She made a face. “And I thought we had you out of there.”
He shrugged. “Better than what happened to the governor.”
“I know. I heard about that. Fried her at her post, although there are some whispers around that she did it to herself.” Amber’s eyes were very wide and round with the implication of the gossip.
Jack smiled in spite of himself. “How’s St. Colin?”
“Fit to be tied. The Thraks won’t budge about the digging. He’s…” and Jack lost most of the sense of what she said, then her image cleared and Amber’s lightly freckled nose was wrinkled in dismay. “Censored,” she added.
Jack understood. The com line was tapped. The transmission was being jammed when it was considered necessary. “You just be a good girl,” he said. “The Thraks are treating us honorably.”
“Right. So how’s Bogie?”
“Who?” Jack said blandly.
“Bogie,” she repeated. “Jack—”
“Not now,” he interrupted. “I’ve been working double-shifts and I’ve got to take whatever downtime I can get.”
She blinked, then comprehension that he didn’t wish to discuss the suit with her dawned. She nodded. “Okay. Well, you sleep tight then, okay?”
“That I will. K’rok may be a Milot, but he is a good commander. Remember that.” He signed off with a faint echo of Amber saying, “…a Milot,” reaching him before the connection ended. He had no doubt she’d put that together. She had the street savvy that would protect her. Now all he had to do was protect himself.
He returned to the sleeping quarters and went in quietly, the room’s hush broken by snoring already begun. The snap of playing cards was gone, even Boggs and Stash dead asleep in hard-worked exhaustion. He went to his bunk and sat down.
Underneath, his armor lay quietly. Jack’s bare ankle brushed the Flexalinks and almost instantaneously, Bogie’s sentience sprang into life.
*Wear me now, boss?*
“No,” Jack returned. He found it hard to swallow. He jerked his foot away, but the mind-touch followed.
*Free. We’ll fight free.*
“No.”
*I’ll keep you safe.*
“No.” Jack withdrew onto his bunk and pulled his cover up tightly, burying himself.
*Wear me, Boss. We must go—*
“Go?” Jack rubbed his head. He couldn’t force Bogie into silence and out of his head. And the suit wanted most desperately to go somewhere. Go where?
*Calling…*
Jack took a deep breath and got hold of himself. Closing his eyes, he began a series of mental commands that he hadn’t used in months, lapsing into the mental discipline of becoming, being a Knight. Bogie’s hold faded and then slipped away altogether.
He slept. But at the edge of his consciousness, a something nibbled, a call that begged to be answered.
“They lost another man on Crew One last night,” Perez said conspiratorially.
“Runaway?”
“No. No, man, they said the sleeping sickness got him. They say,” and he lowered his voice even more, his slender hand gripping the breakfast table, “they say they lost a lot of them when the domes were under fire. People trying to get out all over the place.” Bailey and Ron gave him a dirty look and returned to their meals.
Jack looked at the laborer. “Perez, anybody will panic when they’re being shot at.”
“No, man. They say—”
“I be saying Crew Two is late this morning.” K’rok’s huge and smelly shadow drifted over them.
“Yes, sir.” They scrambled off the chairs and out to the staging area, the temporary shop set up for suiting.
Jack brushed past the Milot, trying to avoid looking at the slavering berserker towering behind him. K’rok held one of his feeder mammals in one hand, absently stroking it preparatory to releasing it, and the bodyguard was working itself into a feeding frenzy at the sight of a meal before it.
Jack turned his face away, knowing that the little creature would shortly be scraps of fur and bone.
The Milot sensed Jack’s repulsion. He let out a bark of Milosian laughter. “You have a healthy respect for my berserker, eh, Storm?”
“You might say that.”
The Milot dogged Jack’s steps to the shop. “Why be that? I have heard you were a hero and saved most of Crew One. That is some tale I heard.”
“Embellished,” Jack said. He reached for the rack and his deepsuit. “What about you? What did you do to impress the Thraks?”
