The Vampires of Antyllus

by Michael E. Gonzales

  One at a time, the mercenaries began to stand, their hands over their heads. Of the fifty mercs that took the field, only twenty-seven survived.

  "To answer your question, Captain Scott," the general continued, "operational plan Troglodyte is the general defense of the population. Phase one is to move them into completely autonomous shelters under the city where they will be out of the line of fire."

  "Line of fire?"

  "Yes, Captain. I fear we have just witnessed the first shots of a bürgerkrieg, a civil war.”

  ○O○

  Mr. Richard Wilmington and several members of his staff seated themselves before a large monitor in Wilmington's office and watched what, to Wilmington's eyes, looked like a melee. As the survivors began to surrender, he lost control, and clenching his teeth, he slammed his cybernetic fist down onto the arm of his chair breaking it with ease. He stood and launched into a tirade of expletives that would have caused the devil himself to cover his ears.

  He turned to his executive assistant and screamed, "I want the power, water, food, everything shut off to the CDF sector right now!"

  "Sir, their section of the city is self-sustaining and possesses redundant systems. We can't cut them off."

  "Then flood their portion of the place with the outside atmosphere!"

  "Sir, we can't—"

  "Then flood the entire base, I don't care."

  "We can do that, sir, however, it would kill more of us than it would them. But, if I may sir, let me remind you that there are over 3,000 IIEA mercenaries here and only 1,800 CDF, and only 250 or so of them are SUBs. If they want open war, we can have it wrapped up in less than a week."

  "Open war?" The words were spoken aloud for the first time, and Wilmington was taken aback by the thought. The clandestine operation could not continue with hostilities raging through the place. And even if it were over in a week, the city would be in shambles, and the general population would demand answers. It was the thought of being held accountable by the general population that reminded him to keep his anger in check. "War?" he repeated aloud.

  Just then, his computer announced an incoming Tel-Con. It was Steinherz.

  "Hello, Otto." Wilmington said coolly, looking into the face of the general.

  "Hello, Dick."

  "The name's Richard."

  "How do you want to play this?"

  "That's just like you, Otto, no pleasantries, or formalities—"

  "Dick, your men just opened fire on the CDF. I have three dead and two wounded."

  "Otto, you forget that this is my facility, the CDF is under my control. The IIEA placed me in charge. I have access to instructions you are not privy to. Your CDF were fired upon because they stood between the IIEA and the accomplishment of our mission here."

  "And just what is that mission, Dick?"

  Wilmington leaned toward the monitor and through clenched teeth growled, "The survival and success of this colony, of course."

  "Explain to me how three of my personnel returning from a patrol are a threat to the Colony."

  "Again, Otto, I have instructions you are not granted access to. Until communications with IIEA instruct me to share them with you, I will not do so. What is required is for you and your goddamned little army to acquiesce to my absolute authority here. You are guilty of mutiny, General, and I am placing you under arrest."

  "You know something, Dick, you may be right, I just might be in violation of the law…I'm not sure. However, I think there is a greater possibility that you are killing the native population for some reason out at that clinic. Additional bloodshed can be avoided by simply allowing a team of lab coats and CDF into the clinic for a brief inspection."

  "I will not have my authority challenged!" Wilmington leapt to his feet and shook his fist at the monitor. "You work for me, dammit! You take your orders from me! I'm sending a team to your office to take you into custody. Meet them outside your door and don't give me any trouble. You're a bio…you can die just as easy as did your ignorant soldiers!"

  "We're done here. Don't send anyone to my office, Dick." The monitor went black.

  Wilmington clenched his fists and gritted his teeth; he arched his back and bent his knees. His anger was on the verge of exploding. The others in the room stepped back, with the exception of his personal body guards, his so-called executive committee.

  Wilmington moved to his desk and pressed a button. The monitor lit up again with the image of a large, powerful-looking man, dressed very casually in a rumpled and unbuttoned merc uniform, his face and chest were tattooed and pierced, and his head was scraped clean of hair.

