Perez’ accented voice excitedly broadcast, “Use the segment there to channel it that way, man, or we’re buried. Hurry up, move it, move it!”
The sense of it was crimson-curtained away from him by Bogie’s intensity. Jack’s chest swelled as he fought upward. Another level. And then, falteringly, another.
Amber clung tightly. She quivered as the suit did. “Jack,” she whispered. “What does that film of red over the gauges mean?”
“Nothing.” He aimed, this time carefully, trying to angle the blast to do the most good, for it might be the last he would make. The hover fought to maintain their height, not meant to climb endlessly into the air.
The rock broke away, as intended, and, as not intended but fortunate, left a ledge to the side of the shaft. He fired a side thrust, and maneuvered them over to the ledge and let the suit settle. The hover cut off almost gratefully.
He took a deep breath. “I’ve gone as far as I can.”
The cameras scanned upward. It wasn’t far enough. Another two or three levels stretched above them, clear, but inaccessible.
“Oh, Jack.” Amber bent her face and he could feel the moisture from her eyes mingling with the salt of his own sweat.
“Say again, miner one, we hear you. Please repeat so that we can get a fix on you. This is Rescue Operations.”
Jack jumped. “I’m down here, Rescue. One of the supply elevators. Another four levels below me, we’ve got a tunnel full of what’s left of Crew Two.”
“Keep talking, miner one. We’ll drop a line as soon as we get the doors open.”
Jack heard the muffled blast above and the shaft shivered. He watched on his screen as the silvery hoist rope snaked down to them.
“I’ve nearly got it. Lower, lower, there—that’s it!” He reached out and grabbed the lifeline.
“Okay, miner one. I’m gonna tell you how to make a rappel sling, so we can haul you up.”
Jack already had the line fixed about him. “We’re already ready. Haul away.” He tilted his head back and looked upward, to where the cracked doors let through the harsh white light of unfiltered starshine. The suit rose hesitantly into the air, and then smoothly, swiftly, up the elevator shaft.
Hands reached for him, helped him out of the sling, voices talking all at once, as he untied the line.
“How many down there?”
“Shift Two Crew, about twenty-five.”
“And St. Colin of the Blue Wheel,” Amber blurted out.
“Ah.” A tall, imposing figure came to the fore and as he leaned forward, the face of their rescuer came toward the front of the face plate, visible for the first time. “The good Walker will be in diplomatic custody, for the time being. The rest of you will be held in the barracks once temps are set up.”
Jack’s blood ran cold. He looked into the visage of a full-blooded Thrakian commander.
Chapter Sixteen
Well, I don’t bloody like it,” Stash said, kicking at a bunk. “Tradin’ one master for another. Even if we are beddin’ down in the exec quarters.”
Boggs sat wearily on a far bed, hunched over, his hands cradling his face. He’d spent most of the night identifying bodies brought up from operations, as Bull Quade was dead and the shift supervisor for Crew One was still missing. “Shut up, Stash,” he said. “We don’t know what they want. We’re prisoners of war right now.”
“Course you know what they want from us,” the New Aussie pressed. He ran a hand through his butcher-cut black hair and scowled. “They want us to keep bringin’ out the norcite for them.”
Jack was working on his armor in the corner, only half-listening to the others talk as he wondered how Amber was doing. St. Colin had persuaded the Thrakian field commander to take her in under diplomatic custody also and she’d gone with the Walker back to the hotel under martial guard. Most of the crew were still asleep, unsettled in the exec quarters, unused to these more comfortable surroundings, and wary of their captors. He chiseled off a last flake of molten rock, now cooled, and buffed down the Flexalinks. Operations would see to its charging. He didn’t intend to go down in the mines without his armor again.
“I don’t want any bloody Bug telling me when I can eat and sleep and sh—”
“That’s enough,” Boggs interrupted. “What are you going to do about it? The nearest Dominion troop dispatch is three months away.”
