing.

  The possibility of failure loomed large in her mind. She knew it shouldn't bother her, because she was well schooled in the suppression and dissolution of emotional responses…but the thought that she might falter or quit disturbed her deeply. She had already failed once to save her crewmates; another failure, especially with her friends' lives at stake, would be unacceptable.

  Summoning every bit of self-control that she possessed, J'Tull struggled to dispel her emotional concerns and shore up her fading strength. Her success was so limited, another emotion poked through her porous mental defenses: embarrassment at her inability to govern her own mind and body. That, in turn, inspired a flash of anger at herself…then a wave of despair at the seemingly insurmountable odds arrayed against her.

  One after another, emotions reared up to distract her. In her exhausted, injured condition, the same feelings that at any other time she would have effortlessly dispersed were lent increased power and influence.

  Pressing the heels of her hands to her temples, she shut her eyes and concentrated on regaining control. Immediately, the image of her friends' faces returned to her…the memory of Captain Swift and Commander Turner as they were dragged away by the Vox. It was the last time she had seen them since abandoning them.

  This brought a swell of guilt and regret, followed by indecision and fear. A toxic emotional cocktail swirled inside her, gaining strength and corroding the dam of logic and discipline that held back the flood of irrational wildness.

  Then, she slammed steel doors shut and cordoned off part of her mind. Unable to subdue and integrate her emotional self without it taking over, J'Tull closed it off altogether with a last-ditch technique. It diminished her somewhat, narrowing her ability to interact fluently with emotion-driven creatures…but emotional interaction wasn't the problem right now. She needed to accomplish one thing – get from Point A to Point B – and a storm of feelings wouldn't help that effort.

  Suddenly, she felt calm and focused. Though still acutely aware of her flagging energies, she felt mildly recharged…at least enough to keep herself moving for a little while.

  Opening her eyes, she peered through the transparent wall and surveyed the length of tube that stretched out before her. She saw no Vox there or in any of the intersecting tubes in the immediate vicinity. Though the tubes would not likely remain vacant for long once word got out that she was traversing them, it seemed that for the moment the majority of her pursuers were still down in the streets. Perhaps she would have a respite from hand to hand combat and would be able to conserve her strength.

  Of course, once the Vox raised the alert, things could get interesting. Fighting in the cramped environs of the tubes was not likely to yield a positive outcome for J'Tull; the Vox were inhumanly limber and used to scrambling on all fours in tight spaces, while she would barely be able to raise herself to a kneeling position. Then there was the possibility that they could seal off sections of the network and flood them with gas.

  Still, it would be better than being beaten, captured, or killed in the streets. Whatever happened next, she at least had extended her freedom, and possibly her life, by taking this route. Unquestionably, it was the logical choice.

  Dropping to her hands and knees, she entered
the tube and crawled forward as quickly as she could. A storm of emotions pressed at the steel walls she had erected in her mind, but the barricades held.

  *****

  Chapter Fifteen

  When a voice roused her, whispering close to her ear, Mariko had a hard time waking up. Even though the fact that it was an unfamiliar voice should have been enough to snap her to alertness, her exhausted slumber was so deep that she had to fight to crawl back to consciousness.

  The voice spoke again, using the Vox language that Mariko understood, and she stirred on the bedding. Her eyes fluttered open, then closed again; her body was nowhere near being rested.

  When hands gently shook her by the shoulders, she finally came around. Her eyes popped open, and she was greeted by the blurry sight of a Vox she didn't know, staring her in the face.

  Instinctively, she swung up an arm to bat the creature away, but the Vox quickly darted back out of reach. Blinking hard to clear her vision, Mariko jerked to a sitting position and scooted back over the bedding away from the unexpected visitor.

  Instead of pursuing her, the Vox remained in place and calmly raised its arms, suggesting peaceful intent. Mariko stopped short of knocking over a stack of supply crates and watched, eyes wide, for the creature's next move.

  The Vox placed its hands on its chest and bowed its head. "I am Folcrum," said the white-furred creature, still whispering. "I will not hurt you." The voice was deep and distinctly male, but cracked with age.

  Glancing in the direction of the other Vox in the chamber, Mariko saw that they were still curled together in a breathing, sleeping heap. As she returned her full attention to Folcrum, she caught sight of a nearby pile of weapons and wondered if she ought to make a grab for one of them.

  "I am a lexicon," said the white-furred Vox. "A keeper of language.