The Commander stood in the room, hands on her hips, staring around at the winking lights in the wall while her troops worked behind her. Her gaze passed over my optical feed without recognition. I knew that look. Triumph, mixed with wariness.
“How many did I cost her?” I asked Argus.
“Somewhere around fifty. Not all dead, of course.” He sounded disappointed.
Fifty. Out of about three hundred. I’d more than decimated them, but it didn’t matter. This lady was made of sterner stuff, her iron hand tighter around her crew than the late, unlamented Chuckles.
She reminded me of someone and I couldn’t say who. But that axe slung across her back had something to do with it.
This woman had spent much to get this far, gotten through the tunnel with well-applied brute force. But now she had multiple routes to investigate: the two doors before this chamber, the two doors leading out of this chamber, and the door to the elevator shaft.
She’d need more than brute force to reach me from this point. She’d need to think. That would take time, experimentation, and exploration.
And though she didn’t know it, she was on a timer. Speaking of which…
I fired up the radio and sent out the agreed-upon taps, until Cade responded with his own countersign.
“Dinner’s served,” I told him, using one of the pre-arranged code phrases. “A guide will be around tomorrow at dusk. It’s time to work on some just desserts…”
INTERLUDE: WARLORD 2
Kala stood, boots slicked with blood, in the room that her warriors had fought dearly to gain.
The corridor outside, a scant forty feet, had been taken only through determination and sacrifice. Twenty-six had fallen to gain this ground; more lay wounded.
She’d moved in troops with shields to guard against the bowshots, then lost them when the ceiling fell. She’d moved in more with shields and lost them when the pit trap yawned open again. Then she’d moved in groups with logs behind the shields, to drop them on the floor and wedge the pit open, until she could fill it with junk. All the while, her dead Sarjant stared up at her with lifeless eyes, face and skin blue.
He lay there still. She couldn’t extract him, couldn’t spare the effort it would take to drag him loose. There would be time for that after the demon was dead and not before. Taking even a few minutes to do that before would cost lives.
Time wasted during a bunker assault was blood wasted. The stumps of her missing fingers itched, clammy inside her gauntlet. It was cool down here, far too cool, and the air smelled like the onset of a thunderstorm.
This room was different.
Not just for the smell, not just for the shattered remnants of the turret they’d destroyed, but visually it was a sharp contrast to the bare grey walls of the corridor outside. It was black, bumpy and black on the walls and ceiling and filled with thousands of winking lights.
The sheer waste of power it cost to do that offended her. Electricity had been rare when she was growing up, used only during special occasions. But then had come the demon who laid waste to Aitch-Q, and the Speakers had forbidden any more electricity at all. Not until the last demons were purged from Norcom’s realm.
It was a wasteful display… unless it wasn’t. Perhaps all those lights served a purpose.
Kala hated not knowing. Not knowing things wouldn’t just get her killed, it would get her warriors killed, too. Even dying before them wouldn’t spare her that guilt. The High Speaker had been clear: if she fell here, then Belmar would take her place. Belmar was a toady and a fool, whose best skill was looking good to the Speakers and sweet talking them. He would spend her troops without consideration or hesitation.
Not only did she have to succeed, she had to come back alive.
And so Kala did not move any further into that glowing room, just surveying it with a critical eye as her brain worked furiously.
It had been too easy.
Even with the great sacrifice to get this far, it was too easy. Midway through their advance, the bolts that rained out from the darkness had cut off, the door closing with a firm finality. Her vanguard had told her so, and she trusted them. Without the suppressing fire, they had easily secured the distance to the door and waited there until the Ploughman could arrive with his explosives.
True, it had cost three more when they’d opened the door; two wounded badly and one dead, but still that was too light a price.
Kala was fairly certain the demon was trying to sucker her, make her complacent. Make her forget the doors to either side that they’d ignored in their mad rush to secure this territory.
Yes, that had to be the trap. Once she moved her forces in, the doors would open all at once and her troops would be caught in a deadly ambush.
“Fall back just outside this doorway,” she told the vanguard to either side of her. “Spike the door frame, keep a watch on it. If the air seems to shimmer or move, wave torches through it.”
They saluted and fell to it, unlimbering hammers and long spikes and beginning their noisy work. She headed outside while they did, slowing to cross the rubble from where the ceiling had fallen, and slowing even more to pick her way across the boards that littered the pit. Then she was out and looking at her remaining Sarjants. Beyond, the wounded cried out, the dox they’d brought with this batch doing her best, the Ploughman working next to her, sleeves rolled up and forearms slick with blood.
Then her gaze moved past them, to the trees east of the staging ground. The moon was only a sliver above the stunted growth, and that was bad. That meant a scant few hours until dawn.
Wetness struck Kala’s scalp, and she tensed, until more came. Rain, she identified, hearing a patter throughout the clearing. A chorus of groans and oaths rippled through the troops around her, and she closed her eyes. Less time than I thought. Getting back to camp would take time if the route were muddy. Worse, if the rain was still going by then, it would distort noise all around the area and make it harder to hear incoming trouble. Incoming trouble like shine-tainted boars.
