Gun Runner

by B. V. Larson

  I knew in a flash what it was. A shrade. An alien of a kind that could take many forms. A being full of evil cunning. Somehow, it had infested the model-D, taken it over, and used the heat it was capable of generating to keep itself alive and active. Riding inside the android, it didn’t need the sun’s warmth to function. It could live and act on its own.

  “It’s the one that fell down into the pit,” Jort said. “The same one you lost last time we were here.”

  I stared, and I knew Jort was right. The chassis was dented and even bent in places. How long had it lain there, down in the bottom of a pit without sunlight or hope? How had the shrade managed to get to it, to merge with it, to learn how to control its operation?

  None of that mattered, because now the door was open. Abandoning its plan to trap us inside and let us freeze solid, the model-D began moving again.

  It did not flee. It didn’t even take a step backward. Instead, it raised its scratched grippers like claws and marched forward with clear intent.

  It meant to kill us both.

  Chapter Fifty-Two

  Our rifles were damaged and lay at the monster’s artificial feet. We had belt-knives, but those were probably worse than useless.

  We stepped back, giving ground. No model-D was quick on its feet, not even on the very day it was manufactured. Today, after having suffered many damaging falls, this one was even less so. It dragged its left foot, in fact, making a distinctive mark in the frost. The freak-show riding piggy-back had a hell of a reach—and it was strong too.

  Trotting away, we tore open crates. I found a rifle, but no charging pack. Jort found a pack—but it was, of course, completely drained.

  “Split up, Jort,” I said. “If you get a chance to dash through the door, go for it.”

  As it turned out, the plan worked—but it wasn’t me, unfortunately, who got away.

  “I’ll be back, Captain!” Jort shouted over his shoulder. “Don’t let it catch you!”

  I appreciated the advice, even if it did seem rather obvious. Dashing between one pile of crates and another, I was followed doggedly by the android.

  The model-D was slow, but as it was driven by an alien mind, it wasn’t stupid. It was determined, never letting me get past it to escape. Instead, it would move to block my path. Even if it looked like it might be able to catch me, with a tempting appearance of weakness on my part, it didn’t take the bait.

  I tried every trick I knew. I fell on purpose, then faked an injured leg. I shoved crates into its path and tried to trip it—nothing worked. The alien kept the machine between me and the door. It had no intention of letting me leave.

  Naturally, my oxygen levels were dwindling, and my air tanks would soon be empty. I should have another hour’s worth left, but with all the exertion and the extreme cold, my batteries were dying too—running heaters and other life support functions was costly.

  Worse, I was getting tired. The model-D wasn’t in good shape, but it was relentless. I knew the mind operating it would never get tired either. The aliens species I was up against was cunning and resourceful aside from being tough as nails. In a fair fight, no human stood a chance against them. We needed a technological edge to win, just as we had always used against predators in the past.

  But these creatures were very intelligent. Smart enough to take control of an android.

  I wondered briefly about the monster inside the model-D. Had it realized I would come back for more weapons eventually? Had it plotted carefully? This seemed to be the case. It had managed to get the model-D out of the pit it had fallen into and learned how to operate it. The logical conclusion was that it had carefully set this trap for me.

  The thought was chilling. This being had spent months moving all the guns, so I would have to venture deeper—so it could trap me here in this deeper room.

  What was the purpose of so great an effort? There had to be one.

  Thinking for a moment, I knew it couldn’t be simple sustenance. Certainly, I imagined it might be starving, but I sensed there was more to its plan than a good meal.

  In a sudden flash of realization, I knew what its real goal must be: it wanted my ship. It wanted to escape this rock, just as badly as I would have if I’d been trapped here for years.

  “You fucker…” I whispered, my breath coming out in puffs. Each puff obscured my faceplate briefly with steam.

  I looked around, trying to come up with a plan. There were plenty of rifles still in their crates. Plenty of power packs too. Unfortunately, the power packs were all drained dry. If they hadn’t been, this creature would have undoubtedly shot us right away instead of executing this elaborate plot.

