Outward Borne

by R. J. Weinkam

  Yacork had taken over for the injured Kitrak. He went into the People’s deck. It appeared deserted, as it had before, but he could hear the dogs start barking as soon as he set a scaly foot on the deck. This time they were all inside the habitat, but they would be ready if he tried to attack. There was no change of that. If they stayed within their walls, they would leave them be, at least for now. Yacork beckoned them back, they would move lower.

  Godomir and Ragnar stood before the door and watched the Gracks move around the outside of their habitat. It was twelve long hours since Magnaric and his men had returned. They now had about fifty People stationed near the entry to the complex. Tonbert had brought the great dogs and hounds, all but two. The two that had bitten the Gracks had sickened. The dogs knew something important was happening and were milling around the tall doors. The Gracks could break through the habitat walls at will, so the People would use the entry as a sally port and rush out at them should they start to break in. So far, only a few of the big aliens had climbed out of the conduit onto their deck. They were poorly armed with nothing more than short clubs, pieces of broken pipe really. That was a good sign.

  “They are not going to attack us,” Ragnar concluded. “There are not enough of them.” He was right. After scouting around the perimeter of the habitat and the remainder of the deck, the Gracks again disappeared into the conduit. “They will bypass us this time. We have shown ourselves to be too weak to bother with. I hope that is not true.”

  Durack had already moved into the second level, so Yacork continued to the bottom. The lift doors had been closed, but they had forced a small opening, enough to see that it was dark and quiet, possibly abandoned, but he could not tell. It was a very open space, from what he could see. They were not there to smash empty buildings, but to kill whatever occupied the place, so there was nothing to do until he had a larger band to work with. He left two fighters on lookout and went to join his leader.

  Durack led his eleven fighters into the ObLaDa’s living quarters to meet whatever was there. They could hear people moving about, equipment was being clattered about, even fighting practice, but it was completely dark. The Gracks lit their torches and swept them about. Durack was surprised that the area was so open, without walls or any attempt at protection. He sent six brutes through the nearby buildings with strict orders to remain in contact with each other. He expected an ambush and wanted all the fighters to be in position to support each other. They moved farther into the habitat, finding no one, still they were deliberate, smashing away in their anger at whatever was movable or that looked important. Progress was slow, but Durack was satisfied that he had finally gained some control.

  The ObLaDa complex was a maze, all the walls and corners were the same bland light gray, with nondescript boxy buildings everywhere, no markings or distinguishing features to tell one place from another, only dirt-streaked walls and slimy floors. The corridors were unusually dark, not even warning lights or equipment sensors were lit. The Gracks were forced to move around with flickering torches and little idea of where they were, but the passageways gradually converged on the fabrication yard and when they got close, he could see a light in the distance. It was the first open space he had found so far.

  The floor had been cleared. The heavy flatbed trucks now hung from the overhead cranes high in the darkness above. Most of the construction materials had been pushed to the side or piled in the narrow spaces between buildings. All the Gracks gathered around Durack and stood looking into the yard. They had a clear view of the prepared battleground, something they were used to, not empty rooms deserted by an enemy who would not fight.

  The Das had placed a series of tall wedge-shaped barriers across the long length of the enclosure. Durack could see movement beyond those barriers, but it was too dark to make out who or what it was. The barriers were clearly intended to break up any massed charge. The Gracks could not simply line up and walk across the room to push aside those beings. The area was too wide in any case, Durack thought. He moved forward, slowly, a short distance into the yard, whatever was moving around behind the obstacles looked small and frightened.

  One-by-one the men had climbed down through the narrow opening, knocking off bits of the cracked and crumbled deck aggregate as they went. A rope ladder hung away into the dark void. They slowly made their way into the ObLaDas’ habitat. The light was dim and they could see little. The place was subtly different, the dimensions, odd things lying around. The men gagged and choked on the foul air, as they hurried past. They were fortunate, though they did not know it, that the smelly oils held back the airborne allergens that would have quickly fouled their lungs. Godomir was worried that they would not be able to move or fight effectively in this stench and pleaded with LemTer to clear the air. This he did, though he could smell nothing amiss.

  The fabrication floor was nearly surrounded by buildings. Long single-story storage huts and closely spaced working bays lined the left and right sides of the open space, while the two-story buildings in front were separated by a wide passages that led through the living quarters to the shuttles. There were few openings into the area and most of those had been blocked off. Tall, three-sided wedges had been set on end and lined up leaving only narrow gaps between them, just enough for a single Grack to squeeze through. The People had only one real advantage, their superior numbers, but many of the men were without weapons. Even so, there were sixty armed men in place by the time the Gracks arrived. It should be enough to prevail against Durack and his eleven soldiers.

  Godomir had read about shield walls and his ancient Saxon ancestors. Men, shoulder-to-shoulder, shield-to-shield, who would work as one to push their enemy back onto its own lines until they were immobilized by the crush those behind. But it would be the Gracks, three times the size of his biggest man, who would come wading forward and shove them against the walls to be chopped apart. Maybe the barriers would prevent this, if not, he had the three heavy bots, each with a hunk of door panel tied across their front for protection. He hoped the bots could push the Gracks apart and isolate one or two.

