Banshee Screams

by Clay Griffith

"I say there's still a chance." Debbi had personally witnessed Ross stand up to Marat because of . . . . She hesitated. It was because of her, but she didn't want to admit that to the others. However, it had reinforced her hope, something that had continued to build since that day. Things were finally beginning to move in the Rangers' favor.

  Debbi leaned forward conspiratorially, her voice low. "We tried to do things legally and it got us squat." She pulled her own weapon and set it on the table, her hand rested over the trigger. "Now it's time to do things the Ranger way."

  "Now that's more like it!" Miller shouted. His gaze was abruptly clear. "Let's start killing zombies!"

  "Keep your voice down." Fitz slapped the back of Miller's greasy head.

  Miller retorted, "Oh for crying out loud, I didn't say anything. Besides, it's not as if they don't know we're fed up with them and their rotten stench. Hell, I've been thinking of kicking their asses from here to the Toxic Jungle since day one. It ain't new news."

  Suddenly footfalls sounded on the boardwalk outside. Everyone stiffened.

  "Dammit, Miller," Chennault cursed.

  "Easy, people," Debbi commanded.

  They all immediately began running through the mental exercises they had practiced for weeks, thinking random thoughts and humming inane tunes that acted as deflectors from light psychic probes. Stew wondered briefly what things Ross had tried during his torture that obviously hadn't worked.

  Captain Marat entered the saloon, followed by several Legionnaires. The six Rangers rose quickly, placing their hands on their sidearms. With their other hands, they pulled up their bandannas.

  Miller looked nervously at Debbi, almost apologetic. He'd blown the gig before they even got on stage.

  Mo hurried behind the bar and ducked out of sight.

  There was a long moment of silence as the two groups faced each other.

  Marat weaved between empty tables and approached the Rangers. He wore a pistol on his hip, but the flap of his military holster was snapped shut. Miller moved away from the table and Debbi heard the faint creak of leather as he loosened his Dragoon in its holster. Stew stepped close beside Debbi. The others fanned out.

  Marat said, "Ranger Dallas, I need a word with you."

  "So talk."

  "Alone." He indicated the other Rangers.

  Miller snarled, "We're not going anywhere, you maggot-ridden pile of . .

  "Miller." Debbi held up her hand. She worried the drunk Ranger would bluster too far to overcompensate for feeling like he gave the meeting away.

  Marat turned to Mo. "You. Out."

  Mo stood behind the bar with a bottle in his hand. "Ya sure ya don't want a drink or nothing there, Captain?"

  Miller picked up the bottle off the table. "Wait a second. Lemme shoot some holes in you before you take a drink. I wanna see if that old joke really works."

  The Captain stood ramrod straight. He said to Debbi, "My Legionnaires will depart with your men. I want to talk. You and me."

  Debbi considered for a moment. Then she nodded at Stew.

  He hesitated, but then reached over and grabbed Miller's arm. "Come on, Miller."

  Miller fought. "We're not leaving her alone with this dirt pile, are we?"

  "We'll be right outside." Stew pulled him along, followed by the other three Rangers.

  Mo fell in close step behind them and went outside along with the Legionnaires. The front door closed. Stew and Miller appeared in the front window, closely watching Debbi inside.

  Debbi asked Captain Marat, "What do you want?"

  "You disappoint me, Ranger."

  "Gosh, I'm sorry." Debbi kept her tone quiet, but it was a struggle since her heart was hammering in her ribs. She wanted to draw down on this smug bastard, but there was something etched on his face that stayed her hand. She felt her opportunity for freedom was slipping away like quicksilver and there was little she could do now to stop it.

  Marat said, "You were to cooperate fully with my men."

  Debbi nodded. "And I have. I've initiated proper legal action to free Ringo. Ask Atkinson."

  "What you say and what you think or do are two completely separate matters."

  "You have no idea what I'm thinking."

  "Yes, but your Rangers are another matter." A sick sneer plastered itself on Marat's face.

  Debbi's expression remained neutral. She wasn't sure if Marat knew anything or not. Like Miller had said, their bristling hatred wasn't exactly a sudden revelation. Tension had been high from the start. But regardless, Marat wasn't a fool. Something was up.

