Telling us we had reached our purpose was the inactive scout-bot, lying battered on the ground with a sizable bullet hole exposing its fragile insides. Briannika crouched beside the mechanism to examine the damage.
“Its core was hit,” the skilled technician said through the thought-comm, trying to keep the dry air as silent as possible. “Not worth salvaging.”
Meanwhile, the working scout had no time to give its respects to its cohort as it approached the fateful corner where the ghostly figure had been. When it arrived, its video link showed there was no evidence of anyone having recently been in the vapid area and, of course, another passage.
“No choice but to go farther in,” said Brent, walking toward the faint light of our scout.
It was soon discovered that there were two possible paths to choose from at the end of the short tunnel. The lieutenant, always one to make speedy judgments, sent our scout to the west while the three living beings took the trail to the east, seeing as it appeared more intact and thus more likely to be the choice of other living beings. It was easy to accrue feelings of déjà vu at this point, every step and turn leading to a near exact image of the last step and turn. I was thankful that I could look back at the digital map—created with every radar pulse emitted by the scout and the lower-grade radar in our suits—and confirm we were not simply moving in rectangles, preventing eventual madness. We spent the next several hundred yards winding the halls, looking into rooms, and generally finding that the withered fragments of corpses were our only lively company in this echoing labyrinth. Then, on suddenly feeling a possible clue, most of my senses stopped perceiving at their usually pace. I stopped in my tracks and stiffened, the skeletons around me dying again.
“Hold on,” I told my superiors, needing the silence of their steps.
“Feel something, rookie?” the lieutenant asked me, heeding my request.
“I’m not sure. Stand still a sec.”
I focused on the floor beneath my feet, slowly squatting down until my right hand was splayed out on the cracked, undusted surface. I waited in this position, using senses invigorated by the vida that coursed ardently from my soul to try and confirm what I believed I had perceived; the ever so feeble footfalls of someone moving in the distance. The aspect I could warp most proficiently was stone, and I had trained years to be able to distinguish the subtle vibrations that traveled through the terrain when something or someone made contact within my range, which would change depending on the environment. In this case, I was in the perfect location to feel even minor tremors from a considerable distance, as the mostly hollow tunnels, surrounded by the compact fusing of soil and metal pipes, provided unfiltered means for the tiniest of quakes to travel unhindered, giving this place the ability to feed off any amplified noise or deep silence. It was also a trifling matter of disregarding the tremors created by my companions, although, they were soon as still and inflexible as a cloudless sky.
No answer did the ground give me for several solid moments. I began to wonder if this delay would be a strike counted against the rookie, but the sign I had been waiting for hit my hand and feet in the form of some more definitive thumps. I stood up when I ascertained the trajectory we needed to take.
“It’s coming from our six and to the left. We have to take the tunnel we just passed to get nearer.”
Taking my cue, we made an about face, Briannika now taking point, and followed the route I had advocated. We were no longer too careful in our steps or watchful in our eyes as we hurried through the tunnel as fast as we were able, knowing full well we couldn’t lose the entity that we needed to find. Our scout was a few hundred yards away from us and Brent ordered it to head for the area we were heading for, hoping to catch whatever was creating the pulsating rhythms in a pincer move. As we closed in, I could feel the vibrations becoming more frequent, and while they also felt weaker, I could predict they came from smaller movements and not from growing separation. Finally, our suit’s scanning system began picking up the nigh imperceptible activity, pinpointing the target’s location to a specific corridor. In case this was an enemy we faced, we shut off every light we radiated on approaching the entrance to the active passageway. We paused by the entryway when we reached it, waiting for our scout to make the first infiltration from the opposite side. For the brief moment when no light existed, we became more alone than the ghosts that haunted these halls, completely under the mercy of the unfathomable darkness that hid their memories. I didn’t know what we would find, but it surely would have been better than keeping the feeling that no one was by my side.
The scout eventually stationed itself at the other end of the tunnel, bringing with it a smidgeon of light to our position. The lieutenant commanded the bot to enter the hall of interest and begin its sweep. At the same time, using the scout as its courier, Hardy declared our intentions with the recorded statement: “This is the Parliamentary Search and Rescue Squad. Those with weapons must lay them down or our forces will be forced to treat you a hostile. This is the…”
By peering around the corner, I could see the scout’s light trickling down the passage with greater intensity as the sphere drifted toward our end of the tunnel, its radar thumping to the tempo of my heartbeat. Finally, a reticle of light on the radar map distinguished movement stemming from a specific room halfway down the hall. Our brave scout did not hesitate to try and meet whoever might be inside the cavity, which was on our left side, but found it impossible to do so due to the surprisingly solid door. All the same, after centuries of neglect, the door was not completely without its imperfections, for cracks and fractures ran up and down its surface. One particular crack in the middle was wide enough to permit the scout’s camera a look within.
