by Jack Conner
Sweaty and wide-eyed, Janx turned and said, “Can’t keep this ... up for ... long.”
A gargantuan form heaved its upper self over the edge of the sloping, tiered roof, and Avery, the only one looking, as he had turned to face Janx, sucked in a breath and tried to say something. The others spun. One of the behemoth maggots, having scaled the side of the building, spilled onto the roof, the many cilia sprouting from its upper sections dragging its lower parts upward with unnatural strength. As it moved, it bunched and relaxed like an earthworm.
“Earn your keep,” Sheridan said to Layanna. “Sic ‘em.”
Thump! The door bucked. Avery renewed pressure against it.
Layanna narrowed her eyes at the former admiral. “I spent my strength moving the train.”
Thump!
“Fine,” Sheridan snarled. “Leave this to me.”
She deserted the door, stalked up to the behemoth and fired into its mouth.
It screamed and drove at her
Thum—
The door burst open.
The Viz’ig’ni swarmed out onto the roof and skittered forward, the lead ones rearing up to attack. Janx, having reloaded, blew out the first one’s brains, or whatever it had in its head, and kept firing at the next and the next. Layanna fired, too. Avery, who had been too stunned to reload, fumbled out his shells and with shaking fingers shoved them home.
Viz’ig’ni rushed up at him. Tittering. Clicking. Cilia waving. He reeled back. Dropped a shell. Shoved in another.
They were almost on him—
Sheridan moved past, the behemoth maggot barreling for her. It plowed into the lines of Viz’ig’ni, snapping them up and crushing them to paste beneath it. Out of defense, they clawed and ripped at it, swarming over it, and its ichor bled in thick, odiferous streams. Enraged, it tore into them with renewed zeal. They covered it, biting and tearing with their blade-like forelegs and mouthparts. It crushed them as it rolled about on the rooftop, smearing bits and pieces of them everywhere
“Well?” Sheridan said to the rest of them. “What are you waiting for?”
Though bloody and battered, she set about dispatching the intelligent insects one by one. They others joined her. Soon all the bugs on the rooftop were dead, including the behemoth, which had succumbed to its countless wounds.
“I think ... they must use them as living tanks,” Avery gasped, regarding the maggot. They were all gasping, gripping their knees and sweating. Crushed bugs littered the rooftop, some with thorny legs still kicking. Their ichor stank wretchedly.
“Great,” Janx said between lung-fulls. “Tanks ... with an appetite.” Then he straightened, his face grim, and said in a hollow voice, “Shit.”
He stood at the roof’s edge, looking down. Feeling a tug of fear, Avery approached.
On the city streets, three gargantuan maggots barreled toward the tower. They plowed down three wide streets, and behind them marched glistening columns of Viz’ig’ni. Other Viz’ig’ni streamed along the ceiling of the cavern, down from the stalactites—some emerging from the stalactites themselves; Avery realized they were hives too, at least the large ones—and taking wing. They could fly.
A feeling of hopelessness rose in him. There would be no escape. He and the others had stumbled onto a random, horrible death.
“Shit,” said Janx.
Sheridan scowled. Blood dripped from her leg. “We need to get inside.”
The flying insects were fast. Just in time, the group ducked back in, slamming the door behind them. It was already lacerated and torn, though, and would not last long.
“There must be some way,” Janx said. To Layanna: “You sure there’s nothin’ you can do, darlin’?”
She frowned.
Avery felt cold as he realized it. He swallowed a deep breath, then met her gaze. “Yes,” he said. “I think it’s time.”
She closed her eyes as if something pained her. “No,” she said. “Anything but that.”
“It’s the only way. Our ace in the hole.”
“What ace?” Janx said. “I see the hole but I don’t see no ace.”
Avery held Layanna’s gaze. “It’s the only way.”
“Very well. I’ll do it.” She closed her eyes, this time with an air of concentration, and when she opened them said, “It’s done. I’ve sent off the signal. May the people of this world forgive us if we screw this up.”