  "My people are human, Captain," Debbi said in an effort to deflect Marat's suspicions. "If they harbor any thoughts against you, it's your doing. Rotting, tin-plated, would-be dictators have that effect. Sue us."

  Marat's sneer didn't lessen. "Quantrill was wrong to believe that Temptation would be content under us. He let his partiality for your Captain Ross override his tactical sensibilities. But I'm not as blind. You are a danger." He took a step closer to her.

  Debbi didn't back down and her hand shifted from her belt buckle to her holster in a deadly, silent manner.

  Marat either didn't notice or didn't care. "Any move taken against my men will be looked upon as an act of aggression and you alone will be responsible. But it will not be you alone who pays the price. You will control your people. You will obey my rules."

  "Or what?"

  Marat's eyes were cold. "Or I will kill Captain Ross."

  Debbi felt as if she'd been punched in the gut. Her mind whirled with responses, but none reached her lips.

  Marat inclined his head slightly. "I will sacrifice him as the first stroke in my attack on the Rangers. No matter how much carnage results on either side, I assure you, he will be the first casualty."

  Debbi croaked, "You need Ross."

  "I do indeed," Marat agreed. "But thanks to your rebelliousness his presence gives me less and less assurance. Let's be clear, Ranger. We both know the situation here. Banshee is experiencing a revolution. And in a revolution, rightful authority springs from force. And whoever dares to use force wins. Eventually you will want a test of strength. I believe I will win. I'm sure you mistakenly believe you have a chance. My offer to you is that if you postpone your attempt to overthrow the Legion, perhaps Captain Ross will live. If you continue to interfere, he will die. And then I will make sure you and all your colleagues will die too. It's that simple. The choice is yours."

  He turned immediately and strode to the door. It opened and he passed through into the night.

  Stew, Fitz, and Miller raced back into the saloon. Chennault and Ngoma lingered outside, watching the zombies depart.

  Stew asked, "What happened? What did Marat say?"

  Debbi leaned against the table and picked up the deck of cards. She began to shuffle the cards without thinking about it. She let out a long breath.

  "What's wrong?" Stew prodded.

  "Marat just laid his cards on the table," she responded weakly.

  "And?"

  "And he's got a helluva hand. He's got us beat for now." She shot the cards in a shower across the room.

  Debbi didn't reveal the faint glimmer of a hole card she hadn't played. That card required first that Hickok find Hallow. And second that Hallow would agree to help.

  Debbi watched the last of the cards flutter to the floor and wondered if she had enough luck to make those two draws from the deck. If she was wrong, Ross was a dead man.

  If he wasn't already.

  Chapter 8

  "UNS Erebus to Tunnel control. Request permission to come alongside."

  "Permission granted, Erebus. Switching you to docking control."

  "Thank you, Tunnel control."

  Captain Jeremy Norton, United Nations Expeditionary Force began to pack away his work. His ship would be docking soon. Norton was a small-boned man who vigorously cultivated a gray manner. The common features of an everyman belied an uncommon intensity that lurked beneath sheltered eyes. The Capt
ain was like a facade on a building that hordes of passersby saw and ignored everyday for their entire lives, unaware that the unremarkable stone face was really alive and watching their every move.

  Norton glanced out the bubble window of his cabin and absently studied the Tunnel, which dwarfed his sleek frigate, Erebus, as it did every other ship in the UN flotilla. Hellstromme Industries built the impressive Tunnel and the sprawling facility that spread out around the ring many years ago and even now shuttles and robot craft slid along the sprawling facility continuing to expand Hellstromme's home in space. Less experienced eyes wouldn't have noticed, but Norton saw turrets tracking his ship, ready to blast it out of space should it make a suspicious maneuver.

  Captain Norton adjusted his uniform and placed his cap on his head as he felt Erebus jolt as it locked down against the Tunnel. He collected his materials and left his private cabin. At the far end of the docking tube, he felt a red flash of light snap into his eye to confirm his identity. Then he passed through the barrier into the Tunnel base.

