Shadows and Anguish (A Cat Among Dragons Book 8)

by Alma Boykin

  “Yes, why?” McKendrick wondered what the problem was.

  “He wants her sent back as soon as Captain O’Neil can release her,” Cluj reported. The men looked at O’Neil and the captain briefly studied the floor.

  “I borrowed her to deal with some unexpected problems related to the evacuation,” he explained. “She apparently took a wrong turn leaving the hospital and got cut off along with some of the Reservists that were helping us. Given the need to remove the civilians, I felt it better to do that than try to find where she’d run off to.” A deafening silence filled the Brutus, and O’Neil tried to make light of the situation. “She’s a cat, sir. She’s got nine lives, at least!” Cluj shot him a look of silent disgust before turning back to the radios.

  McKendrick turned red with anger. “You left Rachel and her escort. And the Germans,” he repeated.

  “Yes sir. Priority one was evacuating the civilians, sir. You said it and Manx One agreed!” O’Neil stopped as the burly Scotsman glared at him.

  McKendrick calmed himself down before he could say something unbecoming of an officer. “She did, and were she alone, she probably would approve of your actions. But she wasn’t and I don’t.” He left it at that. They were too shorthanded for him to do without O’Neil. “We’ll continue as we are until we get further orders from the Graf-General. Go see what our status is on ammunition and fuel, and what we can borrow from the Bundeswehr.”

  “Yes, sir.” O’Neil turned to go, then stopped. “The Graf-General’s alive?”

  “Affirmative, Captain. He is commanding Operation Heart’s Blood.” McKendrick turned back to the maps and plans as O’Neil slunk out of the Brutus. The fool had thrown away their most valuable intelligence resource and their top medic, along with at least two other people! The redhead throttled back his anger and dictated a message for Cluj to send to the operation headquarters at Grafenwör.

  “Any word from the British on their progress?” Joschka asked the communications technician on duty at the Austrians’ temporary command post. They had slipped in earlier that afternoon, giving the Graf-General the last piece he needed to start phase two of Heart’s Blood.

  “No, my lord General, aside from this piece of good news.” He handed the Graf-General a recent decrypt.

  The aging warrior read the update. He re-read it and then put it back on the pile. “Thank you, Lieutenant,” he said absently as he stepped back into the chilly early fall evening. Terse and to the point, the British had evacuated the remaining civilians from Seesen, thus clearing the final section needed to cut off the central massif, as well as what was probably the Vreenahlwee’s main base. All the British forces were accounted for except for Commander Na Gael and her guards. They had last been seen fighting alongside some Reservists in the rearguard as the hospital evacuated, and witnesses said the rearguard had been surrounded and cut off from the others. As a result they’d been left behind when British and reservists evacuated the civilians ahead of a Vreenahlwee attack. The British presumed that Rachel and her men were dead or captured, which Joschka knew for her meant the same thing.

  He found a shadowy place and stared up into the darkening sky, watching for the first stars and wondering why he’d never told Rada his feelings for her. He suspected that she loved him, although she’d never said it aloud or tried to intrude into his marriages. That wasn’t her way. He wanted to hope that she’d survived and that the next news would be good, but he was too realistic to indulge himself. Instead, he prayed that her end had been quick and clean. Rada was dead, gone to Valhalla, and he’d never hear her songs or see the laughter in her eye ever again. He would mourn her, and have masses said for her, if he survived the next few days and weeks. But now it was time to begin taking the battle to the enemy and the Graf-General returned to his temporary headquarters, already planning the next moves.

  August, 2013. “Verdamtenden Dingen!” Lieutenant Grauberg snarled quietly. Rachel didn’t need to translate that, so she concentrated on slithering lower into the rocks between the Anglo-German squad and the Vreenahlwee scout. On the positive side, the soldiers and their one-eyed associate had managed to pick off two more of the armored invaders. However, they were no closer to getting back to the Anglo or German lines than before. Instead, they’d found themselves dodging eastwards, into higher terrain. They’d overnighted in a shallow cavern and managed to catch some sleep. Rachel caught more than that, and the soldiers risked a fire to augment what rations they had with them with an out-of-season grouse and two roasted marmots. “It doesn’t taste at all like chicken,” Ford observed of the marmot at almost the same moment that Private Koch mentioned the same thing. Grauberg was proving himself to be a very decent leader, Rachel thought, if a little over his head at times, so she reverted to her usual role of advisor for the time being.

