GeneStorm: City in the Sky

by Paul Kidd

  The plant pondered.

  He scooped up everything he could, carrying it along with him for later examination. Nearby, Pendleton’s expression showed he was clearly feeling extremely smug and pleased with himself.

  Cavalry had already followed the Screamer tracks into the gulley. Throckmorton led Pemberton away straight to the west. They moved back toward the town, parallel to the Screamer trail.

  Throckmorton spied yet another something from above – a shiny object. He sank down and retrieved it, turning it over and over in his grasp.

  It was a weird half-moon shaped crescent made out of iron or steel – quite shiny but a little scraped and abraded on one side. Throckmorton showed it to Pemberton, and the moth sniffed at it. He gave a scowl, clearly disliking the scent.

  They headed back towards town, stopping to pick a bag full of very large grape-like fruit from a stand of trees. The two creatures passed back through the town gates, left some fruit with the friendly guards, then made their way home along the dusty streets.

  In the front court of the Boneyard, work had already begun. Toby and Samuels were cutting leather while Beau fussed about with birds, tape measures and a notebook. Kitterpokkie was locked in an argument with Onan. It all seemed to be business as usual.

  Snapper had arrayed herself in shorts, an apron and an old singlet, her bandage standing out white and clean on her thigh. She was in charge of cooking an improbable amount of pancakes and rounds of salami sausage, and the scents rising from the grill were utterly delicious. Out in the yard, more suits were being made, and a budgerigar was being measured. Beau brightened the moment he saw the errant travellers return.

  “Pendleton! There you are, boy! Just in time for breakfast!”

  The moth was rewarded with salami and pancakes. He ate them up with a great long snaking motion of his tongue, then settled down to watch the grill, exceeding pleased with life. He began thieving pancakes one by one, until Snapper caught him in the act and moved the food pile further out of reach.

  “Beau! Control your moth-thingy!”

  “Oh, he’s fine.” The fox-bird gave an indulgent wave. “Let him eat! He’s a growing boy.”

  “Dear god, I hope not!”

  Throckmorton deposited his gift of fruit into a bucket by the porch table, and then whirred softly over to Kitterpokkie. The mantis was deeply engaged in making yet more filter masks, and was trying to fit one over the head of Onan. The cockatoo kept stepping backwards every time Kitterpokkie tried to fit the mask, and the bird was rolling its canny eyes.

  “Salty cracker!”

  “I will not give you salty crackers merely for the act of standing still for six minutes!” The mantis spoke with some frustration: Onan was being quite uncooperative. “Now look – keep your rotten head still, or you might just have to breathe all the lovely radiation without one.”

  “Salty cracker salty cracker!”

  “I already gave you a…” Kitterpokkie stepped back in frustration. “Snapper!

  The shark called out from over at the grill.

  “Onan! Be good!” Snapper waved her spatula. “Salty crackers will be dispensed as part of your complete breakfast experience.” She rapped Pendleton on the beak as he tried to steal salami. “You too!”

  With Onan’s mask finally fitted and marked for adjustments, Kitterpokkie could release the bird and put the mask back on her work table. Throckmorton hovered quietly in the air beside her, and wove his tentacles in greeting.

  “Hello pretty mantis.”

  “Hello Throckmorton, old thing! Have you been out clearing your head?”

  “Went exploring.”

  “Well do mind the gas bladder. I would not want to see that come under too much pressure for a few days.” The mantis carefully examined Throckmorton’s wound. The holes made by the bone dart had entirely closed over. “Yes, some good nitrates, and rest in partial shade. That ought to do it.”

  The plant nodded several of his many heads. He then settled at the table, and carefully produced the crushed silver tube he had found. Kitterpokkie was immediately interested, and collected the pieces together.

  “Where was this found?”

  “On the Screamer trail. Stomped on many many times.”

  “Therefore we must presume that it was in place before the Screamers arrived…” The mantis raised her voice, her attention still fixated on the crushed metal tube. “Snapper? Snapper, dear thing – come and look at what our friends have found.”

  Snapper turned pancakes on the grill, then came stumping over. She gave Throckmorton a genial wave.

  “Throcky! Should you be flying like that?”

  “Throckymorton is well.” The plant nodded several happy little heads. “Shark should be resting her lower appendage.”

  “Oh, it’s fine! See? All on the mend.”

  Throckmorton sank down to inspect the Shark’s thighs.

  “Will it become thinner?”

  “No.” Snapper sounded frosty. “I’ll have you know my thighs are exactly the shape that they’re supposed to be.”

  “OK.”

  “They are rider’s thighs.” The shark gave a sniff. “None of you people know quality when you see it.”