  Norton went quickly into the crowded passageways and made his way to the heart of the station. He threaded his way into the central command area. Heavily armed Hellstromme Industries marines waved him through with no words and barely a second glance.

  Captain Norton loathed coming to the Tunnel. It disturbed him to be inside the black heart of Hellstromme Industries. It was so like his own United Nations military with its hierarchies and its chains of commands and its secrets. But it was unlike the military in its unpredictable personnel and sometimes unfathomable motivations. It particularly distressed him to deal with his Hellstromme liaison, Lithia. Norton was so used to dealing with pig-headed, direct, military types, and doing mental cartwheels around them, that it bothered him whenever he encountered her. She was one of Hellstromme's best politico-reps and it made him uncomfortable that someone in the Faraway System might have the intellect to outmaneuver him.

  He had to admit, however, as frustrating as Lithia was, she was also invigorating. She presented a mental challenge that none of the UN officer corps could match. The last mole he had placed in her R&D staff had died in an unexplained "lab accident." And then her last mole, who had been one of Norton's valets on the Erebus, had suffered an unfortunate slip in an airlock. Norton's relationship with Lithia was a chess match. The prize might well be control of the Faraway System. So far, luckily, only pawns had been bloodied.

  Captain Norton passed into Lithia's antechamber where her personal assistant, Thomas the gatekeeper, greeted him. "Good day, Captain Norton," he said. "I hope your passage was smooth."

  "Yes, very smooth, thank you." He nodded with a preoccupied purse of his lips.

  Thomas leaned forward with a conspiratorial gleam. "She has quite a surprise for you today."

  "Is that so?" Norton looked interested, because he was. Thomas craved attention and would talk to anyone who gave him the time of day.

  With a grin, Thomas whispered, "I just returned from another fact-finding mission to Banshee."

  "Another?" Norton replied. "You've been going down to Banshee regularly?"

  "Several times. Making contacts. Setting up networks. Very important missions." Thomas grinned with pride. "I've been in Temptation. Dreadful place. The worst I've ever seen. But it has gotten quite interesting down there. The place is swarming with necros. In fact —"

  The inner door whisked open and Thomas fell into instant, deep silence. Captain Norton's face resumed the usual noncommittal blandness as he breezed past Thomas into Lithia's private office. The darkly attractive woman looked up from her desk. Emotionless and serene, she had the look of a bored falcon waiting for a mouse to appear.

  Norton said, "Lithia. Always a pleasure."

  The woman replied, "Thank you for coming so promptly, Captain."

  Norton stared without blinking. He refused to show any betraying emotion to this woman. "I was surprised to hear from you. I haven't received a progress report in weeks."

  "We hadn't made any progress."

  "Then this obviously isn't about black gun test results."

  Lithia nodded. "Obviously not."

  The Captain smirked. "Once the blood is washed off a product, you lose interest?"

  "Something like that."

  The entire wall behind Lithia's desk appeared to be a window through which could be seen the vast Tunnel facility and Hellstromme Industry's small space flotilla orbiting Banshee. The view briefly unnerved Norton, as it always did. He felt like he was suddenly stepping outside into the vacuum of space. And that jolt was the effect Lithia wanted.

  Norton maintained his outer calm. "So, I understand you've picked up a little necro activity on Banshee."

  Lithia's eyes flickered briefly, but she quickly hid her discomfiture by pointing to a holoviewer on her desk. She pressed a switch and the image of a man appeared in the air between the two officers. She stayed quiet as Norton glanced at the holo, at first with little interest, but then with sudden concern. The Captain's face clouded. Then he checked the time stamp on the image.

  "Jesus Christ!" Norton exclaimed.

  "Not quite," Lithia replied with quiet satisfaction. "Though they have something in common. They both rose from the dead."

  "That's Garrett Quantrill."

  "Absolutely. General Garrett Quantrill, the former commander of your Syker Legion on Banshee."

  "Don't play games with me, Lithia," Norton snarled, abandoning his carefully constructed reserve. "Tell me what the hell's going on!"