The space was completely bare except for a solitary figure cowering in the farthest corner of the room, aiming a pistol at the door. The figure was of a human woman. Half of her face was concealed by the unsteady gun and its shadow while the other half plainly displayed pure terror, like that seen on someone taking a long plunge to their death. The rest of her body was draped in a muddled darkness, but we could determine that she was not wearing any protective armor, only the simple white clothing expected to be worn by a researcher. Completing her getup was a translucent rebreather mask covering her nose and mouth, which amplified the sound of her shallow breathing. Our live feeds were broadcasting to those closer to the stars, but the captain allowed the lieutenant to keep the situation under his command. As the scout receded from the door, as if hoping not to share the same fate as its comrade, Hardy’s voice was traded with Brent’s.
Firmly, but still as reassuringly as possible, Brent told the tense woman, “Ma’am, I’m Lieutenant Brent Henring of the Parliamentary Search and Rescue Squad. We’re here to secure the safety of the researches and security team stationed here. I’m going to have to ask you to lay down your weapon or we will be obliged to use force. Our scout is going to take another glimpse in a moment, and by that time we need to see that gun by the door and your hands behind your head, do you understand?”
There was no clear verbal response, except for what sounded like a rasping squeak. When stubborn time yielded a moment and the scout’s light shone on the room like a morning sunbeam making its way into a prisoner’s cell, it was perceived that she had complied with the lieutenant’s instructions. The pistol was now by the door, and she was back in her corner with her hands enfolded behind her bowed head. She had been so discreet that I had barely heard and felt her shuffling. At last, we went to secure her.
Brent burst through the door with a kick, immediately saturating the whole room with the entirety of our lights. Briannika entered first, followed by the lieutenant. I kept the scout company by the entrance. She slowly lifted up her ragged head, staring at us with muted eyes, as though expecting we were only there to subjugate rather than liberate. I’m certain if we had pointed the barrels of our rifles at her forehead at that moment, she wouldn’t have been in the least surprised. Passed the trials h
er tattered, stained clothing gave testament to, the frightened woman had once carried a dignified poise. But now, with shoulder-length strands of disheveled blonde hair draped over her pale face, it was a question whether she even remembered the person she once was. With her face now lifted and unblocked by firearm or shadow, our files confirmed her identity to be Dr. Georgette Oleson, who was none other than Dr. Krauss’ wife, as well as the mother of his two children. She was a slender woman and stood only six foot one, but had intense wintery blue eyes that made it seem she was level with a draken, but that was before, for now they scarcely gleamed with any color at all. Even so, if she wasn’t so terrified at seeing us, I was sure her natural complexion would convince anyone that she held not a small trace of beauty.
“What are you going to do?” she asked her would be saviors, her voice weary and defeatist sounding.
“Please stay calm, Dr. Oleson,” said the lieutenant in his most comforting tone, though he could not take away his characteristic gruffness. “We’re going to take you off world, but you’re going have to tell us what happened here first.”
Her eyes became a little bluer as they came out of their repression, appearing to believe we weren’t there to be her end. “Have you found anyone else? Did you run into Frank?”
“I’m afraid not. We found your husband’s journal explaining some events, but you’re the first person who can give us their firsthand account to what happened since losing contact.”
She half lowered her head, and in a low tone, said, “I don’t know what happened, Lieutenant Henring, or why. All I know is what I went through.”
“Briannika, examine the doctor,” ordered Brent. As the talorian crouched beside Dr. Oleson to begin her scan using the scanner embedded in her suit’s forearm, Brent asked the doctor, “What can you tell us?”
After a breath she failed to keep short, she said, “Mr. Harris and his security team hijacked the Revel and forced it to land by our camp, after first apparently sabotaging our comm transmitter. The next thing I knew, a sudden sandstorm overtook the camp and we began losing contact with everyone. Frank and I, along with Dr. Powell and his assistant, were able to board a couple of speeders and planned to escape to the ruins, knowing there was a tunnel system below the city we could use to hide and think of our next step. However, before they could drive off, I saw Dr. Powell somehow get… snatched off his speeder. I didn’t see what did it. The sandstorm didn’t give me much visibility. Mr. Harris informed us to surrender or he would be forced to kill us. We ignored him, of course. To try and better fool whoever might be chasing us, we shut off all wireless signals coming from our nanotech. We also decided to let the speeder keep going on autopilot after we disembarked on a spot we deemed the best entry point into the underground corridors. We’ve been waiting down here ever since.”
“You’re fine, doctor,” said Briannika after her examination. “I’m just going to give you a little energy boost.” My comrade then proceeded to inject her with a hearty dose of nutrients, minerals, extra nanotech, and a stimulant.
“So where is Dr. Krauss now?” asked Brent.
“He’s been periodically checking above ground for updates using the mini-drone we had with us. He only left about five minutes before you showed up. He should be back soon. I’ve been too fatigued to follow him the last few outings, so I’ve stayed behind. What have you found up there?”
“The cruiser is permanently grounded, and there’s no sign of the security team. Do you have any idea where they are or why they would suddenly do what they did?”