“Ah. You be knowing about the Sand Wars? You too young for that. You would be just a pup.”
“My father went down at Dorman’s Stand.”
“Ah. I fought long and hard for Milos.”
“How do you feel being one of the last?” Jack asked. His voice had gone hard, but K’rok didn’t seem to notice, unused to the subtleties of human behavior.
K’rok shrugged. “There be some of us. My mate is a good breeder. We will begin again. Not like berserkers here. They—how do you say it—regenerate. All one needs is a tiny scrap of hide.”
“I thought they laid eggs.”
“Sometimes. Sometimes it is necessary to kill all berserkers off. Kill or be killed, eh?”
Jack blinked. His hand trembled a little as he opened the suit up to put on. A scrap of hide. Regeneration. He thought of the chamois at his back—the chamois that many of his fellow Knights had affected as well on Milos. Regeneration into a parasitic embryo that—
Boggs, paling a little, shoved past Jack and blocked the Milot as he eyed the small fuzzy. “You’re not going to let that go in here.”
“No, no, human. Maybe not. Maybe I drop it down the front of one of your suits and let my berserker go after it there, huh?” K’rok stalked away, booming with laughter and the berserker slavered after him.
Boggs turned and bellowed at Jack, “Get the slag out! One man late on shift makes us all late.”
Jack turned unseeing eyes the shift boss’ way, then shook himself like a drowning man coming out of the water. Boggs grumbled and turned away to his own suit. He didn’t like K’rok menacing his men. He wasn’t sure what the Milot had said to Jack, but the man was not one to be easily rocked. He didn’t like what he’d just seen.
St. Colin walked into the room, his shoulders hunched over with fatigue, and, with a sigh that rattled harshly, dropped down on a chair. Amber came over and perched behind him and began lightly kneading the Walker’s bowed shoulders. He was showing his age suddenly, shockingly, and she worried. The religious leader had found a place in her heart next to Jack’s and she found herself wondering what she would do when it was time for them to go their separate ways.
He reached up and patted her hand. “You know what comforts me, girl.”
She leaned down. “Jack always liked me to rub his neck, too.”
“Heard from him yet today?”
“No. He’s probably double-shifted again.”
“Mmmm.” Colin shrugged out of his brilliant blue robe. He eased the neckline of his simple jumpsuit. “The miners are thinning out quickly, from what I’ve been able to gather. This last group of laborers was recruited aggressively—”
“No kidding,” Amber interrupted as she kneaded out a tightly bunched muscle.
“Well, that aside, they’d just released a shipload of laborers who’d worked out their contracts and were short of hands. Plus, there’ve been a lot of fatalities on Crew One.”
“What kind of fatalities?”
“More than the usual mining accidents. Amber,” and Colin turned around, displacing her hands, so he could look her in the eye. “Have you heard anything unusual? Gossip, that sort of thing?”
“Me?”
He stared patiently and she pinked. “Well, I guess I do have a way of finding things out.”
“What have you heard?”
“Nothing much. There’s something going on most people won’t talk about—a kind of psychosis, from what I can gather. People just go walking
out of the domes.”
“Hysterical suicide?”
“I don’t know if it’s hysterical or not—but going for a walk outside the domes without a deepsuit is definitely suicide. And the ones that want to take the walk are real determined to do it.”
“And it’s worse in Crew One and other people who’ve been at the site.”
Amber got down off her perch and sat on the level chair next to him. “It is?”
“From what I can gather, yes. That might explain why the Thraks won’t let us go out, keep toying with us, and why Franken, rest her soul, put us off for months.”
She put a hand on his knee and felt the intense level of his fatigue and worry. It frightened her. “What do you think it is?”
“God only knows. But it makes it even more imperative to get out there. I must see it. I must know what’s going on.”
“Hey! Don’t you start thinking about taking a walk.”
Colin laughed. “No, my dear, don’t worry about me. I may be obsessed, but I am not yet compulsed. But I want you to know and understand that I may have to take steps which Talthos won’t like. I won’t leave Lasertown without having seen the dig. And I have contacted an accomplice within Crew Two who might be able to make a big enough distraction to grant my wishes.”
