Rising Son

by S. D. Perry

  Jake’s mouth was dry, his voice sticky. “Won’t some of them stay in the main cavern?”

  “Yes,” Dez said, seeming much too calm. “Which is why we’re going to create a diversion. Right now, though, we hide. See if there’s room in any of the big boxes.”

  Most of the oversized crates were at the back of the cave, many of them standing open. With the hissing, thundering echoes of the approaching Drang getting louder, Dez pointed Jake toward a less obvious choice, a long, low storage unit that Jake had to crouch-walk into. A quick look with the hooded light showed some stacked plates and cups in the back, a spilled basket of ornamental trinkets, nothing useful like a rack of phaser rifles. Dez crouched next to the opening, easing the side panel closed after Jake had crawled inside.

  “Stay here until I say, and don’t move,” Dez whispered just before closing the panel entirely, and then he was gone. Jake thought he heard a wooden creak a few seconds later, and then all he could hear was his own ragged breathing and the pounding of blood in his ears. That, and the oncoming Drang horde. Facity had said twenty or twenty-five, but it was starting to sound more like twenty-five hundred.

  This is bad, this is so bad, Jake thought randomly, holding one hand out to balance, his feet already hurting. It was a nightmare, literally, hiding in the dark, knowing that the monsters were coming, hoping that they wouldn’t find you. How had Dez seemed so confident, so certain that everything was going to turn out?

  Back on the ship, the way the crew looked at him after Facity pointed out the scrambler’s signal… Had something like this actually happened before, was that why they’d all seemed vaguely skeptical of his decision to continue? Jake tried to reassure himself with the thought—the crew was willing to follow him for this mission, which suggested that if he’d messed up before, he must have fixed it—but mostly he just wished someone had warned him. It probably wouldn’t have made any difference, but at the moment, he was willing to pretend that the information would have led to the safe, sane choice of staying behind. He’d been on the Even less than two weeks, what had he been thinking?

  He could actually pick individual footsteps out of the clamoring noise, now, could hear individual voices—deep, snarling voices that hissed and slurped. It sounded like they had reached the TMP cavern, and he felt a stab of fear for Stess, alone and in the open. The camouflage was very good, but the idea of being right out there like that, having to hold perfectly still—

  It was either the thought of forced immobility or the heavy gravity or both; Jake shifted ever so slightly and was suddenly unbalanced, unable to stay on the balls of his feet. He toppled backward, clutching his knees as he fell to make himself as small as possible, terrified that he was going to send one of those stacks of dishes crashing over—and subsequently bring the entire Drang mob into the room—

  OUCH!

  —but except for a piercing internal scream, he made no sound at all, a barely discernible fump. He rolled onto his side as quickly as he dared, reaching over to scrabble at whatever it was that he had crushed into the small of his back, his jaw clenched—and flashed back to baby-sitting for Vilix’pran’s offspring one night on the station, remembered clearly the exquisite pain of stepping barefoot on one of the children’s small toy pieces, something hard and rounded with torture-inducing ridges.

  This was apparently the exact same toy, perhaps a little bigger. Terrific. A little warm-up pain before his probable death. It would be laughable, but he was much, much too scared to laugh. Jake slowly, carefully rolled forward into a half-kneeling position, the offending item still in hand, wanting to be ready to move when Dez said—and heard the growling, grinding voice of a Drang booming into the room, filtered through his translator implant.

  “We look here!”

  Jake froze. He could hear others out in the tunnel, their sibilant breathing and angry voices reverberating…and then two sets of ponderous, heavy footsteps stomped into the room. He heard a box being kicked aside, heard glass break. They sounded so close, it seemed impossible that they were still coming closer, but the sounds were getting louder.

  Jake closed his eyes, trying to be invisible like in hide-and-find, I’m not here, can’t see me.

  The Drang hissed and snarled as they crashed through the crates, coming even closer…and because Jake suddenly thought of how terrible it would be if he had to cough or sneeze, he felt a tickle in the back of his throat.

  No, that’s too stupid, I can’t , his mind moaned, but of course, that made his throat tickle worse. Stop it, don’t think about it, think about anything but having to cough!

