‘Yes, Doctor,’ Francis broke in. ‘I told you. I discovered, in the forbidden books, that on other worlds men live for many decades.’
‘Long life and literacy,’ the Doctor mused, and then, when one of the Counsellors urged him forward with a shove, he yelled into the android’s cowled face: ‘Long life and literacy! The first and second means by which knowledge is transmitted. And your masters have robbed these people of both! You’ve created a society with no history, no culture. You can impose any laws and traditions you care to invent. No wonder Apprentice Scribes are vetted and brainwashed. But still...’
The Doctor turned and strode downhill, and once again Francis had to run to catch up. ‘But what, Doctor?’
‘Eh? I still don’t know what it’s all for, that’s what. What’s the point of it all? I hate not knowing –’
The Doctor was interrupted by a tearing, cracking noise that echoed around the ring of rocks, and rumbled into silence like dying thunder.
‘Another storm?’ Francis said.
The Doctor smiled secretively. ‘You remember I mentioned I was expecting a friend? I rather think she’s arrived.’
Defries touched the comms button on her collar, then struck it with the butt of her blaster. Still no response. She hadn’t expected one. Spacefleet’s personal R/T devices were supposed to be unjammable up to a range of two kilometres, but it was obvious that Spinward had technology in the Arcadia system that outclassed Spacefleet’s latest equipment.
That makes it strategically important that I report back to Earth Central, Defries thought, and of course it also makes it highly unlikely that I’ll survive to do so.
She risked standing, poised to duck back under the slab of rock if she saw even the shadow of a movement.
No enemy in sight. Johannsen and the DK were still clambering up the long diagonal slope to her left, almost level with her now. She waved, pointed to her collar, drew her finger across her throat. Johannsen raised an open hand: message received and understood. An unnecessary signal: the radios had been dead since the crash landing.
No sign of Ace. Defries scanned the serrated line of rocks above her. A red flash ruddied the belly of a cloud; the noise followed almost immediately, the roar of an explosion bouncing in decreasing waves of sound between the clouds and the ravines.
A moment of silence. Then the hiss of blaster fire, and the crack of breaking stone.
Defries glanced at Johannsen. He had taken cover, but bobbed up to shrug his long arms in answer to Defries’s enquiring look. Daak was still moving uphill, faster now, towards the source of the noises.
Still no sign of the enemy. Still no Ace.
Defries looked upslope again and there was Ace: a small figure leaping between two horns of rock at the summit. A second later, the rocks burst into fragments, but Ace was coming downhill now, sliding and rolling with an avalanche of stones and scree, her pony tail flying behind her and her blaster held above her head.
Boulders bounced round Defries’s foxhole. Dust filled it. Trusting to the shock resistance of her combat gear, Defries jumped into the rain of rocks and braced her feet against a projecting shelf. ‘Here!’ she called, as loudly as she could. Ace was careering downwards. Defries was in her path.
Ace saw Defries, found time to grin and angled her legs. She disappeared into the cloud of dust she created, but she was slowing. Defries extended an arm. Ace caught it, almost pulled Defries from her perch, released it, and rolled to a stop a few metres further down the slope.
Defries found her lying on her back, eyes open. For a moment she thought Ace was wounded, but as she slid down the slope Ace tilted her head back to watch her approach.
‘It’s a trap, Belle. Only a dozen or so of the creeps in the black nighties, but they’ve got heavy weapons. Heat seekers, random field, intelligent stuff. Three mobile platforms. Hover type. Well,’ she grinned suddenly, ‘only two now.’
‘You’re OK?’
‘Don’t worry. Still functioning.’
‘Good. I can’t afford to lose you.’ Defries was silent, in thought, for a moment, but her eyes didn’t cease scanning the rocks, and her hands were making automatic checks of her suit’s status controls and of the weapons hanging at her waist.
‘We’ve got the firepower to take them out,’ Ace said, scrambling to her feet.
‘Hold it, trooper,’ Defries said. Two hotheads in a squad of four. That didn’t help. ‘They’re better armed than us. And we’re in a lousy tactical position. If we put our heads over the top they’ll pick us off like ducks in a shooting gallery. If we stay put they can stay up there and fry the valley bottom, and us with it. If we move out we’re even easier targets.’