  They were here now, dark shapes in a dark room. The men strained to get glimpses of the Gracks as they gathered along the far edge. Those who had weapons carried long spears or axes. A few had shorter spears with UnaDar’s detachable points. They divided themselves into squads of twenty, each with a leader who was supposed to keep in contact with Godomir. Godomir was sure they could kill some Gracks, but how many men would he lose?

  Durack brought all the Gracks into the large open space where they spread out in a shallow arc in front of the wide entryway and waited. He told Yacork to find something that could be made into shields, tall ones, head to foot. They needed to hold together long enough to force their way through the gap between the wedges. When Yacork was ready, Durack had all the Gracks move quickly to their right, toward the first wedge. The two shield bearers went up to the narrow opening. Each shield was large enough to completely block the passage. When all were in place, the first shield pushed through the opening into the line of human troops. Upok swung to the left, but did it too quickly. Her side exposed, two spears slid into her leg before the second shield could move into place. The two Gracks used their size and force to push the men back, leaving room for more Gracks to pass through the wedge. Suddenly, Durack had six warriors on each side of the barriers. The Gracks began to move up the line into the swarm of humans, pushing them back.

  Godomir was stunned at how quickly the Gracks had disrupted his strategy, but he quickly moved a mass of men through the wedges to spread them out as much as possible. The Gracks began to come forward in unison. Whatever organization existed among the People was lost. The men shouted at the dark aliens before them as they struggled back in confusion. When the heavy brutes stepped forward, some more men charged, spears lowered, into line of Gracks, but the effort did little damage as the long spears proved ineffective. The Gracks were too quick. They easily batted the spear shafts aside and stepped ins
ide the points. The short, heavy axes looked clumsy, but had more impact. Whenever a blow could be landed it caused a serious wound, but to do so was nearly suicidal. Well within reach of the Gracks powerful arms, the men were easily clubbed down. Worse, the axes became prize positions. The Gracks threw down their makeshift clubs and grabbed the weapons from the dying men. They were smaller than they would have liked, perhaps, but good enough to cut through these little people.

  There was shouting on the far left of the line, almost cheers, and Godomir ran to see what had happened. Two Gracks had been pulled away from the others and were being taken down. UnaDar’s spears had proven to be more effective than even he imagined. Ebert came upon a beast as it tried to pull its axe out of the back of some poor fellow. He had gotten a strong thrust into the side of the Grack, but he forgot that the spear had a detachable tip and when he yanked it back to give another thrust, the cable snapped tight against the point twisting it and pulling the flesh within the wound. The Grack, near fainting from the sudden pain, stumbled sideways, away from the protection of it band.

  The fight dragged on. Only three Gracks had been brought down, but already he floor of the fabrication room was littered with dead and was slippery with blood. The Gracks had pulled together and were striding forward, swaying to the right and then to the left as the stepped over the bodies to push the remaining troops back ever farther. The men were no longer getting in good blows with their axes. UnaDar’s spears had been used up long ago.

  Godomir pressed forward, closer to the fighting to better see what was happening. He was worried, when Ragnar pulled him aside. One of the heavy bots was moving forward, slowly, but as fast as it could travel. The robot climbed over two bodies and hit the Gracks’ line, pushing it back, knocking one fighter down where it was hacked repeatedly, and another was caught against the side of a wedge, helpless. It was speared through one of the dark pits on its head and killed. The Gracks quickly grasped what had happened, and when the next robot came forward, they stepped to the side and flipped it over. The slaughter continued into the second hour.

  Lexax, the largest female in the Grack line, had taken a cut on the arm and had dropped her club in the struggle. She backed away from the ongoing fight and leaned against a wall to bind up her wound. She was next to the to a dark opening that went into the mass of buildings next to the fabrication area. It was narrow alley, but it seemed to go a long way. Lexax thought that it might be a way to get behind the Peoples’ army.

  Yubek had been bitten by one of the hounds the day before and the badly festering wound had drained his stamina. He needed to rest repeatedly to stay in the fight, and now he had suffered another cut. Lexax treated his wound while telling of her plan. Yubek was reluctant to leave the yard, but agreed to a quick look into the passage to see where it led. The alley was very dark, Lexax and Yubek climbed over some debris and moved slowly, feeling their way in the darkness. They were led on by sounds of the battle that seemed to come from some distance ahead. Lexax was right, the passage led to the last remaining exit the humans had in their control. If they could get there, come from behind, and block their escape route, they would make quick work of the remaining men. The Gracks could have their much-needed decisive victory.

  Lexax was about to run forward anticipating a triumph when a very bright light snapped on, a blinding bright. She tried to fend it off and bent forward just as two arrows flew by. A dog was barking. Where was it? Lexax stood shoulder-to-shoulder with Yubek to keep the things from getting behind them. Something was screaming. She wanted to lash out at the sound. Two spear points slammed into her side. She could do little but swing her ax back and forth to keep the things away.