Stash stopped and smiled darkly. “Wot can we do about it, you ask, mate? Well, I’ll tell you. There’s more of us than them. And this time, if we try anything, the whole bloody town will be on our side. We’ll be heroes! I don’t know if your ‘ead was swivelin’ around when they marched us in here, but I was lookin’! And those bloody laser cannons are situated, just like these offices, outside the domes. Won’t take much to get to ‘em.”
Jack had seen the cannons, too. “They’re not only outside the domes, Stash, they’re outside the mining base, too. Any man going out has no protection whatsoever. He’s only as good as his deepsuit.”
The other shrugged. “There’s a little risk.”
“There’s a lot of risk. Do you think those Thraks are going to leave the cannons operational? They’re probably working on them right now.”
“Yeah, but it’ll take three, four days to do the job right.” Stash met Jack’s eyes as he crossed the room. “We could put it right if we don’t waste any more time. Man as handy as you shouldn’t be too worried about doin’ it.”
Jack put away the last of his tools and stood up. He’d been thinking along similar lines and dismissed it. If only Amber wasn’t being held… “I’m not worried about it, Stash. I’m going to get in that soft bed and put in some downtime, because the new foreman’s going to be here in the morning and I can guarantee you, we’re going to be putting in a lot of time in the tunnels. They’re going to strip as much norcite as they can out of here—hit and run, before the Dominion catches up with them. We can either be an asset or a liability. Do you want to talk about what Thraks do to liabilities?”
Stash tried to stare him down, but it was the new Aussie who gave way, blinking and then ducking his head. “Right, mate,” he mumbled finally. “But you think about it.”
“I’ll be thinking about a lot of things,” Jack answered. He picked the bed closest to Bogie and lay down, drawing the thin blanket over him and turning his back to the rest of the room. Crew One was isolated in another part of the exec building and he wondered why. He was also wondering why the Thraks had taken such a risk with Lasertown when there were other norcite operations to go after. Unless the norcite wasn’t the only attraction here. Franken had been clandestinely digging at the archaeological site, the Walkers were foaming at the mouth to get out there—and from the Thrakian interest in Crew One, which had been working there off and on, Jack’s best guess was that the site was of keen interest to them, too. But why?
The last thought that crossed Jack’s mind before he slept was of Fritzi. Nothing had been found of the big man. Had he gone into narcosis and wandered off to his death or been caught by strafing fire? He would contact Gail as soon as he could. He owed Fritzi that much.
He woke fitfully a few hours later. The red glow of the sentry’s night light bathed the room. He could hear the rhythmic breathing and snores of his fellows. Jack looked over wonderingly, for his battle armor stood next to the bed, gauntlet out a little, curved over his head like a protective shield. He stared up at the suit and knew he did not remember the bed having been this close to the armor.
He should be scared of it, he knew, for it had the potential of consuming him and the more he wore it, the closer he came to that destiny. But the voice and strength that had buoyed him these last few days seemed to be more, to promise more. Funny, he’d meant to discuss that with Amber. Did the berserker contain the germ of being more than a killing beast? Could it have thoughts, and even a soul, beyond that?
The hair rose on the back of his neck in tiny prickles. Jack cleared his throat and lay back down. He was very, very close to the edge, h
e thought, if he was beginning to consider Bogie to be friendly. As soon as he got back, he’d get himself measured for a new suit. The secrets of this one he was afraid to learn.
As he closed his eyes, he thought he heard a whisper: *Jack.* He ignored it.
Amber stared in fascination at the Thrakian commander as the being stood, courteously and gracefully, listening to Colin’s persuasion. She’d heard Jack describe them before, but she’d never seen one in her life, not in the flesh. Or in the chitin, which seemed more applicable. An insect of sorts, equally at home balanced back on two legs or sloping forward on four, somewhat armored, and with a sharp-planed head or face that was almost faceted like a gemstone. But, unlike an insect, this creature was fleshy and dexterous. It was capable of speaking and it breathed the air of the Lasertown domes without trouble, except that it carried a small tube with it through which it inhaled from time to time, as though augmenting the air mix or perhaps dousing the smell of the humans it had corraled. It was definitely a he. Though uninformed, she had no doubt of its gender.