  There were, however, six bigger crates.

  Suddenly, it occurred to me what they were: mortars. Why hadn’t I thought of them before?

  I ran to one of these crates at the back of the storage chamber—the furthest one so I’d have a moment to work. I wrenched it open. There it was—a tube with a red muzzle, a tripod that automatically shot open when you set it down, and several blue-black glassy globes. These were dangerous as they were designed to rain down a shocking level of energy on a distant target. The nice thing about the mortars was you didn’t have to have an external energy source or a direct line of sight to the target. They could lob up high, then fall and blast whatever was in the way. The plasma-charge was built right into the warhead.

  As I took the mortar out, I tried not to think about it much. It was best that way, as I was likely to be committing suicide.

  Aiming the tube on a flat trajectory, I touched the settings. I set it for contact detonation, aimed it at the door behind the android, and rolled one of the blue-black glassy spheres into the tube.

  The alien must have divined my purpose just before the weapon activated. With grippers outstretched like twin claws, the android charged me. Its artificial feet churned and scraped and slipped over the icy floor.

  I wasn’t aiming at it, however. I was aiming at the wall behind it. That probably didn’t matter, because we were in a relatively small space. The vault was no more than a hundred meters across.

  Throwing myself prone, I heard an explosion of energy. A brilliant glare followed by a blast wave surged across the chamber, tossing crates and boxes everywhere.

  The android seemed to take flight. The explosion behind him had propelled him into a short leap that tossed him right over the spot where I was sheltering to smash into the far wall behind me.

  Debris was heaped over me. There were broken crates and a few twisted rifles in the pile—I cursed at the sight of these damaged goods. What a waste, I thought to myself.

  The room was smoky and in shambles, but I spotted the android. It was trying to get to its feet, feebly pressing the ground away from its chest with its arms. I couldn’t let it succeed.

  Springing onto the android’s back, I rode the machine. Gears whirred and it heaved under my knees. I took out a combat knife and jabbed at the back, but the plates were too thick.

  The android heaved, doing a push-up, and I almost rolled off it onto the floor. It took all my skill and balance to stay on top.

  Prying with the knife, I managed to remove the back plate that covered the battery. This thing had a nuclear battery, one that didn’t give out easily. Many model-Ds did, and they could run for years without replacement or recharging.

  My goal was to disable the android. With luck, I could trap the shrade that had snuck inside.

  At last, I cut the cables and tossed the battery aside. The android stiffened and stopped thrashing. It was pretty banged-up anyway, and my latest attack hadn’t improved its condition.

  I scrambled over the debris heading for the exit. Sure enough, the door hung open, blown off its hinges by the mortar blast.

  Running now, I raced through the tunnel and reached the empty chamber at the far end. My suit lights flashed over the walls rhythmically. I heard my breath blowing hard in my suit. My oxygen levels were low—but I kept on running.

 
When I made it to the ramp that spiraled up to the surface, I began to feel hopeful. I might escape—just maybe.

  Then I heard another sound behind me. An awful sound. It was a wet slapping noise, as if someone was beating a wet towel on concrete.

  I knew what it was. It was the shrade. It had left the comfort of the android’s body to chase me—to run me down.

  Shrades were reminiscent of snakes. They were long, worm-like, and lacked arms or legs. They didn’t travel by slithering, however. Instead, they used an odd, humping gait. They resembled inch-worms, creatures that humped up into a U-shape before stretching to maximum length and repeating the process rapidly. They could move alarmingly fast.

  The terrifying alien showed no signs of slowing down despite the fact it must be dying. It was too cold here under the ground for anything to survive more than a few minutes—at least, that’s what I figured.

  It was a race. Not between me and the shrade—not exactly—it was a race between the creature’s stamina and time. How long could it keep racing after me in these harsh conditions?

  At first, it gained rapidly. I dared a glance back, but only once.