  "As you know, we have been sending additional spy drones to Banshee over the last few months to monitor Nicolai's activities organizing his so-called Banshee Free State. About a month ago, intel indicated that the Reapers were making an all-out assault on the town of Temptation. Fortunately, our assets were in good position because we were already monitoring some anomalous activity in and around Temptation."

  Norton asked, "What sort of anomalies are you talking about?"

  "There was some necromantic activity. Which ties into the reappearance of General Quantrill. If I may continue?"

  Norton waved his hand dismissively, but continued to watch the image of Quantrill with a fuming glare.

  Lithia continued in an even, boardroom voice, "As I said, the primary Temptation anomaly involved the reanimation of the dead from local cemeteries. It was similar in nature to some of the necro activity we've seen in darker regions of the Faraway spaceways. But this is the largest outbreak thus far observed. And it is troubling that it is on the surface of Banshee. As you may recall, General Quantrill was interred at Temptation. I suspect, therefore, that the anomaly drew him in and so he was reanimated. Whether he was the target of the necromancy, I don't know. But the result was the same. Quantrill rose from the dead.

  "What we know for a fact is that just over a standard Earth month ago, the Reapers were on the verge of invading and likely destroying Temptation. At the same time, an unknown force appeared outside the walls of Temptation, a force vastly inferior in both size and armament to the Reapers. Still, this new force routed Nicolai's army."

  "Nicolai is a coward," Norton said quietly.

  "That's quite possible," Lithia automatically agreed. "Fortunately, Hellstromme Industries had some live assets in the region. And here's what we uncovered."

  Lithia touched the holoviewer again and the scene altered to a panoramic view of the Undead Legion standing motionless outside the walls of Temptation. Then it changed again to show the Legionnaires moving and marching. They destroyed the walls of a town with psychic blasts. Then the scene changed again to show the bloody fighting in the streets of Ghost Rock City. Reapers fell before the Legion, screaming, clutching their heads, blood streaming from their eyes and ears.

  "The Syker Legion," Norton muttered with a tone of dread.

  "Quite. They appear to be the revivified corpses of dead sykers your army left behind on countless battlefields across Banshee during the Anouk Wars twenty years ago. This new Legion is well organize
d and well led. And if they overrun many more large Reaper units as they did at Temptation and Ghost Rock City, they'll be well armed too."

  "Any theories, Lithia?"

  "No, Captain. No more than we can explain anything that happens in Faraway."

  Lithia clicked the holoviewer again and displayed scenes of the Legionnaires devouring cadavers in Ghost Rock City. A fascinated Norton watched a zombie figure wavering in the air in front of him feeding on a dead Reaper.

  The woman asked, "Do you notice anything odd in this scene?"

  Norton replied, "Besides a dead guy chewing on someone's gluteus maximus? No."

  "The Legionnaires do exhibit typical necro-homophagous behavior. But I was referring to the necro itself. It's head."

  Norton then realized that half of the zombie's head was missing. "How is that thing still moving with that kind of damage?"

  "Exactly. We don't know. As you know, necros are highly resistant to damage in every area except the head. Yet this Legionnaire, and others we observed, took what should have been killing damage to their brains and kept moving. We theorize it has something to do with the way the Legion is controlled, possibly through a sort of neural network. During the shortlived battle with the Reapers, we witnessed groups of Legionnaires acting as one, throwing brain blasts together with a power that far exceeded that of an individual syker. If accurate, this Legionnaire square is a potent tactical architecture and one that will be difficult to defeat."

  "Don't call them Legionnaires. That thing isn't a soldier; it's a monster."

  "Very well, Captain." Lithia lowered her head in disdain for Norton's emotionalism. She had thought he was better than this. But it was delicious to throw him off his game. "We don't know how General Quantrill acquired the reanimated sykers. The dangers of this are too obvious to point out to you."

  "Skinnies," Norton suggested. "Only Skinnies have power on that scale."

  "We considered that, but the Legion has also destroyed several anouk settlements and killed at least one Skinny. That doesn't sound like anything the Skinnies would condone."

  "Speculating on the cause of this anomaly will no doubt be fruitless.