The Tarantula Nebula

by David Kantrowitz

  “True, but... it looks like a thunderstorm is on the way. Maybe they’re counting on it to shield them from view.”

  Stackpole pointed at dark clouds gathering in the eastern sky. Distant thunder soon confirmed his suspicions. After a couple of minutes the leader of the group drew close to Talvan. He waved in greeting.

  “Good evening,” said Talvan.

  “Hello, professor,” said the man.

  “Professor? Have we met?”

  “I should say so.”

  The man removed the wool blanket he was using as a cloak. The wind picked it up and it danced from his shoulders onto the ground. Talvan took a step back and hit the wall of the bakery hard.

  “Aldebaran?” he breathed. “It can’t be.”

  “It’s good to see you again.”

  “Aldebaran?” asked Stackpole. “The Aldebaran?”

  “In the flesh,” replied Talvan. “What the hell are you doing here?”

  Aldebaran smiled. “It’s okay, professor. I’m Seth Aldebaran. I restored myself back at the lab. I’m whole again.”

  “I can’t believe it. That means that these people must be...”

  “The crew of the Reckless Faith, the ship that we created together. This is Commander John Scherer.”

  John stepped forward and waved. “It’s good to speak to you again, Talvan.”

  “What did he say?” asked Talvan, confused.

  “Oh, you’ll need a translation unit, professor.”

  Aldebaran handed Talvan an earpiece, which he donned.

  “I said it’s good to speak to you again,” said John.

  “I’m glad to see you too,” began Talvan, “except what the hell are you all doing here? You couldn’t have built a liberation army already... or have you?”

  “No. We’ve come only for you.”

  “Heads up,” said Stackpole urgently, tossing his cigarette aside. “The inspection team is coming.”

  Stackpole pointed down the road. A six-wheeled armored personnel carrier had just come into view.

  “Looks like it’s time for us to go,” said John.

  “I can’t go anywhere!” said Talvan. “If I’m not around they’ll know something’s up. The workers here at the bakery will be punished severely.”

  “We don’t have time to discuss it. We need you to come with us.”

  “It’s more complicated than that. Get inside, all of you. We can talk after the inspection. Go up the stairs to the top floor and close the door, you’ll be safe there. The inspection should only last a few minutes, and then we can discuss the situation.”

  “Good enough,” said Aldebaran.

  Stackpole opened the door and gestured inside. The crew ran in, located the stairs, and filed past the stunned employees as they headed for the top floor.

  “It never occurred to me that Talvan might not want to leave,” said Aldebaran.

  “We’ve got to convince him that it’s for the greater good,” replied John.

  The group reached the top of the stairs and found a room with no windows, empty save for several bags of what looked like flour. They piled inside and Richter closed the door, cloaking the room with darkness.

  “I hope we didn’t just throw ourselves into a dead-end,” he whispered.

  “What are we going to do if Talvan refuses?” asked Christie.

  “Throw his ass aboard anyway,” whispered John.

  “Great way to get him to help us.”

  “Shh,” hissed Richter.

  The crew tried to relax as time began to pass. They could hear barely anything from below, at least anything they could distinguish from the approaching storm. After a few minutes, there were several muffled thumps and some shouting. Several seconds later they could hear one set of footsteps running up the stairs. Stackpole threw open the door, greeting the crew with an expression of panic.

  “They’ve taken Talvan!” he said, jamming a translator into his ear. “They found out about our transmitter in the basement!”

  “Shit,” said John, deactivating the safety on his rifle. “How many of them are down there?”

  “They’ve all left. They’re said they’re going to send a platoon to look after us.”

  “Where are they taking him?”

  “I don’t know, but the closest Zendreen garrison is in Tarsus City.”

  “A thirty minute ride by ground vehicle,” said Aldebaran.

  “Everybody outside, now,” said John.

  The team ran down the stairs, unlimbering weapons and further startling the bakery workers. Stackpole followed them outside. The Zendreen APC was still visible heading down the road. Richter, Ray, and Fernwyn threw aside their blankets and took up defensive positions. John grabbed his radio.

