by Chris Walley
The doors closed, and with a soft whine, the compartment descended sharply.
Merral realized how desperately he wanted to leave the ship. How many of his men had perished? he asked himself bitterly. They had achieved some sort of victory, but what had been the price?
Suddenly the elevator stopped and the door opened smoothly, revealing a low-roofed and gloomy lateral corridor. Yet for all its gloom, Merral rejoiced when he realized that he could smell fresh air. Furthermore, over the noise of the sirens and the sound of panicked, tumbling feet echoing from the levels above, he could hear sounds and cries from outside.
Merral exited the elevator compartment. As he did, he felt a new and powerful vibration begin. He knew instantly what it was: the engines of the ship were starting up.
“Time to go,” Merral said aloud.
To his right, a fresher, cleaner light seemed to be flowing into the corridor. He ran to that end and carefully peered round the corner.
Beyond a pile of equipment and crates, he could see a ramp sloping downward. At its base was a strip of beach where a chaotic mass of cockroach-beasts and ape-creatures milled about.
There were other noises from the ship. Harsh, unintelligible words trumpeted from speakers, and a red strip light began pulsing rapidly along the ceiling. The vibrations reverberating through the ship began to rise in strength and pitch.
Merral moved forward, ducked behind an oil-stained container, and peered round at the ramp. Up it trudged a handful of the ape-creatures, some limping, others showing patches of raw red flesh amid their black hair. At their heels scuttled several cockroach-beasts, one with a severed arm, another trailing a limp leg. Merral noticed that on the ramp there was a trail of red smears. At the end of the sorry line, he caught sight of two heavy, dull gray metallic figures, shorter than the ape-creatures but much taller than the cockroach-beasts. For a moment, he thought that they were yet another race until he realized that what he was seeing was an encrusting armor that covered the figures from head to toe. Underneath their heavy protective suits he knew these were men. One, he noted, had a left arm that hung limp.
Halfway up the ramp, the men stopped, squatted down stiffly, and fired a dozen whistling blasts out at the beach beyond. Then they stood up, turned, and with a heavy, labored tread retreated back up the ramp.
As they passed him, barely three paces away, Merral heard a new noise, a deep mechanical groaning from within the ship. He looked to see that the ramp was beginning to rise.
Without thinking, he threw his gun down and rose to his feet. Then he leaped onto the ramp and began racing down its bloodied surface. Above the sound of his boots pounding on the metal he could hear the shout of harsh voices.
He had been seen.
At the very edge of the ramp, Merral dropped to his knees, grabbed the metal rim, and rolled himself over. He heard the sound of firing. Something whistled over the tips of his fingers so close that he felt its warmth. Aware of the fresh air around him and glimpsing the sand beneath him, he let go.
It was a long drop.
He struck the soft sand with a force that punched the wind out of him. For a moment, he lay there, dazed but grateful to God that he was not going to die on that foul ship. Then he caught a whiff of bitter smoke, heard the cries around him, and saw the shuddering corpse of a cockroach-beast in front of him.
Something hissed over his head, and Merral rolled himself down into a nearby hollow in the sand. High above him there was a clunking sound as the ramp seated itself into the vast black underside of the hull. All around him, the beach surface was shaking with the vibrations from the ship.
As his breath returned to him, he looked around, trying to take stock of the situation. About him lay a scene of devastation, with smoldering debris and the bodies of intruders.
Barely an arm’s length away lay the half-burned corpse of an ape-creature, and beyond that another lay immobile at the edge of the blue-gray waters of the lake.
Despite the ramp’s closure he saw there were two intruder groups left fighting, one between the twin rear legs and another—nearer to him—just in front of the nose strut. There three armed ape-creatures crouched behind a pile of equipment and fired clumsily.
Heartened, Merral realized that the ongoing defense suggested that both Zak’s and Frankie’s teams were still in place and attacking.
There was a booming noise from above, and he glanced up to see the sky-blocking mass of the ship visibly vibrating. Underneath him the sand shook in response, and around the legs, gravel and sand spurted up.