Amber tried to smile back, but her heart chilled.
Jack dreamed that he and Bogie stood shadowed by an immense gold-flamed tree, overlooking a river valley that he’d never seen before. The hills were new, sharp and jagged purple, spearing the horizon. Bogie held his hand with a gentle gauntlet and was speaking to him.
“I have to go, Jack.”
“Where?”
“Down there. I can hear it calling and I know I have to go.”
Jack looked across the valley, to the dark patterns at the base of the mountain peaks. “Why?”
“I can’t help it. I’ve got to go. And you and Amber, too, must come with me. No matter what.”
No matter what. No matter what. The white, Flexalinked armor began to walk forward, tugging him insistently after. Jack tried to anchor himself but could not match the armor’s strength. He turned and reached into the shadows at his back for help. “Amber!”
She was there and caught his free hand and together they tried to withstand Bogie’s march.
But it was no use. The armor uprooted them even as he toppled the golden tree in his path and they were all done for, doomed, as Bogie dragged them after.
Jack bolted upright, his flanks heaving, and he felt a firm hand on his shoulder.
“Easy there, mate. Always was a peculiarly light sleeper.”
Jack turned. It was mid-downtime. “What are you doing up, Stash?”
“We all are. I was tryin’ to wake you, anyhow. It’s time.”
He looked around and saw the silhouetted forms of the crew getting up and dressing. “What’s going on?”
“A little surprise for our buggy friends.”
Boggs knelt by the bunk. “Come on, Jack. Get the armor on. We need you.”
Shit. Words dried in Jack’s throat. They were going to try to bust out of the mines and go for the laser cannons. Jack knew it as surely as if they’d told him. The orbiting Thrakian ship overhead would be their first target—if they made it that far.
“All of us?”
“All of us, or none. It’s the only way, mate.”
Jack looked around. Perez was dressed and watching the door for K’rok and the berserker. Dobie and Ron were suiting up and Jack realized they’d brought in deepsuits with them. Bill, Manny and Boggs had hauled out the battle suit and had the seams opened to help him in.
“The charges—”
“All up. I’m good for somethin’,” Stash said. He leaned close. “Don’t tell me one of the Emperor’s own prize boys won’t fight for his freedom.”
That wasn’t it. Jack stared at the armor, afraid to touch it. He hadn’t had the time or the nerve to go in and rip the chamois out, his skin recoiling at even the thought of touching it. And what if the berserker wasn’t regenerating through the hide? What if it still hatched inside the suit and began to gnaw on him after he thought he was safe?
Boggs whispered sharply, “We’ve no time to waste.”
He couldn’t let them all go to their deaths. “All right.” He pushed the cover aside and began to suit up.
Bogie knew. He fairly quivered with eagerness. *It’s time, boss.*
“Right, you bloodthirsty beggar.”
Boggs handed him his helmet. “You know what we’re going to do?”
“I’ve got a fairly good idea. What about K’rok and the berserker?”
“We want you to take them out.”
Jack was glad Boggs couldn’t see the expression on his face clearly. He only said, “Easier said than done. I’ll back you up then, follow and then hold off the trouble as long as I can. Good enough?”
“The best I can ask of anybody.” Boggs slapped him on the side of the helmet and turned around to suit himself up.
*Live, fight, live,* the suit hummed.
“Shut up, Bogie,” Jack murmured. He checked his weapons’ charges.
Amber woke suddenly, a hand over her mouth. Colin took it away as soon as she recognized him.
“It’s time.”
“What?” She sat up on the small bed and noticed he was fully suited.
“The diversion I told you about. The Thraks are going to be very busy shortly. Lenska has a power sled with the computer programmed with the coords. It’s now, or never, as they say.”