  It was very close. Right on my ass. But that single glance also told me that it was slowing down. It was no longer lunging forward. Instead, it was humping along with sheer determination, but losing strength.

  What was its plan? Did it just mindlessly want to kill me?

  After another dozen steps, I was struck from behind.

  The shrade had bunched up its body and given a mighty spring. Using the last of its alien vitality, it hit me squarely between the shoulder blades and knocked me sprawling. The icy floor rushed up to meet my face, and my faceplate starred. Fortunately, spacer equipment is built to be tough. It had to be, or people died.

  Scrambling up, I felt the creature’s weight on my back. If the gravity had been normal, it would have been hard to carry, but under the light tug of this planetoid, I could bear it easily.

  I stood up and reached with both hands, sinking them into the rubbery alien muscle. The shrade squirmed and looped itself around me. It began to squeeze and I could feel it probing, digging with its hard head at various points on my suit.

  Suddenly, with a sick feeling, I knew what it was doing. What its plan had to be. My body heat was the only source of warmth and life in the area. If it could get inside my suit with me—it might be able to survive.

  Fleeing wasn’t going to work. There was nowhere to go, and no sign of Jort. The ship was too far off to call with my radio—not from down here in the underground vault. I was on my own.

  I threw myself backward, landing hard on the shrade, hoping to crush it with my suit’s weight. This did very little. The shrade was as hard as a chunk of pure rubber. All I did was knock the wind out of myself.

  I searched my belt for my knife, but somehow I’d lost it. Maybe I’d lost my grip when the alien caught me and knocked me sprawling.

  The shrade was squeezing all the while. My ribs ached. Things popped inside my chest. Each time I released a gasp of air, I had trouble drawing a breath. I was being choked out.

  My vision blackened. Sound changed, becoming more distant. I knew I was going down fast. Was this how it felt to be the prey, when a predator is finishing its work? I knew that it was.

  I heard something different, words perhaps, in my helmet, but they meant nothing to me. I was limp and trying to breathe. That’s all that mattered, one more breath.

  Flesh that was like steel had wrapped itself around me, and it was not giving up. I was rolled onto my back, then onto my belly. I knew that much. The creature must be thrashing around, rolling—why? Who knows? Maybe that was its instinct. I was limp and helpless in its grasp.

  Then, to my amazement, the band around me eased a fraction. Then a fraction more. It didn’t want to. I could tell it was fighting to tighten again. To finish me.

  Sucking in a few gulps of air, my vision came back. I stared up through my shattered faceplate. Another face stared down at me, looking with great concern into my eyes.

  It was Jort, and he was yelling.

  “Captain? Breathe man! Breathe!”

  I wheezed. My mouth hung wide and ran with drool and blood. It hurt, but I breathed deeply. I could feel my broken ribs jabbing into my lungs. They had to be punctured in several places. Soon, air would pocket inside my body cavity, suffocating me.

  But for now, I could breathe again.

  The shrade lay dead under and around me. Jort had slain it and done his best to rip it away from my dying body. At last, it had succumbed and released me.

  Helping me up, Jort carried me like an infant. In this gravity, with his strength, it was easily done. In this undignified fashion I was transported back to the ship. There, Sosa and Rose took over. I was shoved into the autodoc box and operated upon.

  The first thing the autodoc did was inject me with pain relievers. My lips curled up into a vague smile as they kicked in. Then my eyes rolled up into my skull, and I gratefully slid into unconsciousness.

  Chapter Fifty-Three

  A few days later, I emerged from the medical box and felt much better. It was like being born again—but more uncomfortable.

  Aching all over, I knew my ribs had been reshaped and individually splinted by plastic nano-sutures. They would hold together if I didn’t take another hard blow. They still hurt when I breathed, and I had to take drugs just to endure the pain enough to take a deep breath.

  Antibiotics went into my mouth like candy. That was to prevent pneumonia from developing. The pills also made me crap myself. The next few days were unpleasant, but I could function after a fashion.