Suddenly he realized that, above the noise of the intruder ship, he could hear a new and weightier clamor. Abruptly, the line of sky over the lake darkened, and Merral glimpsed the clean, pale blue underside of the Emilia Kay sliding into place over the intruder vessel.
Perena’s got them in check.
Suddenly there was shouting.
To his right, helmeted men in green were slithering down the loose cliff face on ropes. The reserve troops.
As if responding to their arrival, Merral heard the rising bellow of rocket engines behind him. The intruder ship jerked into the air a fraction. It hung there for a few seconds before thudding back to the ground. Ahead of him, Merral saw the ape-creatures swing their weapons toward the reserves.
It suddenly dawned on him that it was not yet all over. There was still resistance, all three legs of the ship were intact, and there was no sign of any doors having been blasted open. The mission remained unaccomplished. Aching in a dozen places, Merral rose to his feet, found his bush knife on his belt, and once more opened the blade. Then he charged forward at the nearest ape-creature, his feet sinking into the dark sand as he ran. Suddenly conscious of his approach, the creature swung the gun barrel toward him. Before it could fire, he thrust the barrel aside with his arm. He lunged with the blade at the creature’s throat, feeling it strike home through fur and flesh.
With a spluttering cry, the creature fell back, its weapon crashing heavily into the sand.
Merral stepped back, trying to ignore the blood on the blade. Above him the entire hull of the ship was now shuddering. One of the two remaining ape-creatures tottered to the ground. The remaining ape-creature turned toward Merral, cradling a long-barreled weapon in the black fur of its arms. Then its head twitched; a ghastly red circle punched into its face.
“Sir, sir! Are you all right?” a voice shouted.
Merral turned to the soldier, recognizing Barry Narandel of the reserves. “Yes, Barry!” Merral shouted back. He felt he wanted to hug Barry and say how extraordinarily glad he was to see him and his men, but he didn’t trust himself. Instead, he gestured to the front of the ship. “We need to get a charge on that leg!” he bellowed.
Barry nodded as a new and more sustained roaring began from the engines above them. Warm air thickened with flying sand and hot fumes billowed around them. Ahead, the front leg shuddered afresh, thrashing sand all around as the table-sized metal foot rose up and then bounded back down onto the sand.
“It’s about to take off!” Merral shouted over the new roar of sound.
Seizing a red package from one of his men, Barry ran with it to the leg. Just as he was about to climb on to the pad, the entire leg jerked free of the sand.
As the massive metallic foot lifted, a dark gaping hole appeared. Barry’s legs slid down into it, dragging him under the overhanging pad.
The charge he was holding flew free and bounced along the ground.
“Get him out!” Merral screamed to the men, over the mounting gale of the engines. He knew they couldn’t hear him, but it didn’t matter; they were already running to their lieutenant’s aid. Merral ran to the charge and snatched it out of the layer of bouncing dirt that now carpeted the ground. Somewhere above him, more jet vents were opening up, and the mixture of dense white smoke and dust made it hard to see anything more than a few paces away. The lake and the cliff seemed to have vanished into a smeared haze.
Ahead of him, in a
vibrating blur, Merral could see the landing foot hanging at the height of his waist. He ripped off the backing strip on the charge and, running around the men as they struggled to pull their leader out of the sand, grabbed the side of the foot.
With the flying sand stinging him in the face, Merral reached over and slapped the package as far in on the pad as he could. He tore off the protective film from the firing cord and pulled out the safety pin.
The moment Barry was pulled free he would pull the detonation cord.
Suddenly there was a new shrieking roar from the engines. The ship pivoted sideways, and the suspended foot of the landing gear swung wildly. It struck Merral against his chest armor and sent him reeling. Somehow, he regained his balance. He reached out to regain his hold on the detonation cord, and as he did, the foot dropped down again.
Barry gave a terrible scream and the ground shook.
In a new torrent of sand, noise, and fume the leg lifted up sharply. As it rose past him, Merral lunged forward onto it, catching hold of a metal strut with his left hand and pulling himself onto the pad.