  Wilmington did not look up or even speak as he leaned over his desk, supporting his weight on his fists. Several seconds passed as he fought to control his anger.

  "Boss, hello?" the shaved-headed man asked with a pronounced accent.

  Without moving, Wilmington spoke again through clenched teeth, "Vlad—"

  "Da, boss?"

  "I have a job for you. Take as many men as you want, and the big guns. I want Steinherz. Arrest him, kill him, I really don't give a damn."

  ○O○

  There was no information Kathy could get from Reggie that would aid her on her mission to recon the clinic. The facility was built many years after Reggie sequestered himself in the fish. Reggie did allow that Le'ha was the best possible guide they could have gotten. She knew the country exceedingly well and was a great huntress.

  "I notice no one ever uses the word warrior to describe any of these people," Kathy noted.

  "Before the arrival of the builders of this spacecraft, there had never been a war among these people. Oh, there have been disputes and fights among individuals and even clans. But never war as we understand it. No E'lawvat E'meset had ever even contemplated taking the life of a fellow E'meset. As I read their stone stela, there has never been a murder among these people. They don't even have a word for it. They had no word for war either until the invasion of those first humans. Their word for war is Tias tappa ukse varie, literally meaning fight and kill the small one colored people—we humans are the same, no matter where in the galaxy we come from, it seems."

  "Well, Reggie," Dave commented, "we're trying to stop a war."

  Reggie looked down at his feet and solemnly replied, "Perhaps, then, you've been blessed and are no longer human."

  "Sir Gawain," Kathy jumped in, "I prefer to think that we SUBs are better in touch with our humanity."

  "Then you see us in a better light than I do."

  Zolna leaned forward in his chair. "I'm sorry to interrupt, but as the colonel just told you, sir, we are on our way to a camp full of armed men who may already have orders to kill us on sight. We are armed with clubs and axes. Are there any weapons on board?"

  "Leave it to an enlisted man to return us to practical matters," Reggie smiled. "Yes, there are weapons; they do not appear to be too different from our own. I have no idea, however, if they, or their ammunition, still work. You are welcome to all that you can carry."

  Reggie waved his hand in the air and the two people who had led them down into the belly of the fish stepped forward. "You already know Bess and Jerry. They will conduct you forward to the armory and, from there, to an airlock on the starboard bow. It will be your closest exit. I will ensure Le'ha knows where you will exit and she'll meet you there.

  "I will, therefore, say my goodbyes now. And please, if war comes, get word to us. We will, all of us, leave the confines of our home here and join with you in battle."

  "You're assuming all the humans will be fighting one another?" Kathy asked.

  "No, Colonel, I presume good will be fighting evil." Reggie paused and slowly turned his head to look hard at Dave. "And Major Mitchel, I want you to remember two words, destiny and faith. They will become very important to your future."

  "Destiny and faith, eh? Reggie, old boy, I make my own destiny and I have faith in firepower, so if we can get to those weapons now..."

  Reggie smiled and nodd
ed. "Firepower—well, if its death you believe in, death you shall have. I hope before this is over, Major, you find—" his eyes shifted to Kathy, "something else to believe in. Be off, then, to the armory, and good luck."

  The trip to the armory was a long one. They ascended wooden ladders in a disabled elevator shaft, walked nearly a kilometer, then Bess and Jerry had them board a conveyance composed of several cars that resembled a small subway train that speed them forward. It stopped, and they walked a short distance to another set of wooden ladders which took them down a few more levels, and they entered the first of a series of chambers that ultimately ended in the armory.

  Kathy had made several observations as they traveled along. "Look at the railings running the length of this passage. There is one in each corner of the ceiling and along the corners of the wall with the floor. Doors appear on all four surfaces," she glanced at Bess, "We noticed before that all the passages in this thing were designed for zero gravity use."

  "Very good, Colonel," Jerry responded, "did you note the differences in the elevators, too? We believe this was some sort of mother ship that was never supposed to return to the surface of any planet. In several places around this craft, we found docking bays for hundreds of much smaller craft. This was sort of a space-going aircraft carrier. Ah…here we are."

