by B. V. Larson
“Report from the front line!” I demanded. “What do we have up there?”
“We’ve lost contact with the enemy, sir,” Barton responded. “They’ve withdrawn down the mountain. My platoon can press forward to pursue, but we’ve got a lot of wounded, and your Scuppers are spooked by their heavy losses.”
“Right…” I said unhappily.
I didn’t like the idea of losing my native troops. We were heading into their territory now, and we weren’t doing it in a stealthy fashion. We were certain to meet up with further resistance as we moved deeper into the mountains.
The march turned into a slog after that. We suspected an ambush after every bend. We sent drones flying ahead, but the enemy deployed countermeasures to take them out. Soon, our techs were down to a handful of camera units, and I ordered them to preserve the rest.
The effect was chilling. It was one thing to march down into territory you could see on your tapper, but quite another to advance when you’re essentially blind.
Feeling dread with each step, my troops soon stopped joking about the last battle. The Rigellians might be seeking revenge. We all had the feeling they’d never let a humiliating defeat like that stand for long.
As we walked steadily downward into a gorge, we saw few signs of the enemy. The rushing sounds of a turbulent river roared, coming closer and closer. Instead of being encouraged, we were filled with unease.
At last, we reached a muddy strip of land near the river. The water was so violent, it threatened to sweep away the whole unit.
“Where did they go?” I asked, looking around. “There’s nothing down here!”
Sure enough, as the group gathered, we found ourselves alone at the bottom of the gorge. We looked for a path out of the region, but the only one we saw was the one we’d followed down here.
Claver came down to have a look.
“Hmm…” he said. “This is a poser. You didn’t kill them all, did you?”
“Negative,” Leeson said. “No way.”
Claver smiled. “But you might have. This gorge… you see the walls? Do they look like they’ve felt a rush of water lately?”
“This whole planet is nothing but a frigging sponge!” Leeson argued.
“Whoa! Wait a second,” Harris said, walking around and looking up.
The black cliffs were about a hundred meters apart, and they seemed to rise up to space itself on both sides. The sky was a ragged, gray-white line far above.
“What if a big wave came down this gorge?” Harris asked.
We all looked around in alarm.
“Kivi,” I said, “link me up with the satellite feed. Do we still have some eyes in the sky?”
“Negative,” she said. “The Rigellian ships took them all down.”
“Dammit…”
Looking around, I caught sight of a few Scuppers. I got them to find Second-Man for me.
Second-Man didn’t look happy to be on the muddy shelf of shore with us.
“This is a dangerous place,” he said.
“Yes, I think so. We followed the Rigel troops down here. Do you think they’ve been swept away?”
He walked around on his padding feet and inspected the environment. “There has been a surge—but it has not gone higher than this level for days. You can tell, by looking at the way the striations—”
“Okay, okay,” I said. “I believe you. But if the enemy wasn’t carried away in a flood down this gorge, where did they go?”
He blinked at me. Two slow blinks.
“They are below. Can’t you see the tracks?”
I examined a region he pointed at. It did indeed seem like there were footprints—small ones—but then the trail ended at the far end of the spit of land we were standing on.
“You mean they walked down into the river itself?”
“No, no,” he said. “The river has shifted, that’s all. Wait. It will shift again.”
That was about all I got out of him. My officers circled around, grumbling.
“We ought to go back,” Leeson said.
“Not going to happen. The fort might have fallen by now—we’re not getting any kind of signals.”
“Signals down here?” Leeson laughed. “We’re not getting bird shit down here, Centurion. Not without a satellite.”
I looked up, and I figured he was right. On a wild planet with a turbulent atmosphere, you needed satellites to communicate over long distances. We were at the bottom of a wet gorge with nothing in that narrow strip of sky to relay our signal.
“All right,” I said. “We’re going to wait. Everyone but our scouts should head back up on the trail, in case a wave comes by and takes out this shoreline.”
They grumbled about not being on flat ground, but I knew if I took them all down here, they would have grumbled about all being drowned any second, too.
About thirty long minutes passed. Kivi tried to send a few swimming drones into the flooding waters, but there was no point. They were swept into the rocks and smashed almost as soon as she deployed them.
At last, something unexpected happened.
A rushing wave of water flashed into sight from the north. It swept along, scooping up a dozen or so Scuppers I’d left down there.
Panicked, my troops tried to retreat—but there was no running now. We were too bunched up on the trail, and the water moved too fast.
It roared, sounding like a subway train flying along at out of control speeds.
This planet had vicious tides. We’d never managed yet to get a good working computer model of the behavior, as there were too many moons, and thus too many variables. On top of that, the harsh wet weather caused flooding all by itself.
The surge went by in the span of a minute. A few light troops were swept away, along with the Scuppers. There was no hope for them, given the violent power of the water and the rocky walls that smashed their bones and clawed at their thin skins.
But, after the wave went by, the waters receded rapidly. The water fell farther, in fact, than I would have thought possible.
“Is this a low tide?” I asked Second-Man.
“This is a cross-tide,” he said. “One moon crosses another’s path in the sky, and it can cause the water to dance in a peculiar rhythm.”