…which reminded her that she had yet another problem, there. The rain had a chance of spreading the shine from the boar’s carcass, tainting the small streams that ran near the camp. She would have to order everyone to range out farther for water. Which meant more chances that her people would run into infected mutants.
Kala shoved the worries aside. Those were for later. Now, she had a bunker to crack. “How many more sticks do you have?” She said, striding up to the Ploughman.
He didn’t look up from his work, cinching up a tourniquet as he replied. “Three bundles and four loose sticks.”
“And it took a full bundle to get through the second door?”
“Yes. Unlike the entryway, there was no weak point.”
“Are there weak points in the other two doors from that corridor?”
“I don’t know. I didn’t have time to look at them.”
“You do now. Come with me.”
The bearded man finally turned his face to regard her, looking up without meeting her eyes. When he saw she was serious, he mopped his hands on a rag and rose up from his crouch.
The Ploughmen were strong in their own way. Not warriors, but they were never idle, and they had food a-plenty to fuel their muscles. She could respect that.
But they shrunk from violence and were weak in their souls, and that she could not respect. They were tools to be used, a means to an end. This one followed her because if he refused, his village would suffer.
She led him in a wide berth around the beast’s burrow, down into the guarded entryway, and carefully across the corridor.
“I have to wonder,” the demon spoke, in the purest old tongue she’d ever heard.
Kala stopped, slid a hand to the rifle on her back.
“I have to wonder what happened to make you pick this fight.”
“That is a stupid question.” She switched her attention to the Ploughman. “Let me do the talking.”
“A stupid questi
on? I’m open to enlightenment. Why are you here?”
“It is a stupid question because there is no point to it. Not with the blood of my people running through your gutters.”
“People who came here because you told them to. People who died for their intrusion. This is an exclusive club, and you’re not on the invite list, lady.”
“There can be no peace between us.” Kala eased her hand away from the rifle’s stock. Words, just words. They could find no purchase in her soul. She was not weak enough to be swayed by them. Although… she shot another glance at the Ploughman, who looked terrified. “So when you speak to me now, I know you will say nothing but lies. Or perhaps you will beg for your unholy life,” Kala said, more for the Ploughman’s benefit than the demon’s enlightenment. “It will all be a ruse, to gain an advantage and escape your just fate.”
“A just fate. You know that’s what’s going to happen if you keep going, here? That you’ll reap as you’ve sown? I’m down in the darkness, guarding against things you can’t imagine. That’s my purpose. And you want me to stop doing it.” The voice rattled, a sardonic chuckle that set her teeth on edge. “I’m tempted to let you do it. Let you see just what kind of Pandora’s Box you’re about to open, here.”
Kala smiled, baring her teeth. “Yes. Let me see you.” That would make the task much easier.
“Sorry, no free shows. You want the full monty you’ll have to come find me.”
“What kind of Pandora’s Box?” The Ploughman suddenly asked. “I know that tale. It doesn’t end well.”
Kala gritted her teeth, and fought down the urge to hit him. He had disobeyed her! The sivvie filth!
“The kind of box that’s leaky and full of stuff that glows in the dark. It’s all I can do to keep the specimens from getting out into the local ecosystem. And now here you are, making my task harder.”
Cold ran down Kala’s spine.
“You’re lying,” she decided. But her mind went back to the shine-crazed boar, and the reports her northern foragers had sent back… the patches of trees and grass they’d found practically coated in the stuff.
If this was the source of the contamination, if it wasn’t lying, then cracking the Core could risk spreading the taint… and the things that they’d have to chew through to get to the core would curse her people with a certain death. If not by shine, then by the executioners. No one tainted could be allowed to live, allowed to spread the taint.
“Honest injun.”
“What?”
“Nevermind. I’ve told you all you need to know. The choice, and its consequences, are up to you.”
Kala closed her eyes. “I have my orders.”
“You know how many dead and disgraced soldiers said those words before they died? I don’t, but I’m willing to bet it’s a lot.”
She curled her hand into a fist, metal rasping against her stumps. “And I know what comes of trusting your kind.”
“I don’t know what the others did to you, but I’m the very soul of honor and kind—”
“Shut up.” She glared over to the Ploughman. “Examine the doors. See what charge is required.” She gestured to either side, down the short corridors that bisected the main one. “We will not leave surprises behind us.”
“You’re going to regret that,” the demon spoke.
“Do it.”
The Ploughman scurried to comply, and Kala stalked out of the bunker once more.
Ten minutes later, the rain pounded down with fury from above as the explosion blew dust out of the bunker’s entryway. She raised a hand to order her troops in, then hesitated.
Movement caught her eye.
She whirled to the ring guarding the beast’s burrow, only to see a similar jet of smoke and debris shower out. The guards fell back, screaming and cursing as the shrapnel caught them.
And in a heartbeat, Kala realized what that meant.
The burrow is connected to the bunker!