  The armory was a large room, over eighteen meters long, seven-and-a-half wide, and an equal number tall. Out in space, of course, there was no up or down, so all the flat surfaces were covered in weapons racks. Many of the weapons were dangling from the racks above, and more than half had come loose and were in piles on what now served as the floor.

  These weapons were shoulder-fired, magazine-fed, electrically operated, projectile-launching weapons with a target acquisition computer. Bess showed them the ammunition storage area. There were several different kinds of ammo for these weapons, but the markings on the canisters were unknown even to Jerry and Bess.

  Kathy and her team grabbed a wide selection of the ammo and satchels to carry it all in. It only took a few moments to charge several batteries, and they were ready to go.

  Bess and Jerry then led them to the airlock on the far starboard side of the ship near the bow. The couple was holding each other's hands as they made their farewells.

  "Excuse me," Kathy asked, "I know the first colonists were all single people, and I notice you two are wearing rings. Are you now married?"

  "Yes," Bess replied, "Doctor Milnor married us several years ago." She then looked to Dave and back to Kathy, "Are you two married?"

  "No," Kathy replied quickly, "no, we're not married."

  "Well," Bess persisted, "you two make a lovely couple."

  "Thank you, ma'am," Kathy was clearly embarrassed despite the fact she was not blushing.

  Jerry reached out and lightly punched Dave on the shoulder saying, "Don't you think so, boy?" Then, he winked.

  "Well, sir, we've made a good team so far."

  "I wouldn't let her get away if I were you."

  Dave looked at Kathy. "No, sir," he replied in a calm, monotone voice with a stoic expression, "I won't."

  "Let's go," Kathy ordered and headed toward the airlock with Zolna. Kathy said her goodbyes, and Dave shook hands with Bess and Jerry, then he, too, stepped into the airlock.

  As the O2 was being replaced with the outside atmosphere, Kathy and Dave stood side by side in silence. Dave, in an effort to alleviate the tension commented, "Nice couple."

  "Yes," Kathy responded, not looking at him, "very nice." Silence returned to the chamber.

  Kathy had let an excellent opportunity to get a little closer to Dave slip by and she knew it. Her excuse was that Zolna had been with them, but she knew she could have said something better than "very nice."

  A door opened in the hull and everyone stepped out onto the ground on the ship's forward, starboard side. As they watched the hatch close, Le'ha came running toward them. She ran directly to Dave and grabbed him, picking him up off the ground as she hugged him. "Are Dave, okay?" she asked breathlessly.

  "I'm fine Le'ha. Why are you so worried?"

  "We are all knowing that the Ukse inside the fish are taking constructed things apart. You were gone long time before I remember this. I worried for you."

  "We are all just fine, thank you very much," Kathy said, sarcastically. "We have to keep moving. Show us how to get to the top of this cliff."

  Dave handed Le'ha a rifle. Without a word of instruction, she opened the battery compartment, Dave handed her a battery and she popped it in. Then she took a magazine from Dave, slapped it in, chambered a round and placed the weapon on safe. She was as familiar with this alien weapon as she had been with Dave's Earth rifle.

  Le'ha then took Dave by the hand and started walking away from the fish. She glanced back at Kathy with an odd expression on her face as if to say, do you not see me taking what is yours?

  Kathy watched a few moments before that voice in the back of her skull spoke up again, Well, lookie there. Not only is Dave done with us, he’s warming up to the tall blond with the strange makeup.

  It's not makeup. Kathy responded, feeling silly talking to herself.

  It makes no dif, honey. Look at her, she's built like an F-167 Raptor fighter, she's almost naked, and she's got his undivided attention. What have you got?

  Well, he and I are the same size to start with. I don't have arms like jungle vines or legs like stilts.

  Do you hear yourself, honey? Stop and think a minute. Did you see the way he looked at you when Jerry told him not to let you get away?

  Yeah, I saw that.

