“We have to, don’t you see?” Beames’ voice was urgent, earnest. “We have to stop this. The weretiger escaped, but they can capture another one… or maybe something even worse. You understand, that, don’t you?”
Nikki nodded slowly. The thing is, I really do understand. “Yes,” she said softly. “But I’ve got colleagues there,” she added more forcefully. “They’re just like I was, they don’t know what they’re involved in. They’re just technicians. You can’t hurt them.”
“No worries. We don’t hurt noncombatants.” The Australian smiled. “You know that personally, right?”
You might not, Nikki thought; she glanced over at Sergei. But what about him? She sighed. The le/tenant was right, she told herself. The Storm Knights have to close down the outpost. The security guards will fight — that’s their job — and the Knights will probably have to kill some of them. That worried her, deep down inside. The Nagara security guards weren’t any more involved in the project than Nikki, Bojo, Toshima and the others in Group Five. They’d be just doing their job … and they might get killed for it. That wasn’t right.
She could feel Beames’ grey eyes on her — steady, almost as though they were looking into her soul. “We’ll try to minimize casualties all the way around,” he said reassuringly. “The purpose is to close down the project, not to kill people.”
“They have ninjas there,” Nikki said suddenly, remembering she hadn’t mentioned the black-clad wraiths before.
The Storm Knights exchanged glances. “That makes it tougher,” Dusty Rhodes allowed. “Those bad boys are quick as greased lightning.”
“Nikki killed one who was chasing her,” Hollingforth said. “There are enough of you to handle them.”
Beames and the other Knights looked at Nikki appraisingly. She could see new respect in their eyes— even in the hard, dark eyes of Sergei. That’s what you understand best, isn’t it, Nikki thought, killing people? She shivered. There was something incredibly disturbing about the Russian. He seemed more like a soulless killer than a real human being. What happened in your past to make you that way? she wondered. Or have you just been living with violence so long that you don’t know anything else? She found that idea chilling, and unutterably sad.
“Okay.” Beames nodded firmly, more to himself than to the others, Nikki thought. “We’ll go in tonight.”
The Storm Knights’ expressions were grim, businesslike. Now that the decision had been made, their friendly manner had evaporated. They looked like soldiers, preparing for an assault. They know they might be killed, Nikki realized, but that doesn’t matter. This is something they know has to be done. Only Sergei was smiling, a thin, tight expression on his pale face. He was looking forward to it.
Hollingforth glanced over at the professor, then back to Beames. His expression was fixed, determined. “We want to come along with you,” he said quietly. “MacHeath and his men will come too.”
Beames raised an eyebrow. “Why?” he asked. “This isn’t your fight.”
It was Professor Black who answered. “Yes it is.” From his expression, Nikki could tell that he was associating the work of the outpost with the weretiger who’d killed his son.
The Australian was silent for a moment, then he nodded. “You’re in,” he agreed. “The more the merrier.” He turned to Nikki. “Thanks for the information, Ms. Carlson.”
I’m being left out, she realized, they’re thinking of leaving me behind. “I’m coming too.” The words were out of her mouth before she was even aware she’d made the decision.
The Storm Knights regarded her silently for a moment. “Why?” Norman Leeds asked.
She looked over at Sergei, saw the way he was stroking his weapon. She could imagine him triggering the lethal little submachine-gun, the bullets ripping the life from Toshima, or Matsukara, or Bojo. My colleagues. Certainly they were closed-minded, stolid, unimaginative. Certainly they resented her. But they didn’t know what the outpost represented. They were innocents, just like her. They didn’t deserve death. Maybe if I come along I can protect them.
And then there was Eichiro, of course. Agatamori Eichiro—the man who’d killed Toshikazu, and caused the deaths of her other friends. Who’d almost had her killed as well. Could she just wait in the clearing while the Storm Knights dealt with him? No.
“It’s my fight, too,” she said quietly.
Beames looked at her steadily for a long moment. Then he smiled. “Okay,” he agreed. He looked around at the others. “That’s it then, gents. We move out one hour after sunset.”