“What?” Sheridan said. “What’s done? What have you been hiding?”
Avery paused. “Sartrand.”
“The bastard on the boat?” Janx said.
“I just activated the beacon that will summon him and his fellows to us,” Layanna said.
Janx’s face grew taught. His jaw bunched, but he said nothing.
They waited. The vague sound of scuttling drifted up from the streets through the door, and the sound of wings grew louder. Zzzzt. Rustle. Flicker.
Then, suddenly, there came a sort of boom, an odd staccato popping sound. Immediately the shrieks of behemoth maggots rose up, as well as the mass scuttling of the Viz’ig’ni formations. Avery couldn’t see what was happening, but he heard the sounds of a terrible struggle.
“I think we better go,” Layanna said. “There’s still a chance we can escape before Sartrand finds us.”
They passed down through the building, Avery helping Sheridan as she went, and then outside. Huge insect bodies littered the ground, and from all directions Avery saw strangely colored flame licking at the alien buildings and heard eerie insect screams. He couldn’t see the conflict, but he knew it was all around them.
“I think the train was in this direction,” he said, setting off.
The others followed. Sheridan, perhaps over-proud, shook herself loose and walked on her own. Avery heard something behind them and turned to see flames begin to consume the tower they had just left.
The chittering screams of the Viz’ig’ni faded around them. Soon only the licking of flames could be heard. Avery was aware that, once again, he walked through a city of the dead and dying.
The train appeared around a bend.
Six figures stood before it.
Avery shone his flashlight at them. Men and women, he saw, not Viz’ig’ni. Or what looked like men and women. At their center stood Sartrand. He looked immaculate, dressed in a cream-colored suit, his mustache recently combed and trimmed, his huge nose curved like a hawk’s. There was not a sign of blood on him, nor any of the others. They must have slaughtered the Viz’ig’ni with their other-selves pulled about them.
Sartrand stepped forward. “Layanna,” he said, bowing his head. “I’m so glad you called us.”
Instead of answering, she said, “How have you managed to hoard lost technology from the rest of the R’loth?” She must be referring to their means of traveling here so swiftly, among other things.
“Does it matter now?” Looking about him as if pleased by the sight—of the city burning or of the alien architecture in general, Avery didn’t know—Sartrand said, “I see our seeds were well planted. It might surprise you to know that it was my people that caused the Viz’ig’ni to move against you.”
“You? But how?”
“We have friends among the old races. You should know that.”
“But the Viz’ig’ni ...”
“Yes, many thought them extinct. My people knew better. And when we learned the Device was in transit, possibly headed this way ... well. It’s only a pity that they didn’t stop when we ordered them to. They are an amazing people, or were, but when their attack pheromones got going, they were impossible to deal with.” He shrugged. “A fatal flaw in their make-up, it turns out.”
“Do you truly worship the Muug?” Layanna said.
Sartrand’s face turned serious. “You do not understand, Layanna. Their majesty ... You could join us, you know. It’s not too late for you.”
She didn’t answer.
“You’re not getting the Device,” Avery said. “You might as well go home.”
/> “Oh, I’m going home,” Sartrand assured him. He made a small motion, and the air shimmered a few feet away, a sort of greasy smear hovering off the ground: their doorway. “And the Device is going with me. Where is it?”
Avery thought for a moment that Sartrand was toying with them, but then he saw that Sheridan—and the Device—had disappeared.
“Damn.”
He and Layanna exchanged worried glances. Janx spat.
“Where is it?” Sartrand repeated. “Please don’t tell me you hid it somewhere. If you’ve stooped to playing games with me, Layanna, I’ll make you regret it.”
The other men, and two women, Avery saw, looked hard and flinty. The Muugist cult. Avery was looking at the faces of zealots. Madmen. People that would doom his world to serve their gods, likely even doom their own race.
Stall for time, Avery thought. “We’ll tell you where the Device is if you let us go.”
“I don’t have time for this,” Sartrand said. “Nisith?”