  Sure, ya did. Remember his response? "No sir…I won't." I think he meant that. So, the answer to the question…what have you got? You have him, if you want him. The remaining question is…does he have you?

  Does he have me? Kathy had confused herself.

  But her little unseen companion was of little help. You just think about it, Miss two baccalaureates and a master's degree. The voice then went silent.

  I have got to stop talking to myself.

  Kathy followed her three companions, but her thoughts were elsewhere.

  ○O○

  Chuck had watched Wilmington threaten to arrest the general on his monitor. He then called up a map of New Roanoke. Captain Campbell, standing at his side, leaned down to Chuck's ear and whispered, "I know what you're thinking."

  "Really?"

  "Head them off. Lay in ambush for that bunch-o-bouncers Wilmington is going to send to get the general. But you see, the general is no fool, he is relocating even now."

  "It makes no difference; Wilmington's guys will go directly to the general's last known location, his office. We get about thirty troops together and set half of them up here," Chuck indicated a spot on the map. "We open fire as the ExCon guys reach this point, then we fall back."

  "Oh, I get it," the captain chimed in, "and when they pursue our people to this point, the other half engage them and we'll have them in a crossfire. No way to get out of the line of fire, no cover."

  "Yes, sir," Chuck smiled.

  "Sergeant, you're a tactician."

  "Just something I picked up during that little ruckus at JILL."

  "You were in the fight at JILL?" The captain was impressed.

  "Yeah. Now, how many armed personnel can we field real quick?"

  "There's my staff, and across the hall the G-3, the four shop is right next door. I'd say we have about fifty men and women, about twenty-eight of them are armed."

  "That'll have to do."

  "Never underestimate the element of surprise, Sergeant." The captain grinned broadly at Chuck.

  In the G-3 shop a Buck Sergeant produced a case of "flash bangs," hand grenade simulators. "We use them in training to add realism. They explode with the force of a quarter ounce of Simtro," he added as he presented the case to Chuck.

  Chuck held one up in front of the sergeant and ordered, "Get some hundred-mile-an-hour tape and wrap these with nails, broken glass
, paper clips, whatever you have that will inflict injuries."

  The captain notified the general of their intentions and received approval. He then insisted on taking charge of the first element of soldiers that would, "start this shindig." Chuck took the second group. They left the staff section and moved toward the ambush site.

  As they rounded the last corner before the hallway, in which the entrance to the general’s office was located, they trotted right into a hail of gunfire. Ten CDF fell instantly, eight dead as they hit the floor. They had run directly into the enemy's ambush. The CDF soldiers instantly returned fire. Someone had the presence of mind to throw four of the modified flash bangs down the corridor. The resulting explosions wounded three, and stunned and blinded the rest of the mercs long enough for the CDF to grab their dead and wounded and get out of the kill zone.

  A staff sergeant ran to Chuck and reported. "Sarge, there must be 200 of them and they are coming after us!"

  "Where's Captain Campbell?" Chuck asked.

  "He's KIA. You're in command now."

  "Pull everyone back!" Chuck shouted. Then he activated his COMde to contact the general, "Charlie Papa this is Delta Mike five actual, over."

  "Delta Mike, this is Charlie Papa five, send it, over." It was the voice of the general's aide, Captain Scott.

  "Charlie, we are Tango Uniform, I say again, we are Tango Uniform. I have ten down…eight are out. Delta Mike six actual is out. We are pursued by two zero zero Echos, over."

  "Delta Mike five, we roger your last. Return to Charlie Papa, we are establishing a perimeter. Over."

  "Roger, out."

  Chuck, the two soldiers carrying the grenades, and five other soldiers, held back as the remainder of CDF backed around the next corner. As soon as the enemy's footsteps were heard, two of the improvised hand grenades sailed down the corridor. The instant they detonated, the CDF riflemen each fired thirty rounds into the smoke, then they all started running again.

  The mercenaries did not need further convincing, having lost interest in the chase. Chuck and his small detachment completed their run to the Command Post.