‘They’ve got longer reach than us. To have a chance we have to get up close.’
‘Looks like your lover-boy has the same idea.’ Defries pointed. Abslom Daak, his hair and ragged clothing streaming in the wind, had almost reached the top of the slope.
‘He’s not –’ Ace abandoned the protest.
‘Yeah, I know,’ Defries said, but Ace had started to move. Gravel spurted from the heels of her boots as she crawled furiously up the cliff down which she had just slid.
Defries lifted her blaster. For a second she was on the point of executing Ace for insurbordination. Stupid. She needed the crazy auxie, and she needed the crazy auxie’s armour-piercing grenades. And anyway, Ace was right: their only hope was to close with the enemy. So they had to get up the slope fast.
Swirls of dust stung her eyes. She waved to Johannsen, pointed uphill, made a wide circle in the air to indicate the size of the opposition, and signalled for him to advance. She set off up the scarp, using juts and ledges as a diagonal staircase to take her on a course that would bring her close to Johannsen when they both reached the top of the incline.
The wind howled louder as she climbed. Gobbets of ice sliced through the air. Even when a chip of hail cut her cheek, the worsening weather made her smile grimly: it would confuse heat-seeking and auditory shells. It all helped to even the odds.
A blast of gusting air carried Daak’s shout to her. She looked up. There was Ace, almost at the summit, above her and to her right. Johannsen was twenty metres to her left, only a little further up the cliff than her: they both had some climbing still to do. And beyond Johannsen, Abslom Daak. He had reached the top: he was standing on a rock, he was brandishing his chainsword, he was roaring defiance at enemies Defries couldn’t see.
He’s a dead man, she thought.
Daak jumped from the rock just in time. Half a dozen beams of concentrated laser light converged on it, and it burst into fragments. Even at a distance, the noise hurt Defries’s ears. Stars danced before her eyes.
She blinked. She couldn’t see Daak. But she was sure she’d seen him jump.
The ground trembled, A fountain of shattered stone spouted into the air at the top of the cliff. A second explosion, and vast shards of the cliff lazily peeled away and tumbled down the slope. The enemy was using, big weapons, shells or missiles, Defries couldn’t tell which. She still couldn’t see Daak. The barrage intensified: the explosions merged into a continuous crackling rumble of noise, the clifftop where Daak had stood was turned into a firework display of blinding flashes, and below it an avalanche of smoking rocks.
How could Daak survive?
Defries cursed. There was nothing she could do until she reached the top. She tried to shut out the wind, the explosions, the driving hail, the movement of the ground beneath her feet. She fixed her eyes on the jagged line of rocks to which she had to climb.
Ace was there now. If she’s trying to draw the enemy’s fire, she’s not succeeding, Defries thought; but she’s doing it exactly right.
Ace was running from boulder to boulder along the summit of the ridge, stopping wherever she found good cover, just long enough to hurl one of her primitive-looking grenades, or, fire her blaster, or launch some kind of tiny projectile that Defries couldn’t see clearly.
The air
above and beyond the ridge became filled with wind-swirled smoke and the echoes of distant blasts. Defries climbed towards the battle.
Johannsen reached the summit ahead of her. She saw him fold his long body into a crack between two rocks that jutted like teeth along the ridge. The enemy had seen him: streams of light burst against the rocks, chunks of which flew off and rained down on Defries.
Defries pushed herself onwards. Johannsen was a true professional: ignoring the heat and noise all round him, he aimed his blaster and started to fire. Short bursts, each one destined for a chosen target.
Ace and Johannsen were clearly taking a toll: the enemy’s fire was beginning to lessen. There was enough time between the explosions for Defries to hear the ringing in her ears.
But it must be too late to save Daak, she thought. Where he had reached the summit, the cliff had disappeared: it had been excavated by explosions, it was a hole ten metres wide. Red-hot rocks continued to slide from the place.
Then she saw him: further along the cliff, beyond the bleeding gap, the DK was struggling once again towards the top of the ridge. He reached it. He stood, legs apart, arms lifted above his head. Defries was sure he was shouting, although she could hear nothing but the thud of shells and the tinnitus inside her head.