  “Now where?” Grauberg asked, looking for the map. Mikitori unrolled it and they studied the terrain.

  Rachel had pulled out the display from her armor and noticed something. “The red dots are the enemy. You’re the blue,” and she waited as the others passed the image around.

  Sergeant Mueller made a circling motion with his finger and raised an eyebrow. Rachel grinned and nodded as Grauberg caught on. He thought aloud, “They are falling back into the high country. Why? They have better weapons and air superiority.” Rachel waited while he considered what they’d seen and learned. “But if an RPG can cripple one of the heavy units and destroy a scout, then they are no match for a Tiger Three or self propelled artillery. Or Spikes and Hellfires,” he continued. “So, in numbers we can overpower them.”

  “On flat terrain we can,” Rachel agreed. “But here they have the initial advantage of being dug in, and we can’t get our heaviest weapons off the roads. And still no air support.” Or at least they’d seen none.

  It was Sergeant Mueller who put the pieces together correctly, as events later proved. He looked up toward the increasingly rugged terrain, then back over the plains to the west. “You said that the enemy feeds on humans and that the local residents were being evacuated as quickly as possible.” At Rachel’s nod he continued, “What if now that we’ve emptied the,” he hesitated, “pantry, they are having to change plans? And to regroup before they launch a new attack?”

  “Then this may be our chance to find out where their headquarters is and take that information back,” Grauberg followed the thought. Rachel wanted to kill Vreenahlwee, not report troop movements, but she bit her tongue and then translated Grauberg’s statement.

  Corporal Ford nodded enthusiastically. “Oh yeah. And then we can borrow an American MOAB and go home early!”

  Two hours later the group found themselves in trouble. True, they’d managed to eliminate another Vreenahlwee with a minimum of effort by triggering a rock fall that knocked the scout over and trapped its legs, then killing the operator that emerged. But the scout had been followed by two very heavily armed—and apparently angry—warriors, and the mammals had been forced to run for cover. They ducked and dodged, and finally Mikitori pointed frantically to a cave. Grauberg nodded and everyone dove inside, scattering out along the walls. Rachel also discovered a pool inside the cave by the simple expedient of falling into it as she backed up. “She curses better than Sergeant Linden,” one of the Germans observed, impressed with the stream of trilingual invective. Then a rumble caught their ears. “Oh scheisse,” he added quietly. A shadow covered the mouth of the cave as one of the Vreenahlwee looked inside.

  “His shields are up full,” Rachel cautioned. The mammals eased farther away from the cave entrance.

  “Ksssst!” Mueller hissed. “This is a mine! Back this way,” and everyone followed him into the darkness, at least far enough to be out of the Vreenahlwee’s direct line of fire. They heard another rumble and the last light vanished in a cloud of dust.

  “Oh scheisse,” Ford sighed after he finished coughing. But Rachel was already moving. She’d pulled a light stick out of her bag of tricks and started creeping farthe
r down the tunnel.

  Grauberg and the others tried moving part of the rock fall, but stopped when they heard the Vreenahlwee adding more stones from outside. Lacking any other option now, the humans followed Rachel. The passage dipped in places, but never crossed the water table, so the cool stone remained dry, with good footing. Although they had enough room to walk two abreast, the men spaced out in case of a cave-in or other surprise. The tunnel continued for quite a distance, and after several kilometers, Grauberg spoke up. “The air is still fresh. Commander, what’s going on?”

  She pulled her mind back from its focus on hunting and stopped. “This is an active mine. The cross tunnels and ventilation shafts keep air moving through here. I noticed the dust being sucked in—that’s why I started moving this way.” She realized that she’d gotten thirsty and took a sip of water from her bottle. “We should intersect an exit passage soon.”

  “How do you know so much about mines?” he asked, taking a swig from his own canteen.