There was a ferocious jolt.
The angular corner of the pad struck under the edge of Merral’s armored vest and jerked upward into his abdomen. An explosion of pain engulfed his chest.
Merral gasped, overwhelmed by the agony. I must hold on! he told himself over the dreadful pain, the deafening clamor, and the hot, choking smoke.
The ship was moving up.
Merral glanced down, seeing a figure with a red smear around his crushed legs and green-uniformed men standing around him with their pale helmeted faces staring upward. The raging fire in his chest continued to burn, and he could feel a warm liquid trickling down his stomach.
Fighting off an almost irresistible desire to pass out, Merral reached out with his free right hand and with slow, painful movements, found the charge. Even the slightest move seemed to drive a cruel stabbing blade up into his lungs.
He moved his fingers up, centimeter by painful centimeter, until he reached the cord. Then he grasped it between two fingers.
I must be sure I have it firm, he told himself between spasms of pain.
Now was the moment.
Now. But his fingers, apparently part of another man’s body, wouldn’t respond.
Now! Now!
Then, stiffly and reluctantly, they tugged at the cord.
There was a new agonizing jolt as the ship abruptly tilted and slipped sideways. A numbed Merral realized that the Intruder vessel was dodging out from under the Emilia Kay.
Check, but not yet mate.
As the ship tilted, the sun shone into Merral’s face, and blinking madly, he looked downward to see the ground underneath him covered with tiny upright figures, black bodies sprawled out on the sand, and gray plumes of rising smoke.
Suddenly he was aware of a new kind of vibration. He looked up to the dark cavity under the ship’s nose and realized the foot he was clinging onto was sliding upward. He glanced back to see that the massive rear undercarriage legs were retracting as well.
Unexpectedly, the ship swung round and went into a shallow dive. To gain speed, he decided.
For a moment, there was blue water below him.
Merral let go.
The next moment he was aware only of the cold air whipping past him, the dazzling sun in his eyes, the Rim Ranges poking up their serrated peaks to the sky, and the awful pain in his chest. Then he closed his eyes.
Something smacked into him.
As he went under the icy water, Merral felt new and agonizing pains in his chest, as if someone was knifing his ribs.
He opened his eyes to see blue water around him and a yellow light far above. He tried to swim up to the light, but the pain was all too much. The coldness of the water made him want to gasp, but he couldn’t breathe.
Somehow he rose up through the waters until he was bobbing up into the air and the sunlight.
Gasping in agony for air, Merral looked up and saw the dark bulk of the intruder ship flying onward. He could see the underside smoothing itself out as the legs were withdrawn into the hull. A sudden triple jet of orange flame burst out at the rear, and the vessel began to accelerate away southward down the lake, gaining altitude as it did.
Something is supposed to happen, Merral thought, his mind numbed. There is supposed to be an explosion. The ship became a small black pencil heading up into the stratosphere.
Perhaps, after all his efforts, the charge hadn’t worked. How disappointing after all that effort . . .
A tiny yellow flash rippled under the nose, and fine fragments of dark debris rained downward.
The ship continued accelerating until it was only a charcoal-colored point trailing a dirty streak of smoke above the far end of the lake.
Good-bye. The cold water chilled him. Good-bye.
Then, in an instant so quick that it was almost nonexistent, the black point turned into a dazzling disc of clear silver light.
In that briefest fraction of time, the light seemed to equal the sun in its brightness.
Blinking, Merral heard a wild roll of thunder, and moments later a strange, unruly wind ruffled the choppy waters.
The disc of light faded to yellow and then leisurely transformed itself into a smudgy, dirty cloud. For a moment, it crossed Merral’s wearied mind that the intruder ship had somehow escaped into Below-Space while still in the atmosphere.
Then he saw the first of the fragments splash down into the lake with a hiss. Soon the whole southern part of the lake was covered by a series of rising steam columns.
Destroyed, destroyed utterly. Perhaps it was best that way.
