by Tammy Salyer
“I told you I was going to kill you.”
I look up and see her knees a few centimeters in front of my face and realize she’s pointing my own weapon at my head. The sound of a gunshot—
Her body buckles and tumbles over backward, lolling in an unnatural sprawl as blood begins coating the floor beneath her. Nearly in shock, I spin over into a sitting position to see who’s behind me and where the shot came from.
Rob stands there, his weapon lowered, and his hand reaches out to help me up. “I’m sorry, Aly. I didn’t want it to go like this.”
I hitch air into my lungs and stay sprawled on the floor, unable to react.
“Come on, we can still get—”
Then he’s tumbling forward as a giant red flower explodes from his chest, landing on top of me. I writhe out from beneath him, pushing his body over in the effort. One of his hands clenches around my wrist and I look into his face. The pain and sorrow I see in his eyes rips at me like daggers. Then his hand grows slack and he’s gone.
I turn around and find David standing a few meters away. Our eyes meet, and his aquamarine irises are as hard as obsidian, as cold as a glacier. I pull myself to my feet, unable to look back at Rob’s body, and start walking toward my brother. The sound of footsteps on the ramp draws our attention.
La Mer runs up, out of breath. “Venus is on the Sphynx and picked up two Corps ships in the area, coming directly for us. We’ve got to get the hell out of here, now!”
“Desto, Mason?” I wheeze, still short of breath, my nose swollen and clogged.
“I’ll get them, you just go,” David says, running back into the corridor toward the bow.
Galvanized, La Mer and I run outside and board the Sphynx. A glance toward T’Kai’s captured soldiers shows them still tied up and lying where the crew left them, alive. I’m momentarily surprised, but then, with the way things have unraveled, what difference does it make at this point if they’re dead or alive? Both the Corps and the Admin know who we are; there’s nothing these soldiers can tell them that isn’t known already. Vitruzzi isn’t bloodthirsty; she knows their deaths would be futile.
The ship’s engines are already cycling up and Brady waits for us in the hold. “Where are the others?” he asks.
“David’s gone to get Mason and Desto. What about the settlers?”
Brady’s expression is desperate, but he merely gives his head a short, definitive shake. “We’ll have to try and come back.” He looks haggard and angry, but there’s the same solid determination in his face that epitomizes his approach to everything.
“We’ll get them, Brady. Soon.” I try to be encouraging, these are his friends and family, but deep inside, I feel the bottom dropping out.
In a minute David, Desto, and Mason sprint up the ramp, Mason slamming the control and closing the hatch. Brady’s on the com telling Venus to go, go, GO!
She launches and arcs into a steep climb, everyone in the hold grabbing onto something. We’re all here except for Vitruzzi, who’s in the cockpit with Venus, and—
“Where’s Rajcik?” My eyes dart around, searching for him.
“He’s…” Brady starts and trails off.
“David, did you see him on the ’Rize?” I ask.
Instead of responding, he slams a fist into the wall. “Shit!”
Realization dawns on all of us: both Thompson and Rajcik are missing.
“T’Kai said the Nova was on that ship.” My words come out flat and dull, wasted. “He was bleeding. He can’t get anywhere.”
Brady says, “Eleanor slowed the bleeding and gave him an IV. That ship’s got to have a med-station, maybe some supplies. It’s hard to say how long he’ll last.”
Venus’s voice comes through the com: “I think we’ll shake them, we’ve got enough lead—” She’s cut off by ear-splitting feedback and then the ship starts to dive, hard, cutting through the sky like a plunging eagle chasing its prey.
“Ohfuckohfuckohfuck.” I’m looking directly at La Mer as he whispers what will probably be his last words in a prayerlike litany.
The pressure changes inside the ship as we descend, and my grip on the hold’s railing grows so desperate I feel as if the bones in my hand will crack. It’s the only thing I can do.