“But what about—” she stopped. “What if—”
He kissed her gently on the forehead, the way the father she’d never known might have done, if he’d stuck around that long. “You can take care of yourself, and Jack, too, if it comes to that. But I expect you to remember the rules of Christian behavior I’ve been drumming into you.”
“I’ll… try,” Amber said softly. Something choked her throat, making it nearly impossible to speak. “What… what am I supposed to do now?”
“Wait, and pray, I think. Do you believe in God?”
What a terrible thing to ask her, she who’d only dared believe in herself and then Jack. She looked into his deep brown eyes, eyes just as capable of fire as loving mildness. “Sometimes.”
“Fate then?”
“Luck.”
“As you will. Pray to the luck that has brought us all together at this time and place,” he said.
“Never doubt that this was intended.” He straightened and left, the lanky aide at his side.
Oh, Jack, Amber thought. What’s going to happen now?
Chapter Eighteen
As they started down the half-lit corridors, Jack thought of all the things he’d meant to do but hadn’t had the time. He’d never thought that way before a fight and it bothered him, but he couldn’t stop the parade of images through his mind. He’d never been able to go and try to find Fritzi’s body and bring it to rest—nor even to tell Gail he’d gone missing. And he hadn’t been able to tell Amber what it meant to him that she’d trailed him across space and found him… and the feelings for her he was beginning to have. He’d kissed her once, long ago, a first kiss, chaste and fond. Now he’d like to kiss her again and give himself up to the warmth of the response he thought it would bring.
These were not thoughts that went well with starting a small war.
*Let me at ‘em.*
“Not yet,” Jack responded. “The ones in front of us are friends.” The wave of emotions trying to wrap around him twisted in his gut as well as his mind. Outside of Amber and Jack, did the sentience even know the difference between friend and enemy? The hideous saurian that trailed after K’rok seemed to have no thoughts at all.
The realization of what K’rok had probably gone through to tame the berserker iced down Jack’s back. He could not imagine facing down a full-grown berserker long enough to gain a reputation as master and feeder. As he trotted down the corridor, he found himself developi
ng a new respect for the Milot.
His tracking screen flickered an image at him, coming down the side corridor and coming fast. Boggs and Stash and the others had nearly reached the outside lock. Jack checked the screen again. Two blips, both mean and ugly.
“Boggs.”
“Yeah, Jack.”
“I’ve got company. Can you blow the airlock?”
He saw them bunch up and then a white-fire flare. The helmet filtered out the glare.
“We’ve got it. The Sweeper armory is right next door. We’ll be picking up weapons there.”
“Then I’m dropping off. I’ll be busy for a few minutes. You be careful out there.” Jack pivoted to block the side corridor, no doubt in his mind that he would be facing the fully armed Milot and his savage berserker. The armor was no protection against the saurian. He’d seen suits torn into shreds from the inside out before. Stay out of reach of that thing, he told himself, and took a defensive stance.
He fired at the shadow rounding the corridor bend, saw a shield go up, and K’rok came round holding a norcite shield and wearing bracers of Endura, as well as a modified suit from neck to ankle. The huge being braked to a stop and massive eyebrows did a dance of surprise as he faced Jack, his ears coming forward.
“Who be you?” the field commander boomed. At his back, the berserker reared up taller, and its neck fringe began to flare erect.
Jack realized that he might have to bring down the whole building to stop the Milot. He didn’t have a field pack on with that much auxiliary power, but he did have enough power to slow the Milot down if he could get a shot clear of the norcite shield. The hesitation brought a comment from K’rok.
“Eh. I have seen your kind before. You should be ground to dust with the rest of my world.” He wrinkled his ursine brow, peering at Jack. “You be one of the diggers? Yes, I think so. I sensed one of you be different. Jack, isn’t it?”
Jack triangulated a shot off the corridor wall, and the resulting diffused spray rained on K’rok, who jumped back with a barking growl, and a shower of sparks spat and danced off the norcite shield. The berserker made a sound that disrupted in his suit mikes but curdled Jack’s blood anyhow.
Lasertown Blues Page 16