“My dear Talthos. If we’re merely under house arrest for our protection and your main interest is the mines, surely we can come to some sort of agreement for my aides to investigate the archaeological site. We’ll be no trouble. We require no manpower and I will allow you to place a guard over us for security, if you wish.” Colin smiled. “I can guarantee you that we’re not going to launch a counterattack from there.”
“No,” breathed the Thraks. It was his sixth ‘no’ in as many attempts. He obviously did not believe in arguing.
“No to the dig or to the guard? I’m willing to negotiate, but you must give me something to begin with.”
“No,” said the Thraks. His chest chitin expanded. “We do not believe it is in your best interest to conduct a dig at the site, your saintedness.”
Amber hid a yawn. This predawn meeting had awakened her from a very restless night. She looked out the hotel window at the gray-filmed dome. She was not normally a morning person anyway, but out there, who could tell? Seasons could come and go with a sameness that was indistinguishable. It was as though time had stopped in Lasertown. She felt inexplicably melancholy.
Colin stopped. He scratched his head, ruffling the thinning hair behind his right ear. “Commander, my men are expert deepsuit users as well as diggers. Our excavation will not place additional demands on your rule here, I promise that. If you could just let me demonstrate. It’s most important that this site be investigated before any retaliation from the Triad throne destroys the area.”
Amber braced herself for another no, but the Thraks straightened. “Maybe,” he answered.
Colin almost missed it. Then he brightened. “A demonstration, commander? When?”
“Tomorrow.”
“Ah. Good.”
“I will forward details to you later. My presence is required elsewhere. Good… day,” and Talthos bowed himself out.
As the door schussed closed after him, Colin slapped his hands together. “Well. That’s something.”
“Crumbs,” Amber muttered.
“Perhaps. Perhaps it’s just another delaying tactic. What do you think?”
“I think,” Amber said, as she uncurled from the couch and stood up, “that I’m terribly hungry.”
The Walker laughed. “That much I can definitely obtain for you. Find out if Lenska is awake and we’ll go get breakfast.”
Boggs mopped up the last of his hash and said, around the mouthful, “Well, Stash, at least the chow around here has improved.”
“Not enough, mate.” Stash sat back.
Jack watched, thinking that Stash was the sort of man who would never be content. With anything.
“What do you mean, not enough?”
“If they want me to work for them, they’re going to have to provide certain amenities.”
Jack smiled. “And here I thought you’d be offering to provide them with the amenities.”
The crew sitting at that table laughed and Stash scowled. His black winged eyebrow frowned downward. “You know what I mean, mate.”
“Of course I do. We all do. My advice to you is that you keep your mouth shut and do a lot of listening over the next few shifts. We don’t really know what the Thraks want with us or what they intend to do to us. A little caution will go a long way.”
Boggs threw down his disposable napkin. “I suggest you listen, Stash. We’ve got the new foreman coming down this morning to talk to us before he breaks us up into work parties. If the norcite is so damned valuable to them, why’d they damage the mines so heavily? We might be a hell of a lot more expendable than you think.”
Outnumbered, Stash shrugged and glared at Jack. “I kept my mouth shut about you bein’ a bloody Knight, didn’t I? I know how to gamble.” And he sat, sullen, without another word while the table was policed around him, and the crew gathered to wait for the new foreman.
Jack shook his head as Boggs held out a pack of stim gum and watched as the older man stuffed a wad between his gum and his cheek. His bald head shone in the artificial lighting of the mess hall, revealing bristling hairs stuck randomly here and there. The hairs in his ears wiggled as he began to chew vigorously. What would it be like to grow old as a contract laborer and need a cheek full of stim to get the aches and pains out in the morning so you could keep up on the job?
He looked away as an odor wafted down the corridor and his hands grew cold. He knew that smell. Jack was halfway to his feet when the doors opened, and the impressive figure of the new foreman pushed his way in.
Perez’ jaw fell open. “Jeezus,” he muttered and his dark skin lightened a little.