Chapter Twelve
They moved through the darkness of the jungle in an extended column. MacHeath and a trio of the Thai soldiers were fifty yards ahead, out of sight of the others, scouting the terrain before them. Lt. Beames led the main group, with Sergei beside him. Nikki walked directly behind them, Peter Hollingforth at her side, while the others followed behind.
Nikki’s fingers brushed the butt of the heavy pistol that weighed down the holster on her hip — a Walther P.88, Ry Davis had called it. It was larger than the Viper she’d lost, and heavier, too. Instead of flechettes, it was loaded with standard 9mm rounds. Under the barrel, strapped on like an afterthought, was a small cylinder that was the weapon’s laser sight. Beames had been a little hesitant about arming her at all, but Sergeant MacHeath had told the Australian how well she’d handled the encounter with the ninja — exaggerating her calmness quite a lot, Nikki thought — and the lieutenant had eventually agreed. Now the touch of the cool grip and the solid mass of the weapon was reassuring.
How much I’ve changed, she mused. Packing a gun, going on a commando mission … How can I ever go back to my old life?
Of course, if things went bad tonight, it was quite possible she’d never have the chance. There was a good possibility that her life would end here, in the jungles of Orrorsh.
Surprisingly, the thought didn’t hold much fear. Now that they were underway, there was little time for personal fear. All that mattered was the mission. We have to destroy the outpost, she knew, it’s important. Indirectly, the outpost was a threat to everyone, to the whole fabric of life in the world — and, if the Storm Knights were to be fully believed, in the entire “cosm” of “Core” Earth. What did one life, more or less, really matter compared to that? For the first time, she could really comprehend — not just intellectually accept — the Storm Knights’ dedication.
Beames dropped back, letting Sergei take the lead alone. He walked in silence beside Nikki and Peter for a few minutes. Then he asked, “There’s high technology working in the outpost, isn’t that right?”
She nodded, describing the automated genetic analyzers, the powerful personal computer in her quarters. “The individual computers are hooked up to a central system, too,” she explained. “I assume it’s a mainframe.”
“That’ll be where they’re storing all their data, right?” She nodded in answer to the Australian’s question. “And where would that be?”
She thought about that for a moment. She’d never seen the mainframe computer, or heard anyone talk about it. But, the more she thought about it, the more she realized that it was the heart of the outpost. All of the important data coming from the labs would be concentrated there, stored on massive hard disks and backed up regularly onto tape for safety. Where would
you find the heart of the outpost?
With the question phrased that way, the answer was obvious. “It’ll be in the administration building,” Nikki told the lieutenant. “That’s where Eichiro’s quarters and his office are. I think he’d want to be near the mainframe, just so he can keep a close eye on everything.”
“Makes sense,” Beames allowed. He walked in silence for another couple of minutes. Nikki could almost feel his mind working.
“Something that’s been bothering me,” the Australian said at last. “All that high tech… It shouldn’t work in Orrorsh.”
Nikki thought back to her conversations with O’Neil. The pi
lot had said much the same thing. There was something about the realm that was inimical to advanced technology. She reached out and tapped the sleek submachine-gun Beames carried at port-arms. “That works,” she pointed out.
“That’s different.”
“Why?” she wanted to know.
The lieutenant was silent for a moment, ordering his thoughts. “Some people are able to change reality,” he explained, “for a short time, in very localized areas. These people are able to set up what we call a ‘reality bubble’ around themselves. Within that bubble, the axioms operate the way they do in the person’s home cosm. What that means is things work the way they should for that person, the way they’d work at home.” He paused. “I’m from Melbourne, way down south. Orrorsh has never spread that far — thank God, and let’s hope it stays that way. My ‘home cosm’ is Core Earth, which means all the technology you’re used to works with no worries. Inside a reality bubble, that means that my equipment works just the way it’s supposed to, no matter where I am — whether I’m in another realm or not.”
“You can create a… a reality bubble?” She struggled with the concept.
He nodded. “We call the ability being ‘Possibility-rated.’ That’s what sets Storm Knights apart from ‘ords.’”