“I don’t know where they went after landing the cruiser and I have even a less idea as to figuring out their motives,” replied the doctor, using the fresh strength given to her to stand up, but still accepting the talorian’s help to do so. She also gained a blush of color back to her gaunt cheeks. “They came from a respectable organization hired by the Coalition, and we never found any artifacts or technology that would be worth selling. The only hypothesis I could surmise was thinking someone paid them a great deal to sell us to slavers, but that still wouldn’t explain why they handled the cruiser the way they did. In any case, I’m sorry I didn’t trust you at first. I thought you were part of Harris’ team or the possible slavers.”
“Is that why you shot down our first drone?” asked the talorian.
“Excuse me?” said our confused interviewee. “I haven’t shot at anything.”
“Then it was your husband?”
“I’ve always had the pistol. Frank can warp some air to protect himself, so he insisted I keep hold of the gun, but I haven’t used it.”
Through our thought-comm, Briannika said with a mixture of nervousness and aggravation, “So there is someone armed down here? Someone from the security team?”
“Just keep alert,” answered the lieutenant, using the same contrivance. Then, out loud, he asked Dr. Oleson, “Can you take us to where your husband is?”
“I think so,” the doctor answered. “He’s been using the same trap door to reach the surface, as far as I know.”
“All right, connect to our comm link and let’s get moving.”
Chapter Six
We left the foul, musty room only to meet the wretched influence of the tunnels once more. The scout led our procession, with Dr. Oleson directing Brent not far behind. Meanwhile, my team’s senses, both natural and artificial, were tuned to feel any sign of the mystery culprit lurking somewhere among us. My vigilance paid off, for I had not taken more than five steps from the door before some subtle vibrations filtered their way up my body, clasping my boots to the ground.
Brent, noticing my sudden petrification, asked me through the thought-comm, “Do you feel someone else?”
“Yeah,” I responded, “about a hundred yards to the right.”
“It must be Frank,” Dr. Oleson said eagerly. “He’s in that direction.”
We filed onward another dozen steps before I felt the stir of footsteps once again. These gave me pause in both mind and feet, as these made me much more apprehensive than the others before it. These vibrations were stronger, and I knew they did not come from a single source.
“Lieutenant,” I said telepathically, freezing the group in place again, “there’s more activity, but it’s coming from all around us this time. It’s too muddled to tell how many there are.”
“Are they getting closer?”
“Most are residing at the edge of my range, but-”
Before I could add to my clarification, an unusual chatter-like noise became audible. They were faint and far off sounding at first, as if they were arising from another floor beneath us, but they soon rose in tenor and became as clamorous as a pack of drumbeats. It was like the laughter from a host of ravenous hyenas, but this racket was much shriller and higher pitched than any animal I had ever heard. The sound waves bounced off every wall with great potency, making it feel as though they were being produced right alongside us, triggering several instinctive turns of my head.
“Have you heard this before?” Brent asked Dr. Oleson, using a steadiness of tone that wouldn’t have come from most humans after such a disquieting change in the atmosphere.
“This is my first time hearing it,” she replied. Even without using her actual voice to speak, a nervous quiver could still be detected, something I couldn’t fault her for. “I have no idea-” Then, temporarily trouncing the demented calls, a labored scream sailed down the hall to our right. “Frank!” the indiscreet wife yelled out loud, her outburst mingling with the end of the scream.
“Let’s move!”
We sprinted toward the agonized screams that continued to erupt, which mixed in with the persistent, mocking laughter in an oxymoron. Then, like a bullet shattering its own barrel, a gurgled scream of the most tortured kind sliced through the congested air, distorting and deforming it into something that made it unrecognizable as a human exclamation. Before this howl could swell to its highest pitch and wane away as its predecessors had done, it was sharply se
vered from this dimension. There was no enduring echo or sign that it had occurred at all. The dispiriting cackling rose in pitch, taking on a more sneering quality, and the vibrations that came from the direction of the now absent cries beat more discordantly against my stamping feet. When we were twenty yards away from turning that right corner, the clamor of merriment ceased at once. The tremors themselves also died away back into the darkness, or perhaps they were one and the same. Now it seemed we were back to where we first began.
We all stopped before we made the turn, as though we were of one mind, for no word was said until the lieutenant instructed Briannika to remain with Dr. Oleson at a nearby room. He said it in such a way that suppressed any thought of disagreement from the doctor, though I knew how badly she must have wanted to see her husband. It was then up to the rest of us to enter the desired scene. As soon as I taken my first glimpse into the tunnel behind Brent and the scout, I began to wish that the lieutenant had ordered me to stay with the doctor.
Monsters did this. That was my first lucid thought. The ones before it were undeveloped phrases of horror and incomprehension. I had to have been seeing some nightmare come to life, for the image in front of me became a bleary portrait of searing red. Incapable of taking a breath again, the form of what looked to be a male torso lied just a few feet away, but that was it. His arms and legs weren’t far away, but only a fresh pool of crimson blood attached them to the central body, keeping them whole in this grisly way. I had to assume this was the man we had been looking for, but where his identifying head should have been was instead a clutter of skull shards and sodden brain matter, the abject fragments of a once keen mind. The head was disseminated and dismantled in the same way a giant repeatedly drubbing a sledgehammer of iron onto his face would have produced.
Ember's Echo (The Nimbus Collection Book 2) Page 5