The foreman halted, something shadowy and even bigger waiting in his wake beyond the door. Jack’s mouth dried out suddenly.
“I be Captain K’rok. I be a Milot, a valiant and valued soldier who was saved from his planet’s conquering by the Thraks. I fought long and hard and earned their respect. Now I be in command of you,” and the Milot bared his canines as he gave them all a hard grin.
Tall and broad, shaggy with a dense, two-coat fur that had oils similar to those of sheep, the bear-headed humanoid looked them over. His dark hide had grizzled, showing his age, and Jack knew, as he sat and looked at the being, that he was watching one of his nightmares come to life. It was true that the Thraks, occasionally, adopted a defeated foe as one of their own if that foe had impressed them. For a Milot, Jack knew, it meant that this one had undoubtedly been one of the meanest and trickiest, for the Milots were a truly treacherous bunch. He wondered how short a leash the Thraks had K’rok on to keep him in line.
As if sensing hostile thoughts, K’rok stood aside slightly to let whatever it was following him shoulder into the mess hall doorway. “Lest you think I be a target or not to be obeyed, this be my bodyguard.”
The saurian monstrosity edged partially into the hall, the brilliant frill around its neck down, but its claws out.
Jack tried to swallow and couldn’t. Boggs opened his mouth, unaware of the wad of gum and spittle that fell to the table with a damp plop.
“Good god a-mighty, what is that?”
The Milot swung a glance Boggs’ way and grinned broadly. “This be a berserker, human. Legendary warrior lizard from my home planet. Mean son of a bitch.”
Jack felt a tremor in his limbs he could not control.
With relish the Milot added, “It grows from eggs it lays in dead flesh. Sometimes live flesh. Human flesh feeds eggs real good. One of you be disobedient, perhaps I let my berserker plant eggs. I can always use another good berserker.”
In the far corner, someone lost his breakfast. The pungent smell mingled unpleasantly with the rank odor of the Milot and his bodyguard.
The Milot’s grin never wavered. “Now let me tell you what I and Commander Talthos expects of you.”
Jack hardly heard. He forced every muscle to stop its twitching, palsied dance. He placed his hands on his thighs and gripped tightly, trying with every breath
to still the terror that had leaped full-blown into his system and fought to panic every brain cell he had right out of his skull. But he could not escape it. That, that was what he could become if he continued to let Bogie live!
Chapter Seventeen
Jack told the others that he had to hide the battle armor away from the Milot, who would undoubtedly recognize it as the weapon it could be, and they all accepted that explanation for his not wearing it. Stash particularly seemed to interpret the gesture as an indication that Jack had joined the private rebellion being planned against the Thrakian rule. Talthos, not a veteran of the Sand Wars, hadn’t known the suit when he’d seen it but K’rok was bound to—if only because his berserker had undoubtedly sprung from the incubating shelter of one such suit.
He worked three full days of double-shifts before K’rok let him get a com through to Amber, but all in all, the Milot was a fair enough master. He had a directive to get the mines clear enough to work and he had sense enough to know that the crew needed the freedom to do what had to be done and the incentive to do it quickly. The incentive was a ticket out of Lasertown the minute the Thraks decided to pull out.
The persuasion was a little more subtle. K’rok had a habit of letting small, furry mammals lose in the tunnels for the berserker to chase down and consume. Typically saurian, the beast ate relatively little but even one such meal impressed the whole shift working at the time.
Boggs had shuddered, but Stash became philosophical. “Reminds me, mates, of a fellow I worked for once. Had a great big aquarium he did, with a great big, nasty fish in it. Used to feed it little fish which it would eat up all squirming and tearing like. Made his point, he did.”
Freshly showered and exhausted, Jack sat down in front of the visiphone, one of the perks of occupying the exec offices. The com line buzzed and then Amber came on.
“Jack! What’s happening? Are you all right? You look pale.”
“I’m fine. They’re working us hard, that’s all. But fair. Food rations are better and the contracts will be terminated when they pull out.”
Lasertown Blues Page 15