  That did no good whatsoever, and one of the Drang had to be less than a meter away, he could feel the vibration of its massive tread through the bottom of the crate. There was another bright shatter of sound just as close, more glass breaking, and now he thought he might have to sneeze, too.

  Jake grabbed the toy piece tightly in both hands, desperate for any kind of distraction. What was it? It was small, about half the size of his clenched fist, and seemed solid. He stroked it with his jittery fingertips, felt a few bands of smoothness through the raised parts, thinking that its bony edges and overall shape reminded him of the oysters his grandfather served in his restaurant. Why didn’t I go to Earth like I told Kas I was going to, I could be there now, sweating in his kitchen instead of waiting to die inside this crate—

  “Not here!” a Drang shouted, its voice so close and loud that for a split second Jake thought it was yelling at him.

  The second Drang snarled back from across the room. “I stay, guard! Go see else!”

  There was a hissed, mumbled reply—and incredibly, the Drang that had been right on top of him stomped away, its footsteps receding, kicking another crate, then gone.

  Jake clutched the oyster toy to his chest, letting himself breathe. Beautiful, wonderful oyster toy, he didn’t have to cough or sneeze anymore…but what were they going to do about the Drang guard? Jake could hear it breathing somewhere in the room, the wet, gasping sound very clear now that the tunnel had apparently cleared somewhat; he could still hear echoes of the rest, but they seemed farther away, the sound sparser. He and Dez had the muffled disruptors, but if the guard saw either of them coming he (or she, Jake supposed) could call for help, and they only had three charges apiece—

  “Jake, knock,” Dez whispered in his ear, the simple request explaining the plan.

  Jake didn’t hesitate. He raised his right hand and thumped his fist solidly against the top of the box…and heard a sudden, slurping gasp from the guard. Footsteps stomped toward him, closer—and there was a creak, and a soft burst of disruptor sound, high-pitched and clear but not very loud. Not as loud as Dez’s grunt of exertion that immediately followed.

  Jake didn’t wait to be told that he could come out. He tucked the lucky oyster toy in his boot and sidled out of the box, staying low; he was blocked from the cave’s entrance by several rows of crates, as long as he didn’t stand up. Dez was crouched a few meters to his right, still lowering the unconscious guard to the ground. He finally dropped the obviously heavy Drang the last half meter, shooting a crooked smile at Jake.

  “Fun, huh?” he said, obviously not meaning it.

  “No,” Jake replied, and he definitely meant it…and then they were both grinning, Jake unable to help himself. No, this was definitely not fun, they could die, but he grinned anyway, giddy that they weren’t dead yet.

  Dez crouch-walked over to Jake, still smiling. “Fair enough. You’re doing great—just hang on, we’ll be out of this in no time.”

  “Yeah, but what now?” Jake whispered.

  Dez didn’t answer, touched his earpiece. “Stess, one for yes, two for no—are there Drang in the TMP room?”

  There was a hesitation, then a single, soft thump.

  “Stess, more than five?”

  Thump.

  “Stess, more than ten?”

  Thump. Thump.

  “Stess, do you see any weapons that we didn’t
expect?”

  Clubs and bare hands, Jake remembered. The Drang had access to energy weapons, but only used them when absolutely necessary. They took great pride in their brute physical strength.

  Thump. Thump.

  That’s a relief, Jake thought, then, kind of.

  “Stand by,” Dez said, and touched his earpiece again. He looked at Jake, frowning slightly as he studied him for a few beats…then he smiled again.

  “We’re going to sneak past the Drang, and run up the north tunnel, and bash that scrambler,” Dez said. “And then we’re going to beam out. Answer me seriously…are you up for this, or do you want to stay here?”

  “I want to stay here,” Jake said immediately. “But…I’m up for it.”

  Dez nodded slowly, his eyes bright and warm and proud, and though Jake knew he was being an idiot, knew that he wasn’t ready by any stretch of the imagination, he also knew that seeing Dez look at him like that made him feel incredibly, supremely brave. Dez believed he could do it; who was to say he couldn’t?