  “Dana, this is John, over.”

  “How’s it going?” said Dana’s voice.

  “Fire up the Faith and get over here, double time. Talvan’s been taken and we need to intercept the vehicle, over.”

  “Roger that. I’ll be there in three minutes. Out.”

  “What about the platoon?” asked Ray.

  “Unless there was already one in the air, it shouldn’t take them more than five minutes,” Stackpole replied.

  Raindrops began hitting the ground.

  “What’s going to happen to you and your people?” asked Christie.

  “I don’t know. They’ll probably torture each of us for information. I’m the only one who knows anything but they’ll be no convincing the Zendreen of that.”

  “How many are you?”

  “Seventeen, myself included.”

  “John, we should take these people with us.”

  “It’s out of the question,” said John. “We don’t have the resources to care for seventeen people aboard.”

  “But they’ll be tortured.”

  “John is right,” began Aldebaran. “It’s impractical to take on so many people. We have our own mission to fulfill and we don’t have time to evacuate them. I hate to see my own people suffer even more, but rescuing Talvan must come first. The faster Talvan and I can come up with a virus the sooner the entire planet will be freed.”

  “So that’s your plan,” said Stackpole.

  “Yes. I need you and the people here to be strong, my friend. Whatever happens know that you can keep hope alive. Your sacrifice won’t be soon forgotten.”

  “You have plenty of time to get us aboard. Then you can just drop us all off on Residere Delta and get on with your research.”

  Aldebaran shrugged. “There’s a fat price on the head of all Umberians, you know that. Seventeen refugees can hardly just disappear. You’ll be rounded up and end up back in Zendreen hands anyway. If you think your fate is bad now, imagine if you were recaptured later.”

  Stackpole spat on the ground. “This is a raw deal.”

  “Yeah? Nobody forced you to be part of the underground movement. The bakery workers could have kicked you and Talvan out any time they wanted. This is war, and shit happens in war. Do the best you can here and we’ll be back to help as soon as we possibly can.”

  John nodded. “I’m sorry, but there’s no other choice. We’re being hunted by everyone out there. We can’t risk going back to Residere again and the ship can’t sustain so many people.”

  “Where the hell are you planning on working on the virus, then?” yelled Stackpole, throwing up his arms.

  “There’s a pirate enclave on Macer Alpha with excellent lab equipment,” said Aldebaran. “And it’s the last place you’d want to bring Umberian refugees.”

  The rain increased to a downpour. There was a rush of wind, and the Faith’s invisible form displaced the air nearby. Water streamed off of the hull and outlined the shape of the craft. Stackpole looked on in awe as the ramp opened and revealed the cargo bay. Nathalier was standing at the top, next to Fernwyn’s craft.

  “Fine, we’ll discuss it later!” said John. “Let’s get moving!”

  “You can go to hell!” yelled Stackpole. “Umber deserves
better than you amateurs!”

  “Yeah, probably,” replied Aldebaran.

  The crew ran into the cargo bay and John hit the button to close the ramp.

  “Dana, this is John, did you see that vehicle descending on the roadway?”

  “Yeah,” replied Dana over the radio.

  “Get after it and wait for further instructions.”

  “Roger.”

  “I feel awful about leaving those people,” said Christie, wiping the rain from her face.

  “Do you really want another seventeen people crammed onto this ship?” said John. “Listen up everybody. I want Christie on the dorsal fifty and Ray on the ventral. Work with Dana to get that APC to stop. Richter, Fernwyn, Aldebaran and I will dismount and rush it. Hopefully we can grab Talvan without killing him or ourselves.”

  “They’ll call for help as soon as we engage them,” said Fernwyn. “I should fly as a distraction in case their backup arrives before we’re through. That way the Faith won’t be busy when you guys need extraction.”

  “Good idea, but can you launch your ship right out of the cargo bay?”

  “If we roll it out above two thousand feet I should have enough time.”

  “Okay. Nathalier, do you want to help us assault the APC?”

  “Hell no,” replied Nathalier.