It hurt to breathe. Merral noticed a red color in the lake water by his jacket. I am still bleeding. The armored jacket seemed to be keeping him afloat. Just as well. I don’t have the strength to take it off.
Perhaps he would drift ashore. He tried kicking, but he lacked the energy. Anyway, it hurt too much.
The line of the shore was some way away, and he could now see the bulk of the Emilia Kay where the intruder ship had once stood. A fair exchange . . .
There were other noises now, but Merral was too tired to bother with them. He felt like sleeping. I played my part; not well, but I did it.
Freezing water lapped into his mouth and nose, jarring him momentarily alert.
The wind was getting up. He was aware of a little semicircle of waves radiating out from around him. Strange, he thought, in a dreamy haze. Beware the weather in the Made Worlds.
Then there was a splashing sound beside him. He knew it was sharks coming after his blood. Why had they ever introduced freshwater sharks into Fallambet Lake Five? He must ask Anya.
How very silly.
Something was now grappling with him, a thing of soft blue plastic tentacles wrapping round his arms, legs, neck, and head. An octopus, he thought stupidly, too tired to resist. Was that better than a shark? He was aware of the tentacles becoming slowly rigid, and he realized he could no longer move.
Suddenly he was conscious of being lifted up, of water running down his chest, of his legs being pulled free from the lake, and of a chill and noisy wind whistling around him.
Still puzzled by the octopus, he looked up to where he could hear a humming. There above him was a white Assembly rescue craft with the cross etched in red on the underside, balancing itself on the four columns of hazy air at each corner. A dark doorway opened above him.
In seconds they were lifting him on board, and the octopus was collapsing and slipping away. Then there were white lights and soft, urgent voices and a delicious warm heat flowing over him.
Merral looked up to see a familiar dark face.
“Welcome aboard, Captain D’Avanos,” Vero said with an expansive smile.
Merral cleared his throat, aware that he was safe. “Thank you, Vero. . . . I thought I’d go for a swim.”
Merral was aware of conversation, and then an authoritative female voice spoke sternly to him. “Please stay
quiet, Captain. Save your energy.”
“But, Doctor, I give orders,” Merral protested feebly, feeling lightheaded.
“But as my patient, you are outranked,” she said without humor, and Merral realized that he really wasn’t well.
“Vero,” he whispered, “shouldn’t I be with the men? My men?”
“Zak’s taken temporary charge, Merral. But it’s all over.”
Merral was aware of the rescue craft swaying slightly.
“Did we win?” he asked.
There was a moment’s hesitation, and when Vero answered, his voice was subdued. “Win? Yes. I suppose so.” He sighed deeply. “It just doesn’t feel like it. But the doctor’s right; keep quiet.”
Then the female voice was back and a bright light scanned his face. “Thank you, Verofaza. You have at least two broken ribs, Captain. Some possible internal damage. You haven’t coughed blood?”
“No. I don’t think so.”
“Good. We will transfer you to the hospital ship. Dr. Azhadi will want to have a look. You’ll be back in Isterrane in two hours. Now a slight sedative.” There was a cool whisper against his wrist. A soothing feeling drifted up his arm.
Then the motion stopped and a door opened. Abruptly they were lowering him into the sunlight onto a trolley, and from his horizontal position he could see another large white ship nearby with a side hold door open.
As they pushed the hover trolley toward it, he saw a line of green uniformed men forming up. Merral looked at them and saw how they were dirty and bore cuts, scratches, and bandages. As he passed in front of them, a loud ragged cheer went up. Looking away to try and hide his emotions, he saw that on his other side was a line of still, horizontal forms, lying on stretchers with their bodies and faces covered by bloodied sheets.
He blinked away tears.
45
Merral awoke with infinite slowness, climbing up out of deep sleep into a world of whiteness. Gradually he realized that he was lying amid white sheets in a white-painted room and that sunlight was coming in through white gauze curtains. It took him longer to remember who he was and why his chest hurt. Then he smelled the sterile odor of the hospital and realized that his chest was encased in a light cast.