  Clovic was almost as surprised as the Gracks by the sudden encounter. He had heard a scraping sound in the corridor ahead. Heneric heard it as well and switched on the lights and there they were. Two of them, so large the entire alley seemed to be blocked. It all happened very fast, one of the beasts ducked as an arrow hit the top of its body. It let out a scream, its toothless mouth gaping open. He would never forget the sight. The beast seemed enraged and threw its ax at them, missing Clovic but striking Achaea in the chest, buried deep. The Gracks started to back away. Sighard lost his discipline and pushed his way ahead, silhouetted by the light, his head was smashed away before he could raise his arm to protect himself. Clovic pushed forward pressing the Gracks back into the fabrication room, but stopped there. He desperately wanted get near enough to use his own ax and avenge Achaea’s death, but it would be suicide to move into the open area. He started to back away into the dark, when wham, the whole floor shook.

  The end came quickly. Cwen, who considered herself to be Clovic’s cousin because he looked so much like her, had been watching the fighting, and was appalled by the blood and carnage. She was five years older than Clovic, Achaea’s age, and had never seen another person receive an injury, much less watch rows of men being cut to pieces. The experience overwhelmed her as she looked on without a rational thought. The moving bots finally got through to her. Perhaps there was another way to end this fighting, something she could do. Cwen found the control box, and with UnFel’s help, worked out how to maneuver the overhead cranes. One held a large steel dolly; the flat wagon was heavy enough to support the most massive equipment. Far above, unnoticed, the crane moved toward the Gracks and when Cwen thought it was in the right place, the dolly fell.

  Two Gracks were killed instantly, and the balance of force had suddenly changed. Durack had now lost six of his eleven fighters, with several others badly injured. He could see more cranes above and other things that could be dropped from the heights. Forcibly, Durack pulled his fighters away, and pushed them toward the conduit, while carrying one of the injured females. Lexax and Yubek stumbled away from the alley. There was a human there. Lexax turned and looked at the feeble thing, pressing it back by the force of hatred emanating from her pit-covered lump. Only two Gracks were uninjured.

  It was a sad day. True, the Gracks had been driven back, but there were forty-eight dead lying across the floor. They were people who Godomir had known all of his life. Several others were injured, close friends. It would be hard and painful task to move the wounded up to their habitat. Godomir could think of little beyond the devastation of the morning’s battle.

  LemTer, however relieved, had rapidly renewed fears that the Gracks would attack the Control Facility. Some had gotten away, but they had gone no farther than the conduit and the nearby spaces. He had hoped that they would retreat to their habitat, but it looked as though they were regrouping and would continue to fight.

  There was only one construction bot on the Control Deck. It had bottled up some of the Das in the control stations, and was moving to block off the entryway into the conduit when it broke. It just stopped moving, LemTer was told. What was wrong with it? Could it be fixed? UnaDar was the only one who might know and LemTer was afraid to count on the eccentric old guy, but he had no choice.

  It was easy enough to find out what was wrong. UnaDar had nothing but contempt for those control room wizards. What did they think diagnostics were for? The operations panel had fried. Everything on the bot worked, but it was just not getting any instructions. He would need to replace it and he poked around to find a suitable unit. The bot was an old thing, so a bit out of date. UnaDar could sympathize, which he did increasingly often with machines.

  UnaDar gathered the parts that he thought necessary, and his tools, but he would need help if the thing was to be wired up in time. It was not likely that any of the other ObLaDas would be able to help him; they were all more than busy with their own crises. That left him with one choice, those humans. There were nimble enough, if they would do as he told them to do.

  Clovic, Heneric and Elbert were sitting, exhausted, in a small room not far from UnaDar’s corner. They had taken the bodies of Achaea and Sighard to the ward where they were laid out, two small bodies in a long row. The survivors wanted to get away from the chaos of the battle. The
y had enough death and hurt to deal with. They had done well, something important, everyone said so, but was it worth the loss of two friends? They had no way to tell.

  UnaDar was satisfied, however, he had watched Clovic and his troops move through the back alleys and confront the two Gracks. He admired the foresight needed to anticipate that threat and the ingenuity to use what little they had to defeat it. These humans were young and able, but how would they react to seeing and working with an ObLaDa? As far as UnaDar knew, it had never been done. They would need to accept him, even though he was not as good looking as in his younger years. But could he cope with the skinny, hairy things? Well, one does what one has to do.

  UnaDar collected some All-1s and set them to the human version of the Ship Language. They would need to talk back and forth, if the little things did not run away first. It would be fun to just pop out on them, but he fought off the urge. They might throw something his way. So UnaDar announced his coming before he stepped around the corner into view, it was a dull move, but it produced enough of a shock to be amusing.

  Frightened they were, still jumpy from the appearance of the Gracks in that sudden light, the boys stood, stunned when the fat, slimy, wrinkled thing appeared in the doorway. Clovic grabbed for his ax, Heneric and Elbert moved to the far wall, but this thing did not come any farther into the room, instead it slid some All-1s across the floor. At first they did not realize that the thing was talking, it was such an odd rumbling noise. He was claiming to be an ObLaDa. Could this be? Surely they had to be more impressive than that. It did smell like the rest of the habitat, only much stronger, and it was asking for their help.