Suddenly the Sphynx bucks hard, throwing everyone forward, and a small explosion emanates through the hold from somewhere near the belly. Mason’s body hits the wall like a piece of stout furniture, and he slides to the floor unconscious and bleeding from the back of his head. Our rate of descent begins to decrease. The explosion may have been Venus engaging the reverse thrusters before our speed was slow enough, effectively destroying them, but maybe, just maybe, keeping us from hitting the deck so hard that the ship breaks into a million pieces. Maybe giving us a chance.
As soon as I have the thought, the floor beneath me begins to bounce and vibrate furiously, knocking me to my knees. Then I hear things crashing into the ship outside, banging off the hull and snapping, like we’re going through trees. Venus got us over land, at least. Clenching my teeth and preparing to be flattened or blown up, I curl my body into a tight ball against the floor, one hand still clutching the rail as, finally, the ship starts to slow and drop, almost gently, to the ground.
I open my eyes, first to unexpected stillness and then frantic movement as the crew starts to pick themselves up. I hear engines outside, at least two ships buzzing us, and know that the shit is just beginning.
“David?”
“Yeah, I’m good. You?”
I hardly believe it, but aside from some bruises, I’m not hurt. “Good. Desto? Brady? La Mer?” Mason is still unconscious, but it doesn’t look like he’s bleeding too bad.
Brady doesn’t bother to respond, but immediately takes off running for the cockpit to check on Venus and Vitruzzi. La Mer stands up shakily and follows.
“We can’t stay here, we gotta move out,” Desto says, grabbing Mason under one arm. “Give me a hand.”
David runs over and the two of them lift up Mason’s limp body. I reach into my vest and pull out a vial of chemical salts, snapping them under his nose. He groans and twists his head, then, with surprising vitality, regains his feet, yelling loudly.
“Hey, man, it’s all right. We got you,” Desto says.
Mason’s cloudy eyes slowly focus and he asks, “Did we go down?”
“Yeah. There’re still Corps ships in the area. We need to move. Can you walk?”
He nods.
“What about the others?” I ask, knowing we can’t wait for them.
David says, “Let’s figure out how to get out, then get a bead on things from outside.”
The cargo ramp is buckled, useless, which means we won’t be able to get the Rover out. The three of them start working on the man-door while I run into the armory and gather more ammunition, passing it out to them once I’ve collected as much as I can carry. The door is jammed and Desto melts a hole through it with the last of the ship’s E-10 wax. With a short drop to the earth, we’re free of the ship and in the middle of a jungle.
THIRTY-SIX
The air hits my nostrils in a frontal assault, the stench of wetness, putrescence, and rot. The entire atmosphere is hot and heavy, almost syrupy, and I have a hard time buying Rajcik’s assertion it had once been arid. The ground squishes as I step across it, each footprint instantly filling with seepage that is the same greenish color as everything around me. The ship is infested with vines and foliage that broke from the canopy during our descent and were pasted against the hull like camouflage. Despite the cover, Corps ships will still spot the wreckage easily.
David holds his carbine at the ready, surveying the area around us as we all hustle toward the bow. There’s a service door for the electronics bay directly underneath the communications room, the closest exit to the cockpit. It isn’t open when we reach it, and Desto, the tallest of us, stretches up to bang on it, hoping to attract Brady or La Mer’s attention. In a minute, we hear Brady’s voice.
“Yeah, is everyone okay?”
“No.” There’s a noise, like someone’s stomping on the door, then it flies open and Brady leans out. “Venus is hurt, pretty bad. I’m going to hand her down. Grab her.”
Desto and Mason position themselves below the door as David and I keep watch. I look back over my shoulder and see Venus’s limp body being lowered. There’s no blood or obvious injuries. Internal? Her eyes flutter as Brady releases her, but she spills into their grasp almost lifelessly. La Mer jumps down immediately and takes her, cradling her in his arms like a child.
“Where can we take her?” His eyes are wide and desperate. No one answers, and I have to turn away before he sees in my expression what we’re all thinking—she probably won’t make it.
As I look back toward the swathe of wreckage the ship’s landing caused, I see another ship coming in low, following the broken tree line.
“Time to move!” I shout.