  She shrugged. “I was visiting a cavern on a friend’s property and got caught behind a cave in. It gave the guide plenty of time to teach me all about caverns and mining in Germany and Austria.”

  Another kilometer or so farther along they found the cross passage. “Well, this looks promising,” Grauberg said, smiling tiredly. Then his eyes narrowed as he watched one of his men stroking the smooth rock wall of the large hall. He went over and felt for himself. The granite was silky smooth and his flashlight revealed a matte finish, as if the stone had been polished, though not to the point of having a shine. He played the beam up higher and realized that there were no supports in the shaft, although he did see a bundle of wires that disappeared around a bend in the cavernous gallery.

  It was time for a decision and Grauberg, Rachel, and the others found a side chamber that just barely held them all. Rachel had already decided—if the humans wanted to leave, fine. She’d go with them as far as the surface, chase off her guards, and then come back and start working her way as far into the mountain as she could before the Vreenahlwee caught her. If the humans wanted to keep taking the fight to the enemy, she’d stay with them. She listened and interpreted as needed, but kept her thoughts to herself.

  In the end, the men decided to scout down the tunnel, then see if they could escape and get back to report what they’d learned and found. As they proceeded, they encountered artificial lights—enough that they no longer needed flashlights. Rachel ghosted along, then dug something out of her bag and set it on the floor. She pulled another something from the depths, and Corporal Ford grinned as he recognized it. “Trust a cat to find mice. Ma’am,” he sobered a little as she gave him a tired look. It was a rather ancient joke. Then she sent the remote viewer down a side passage and waited to see what it found. On the third look-see, she grinned and handed Ford the display. His eyes widened and he pursed his lips as if to whistle, then remembered where they were. “Can we borrow some of those?”

  “I don’t see why not,” she said, and retrieved the “mouse.” She kept watch as Mikitori and Ford eased into the passage and chamber, then returned with their find. They risked two more trips before the Germans started getting concerned about staying still for so long. They didn’t turn down the proffered loot, however. As the men distributed the ammunition, grenades, and other goodies, Rachel turned a knife over in her hands, frowning. She flipped up her monocle and drew the blade, looking at the engravings on the steel. “Oh dear God,” she hissed.

  “What is it Ma’am?” Mikitori asked, worried by her dead expression.

  “This belongs to Sergeant Wolfgang Weber. In fact, all these are GDF weapons.” The NCOs looked sick, then angry. They will pay for this too, she promised, tucking Wolf’s boot dagger beside her bahn’leh. Then she caught up with the soldiers as they continued scouting.

  One of the Germans came back in a hurry and there was a rapid conference. “Commander, Marcus says that he saw two Vreenahlwee guarding a door. Another pair came up and opened it, then dragged out a man in a uniform like yours,” he pointed to Ford. “The man had a German flash on his uniform.” Grauberg finished.

  “We get them out,” she stated flatly. “No arguments, Lieutenant. We get them out.” He wasn’t inclined to argue anyway, and they started planning when they heard running feet and scattered for whatever cover they could find. Four Vreenahlwee warriors charged past, heading for the entrance of the tunnel, and Rachel and the others exchanged hopeful looks. Then she heard something horrible suggestive from farther up the little passage she and Mikitori had dodged into.

  “Stay with Grauberg,” she ordered. “I need to go check something.” She slipped away into the darker shadows before the corporal could react.

  Rachel’s eyes adapted much faster than the human’s did, and she began trotting within seconds. The audio pickups on her helmet, slaved to her ear muscles, swiveled this way and that, catching faint sounds from ahead and to her right. She advanced slowly but steadily, sweeping the tunnel ahead for possible traps and ambushes. Apparently the Vreenahlwee hadn’t had time to prepare this area—either that, or they assumed that humans would never get this far without being detected. Or this whole area may be a trap, and once we’re really committed, it will drop on our heads, Rachel reminded herself. There was still too much ore in the rocks for her scanners to “see” any wires or detonators running within the stone, but she didn’t smell any explosives. The mammal heard more of the sounds she’d followed, and after swallowing hard she eased into a crouch against the tunnel wall and sent her view-remote around the next corner.