And with that realization came the beast, surging forth from its hole, bleeding from numerous cuts, bulling past her people and into the trees. Her ears still ringing from the explosion, she couldn’t hear it go, and it was lost to her sight in a matter of seconds.
The last thing she saw was the glowing patch on its side, and Kala’s breath caught in her throat. Shaking, she turned back to the lip of the burrow, the earth stained with blood.
Glowing blood.
She traced the thin trail, light ebbing as it went, from the hole to the trees.
The demon had been telling the truth.
Kala watched the gleaming blood roil, as raindrops pounded down on it. She squeezed her eyes shut. This was bad. This was very, very bad. “Fall back,” she called. Her people looked at her in shock, some still deafened and obviously not comprehending the order. “Fall back! We are done for this night.”
Surprised, uneasy, her troops fell in. From them she chose her most reliable soldiers, those who were unwounded still. “Set up in the cleared rooms. Guard the ground we have seized. Watch unopened doors. Do not let it rebuild the traps or weapons we broke. It will try to do that if you do not stop it.”
They saluted, and she gathered the rest of her group and left.
This was the sound tactical decision. The beast was out there, wounded and tainted and lethal. It would be foolish to battle the demon on two fronts.
But still, Kala felt indecision gnawing at her. An old feeling, a hated feeling. She had gotten as far as she had by shoving it aside, persisting no matter the cost to herself. She had never gone into a fight with doubts. They were weaknesses that slowed you down when the time came to kill.
She needed to think this over. Somewhere away from the demon.
Kala pulled her rifle from its sling and held it to her chest as she led the way down the mountain road, as a heavy rain showered them all.
There was no sign of the beast as they returned to the treeline, yet still Kala felt watched. It was hard to hear in the storm, with the leaves and branches above rattling and shaking.
The river, at least, was a pleasant surprise. She’d been expecting the hard rain to swell it, make the crossing hazardous. But the water level was barely higher than it had been on the way up. This was good; night crossings were hazardous, especially with the walking wounded she was bringing back. And the torchbearers were having trouble dealing with the rain, so light was a commodity. She waved them into position, marking out the ford, enduring knee-deep water while the warband crossed, with Kala in the lead.
It was still slow going, and finally she found herself on the far bank, helping the Ploughman out of the water. He’d transferred the rest of the explosives to his pack, wrestling the empty wagon through the waters. His bearded face was locked into a scowl, which didn’t abate when she’d finally got him up on shore, his white shirt streaked with brown mud.
“This isn’t right,” he told her.
“Do you question my orders?”
He blanched. “No. Not that. The river isn’t right.” He waved a hand at the bank. “I didn’t notice the first time we crossed, but the bank was muddy and far too low. This river was far bigger not long ago, and we’re out of drought season. It should have much more water in it. The rain should be swelling it to three times its size.”
Kala looked to the water, black in the torchlight, black as blood in the night. Then she looked upstream and that feeling of being watched came back, stronger than ever.
“A trap!” She shouted. “Get to the banks!”
But it was too late, as the water swelled, and she followed her own advice with the Ploughman scrambling after as a wall of dark water roared downstream, catching her warband mid-crossing…
TWENTY
I eased the construction drone back from the remnants of the dam.
It had been simple, really. Three of the sites she could have chosen would have to cross the river to get to me. Therefore, damming up the river would give me a fun surprise that I could unleash on them, if the conditions were
right. Took several days and most of the construction drone’s time, but it had paid off in the end.
“Not enough, though,” I muttered. “And not the best time.”
“Excuse me?” Argus asked.
I explained the gambit.
“How is that not the best time? You caught them full blast with watery doom!”
“It’s not the best time because the rain forced my hand. The hard rain was breaking the dam away, even if I’d wanted to risk the construction bot in literal mid-stream repairs, it wouldn’t have lasted another day. I wanted to catch a warband heading up, not a warband heading back. Going up would have slowed them down and wasted time. Now it’s actually less wasted time coming back because they’re in safer territory. They can scurry home without as much fear.”
“I’m not sure I understand.”
“Leave the tactics to me. Still, it’s not so bad. They were coming back wounded, which means fatalities were probably higher than they’d be with a fresh batch. That’s something.”
“How much higher?”
“Couldn’t say. It’s dark, they’re scattered, and I need to get the flier over to their camp to nose about while they’re still gone. But getting swept downstream and having to find their way back isn’t going to be good for morale, though. Not that it’ll matter.”
“Morale matters.”
“Not as much with this crew. The Commander’s smart enough to rotate the groups that she takes up there. Each group will be fresh for the first few days.” Though it wasn’t perfect compartmentalization. People would mix; people would talk. Fear would spread… but not fast enough and not far enough to tilt the balance, this time. I’d managed with Chuckles because he wasn’t a leader.
She was a leader, this bald woman who’d called me out. It was a pity she wanted me dead. I had a feeling we’d get along, if she weren’t part of a tyrannical, fanatical military cult, and I weren’t her sworn enemy due to my nature.
Bunker Core (Core Control Book 1) Page 18