I turn back around to make sure they’re reading me as Brady helps Vitruzzi down. She’s carrying her heavy med-bag, and her face is twisted in pain. She only puts weight on one leg as she hits the deck, reaching out for help, and fresh blood that had begun to crust on her shirt from where she was shot seeps through. Brady supports her with her arm over his shoulders and we all begin running, as best we can, toward the nearest patch of heavy overgrowth. The trees are thick with ropy plants climbing them, and the ground sucks at our feet, keeping our progress slow and laborious. We make it a few dozen meters as the Corps ship sweeps overhead, dropping a stun bomb directly onto the Sphynx. The heavy whoomph sound of the payload detonating reverberates in our ears. If anyone had still been inside, they’d be down for hours.
“They didn’t blow the ship. They must want to capture us alive,” David remarks, fighting with the stalk of a leafy plant that’s somehow become wrapped around his leg. I walk over and cut through it with my NKT bolo. Exasperated, he says, “We need to try and find the colony. They’ve got to have some kind of barracks or buildings. At least somewhere we can help Venus.”
Vitruzzi says, “We came over it during the escape. We’re probably about ten klicks away, back toward the east.” Her jaw is set, cords standing out on her neck from pain.
Ten kilometers might as well be a hundred in this undergrowth, but we can’t just stand here and wait to die. We have at least fifteen weapons between the eight of us, and enough ammunition to fend off or assault a small force should we encounter any. We should be all right against any hostile prisoners we come up against. The key is to move steadily, stay alert, and keep under the canopy in case the Corps comes back.
Desto and Mason make a quick run to the ship, returning with some food, water packs and purifying tablets, and a stretcher to carry Venus. Her skin, always pale, has gone the color of watery cream, the network of her veins clearly visible beneath the skin. Vitruzzi works on her briefly, trying to keep her stable and out of shock, but we don’t know the extent of her injuries. After donning an inflatable splint, Vitruzzi lets us know she’s ready to move out. David and Desto take the stretcher poles, and the rest of us span into a line, keeping our weapons at the ready.
The drudge is interminable, the sticky jungle floor and tangling plants making every step a battle. Trying to conserve water in the stifling humidity is a lesson in defeat as our skin seems to instantly convert every sip we take into sweat. My nose and head ache from the fight with Baker. Anti-inflammatories help curb the swelling, but the thick air still makes me feel like I’m breathing through a wet towel. The nasal filters we all wear are flexible, almost like a low-density sponge, so Baker’s punch had not dislodged mine. There’s no telling what else is in this atmosphere thanks to T’Kai’s monstrous science experiments. Lethal pollens come to mind.
Three hours pass and eventually the ground around us begins to show signs of activity. Trees have been cut and undergrowth has been trampled or ripped away, allowing us to walk faster. We cross a wide path containing tread marks that extends to the west as far as we can see. It must serve as the main artery for this region, but we don’t know where it goes. Our better judgment tells us not to follow the road, but after trudging through the odious undergrowth we can’t resist the easier going it affords. Besides, we’ll be able to make much better time, which is what Venus desperately needs.
About an hour into the march, we’d witnessed two Corps ships overhead, their flight paths so close it seemed as if one had been in pursuit of the other. It struck us all as unusual, but what had been stranger was the sound of an aerial explosion far south of us just after we’d lost sight of the ships. Whatever was happening is of little consequence to us now. Once they land on the ocean platform and figure out that the bloody mess lying there had been T’Kai, we’re certain to see more activity out here when they come searching for us. In the meantime, all we can do is try to help Venus and continue the original mission of finding the Beachers.
A hedge of low-slung stone buildings emerges from the line of trees directly in front of us, looking derelict and abandoned. The group stays put while David and I move into the doorway of the nearest in order to find out what, or who, is inside. The door is made of iron and wood and swings inward heavily, the hinges reluctant. The walls are completely windowless, and it’s pitch black in the interior. There’s no sound. I flip the scope light of my carbine on and scan the room. There are about fifty bunk beds lining both sides of the walls, like a barracks, all with sheets and blankets that appear to be in reasonably good shape. There are people living here. The room takes up the entire floor of the building, and there’s another door at the far end. David explores it and says it’s a latrine and shower. Nobody’s home. Cautiously, I signal to the others, and they join us inside.