  “Then go to the bridge and help Dana man the energy weapons. Everybody clear?”

  There were no further comments, and Christie, Ray and Nathalier exited. Fernwyn began to check her craft. John looked at Aldebaran.

  “I appreciate what you said to that guy down there, Aldebaran,” he said.

  Aldebaran frowned. “I’ve screwed over hundreds of my own people. What do seventeen more matter?”

  “Don’t feel bad about them,” said Richter. “Like you said, we’re trying to save the planet here. Give them all medals after the victory if that will make you feel better.”

  “I only hope they’re not posthumous awards.”

  John walked over to the console and tapped into the flight control systems. He divided the screen between a real-time image from the bow of the ship and an overhead geographical display. Richter and Aldebaran looked over his shoulder.

  “Dana, this is John. Increase altitude to three thousand feet. We’re going to launch Fernwyn’s ship before we engage the APC.”

  “Understood.”

  “She’s good to go,” said Fernwyn. “There’s only one problem. I may damage your ship if I fire up the engines in here.”

  “Can we push it out manually?” asked Richter.

  “No need,” said John. “We just tip the nose of the ship forward and disengage the artificial gravity.”

  “Oh, duh.”

  “Get aboard then, Fernwyn.”

  Fernwyn nodded and climbed into the cockpit. John gestured to the others.

  “Get into the armory unless you can sprout wings,” he said.

  “What about you?” asked Richter.

  “I’m going to watch.”

  Richter and Aldebaran walked up the stairs to the armory door. John followed them as far as the railing, then stopped. He repositioned a carabiner from the front of his belt to the side and clipped himself onto the railing.

  “Uh, what’s the point of this?” asked Richter.

  “I’m not allowed to have fun anymore?”

  Richter grinned and led Aldebaran into the armory. John braced himself.

  “Ready in the cargo bay, Dana!”

  “Okay,” Dana replied. “Pitching forward now. Opening cargo ramp.”

  Wind began to howl through the cargo bay as the ramp slid open. John was overcome with vertigo as he found himself staring down at the surface of the planet.

  “Disengaging cargo bay gravity field,” said Dana.

  Fernwyn turned around and waved goodbye to John. John waved back as the gravity of Umber took over. He lurched forward and gasped as his weight was suddenly shifted ninety degrees. Fernwyn’s ship dropped out of the bay and immediately disappeared, followed by a 55-gallon drum of gasoline and a crate of spare bed sheets.

  “Oops,” said John. “Craft away, Dana!”

  “Roger!”

  Dana corrected the ship’s pitch and closed the ramp. John’s stomach turned as the gravity again shifted. Richter and Aldebaran came down from the armory just in time to watch John vomit on the deck.

  “You’ve got a curious idea of fun,” said Aldebaran.

  “That was still cool,” said John, coughing.

  Richter shrugged and crossed to the monitor. Aldebaran and John followed him.

  “We’ve got visual contact with the APC,” said Dana.

  “Roger that, we can see it here,” replied John. “Move in as close as you can. Ray, think you can let our presence be known?”

  “My pleasure,” said Ray’s voice.

  The three men watched as the ship swooped down over the Zendreen APC. It was moving at a slower speed down a darkened paved road, which was more or less straight for the next few hundred meters. There was a dull thudding sound from midships, and a combination of tracer and armor piercing rounds cascaded down. The fire cut a swath directly in front of the APC. The vehicle swerved but did not stop.

  “They’re speeding up,” said Dana.

  “Get us closer,” said John. “Ray, see if you can target one of the rear wheels.”

  “That’s a tall order,” Ray replied. “This isn’t a Barrett, you know.”

  “Scherer, remember that trick you pulled on Route 93?” asked Richter.

  John nodded. “Of course, but that APC is too large to fit in here.”

  “Yeah, but they don’t know that.”

  “I like it. Dana, get us in front of them and do an about-face. When we’ve matched speed, drop the invisibility shield.”

  “That’ll be kind of tricky,” said Dana. “The trees come pretty close to the roadway.”

  “I don’t think we need to worry about trees. Get as close as you can.”