  Seven days after the shrade had almost killed me, Jort and I returned to the vault. We went cautiously this time. What other tricks might these aliens have conjured up since our last visit? We had no idea, but we took every step with eyes widened to show the whites all around. We were fearful, but we didn’t talk about it. Instead, we spoke with bravado.

  “I’m gonna kill every one of those snake-things,” Jort assured me. “No more dropping on us from above or springing out of a robot by surprise.”

  His words made my eyes flick to the ceiling. He was correct, the enemy would often come at a human from an unexpected direction. They were like animals, in a way. Extreme alpha predators. They often didn’t use guns or other technology—even though they could. They liked to attack close-in, using their superior physical capacities to overwhelm a man, who was a comparative weakling.

  We crept into the first vault, finding it empty except for the frozen mess of the shrade on the floor. The tunnel was likewise quiet, with only black stains on the ground to show anything had happened. The shrade’s blood or mine? I wasn’t sure, and it didn’t matter.

  When we reached the second vault, Jort hooted in appreciation.

  “This is fantastic find! If we live long enough to get away from this hellish place, we will be rich!”

  “We can’t take it all,” I told him. “We’ll haul away enough to pay Trask, then sell the rest for some profit. Take that model-D, too. We don’t want to leave anything like that behind.”

  Jort looked at me. “Why? We killed the thing. There are more of them?”

  I nodded. “This rock is infested. There are other things as well—worse things. They’re all dormant now, for perhaps two more months. But we can’t count on that.”

  I toed the wreck of the model-D with my boot.

  Jort grunted and grabbed it, hauling it to the power-sleds. He needed no more convincing.

  While Jort worked, I stood guard for the most part. He packed up the sleds while I watched the tunnel and the two doors. Nothing assaulted us, but I felt a cold sweat the whole time. This place… it was kind of traumatic for me just to be here. I didn’t like it. I had to battle a deep dread that I couldn’t shake. I supposed that was only natural, as I’d come so close to death in this frozen place.

  At last, we had our power sleds loaded with crates. Jort hauled
them back up the ramp. It was all I could do to walk with him, cradling my rifle and breathing through my clenched teeth. My ribs were singing a mournful song in my chest. I’d had twelve breaks, and I felt every one of them still. The thought of a good, strong drink kept me going.

  The four of us celebrated in our ship the moment we lifted off. It was a huge relief to leave that frozen rock in space.

  “What happened there in the past?” Rose asked me. “What really happened at Sardez? I learned in school they were an evil people. A planet that was too war-like, and they perished due to their own aggressiveness in the end.”

  I snorted and winced. I took a shot of brandy and downed it before answering.

  “That’s Conclave bullshit. A legend, about a real place. The Sardez… they were the best of us. Or at least, they were forced to become the best of us. They fought the aliens to a standstill. In the end, though, they began losing. To prevent the spread of the aliens, the Conclave bombed out their planet.”

  “Killed them? All of them?” Jort asked.

  “That’s right. They killed them all and declared this star system a no-fly zone forever. Only greedy fools like us dare come here to scavenge.”

  “And the aliens? Will they attack another world someday?”

  I put down my shot glass, refilled it, and drank again. The liquid burned in my throat. My eyes were watering.

  “I guess they will. Some say the Faustian Chain is overrun with aliens of this type, and by the Tulk as well.”

  “Why doesn’t the Conclave arm the outer worlds then?” Rose asked me. “Why not build a fleet? They should fly starships to the Chain and destroy these monsters! They should bomb every world if they must!”

  Looking at her with bloodshot eyes, I forced myself to breathe deeply. The alcohol and the drugs in my blood made the task easier. “Maybe they will, someday—but only if they wake up. Right now, the Conclave sleeps. They dream of better days. They hope that the enemy will never come here.”

  We all fell quiet then, studying the fading bluish sphere in the viewscreens. Soon, it was a faint speck. Soon after that, you couldn’t pick it out at all.