One of the female Muugists pulled out a gun from a robe. It was an ordinary gun, nothing elaborate, but it would serve its purpose well enough. In one swift motion she raised it, aimed at Avery’s head, and began to pull the trigger.
Her head erupted in blood and bone shards, and she toppled to the ground.
The others of the Muugist cult wheeled toward the shooter.
Crouching in the shadow of a building, Sheridan fired twice more, killing two more god-things in the space of a heartbeat, before Sartrand and the surviving three pulled out their own guns and returned fire. She vanished behind the building.
Even as she was vanishing, Avery had pulled out his own extradimensional weapon, and just in time.
The three Muugists shifted. Their horrid, other-worldly selves, larger and more nightmarish than Layanna’s, surged toward him, the only visible antagonist. Their pseudopods split the ground with mighty thumps and their tentacles lashed the air. The acrid stench of their venom burned his lungs.
Avery was not the marksmen Sheridan was. It took him four shots to kill the first one, even as it drove directly at him. His legs shook, and he felt his bladder start to release even as the being loomed over him. But his fourth bullet took out the throat of the man in the middle of the gelatinous sac. Instantly the phantasmagorical flesh evaporated and folded back in on itself with that familiar slurping noise, leaving a steaming puddle with a dying man lying in its midst, thrashing in pain.
Unarmed, Layanna and Janx stumbled backward, past Avery, even as the other Muugists barreled toward them. Avery, the only one of them with an extradimensional weapon, fired and fired, this time aiming for the torso. He struck the second being twice, once near the heart.
Falling back, he began to take aim at Sartrand.
Sheridan emerged from a building and added her fire to the barrage.
It was too much. Hailed by the gunfire, Sartrand and his one surviving compatriot reeled backward. They seemed to waver, then—in obvious rage—slipped through the gateway. The air shimmered and a crack like thunder shook the cavern. Sartrand and the other one were gone.
Dazed, Avery regarded Janx and Layanna, then Sheridan.
She aimed her gun at him.
“Drop that weapon,” she said.
“What—?”
“Drop it!”
Dumbly, he dropped the gun.
She gestured to the train. “Get in.”
“No,” he said. “Not without Layanna and—”
Sheridan fired off a round at Layanna’s feet, and Layanna danced back with a cry of surprise.
Enraged, Janx clutched at his empty gun. “Damn you. I shoulda killed you when I had the chance.”
“Most likely,” Sheridan agreed. “But if you had, the maggot and the others would’ve killed you all.” She sounded weaker now than before. Blood stained the ground where she had walked. To Avery, she indicated the train again. Hildra was just emerging from it, her eyes wide. Hildebrand was nowhere to be seen.
“I won’t,” Avery said. “You can kill me, but I’m not going to help you.”
“Then I’ll kill your goddess.” Sheridan pointed the pistol at Layanna. “You need her to activate the Device. I kill her and your whole cause dies.”
Avery ground his teeth. “Damn you.”
“Do it!”
“Don’t,” Layanna said.
Avery felt sweat sting his eyes. What should he do? If he held out, Sheridan would kill Layanna, he had no doubt of that.
“Fine,” he said, “I’ll go with you, but on one condition: you leave the others alive. Kill them and I won’t care if you threaten to kill me later. I’d be dead already.”
“Fine,” Sheridan said. She sounded very weak now. “Just get in already.”
Avery sucked in a breath and met the gazes of the others. Seeming very solemn, Layanna said nothing. Janx had more to say, but he said it in curses and snarls. Hildra just looked pale.
Sheridan ushered Avery into the engine and directed him to start it up. Though not as skilled as Janx or Layanna, he knew the basics, and shortly the engine was smoking. Its vibration coursed up his feet.
“You can’t just leave them here,” he said. “There could still be Viz’ig’ni around.”
“Not my problem,” Sheridan said. “But I’m giving them a chance. It’s all you can expect of me. And I’m only doing that much so that you’ll help me. If you don’t I’ll come back here and put a bullet in each of their heads. Now go.”