The heat-seekers would be drawn by the steaming wound in the rock face, Defries realized; they’d ignore Daak. The smoke would confuse missiles with eyes. And if he didn’t yell too loudly, the ones with ears would miss him too. Now if he’d just take cover and place some well-aimed bursts with his blaster...
He didn’t. He thrust out his chainsword like a lance, and charged forward, into the smoke and explosions. He disappeared from sight.
Defries was only two metres below Johannsen now. Further along the ridge, Ace was still throwing high explosives. She kept moving, and the enemy fire kept missing her. She saw Defries, and paused long enough to make a curious gesture: a closed fist, and the thumb sticking upwards. Defries thought it looked a bit obscene; but then, perhaps that was appropriate. It was a quaint and arcane gesture, and seemed of a piece with Ace’s sometimes archaic and obscure phrases.
Johannsen was in trouble: his shield of rocks had been reduced to a line of rubble, his combat suit had been torn, and his exposed skin had been wounded by flying splinters of stone. Blood streamed down his face and back. He couldn’t see to aim.
‘Johannsen!’ Defries yelled in a gap between shell bursts. ‘Get down here. You need patching up. I’ll take over.’
He didn’t hear. Defries jumped to a higher ledge and reached out to touch his foot. A flash of light turned everything white. The foot was suddenly not there. Next instant, Defries felt herself falling. Something had punched her chest; she felt the refrigeration unit of her suit cut in, she felt rather than heard the tearing, rippling, screaming boom of the explosion.
The smell of burning.
The impact of landing, breath knocked from lungs, pain.
It seemed like hours later. She knew it was only seconds. She opened her eyes. The light made her retch, but she could see. A dust-storm, clouds scurrying above.
She tried to move. Every limb worked. The suit had absorbed the impact. Only a few molecules thick, how did they build in so much padding? She’d send a thank-you to the manufacturers. No: they don’t need it, do they. Rich bastards. Must have made a mint out of the wars.
Wish I knew whether my face was burnt. Ask Johannsen.
Johannsen.
She rolled over. The blast had picked her up and dropped her a couple of metres along the ridge. She was still near the top. She saw Ace, getting nearer, wide-eyed with concern, leaping from rock to rock. Jump; crouch; aim; fire. Jump; crouch; aim; fire. Explosions flared behind her.
Defries turned and looked in the other direction. Where Johannsen’s shelter had been there was now a smoking crater. There was nothing left of Johannsen.
Yes there was. Defries realized that she was holding something in her right hand. She didn’t want to look down. Of course. Johannsen’s boot. And his foot.
She sat up. She wanted suddenly to continue the movement, to rest her head on her knees, curl up, cosy, comfortable, cry herself to sleep.
Ace’s boots crunched closer. Defries turned towards her, lifted Johannsen’s boot, and tossed it into the crater.
‘OK?’ mouthed Ace, her eyes veering from Defries’s face to follow the trajectory of the boot.
‘First casualty,’ Defries said. ‘Damn him. We can’t afford losses. He was a good trooper.’
Ace was talking again. Defries shook her head. They couldn’t hear each other. They did some smiling and signing, and Ace helped Defries to stand.
Explosions and laser fire were sporadic now, and seemed to be striking at random along the top of the ridge. Defries and Ace crawled up to a hollow, and peered cautiously over the lip.
Defries smiled. The enemy was in retreat.
The other side of the escarpment was a fractured plateau, a great, cracked slab of rock tilted away from the summit of the ridge. The widely-scattered smoke-swirls from destroyed weapons and vehicles showed that the enemy had advanced on a broad front.
Ace nudged Defries, grinned, and pointed proudly to the two largest pyres: they were the remains of two hover-speeders, presumably wrecked by Ace’s grenades.
Fluttering rags revealed where Ace’s and Johannsen’s blaster fire had cut down the black-robed enemy personnel. Defries counted nine bodies. Some had been shot down singly, quite near the edge of the plateau, presumably while advancing. Others were in pairs, lying next to tangles of black metal that must have been mortars and missile launchers before Ace had destroyed them.