  John, Aldebaran, and Richter watched as Dana maneuvered the Faith. Fernwyn’s voice came in over the com.

  “John, this is Fernwyn. I’m tracking three aircraft heading our way. They’re hauling ass.”

  “Keep them busy,” John replied. “We’re beginning our assault.”

  The Faith began clipping a few treetops, sending a shower of leaves and branches onto the roadway. The APC did not waver.

  “That’s as close as I can get,” said Dana.

  “Drop the shield,” began John, readying his M1 Garand, “Richter, open the ramp.”

  Richter did so. The ramp opened, washing rain and wind through the cargo bay. The ship was flying about fifty yards above the ground and maintaining some forty yards from the APC. The driver, unseen to the crew, hit the brakes at the sight of the ship just as John fired a round at the front right tire. The tire exploded and the APC skidded to one side. It spun around 180 degrees before coming to a rest in a cloud of smoke. Dana brought the ship to a stop and lowered it to the ground, destroying more trees in the process. The ship ended up a hundred yards from the APC. John put his Garand down and picked up Fernwyn’s Phalanx. Richter readied his own while Aldebaran drew his Liberator pistol.

  “Move fast and hit hard,” said Richter.

  John and Aldebaran nodded, and Richter burst out of the ship. The others followed him into the driving rain. Weapons fire echoed into their ears, accompanied by flashes of light from above. The whine of aircraft engines could be heard as well.

  “I guess Fernwyn’s found something to do,” shouted John.

  “Dana, this is Richter! Reposition the ship closer to the APC. Ray, cover us the best you can. Christie, see if you can help Fernwyn.”

  “Roger that,” said Dana.

  The three men ran as fast as they could toward the APC. Richter motioned for John to cover left and Aldebaran to cover right. Simultaneously, hatches opened on the side and top of the APC. A Zendra appeared from each opening. John recognized them as warriors from Se
th’s description, but in the flesh they were terrifying. The one that exited from the side hatch hissed at them and lunged forward. John and Richter opened fire together, felling it with an apt demonstration of overkill. Aldebaran exercised more restraint, firing twice and dropping the Zendra on the roof. The men moved up to the side hatch. Smoke poured out from within but appeared to be thinning. Richter moved inside smoothly and turned to the right. John followed him in, immediately clearing the left.

  The interior of the APC was a clutter of unfamiliar gear and electronics. Another side hatch across from them was also open. John and Richter stayed low to avoid the haze. Toward the rear of the compartment, a Zendra was attempting to stand up. Richter fired a short burst, splattering the walls with viscera and deadening his unprotected right ear. John moved toward the driver’s compartment, killing the remaining operator with a single shot to the head. From outside, they could hear Aldebaran firing his weapon. A moment later it was drowned out by Christie’s fifty-cal.

  “Talvan must be in the rear compartment!” shouted Richter.

  John joined Richter at the door. Richter found the controls and opened it.

  “Stay back or I’ll touch him!”

  A Zendra with a green carapace and a disturbingly humanoid mouth had just spoken. It was wearing a long brown gauntlet on one lithe, spindly hand, in which it clutched Talvan’s arm. The other hand was bare and the Zendra had it inches away from Talvan’s throat. Richter’s finger tensed on his rifle’s trigger, but John put up his hand in warning.

  “Don’t move!” said John. “If he touches Talvan it may be fatal.”

  “Lower your weapons!” chirped the Zendra in broken Umberian.

  “All right, take it easy.”

  John and Richter complied carefully. John took a step back.

  “Drop the Phalanx,” said the Zendra.

  “Don’t do anything brash,” said Richter, putting his weapon down. “We can still negotiate here.”

  “Get out, both of you.”

  Richter’s arm moved in a blur, and he snatched the Zendra’s exposed hand away from Talvan’s neck. Talvan stumbled back as Richter grappled with the insectoid. John drew his pistol and hesitated. The Zendra hissed hideously and pushed Richter against the bulkhead, drawing its needle-like black teeth closer to Richter’s neck. Richter braced himself against the Zendra’s body with his boot.