  Dez tapped his earpiece again and started talking.

  Pif and Brad were hiding together in a room that no one had come to check yet, the sixth in the long A tunnel…though Pif could hear the Drang outside, shouting and pounding and spitting their way closer. He’d had to bite his tongue a number of times to keep from making cracks about the subtleties of the Drang language, well aware that when Brad was nervous, she often giggled—and in all fairness, it could be a very subtle, very complex language, just not easily translated.

  Right. Talk Drang smart.

  They had crawled under a veritable mountain of sheer gossamer fabric to hide, reams and reams of the stuff in two equally hideous shades of brown, piled twice as high as Brad standing, its base taking up nearly half the room. Crouched beneath the gauzy peak, they listened silently as Dez asked Stess about the TMP, and Stess thumped back. Pif thought he had a pretty good idea of what Dez meant to do, and thought also that while he was sorry that the profitable mission extras had fallen through, and nervous about all of them getting safely out of the tunnels, he couldn’t wait to take part in the diversion. He hoped Dez would ask for volunteers, he has to, he needs me for this one. He would, of course he would.

  “Stand by,” Dez told Stess, and Pif smiled widely at Brad.

  “I think he’s going to ask me to run,” Pif whispered.

  “Good. Be quiet,” Brad whispered back.

  “They can’t hear us, they’re still too far away.”

  Brad glowered at him. “I can hear you. Hush.”

  Pif couldn’t resist. “Can you hear the Drang? ‘I no see!’ What do you think that means?”

  Brad clapped one giant hand over her mouth. Her shoulders heaved and shook, creating a small fabric-quake. Pif grinned, but then saw the helpless, frightened look in her eyes and was instantly sorry. He rubbed the top of his head and muzzle against her arm soothingly, and after a few seconds, she relaxed.

  Just in time, too. “Ground team, listen up,” Dez said, his voice soft but perfectly in command. “Jake and I need to go through the TMP without being seen. I need a loud noise in the distance, and I need the Drang blocking the north tunnel to want to go investigate. Stess, can you get them agitated, maybe frustrated that they’re standing guard, not looking?”

  Thump.

  “Good, get started…and once they hear the noise, give them a push, whatever you think will work. It doesn’t have to be for long, just so we can get past.”

  Thump.

  Pif couldn’t wait another second. “Dez, I can make the noise,” he whispered. “A good running howl, I can get them all chasing me. I know where the connecting tunnels are, too. I want to volunteer.”

  He could hear a smile in Dez’s voice. “I thought you might, Pif. You’re our man…but I also want everyone who can to help even things out. Everyone got that? As soon as Pif gets going, if you can take one or more of the Drang out of commission without bringing them all down on you, do it. If you can’t, you can’t, don’t be reckless; we’ll leave that to Pif.”

  Pif grinned, ignoring the urge to wag his tail.

  “Stess, tap three times when you think the Drang are pumped up enough to act. Pif, wait for it, or wait as long as you can. Facity, anything to add?”

  “No,” she said tersely. “It’s a plan.”

  Dez paused. When he spoke again, Pif didn’t know if it was for the team’s benefit or the first officer’s. “We’re practically home already. See you on the dropship. Out.”

  Pif turned to look at Brad. He could still hear the Drang shouting out in the tunnel, closer now but not so close that he was afraid to risk whispering.

  “They’ll probably see me leave, so don’t come out until after I’m gone a minute or two,” he said. “They might come in looking for more of me.”

  Brad smiled slightly. “There aren’t any more of you,” she whispered back.

  Though he couldn’t be sure—Brad was prone to taking things too literally, and responding likewise—Pif decided to take that as a compliment rather than a statement of the obvious. He smiled back at her and started to wriggle out backward from beneath the mound of shifting fabric, stretching his front legs as he went; time to teach these mental giants how to run.