The survivors, three ungainly figures in robes whipped by the wind, were grouped on the remaining hover-speeder. One was in the cockpit, at the controls; the other two were standing on the rear platform, firing blasters at random towards the clifftop and overseeing the automatic fire of the hoverspeeder’s cannon.
‘They’re going to get away!’ Ace yelled into Defries’s ear. Defries realized that her hearing was returning.
‘Good!’ she shouted back. Her little squad had survived one firefight, but she’d already lost a quarter of her manpower and she was sure that the enemy had plenty of reserves They needed rest and medication, that was the first priority. Then, as soon as possible, move on again. Find a place to lie low. Avoid firefights. Guerrilla tactics.
Ace nudged her again, hard. Defries turned angrily, but her eyes were drawn to follow Ace’s pointing finger.
On the plateau, as yet unseen by the black-robed figures, Daak was running towards the hoverspeeder.
Now they’d spotted him. Laser beams swept like searchlights, leaving smoking trails across the rock, as blasters were turned towards the approaching Dalek Killer.
He zigzagged. The beams missed him. And he was there, making the impossible leap from the ground to the moving platform, ducking beneath the barrel of the cannon, waving his chainsword in circles as if it weighed no more than a walking stick.
He cut one of the enemy in half. His weapon snagged in the cloak, and for a moment he was vulnerable. The second enemy took aim at point-blank range. Daak lifted the chainsword, and the cloak, and the upper half of the corpse it contained, and swung the whole mass. The second enemy fell from the platform and lay still.
The hoverspeeder started to accelerate. Its pilot had decided that he had to shake Daak off. Daak staggered; fell, slid towards the back of the platform.
The speeder slewed from side to side. Defries lifted her blaster, tracking the vehicle’s erratic course. If the wind died for just a moment; if she could just get a clear sight of the cockpit...
Ace’s hand blocked the viewfinder, pushed down the barrel of the gun. ‘Don’t be daft. You might kill him,’ Ace yelled.
Defries lashed out: her blaster struck Ace’s shoulder. Ace stumbled back, an unreadable expression on her face and her blaster half-raised.
‘He’s a dead man anyway,’ Deff
ies shouted. ‘He hasn’t got a chance. He’s a DK. He’s on borrowed time. He’s a lousy soldier. But it’s Johannsen who’s dead. Johannsen who’s in pieces. Johannsen...’
Shut up, Defries, she told herself. Shit, I sound like I was bunking with the guy. This crazy auxie is acting cooler than me. Take it easy.
‘Take it easy, Belle,’ Ace said, and smiled. ‘Daak didn’t kill Johannsen. The creeps in the black nighties did. Spinward did. Take it out on them.’
‘I will.’ Defries’s gaze followed the careering hoverspeeder. Suddenly, here, on the windswept rock, after the battle, she experienced certainty and settling, as if the clouds had parted and the sun had illuminated her. ‘I’m not going to take this personally. I’m just going to wipe out everyone who stands between me and whoever’s running this place. And then I’m going to wipe him out. Or her. Or it. Let’s move.’
She vaulted over a boulder and started to jog across the plateau. She didn’t turn round: she expected Ace to follow, and a few moments later she heard running footsteps behind her.
‘Looks like the DK isn’t easy to kill anyway,’ Ace panted.
They ran on together. The hoverspeeder had completed an erratic circle, and was now, moving away from them again. Daak was hanging from the rear platform, legs dangling, but he had embedded the teeth of the chainsword in one of the armour-plated side panels. He managed to glance, over his shoulder, see Ace and Defries, and lift his left arm in greeting. Then he began to move.
He used the chainsword as a mountaineer uses an ice pick: he clung to the platform with his left hand, and brought the chainsword up and then down again, grinding it into the metal structure of the vehicle and pulling himself forward centimetre by centimetre.
The hoverspeeder turned again. Daak was almost at the front of the platform now, behind the vitreous bubble that protected the cockpit. He stood up, swaying. The pilot seemed to have forgotten his passenger: he had seen Ace and Defries. He turned the speeder towards them, and accelerated.
‘Split up,’ Defries gasped. ‘Shoot to disable, if you can.’
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