“That’s just great. Let’s try the path.”
Trotting over the soggy shore, I found the path now continued on the other side. The water level of the river was falling…
It went down a hundred meters, then two hundred. We rushed down the slick path as fast as we dared.
“This is insane,” Harris complained. “You might be perming the whole unit. Have you thought of that, McGill?”
“Listen, don’t lose your nerve. The whole legion might be permed—or at least wiped—if we fail.”
Shaking his head, he fell back and rejoined his heavies. He admonished them to greater speed, kicking the iron ass of any soldier who lagged behind.
-73-
At the two hundred meter mark, I sent Harris and his heavy troops back up. They were slowing us down, and it wasn’t their job to scout and die—that was job of Barton’s platoon.
Taking a fast-moving force of light troopers and Scuppers only, I jogged with Barton down the newly revealed pathway. Every step hurt, as my thigh was still torn up.
Modern medicine, with flesh-printers and nano-surgical gear, had given us much better wound recovery times than troops had had in the past. Since no bone or organ had been struck by the pellets I’d taken earlier today, I was able to move with speed.
But I was gritting my teeth and grunting every step of the way, let me tell you.
It felt eerie to be winding down deeper into a gorge that had so recently been underwater. Any second the water could come back. Without satellite coverage, we had no real way of knowing.
After we’d made it another three hundred meters down, I realized that even if we did get a small warning now—we couldn’t survive. The tidal waves moved with such sudden force that we coul
d never outrun them. We’d be overwhelmed and crushed.
“Pick up the pace! Double-time!” I ordered.
“Centurion,” Barton said from behind me. “We’re going to lose people. They’ll fall off this ledge, and we’ll never get them out of that water.”
“That’s what revival machines are for,” I shouted over my shoulder. “Keep moving.”
She shut up and jogged after me. Claver was right behind her, running and panting with the rest.
He’d given Barton plenty of thoughtful glances. Could that really be his motivation? Was this particular Claver just a horn-dog?
He’d tried to make a woman of his own, and failed. Was he helping us in hopes of finding someone like Adjunct Barton to be his companion?
Giving my head a shake, I got my mind back into the game at hand. Each stomping boot might slip, and if it did, I’d go right over the edge.
Up ahead, the column slowed. Barton slammed into me—maybe she was distracted. I put a hand back and pushed her toward the wall.
She was so light, especially since I was wearing a breastplate, that she didn’t do much more than cause me to rock forward. But for some reason, she’d clearly been knocked forward and almost over the side.
“Sorry! Sorry, dammit!” Claver said.
Glancing back, I saw Claver’s hands were all over Barton, helping her back to her feet.
She gave him a jab with her elbow and a shove.
“Watch what you’re doing, civvie!” she snapped.
“I was distracted,” he admitted.
Turning forward again, I saw the line snake downhill.
“Point-Man!” I called out to the Scuppers I had leading the advance. “Report!”
“The trail has ended, First-Man.”
Frowning, I began to pass people again, grabbing them, lifting them up, and placing them behind me. Each human and Scupper I did this to squawked in alarm—but I didn’t care.
Coming to the front, I saw that the trail again ended in swirling water.
“Shit…” I said, looking around at the echoing black walls. They were shiny with slick mud and running droplets.
How long did we have before the tide reversed again? I had no way of knowing.
“Give me your spear,” I demanded of the point-man.
He handed it over without an argument.
Using the spear, I tapped ahead of me, probing the flood near the cliff. There was solid ground down there—solid enough. My boots were soon submerged as I waded in—then my kneecaps.
Looking back, I saw the point-man wasn’t following.
“The path is here, it’s just submerged. You can come after me.”
He looked worried. “First-Man, I’m not wearing a tunic of metal. I’ll be swept away.”
Realizing he was right, I nodded. “You hold on here. Let me scout.”
“That’s wrong,” he said. “I should die in your place.”
“Don’t worry, you’ll get your chance soon enough.”
Tapping and taking cautious steps, I felt the water push at my legs. Fortunately, I’m a very tall man. Standing at exactly two meters, I could wade into deep water and keep my feet longer than anyone I knew. On top of that, I was carrying armor and a lot of other gear. That weight, borne high on my body, helped keep me from lifting up and floating away with the current.
Rounding a bend in the cliff face—I saw the end. The path turned and went up again to a plateau. Planted up there was a Nexus, which amounted to a Wur brain.
It reminded me of those barrel-like cacti they had in deserts back home. This one stood maybe five meters across and more than twice that in height. Every half-meter or so, the gray-green hulk sprouted long yellow spines.
“Claver!” I shouted over tactical chat. “I can see it! This has to be a Nexus plant. I can’t believe the thing is so far down here. It must be underwater most of the time.”
“Get in there and kill it!” he urged me. “We can’t follow, the water is getting deeper!”
Looking back the way I’d come, I realized in alarm that he was right. The water was rising—fast. Soon it would reach the gnarled roots of the Nexus.
I splashed toward the big plant, circling it, seeking higher ground.