  Pif’s heart was beating strongly and soundly in his chest, his breathing was even, he was primed…and exceedingly happy. He was going to run, he was going to make some noise and go streaking past a large number of big lizards while he did it, big lizards that would be trying to get him. He knew that it was possible for him to get hurt, even killed; all it would take would be for one Drang to bring his or her club down at exactly the right instant while he was running past and wham, no more Pif. And the thought didn’t bother him a bit, because although he knew it was possible, he didn’t believe it was going to happen.

  Because I’m faster than they are, faster than anyone down here. I’d bet a million paegs that I’m faster than anybody on this whole planet. Pif didn’t believe in false modesty, he thought it was a waste of time, and though he knew some of his self-observations weren’t necessarily the absolute truth, he also knew that this one was. Aarruris were born runners, and his mother’s side of the family had been champion at it, and he was ready.

  Once out from beneath the fabric mountain, he stuck to the edge of the room where the shadows were heavier, padding slowly toward the entrance. It gave him further opportunity to stretch, and he also started to get a better sense of where the approaching Drang were, exactly. “Directly outside” wouldn’t be a bad interpretation of the facts; in another ten, perhaps twenty seconds, at least two of them would be walking into the room, coming in from his left. If Stess didn’t signal soon…

  Thump. Thump. Th—

  Pif aimed himself right, opened his mouth wide, and took off, howling death and destruction.

  As soon as Dez told her to get started, Stess, alone and holding very still against a rock at the east side of the TMP cavern, felt an almost overwhelming relief. Physically, she’d been fine; Friagloims were known for their ability to stand immobile for long periods, a leftover evolutionary tactic to avoid motion-sensing predators. But mentally and emotionally, she’d been feeling more and more desperate to do something, to do anything. Deliberately projecting negative feelings went against Arislelemakinstess’s nature, but with such deserving recipients, she thought she could manage. Besides which, she only had to build on what was already there.

  Watching and listening to the eight Drang standing around, occasionally nudging one of their fallen comrades as they hissed out their respective hopes for violence…that was unpleasant, and made her dislike them. But the mental imagery that went along with it, what every one of those Drang wanted…smashed alien heads, broken bodies, grinning Drang faces splattered with blood…

  Stess opened herself up, let her bad feelings stain the already oppressive atmosphere. It wasn’t hard to produce unhappy restlessness—Arislelemakin, spread out in the tunnels and having to
edge back toward the TMP centimeter by centimeter, was feeling an abundance of it—but it took some work to find a desire to commit violence. It was the team’s best chance, plainly the strongest Drang motivator, but she couldn’t simply steal it from the Drang; she had to nurture violent feelings of her own, of which there were very few…though considering what the Drang meant to do to them made it easier. No one on the Even had really understood the danger presented by the reptilian species, thinking them slow and stupid with anger, which was true—but they were also merciless and eager to destroy, and she and the others had been foolish to underestimate them.

  Stess sent the feelings out, adding to what the Drang were already feeling, the anger, the discontent with standing still, the desire to be smashing something. She had to design her projected feelings to match those of the Drang as closely as possible, keeping them brief and intense…and had to ignore a sense of accomplishment as all eight of them began to fidget after only a moment or so. One, two, three of them were feigning blows with their weapons, swinging at air or slapping their own open palms with heavy clubs; two others began to pace, one of them walking back and forth directly in front of her, unaware that one of the alien heads he so wanted to crush was barely a meter away.

  It was unlikely to get much better. Having tucked the communication collar beneath her sensory bulbs, she only had to nudge the transmitter with one of her vocal muscles, tap-tap-tap—

  —and at seemingly the same instant, a rough, high-pitched scream came bounding into the cavern, loud and startling and seemingly unending, aaarrrrooooroorooroo—

  —and Stess pushed, alien, kill Drang, get it, go!

  The effect was exactly what Dez had hoped for, what Stess had wanted. One of the Drang stayed where she was, snarling at the others to stop; the rest ignored her and ran, weapons high, four of them into the A tunnel, three into B.

  Aris saw Pif go running by near the west end of A tunnel, a flash of howling gray fur…and seconds later, Lema, near the narrower of the two connecting tunnels between A and B, saw the same thing. The Drang that were following were so far behind that they might as well have been standing still.