  Her first reaction was to reach for a grenade to toss into the chamber. Then she caught herself and advanced the viewer farther into the room to confirm what she’d seen. Unfortunately, her instinct had been correct. Rachel pulled the device back and closed her eye, trying to decide on her next course of action. A grenade might work, but what if any of the room’s occupants survived the blast? And what if it brought the tunnel down? That would be a bad thing. Should she go back and tell the humans what she’d found? No. I can deal with seeing this and doing what’s needed. The humans? I can’t ask that of them. Besides, what are another score of lives on my head? The woman pulled her sidearm and a second magazine of blaster gas out of their holsters.

  The chamber was a feeding and breeding hive. Forty or fifty humans lay in cocoons, conscious but paralyzed, their breathing and other functions controlled by the Vreenahlwee larvae in their abdomens. They larvae slowly ate their way up towards the host’s head, destroying what soft tissue they didn’t consume. Why they required their host to be aware, Rachel didn’t know, although she suspected that it was to maintain the flow of certain hormones required by the larvae. A quick check revealed that all the people in the room were too badly parasitized to survive if their larvae were killed or removed, and Rachel cursed viciously and silently as she adjusted her pistol’s range and power settings. “Forgive me,” she whispered. The last trace of Rachel Na Gael disappeared as Rada Ni Drako set to work.

  First she shot each person in the head, ending their suffering, then she fired again and killed the parasites. She didn’t count how many of the invaders’ victims she terminated. The humans’ fear and agony beat against her shields, but with each death the emotions grew weaker and weaker until she’d killed the last human in the chamber. They’d all been adults, thank God. If there had been any children, Rada would probably have finished by chewing a blaster shot herself. As it was, she knew she’d have nightmares for decades. God forgive me and grant them mercy, whoever they were and whatever they believed, she prayed, scraping away tears as she surveyed the carnage.

  She heard shouts and the echoing staccato of gunfire from the area where the rest of the impromptu squad had been in the mine. She turned and retraced her path, then headed toward the entrance and the sound of shooting. She arrived in time to shoot one Vreenahlwee in the back, opening a hole in the enemy line that the humans exploited. Rada waited until the humans finished cleaning u
p the four dead invaders before emerging from the side passage, her hands well clear of her weapons. Sergeant Mackintosh recognized her, as did Corporal Johanssen, and they beckoned her forward.

  “Manx One, are we glad to see you!” Mackintosh exclaimed with a grin.

  “Likewise,” Rada said tersely. “I’ve got my guard, plus seven German reservists, and we found where the Vreenahlwee are holding some of the German GDF people. Care to join forces?”

  Colour Sergeant Lee appeared in time to catch the end of the conversation. “The more the merrier,” he said. “Command Two sent us to scout the mines and see if we could locate the headquarters or hive-mind, and to free any civilian captives we find.”

  “Gather your men and follow me, then,” the woman ordered, and without thinking about it Lee did as he was told. Five minutes later, the re-enforcements gathered around Lieutenant Grauberg and his people. Rada interpreted as Grauberg outlined what they’d found. “So it seems that the simplest approach will work the best—a small distraction, then attack hard and fast. Commander, are you familiar with this sort of lock?” He held up a cell-phone camera with the image on the screen. She looked and bared her teeth.

  “Yes. The best solution is a 9-mm master key.” The others chuckled.

  Rada let the German lieutenant take charge—he’d done the scout and made the plan. She was there for revenge—not to liberate prisoners, not for research, but to kill enough Vreenahlwee that the species would never hear Joschka’s name without trembling and mourning. Two warriors guarded the door, both armed with blasters and poison-edged knives. At the last minute Rada spotted an alarm beam on the floor and hissed a warning. Lee nodded and kicked up enough dust to give the others a glimpse of the hazard. Then the humans struck quickly and quietly. They dropped the warriors before the enemy had time to send a warning, as far as Rada could sense. Lee and Grauberg covered the main tunnel approaches, while Rada dialed down her sidearm and popped the lock. Then she ducked out of the way and Johanssen hotwired the latches, opening the heavy wood and iron door.