“I’m cut off from you guys,” I called out. “Barton, withdraw and pull back the entire unit. If I fail to take out the plant, you’ll have to send more people forward later—and bring demolitions! It’s a big bastard!”
Advancing until my thighs came out of the flood, then my knees, I soon stood panting on the plateau.
There, I discovered the Rigel troops—or some of them. I counted eight dead bodies. They were all around the Nexus, and it appeared they’d been guarding it.
They’d all drowned.
On the far side of the plant, the trail continued. It too, soon went back down into the flood.
Looking over the scene, I caught on. The Nexus was located at a high point between two lower sections. Once here, you were pretty much cut off by the tides. These eight enemy troops might have been posted here to protect the plant while the rest of their company retreated farther.
The ploy hadn’t worked. They’d all been overwhelmed and drowned before we could even get down here to shoot them.
Striding to the base of the Nexus, I gave it a tap with my spear. A spark leapt and it could have been my imagination, but it seemed like those meter-long needles had shook—just a little.
Tilting my head back, I grinned up at the plant. “You can feel something, huh? You’re going to love this.”
I reached for a grav-plasma grenade—but of course, I didn’t have one.
“Shit…”
I’d thrown them all at the Rigellians a long time ago.
Hearing some splashing, I looked around and saw the water was closing in. Some of the dead bears were floating.
“How am I going to kill you, you big green bastard?” I asked the Nexus.
The plant remained silent. It stood still, ominous, as if watching. I had no idea if it had sensory organs or cameras of some kind nearby, but I got the feeling it was aware of my presence.
Grabbing up one of those Rigel-made shotguns, I boomed three times at point-blank range. A hole was punched through the plant’s outer skin and green slime gushed out—but it wasn’t enough to kill something so large.
The water was at my knees this time. The current didn’t seem strong here—but I was soon going to be underwater.
Producing my force-blades, I sliced a triangle out of the giant cactus. It shivered again, and some of those long yellow needles rattled. I’d hurt it, but I had to be sure it died.
I was as good as dead myself, of course. I knew that. After a man dies around a hundred times or so, he gets a feel for his own imminent doom.
The water surged closer greedily while I was carving a second triangle. It touched my force-blade and shorted it out.
Damn, that stung!
Soon, I realized I’d be underwater completely. That was a bad thing, as the current might get pretty rough down at the base.
Climbing… I had to climb.
Shucking off my armor after punching the emergency releases, I put my combat knife in my teeth and I climbed those nasty-looking needles. They were spaced about a meter apart, and they held my weight.
A part of me was trying to survive, of course. It’s hard to break that habit. If I managed to get to the top of the plant, maybe, just maybe, the flood wouldn’t reach that high. I might wait this out until another team came down this way—or even exit this trap on my own two feet during a low tide.
The hope was a slim one, but when you’re as good as dead, you’ll try anything.
Up the plant’s side I went. My thigh injury ached and tore. Fresh blood dribbled, then ran. I ignored it all. This was it, I didn’t have another play.
Far below, the dead Rigel boys sloshed around and were impaled over and over on the needles. They couldn’t feel this abuse, but it made me wince anyway.
Rea
ching the crown at last, I sprawled out and gasped for air. Coughing and bleeding, I wondered if I had the strength left to kill this thing with only a knife.
A tickle. A tiny thread of… electricity? No… more like a chemical trace in my blood, in my mind. A thought that had leaked from somewhere else.
Worried that I was dying due to lost blood, I surged up and gasped.
That’s when I saw and felt the pain in my hand. It was flush down on a rosette of spikes. The spines—small ones, hair-thin, were clustered at the apex of this monstrous plant.
My blood had mixed with those spines. They’d tapped into me, and they were trying to communicate.
Curious, and a little bit high from the intoxicating effects of the Nexus venom, I accessed an old app on my tapper. It was one that Claver had given me a long, long time ago.
The app translated the chemical tickling, turning drugs into words. It was a strange way to communicate, but that’s how the Wur did it.
“…creature…”
“What?” I asked aloud, bleary-minded.
How long had I been lying on that cactus, dreaming due to its powerful intoxicating effects? I wasn’t sure, but the water around me certainly looked deeper. I didn’t know how much higher it would go, but I knew I couldn’t survive if it rose to the top.
“…how is it that utter-cruelty can speak to me now? I’ve tried and tried to contact utter-cruelty, with no success…”
After a blurry second or two, I realized I must be ‘utter-cruelty’. I guessed that the plant was pissed at the wounds I’d inflicted at the base of its vast girth.
“I’m James McGill, a human legionnaire—and I hate plants,” I told it. “I’ve just gotten started digging into you.”
“…you are a dead-thing, utter-cruelty. You’ve ingested too much of my blood. I’ve tasted yours, I’ve analyzed it, and I’ve determined you will not survive the hour…”
“That’s okay,” I said, coughing. “You’re not going to enjoy the next hour much, either.”
After that, I began stabbing and hacking.
Before I’d dug my way through the crown, a drone came down and landed next to me. I picked it up, my bleary eyes refusing to focus properly.