Reluctantly, he eased the train away from the wreckage of Sheridan’s accident and past Janx, Hildra and Layanna. He watched them standing there, mute, side by side. He watched them until the blackness swallowed them, and then he turned away and guided the train down the tracks.
Chapter 2
Avery frowned as he inspected Sheridan’s wounds. She insisted on manning the controls and he had to examine the most serious injury, a long gash along her right thigh, while perched on the floor. The train rattled and groaned around them, and soot caked his backside. Every breath he took was of smoke, which billowed from the nearby furnace. Heat broiled his face and hands. Coughing, he rolled up Sheridan’s pants leg to her hip and shone a flashlight at the bloody mess.
“Well?” she demanded.
“You’re going to have to lie down,” he said. “I’ll need to operate immediately. Honestly, it’s a wonder you can still stand.”
“I’m not the delicate lily you are.”
“Are you going to lie down or not?” When she hesitated, he said, “We’re far enough away now, and we’ve passed too many other tunnels. I doubt they could even find us.”
That seemed to mollify her. “Fine, but if I feel myself about to fade, I will shoot you. It’s in your interest to make sure I live.”
She slowed the train, stopped it, and allowed him to move her to the more sterile rear compartment before lying down. When he pulled out a syringe, however, she said, “I will not be put out.”
“There’s no way you could stand the pain, Jess. No one could.” The familiar had slipped out almost without him realizing it.
“I will not be anesthetized.” Her gaze grew hard. “I will not tell you again. And don’t call me Jess.”
“Very well. Let me get you something to bite down on.”
Since he had nothing else, he removed his belt, a thick leather band, and—ignoring the look of distaste that crossed her features—placed it between her jaws. She clamped down as he set to work, and sweat popped out on her face, but she said nothing, and she didn’t so much as groan, not during the whole procedure.
“You don’t need to impress me,” he said with a grunt, as he began to sew up her wound. He was sweating by then.
She watched his fingers intently, as if afraid he might make some mistake, but she still made no sound. Finally, when he was done with the main gash on her leg, he removed the belt. She let out a gasp and sort of slumped. He saw the deep bite marks on the leather, and possibly blood stains; the leather was too dark to tell
for certain. She still said nothing. Perhaps she didn’t have the strength.
“That went as well as could be expected,” he said. “Why don’t we take a break before beginning on your other injuries?”
“No.”
“Are you sure you wouldn’t at least like a painkiller? If it’s just a small dose, you’ll still be able to fend me off if I should try to overpower you.” He tried to add a chuckle to this last part, but it came out strained.
“No painkiller.” Her voice was a dry, husky growl. “Just get to work.”
He complied. She really was over-proud, he thought. Perhaps compensating for something—guilt, maybe? That seemed too much to ask for.
He fixed, as best he could, one injury caused by the wreck after another. When the train had collided with the maggot, the force of the impact had thrown metal like shrapnel, and Sheridan had received a fair number across her torso and arms. The many small cuts, some deep, stained her clothes with blood and made them sticky, hard to work with. He had to strip her, which she bore with no visible emotion. He noticed, despite himself, that she was in just as good of shape as she’d been when they had carried out their affair, perhaps better.
While he operated, he contemplated, as he had before, nicking a vein or an artery and letting her bleed out, then stealing the Device, but he knew how fast she was; she would kill him before she died, he was sure of it, just as she had promised, and then the Device would sit in these dark tunnels forever, and Octung would win the war.
After he’d finished sewing her up, he fished out a bottle of whiskey, poured a glass for himself and one for her. Having covered up by then, she eyed the glass for a moment, grimaced in pain, and snatched it from his hands.
“Feels like old times,” he said, settling back and drinking.
“This is not like old times.”
The Device sat on the floor near them, and Avery had to check himself from staring at it.
She knocked back a stiff swallow, then let out a breath and lay back against the far wall. They watched each other. Both were lit only by the dim lights of the train and by Avery’s surgical flashlights, which cast their shadows on the walls and seats above their heads.