Nikki looked down at the pistol on her hip. I was able to fire the Viper, she thought, and it was modern technology. What did that mean?
Beames was still talking. “Computers shouldn’t work in Orrorsh. If they do, it means either that the computers themselves are ‘talismans’ — that means they carry their own reality with them — and somebody at the outpost is Possibility-rated and has the ability to ‘charge’ them.” He frowned. “But the power needed to build a talisman …” He shook his head. The idea obviously worried him. “It’s not something any of us can do.”
“You think Eichiro can?” Nikki wondered.
“Maybe.” Beams frowned, “Eichiro might have the ability to ‘make’ a talisman — more likely, there’s a group of ‘stormers’ — Possibility-rated bad guys — who help him, and he’s their leader.”
She looked at his face, his fixed expression. Nikki thought of the Matsushima Bay scientists. It is Eichiro.
Tension was a twisting, acid knot in her stomach.
*
They crouched in the underbrush on the edge of the clearing. The stockade gate was closed — of course! — bathed in the harsh light of carbon arc lamps mounted on the top of the fence. In the brilliant wash of light, Nikki could see five security guards, bulky weapons — machine guns? — in their hands. They looked tense and alert, ready for anything.
Which only made sense, of course. It was less than twenty-four hours after the assault by monsters, the escape of the weretiger. They had to be worried about
a renewed assault, this time maybe by a larger force.
She’d suggested to Beames that it might be better to wait a couple of days, until their level of readiness had decreased. But the lieutenant had shaken his head. “They lost people last night,” he’d pointed out, “and you can bet your life Eichiro will be bringing more guards in to replace his losses. Maybe lots more, to beef up their security even more. We’ve got to hit them before reinforcements arrive. It’s unfortunate they’re on alert, but we don’t have much choice.” Nikki had been forced to agree.
A black figure, more sensed than seen, moved in the shadows outside the illumination of the arc lights, flitting silently along the outside of the fence. “Ninja,” Nikki pointed out.
But the Storm Knights had already seen the gliding figure. Sergei had his weapon to his shoulder, sighting down the barrel, finger tense on the trigger. Waiting for Beames to give the word to open fire. But the lieutenant laid his hand on the Russian’s shoulder, whispered something to him too quietly for Nikki to hear. Reluctantly, Sergei lowered his gun.
Leeds chuckled softly beside Nikki. “Our stilyagin is always a-little over eager,” he whispered.
“How are we going to do this?” Hollingforth asked, looking worriedly at the gate. “I don’t think a frontal assault’s a good idea.”
Beames grinned. “Good observation,” he whispered wryly. He thought for a moment. “Okay, three teams. I’ll lead team one. Norman, Ry, you’re with me. Sergeant MacHeath too. We’ll take two of the Thais, and head west. We’ll go in by the river.” The Storm Knights he named nodded agreement.
“Dusty, you lead team two. Take Sergei, Hollingforth, Black and Ms. Carlson, plus the two Victorian soldiers. Head east, you’ll go in by the river too.” He grinned at Nikki. “Sorry about that, Ms.
Carlson, but you’re going to get wet again.
“And Sergeant Songgram” — he inclined his head to one of the Thais — “you’re going to be our diversion.” The Thai officer nodded acceptance. “Give us fifteen minutes to get into position, then blow the hell out of the gate. Stay under cover, I don’t want anyone killed. But do everything you can to make them think it’s a major assault.” He looked around. “Does everyone understand their assignments?” Nods, and a chorus of muttered agreements confirmed everyone was ready.