Brady finds a panel on the wall and hits a switch. Naked overhead lights ping to life, showing more of the room. It’s definitely lived in. Every bunk has a locker at the foot and to the side for the inmates here to keep personal belongings. It’s a lot more orderly than I’d expected to see.
“Put her down over there,” Vitruzzi tells La Mer and Brady, who’ve taken over the stretcher.
Venus’s breathing is ragged and shallow, but she’s holding on. La Mer kneels beside her, holding her hand and whispering something into her ear too quietly for anyone else to hear.
Vitruzzi leans against the wall next to the bunk they’d laid Venus on and says to the rest of us, keeping her voice down, “She has at least three broken ribs that have probably punctured a lung. If I open her up here, she’ll get an infection, and I don’t have what I need anyway. The only thing we can do is keep her completely still so the tear doesn’t get worse. But she’s bleeding into the pleural cavity and developing a pneumothorax, so time is getting short.” She’s angry, almost spitting the words out, knowing that she could save Venus if the situation was different. “Patrick, we have what I need on the Sphynx.”
“Eleanor, we can’t go back.”
She stands completely still for a minute, her eyes focused hard on the wall, then hurls her med-bag against the floor. “Goddammit! Goddamn those bastards!” She lets her head fall forward, her hair obscuring her face, but not before I see the tears spilling down her cheeks. Brady puts his arms around her and they stand together in an embrace.
I turn to David and Desto, the need to keep moving making me jittery and volatile. “Let’s sweep the rest of the buildings and then head to the desal plant. There may be someone who can help.” I feel like an idiot for saying it, but their eyes show they’re on board. Anything is better than standing here watching our friend die.
Mason elects to stay behind and help keep watch with Brady, so we move out. Four other buildings stand in the immediate vicinity, all of them squat, built of the same brown stone. Two of them are also barracks and one is a dining facility. We don’t find anyone. The fifth building is newer and bigger than the rest. Like the others, there are no windows, but this one is two stories tall. Along with a standard man-door, a
n articulating track door rises up the wall. It’s a warehouse, probably where they store all the supplies, and locked up tightly.
I turn to David. “Where do you think everyone is?”
He shrugs. “Maybe they’re all at the desal plant. Or hiding. Corps ships in the area may make people antsy.”
“Or maybe there’s nobody here at all. Maybe they just killed everyone,” Desto comments, his eyes sweeping the surrounding jungle suspiciously.
“No, that’s not possible. Those barracks have been used. The DFAC’s stoves are still warm.”
“Well, whatever it is, it’s going to be dark in another hour or so,” David says. “We should make a quick run over to the plant, then head back to Brady and the rest.”
We can see a silo or smokestack rising from the plant, and the road continues past the warehouse straight toward it, about fifteen hundred meters distant. Keeping close to the trees, we extend into a wide line to reduce the chance that any shooters can hit all three of us with one burst. David takes lead, I’m in the middle, and Desto is behind. The brush and trees have been hacked away to nothing several meters around the plant’s perimeter, leaving a wide-open area that makes the last of my spit dry up.
When we reach the edge of the cleared area, David takes a knee and looks back at the two of us, giving us a tiny nod. I move up into a closer position to cover him as he makes the dash forward. When I’m ready, he stands up, leans forward for the sprint, and—
Someone grabs him by the collar and yanks him hard into the trees. David lets out a grunt of surprise and I see him and whoever had grabbed him rolling down a short berm, bodies entangled. I’m on my feet instantly, jumping down the berm after them. I arrive as David gets on top of his attacker and plants a knee in his chest, simultaneously pulling a pistol and pointing it into the attacker’s face. His bright, wide eyes gleam through a layer of dirt, and blood leaks from his lips. Desto hurdles over the edge of the ditch and lands heavily beside me.
“Got it, it’s under control,” David hisses, his eyes not leaving the attacker’s face. “Who the fuck are you?”