The Australian smiled. “Okay, you know the drill,” he reminded everyone. “No non-combattant casualties, but I want you all back in one piece. Find the mainframe computer, blow it to shrapnel. Torch the labs. Then get the hell out. Make your own way back, we meet at the camp. Everyone got that?” He didn’t need to wait for an answer; the expressions on the men’s faces were enough. He slapped Dusty Rhodes on the shoulder. “Okay, team two, move out. Team one, on me. Fifteen minutes, Sergeant,” he reiterated to Songgram. “Let’s get it done.”
st
Dusty Rhodes had the lead. Despite his size, the burly Texan moved like a wraith through the jungle. The underbrush seemed to part before him, of its own free will, and close behind him without a sound. The others tried to emulate him, but there was no way they could match his skill. Sergei moved well, too, but he seemed almost clumsy in comparison to Rhodes. As for Nikki herself, no matter how hard she tried to remain silent, the noise of her passing sounded — in her own ears, at least — like a rhinoceros crashing through the brush.
They kept a relatively fast pace, and it took only ten minutes for them to reach the margin of the clearing on the river bank, to the east of the outpost. They crouched in the underbrush while Rhodes scrutinized the stockade fence and the river.
“How deep’s the water out at the end of the fence there?” he asked Nikki.
She shrugged. “I don’t know exactly. Too deep for me to wade.”
“Kinda what I figured. Guess we’re going swimming.” His face split in a rebel smile, his teeth white in contrast to his tanned skin. “Lock and load, boys and girls,” he ordered. “It’s almost party time. When the crap hits the fan, we move fast.”
Around Nikki, the members of team two gave their weapons one last check. Rundle and Murphy worked the bolts on their rifles, sliding rounds into the chambers, then made sure the bayonets were properly mounted. Hollingforth and Black held large, brutal-looking revolvers — held them uncomfortably, as though they weren’t familiar with such things. (Gentlemen probably don’t use guns, she thought with grim amusement. Except for hunting, of course.) Nikki pulled out her own pistol, glad that the mechanism worked the same way as the Viper. She pulled back the.slide, cocking the pistol, the way Dei had taught her.
Dei. She remembered his pleading cries for help, her flechette rounds flaying the rotting flesh from the back of the zombie — with no real effect. The horrible sounds as the creature tore out the security guard’s throat. At least there’ll be no monsters tonight, she reassured herself, just ninjas and security guards. Bad enough … but if I have to shoot — and I hope it never comes to that — at least bullets are going to stop them.
She checked her watch. Songgram and the other soldiers should be starting their diversion any moment.
As if looking at her watch had been the cue, the night was split with the sounds of automatic weapons fire.
For a few seconds, the only reports were the thin, ripping bursts from the submachine-guns wielded by the Thais. Then came a volley of deeper-throated, stuttering blasts — obviously the guns carried by the Nagara guards. It sounded to Nikki as though a full-fledged war had broken out.
Dusty Rhodes was on his feet, already heading for the river. “Mount up,” he ordered.
Nikki and the others waded out into the water. For the third time in two nights, she felt the muddy water soaking through her clothing. She held the Walther pistol high, making sure it stayed dry.
The water seemed shallower on this side of the outpost. She’d almost reached the end of the stockade fence before the mud underfoot shelved away and she had to swim. She rolled over on her back, which made it easier to keep the pistol above water, and started to kick.
Rhodes, Sergei and the two Victorian explorers had little trouble making headway. With their heavy rifles, Rundle and Murphy were having a harder go of it — I hope they ditched their boots, she thought — but they struggled gamely on.
The current plucked at her baggy clothing. For a few moments she thought she wasn’t making any headway at all against the river flow. But she needn’t have worried. It took less than a minute for them all to get past the extension of the fence. She changed direction, kicking hard for the bank, trying to get into shallower water before the current drove her back against the stockade. Her feet touched bottom, and she quickly stood up. Staying close together in a tight knot, team two waded toward the bank.
There was no-one to see them as they came ashore, no guards to blow them apart with assault rifles, no ninjas to cut them in two with katanas. Nobody moved in the area of the compound they could see. The heavy gunfire still rang out from the direction of the gate as
Songgram and his men continued their diversion.
Then, suddenly, there came the ripping of a submachine-gun from the west, along the river bank. She turned to see if she could spot something, but the building against which Dei had died blocked her view of any muzzle flashes. Even without seeing, though, she knew what it had to mean: team one — the group led by Beames — had met opposition.
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