  Over amongst his pins and patterns, Beau helpfully raised one finger.

  “For the record, I am an extremely great admirer of your thighs.” He placed a hand against his heart. “Truly most impressive!”

  The shark glowered. Kitterpokkie politely intervened, turning Snapper’s attention to Throckmorton’s finds. “Moving hastily onward, what might be your opinion of this?”

  The broken silver tube had been thoroughly crushed and flattened. Snapper bent down and carefully peered at the tube, and then at the little plastic parts that had once been carefully fitted inside. She used her spectacles as a magnifying glass.

  “The chips are ancient tech… The tube is salvage…” She peered inside, finding nothing but flakes and wires. “It’s been wired together and soldered, though… “

  “Not ancient technology?”

  “No – just old tech assembled together into something else.” The shark motioned towards Kitterpokkie’s plasma rifle. “Sort of in the spirit of your boom stick over there.”

  “My ‘boom stick’ is an original creation based upon ancient principals. Not a mere cludging together of old scrap.” The mantis gave a sniff. “There would seem to be a wire aerial attached to the tube. Could this be a radio?”

  “Might be. That, however…” Snapper prized a small, hard disk from inside the tube. “Ah! This is an ancient power cell! Excellent! They can be recharged!”

  “Can we use it?”

  “We certainly can!”

  The pancakes needed rescuing, but Toby was on hand. Snapper felt Throckmorton politely tap-tap-tapping on her arm, and gave the plant her full attention.

  “Yes, my friend?”

  “We have found another thing.” Throckmorton carefully produced the iron crescent and placed it into Snapper’s wondering hands. “It was near the Screamer trail.”

  Snapper froze – utterly enraptured. She turned the object end over end in her hands.

  “You found this? Buried deep?”

  “On the surface dust.” The plant was fascinated by Snapper’s reaction. “Have you seen one before?”

  “No. No one has. It’s quite impossible.”

  Kitterpokkie gave a scowl.

  “Why? Whatever is it?”

  By way of answer, Snapper walked back indoors. She re-emerged a few moments later, moving with speed and excitement. She held her greatest treasure – her printed, ancient book filled with pictures of Napoleonic uniforms.

  She opened the book to a particular page and spread it out flat. It showed a forge, an anvil, hussars lounging about smoking pipes, and a large brown riding animal being tended by a blacksmith. The beast was having an iron crescent fitted to one of its hooves.

  Snapper carefully placed the iron object beside the book.

  �
�That, my friends, is a horseshoe. From a horse.”

  Throckmorton looked at the picture in fascination.

  “Throckmorton has never seen a horse.”

  “No one has.” The shark picked up the horseshoe and caressed it quietly.

  “No purebloods survived the GeneStorm. Not one…”

  Snapper placed the horse shoe beside the broken silver tube, then carefully picked up her precious book.

  “Come on, there’s work to do.” She was still staring at the horse shoe.

  “Two days. I want to be on the way morning after next.” The shark turned and looked off to the north.

  “I think we need to hurry.”

  Chapter 9

  Dawn – bright dawn – rose out of the desert far to the east. Golden light chased the last blue shadows from the plains. The little floating creatures of the night dimmed their lights and sank back into their burrows and nests. Out on the open plains, herd creatures stirred and set about their business. A few predators crept forth to gaze over prospective meals. Tiny wren-mice chipped and flittered here and there all through the scrub, drinking sparkling droplets of dew.

  The explorers rode out from the town at first light. Toby and Samuels accompanied them for the first few hours of the journey. Snapper took the lead, with the others coming behind in a group – Kenda at the fore and Throckmorton flying along up above, Kitterpokkie riding a lavender budgerigar, and Beau astride the ever-disturbing Pendleton. With gleaming pack beetles trotting briskly behind every rider, they made quite a cavalcade.

  The expedition padded out across a landscape that still seemed broken. There were crushed crops and shattered bushes in a great, broad, trampled band that straggled to the north east. Dust still clung to bushes and trees.

  They followed the Screamer tracks on through a trampled landscape, until they finally came to the boulders that marked the edge of Red-Rock gulch. Snapper looked at the tracks that led up out of the gully – many different trickles of Screamers, all meandering in the same direction. She pondered the patterns, then looked along the gorge.

  Kenda rode up and pointed along the floor of the broadening gulley.

  “You can spot tracks in the dried mud. They came right down here. This seems to be the only exit point.”

  “Mmmm…” Snapper nodded. She began riding along the edge of the deep dip into the gully – a dip that would grow deeper and deeper over the coming kilometres. “Looks like it.”

  Kenda looked dubiously at the crumbling edge of the gorge. “Might be easier to just go due north. There’s a lot of big broken rock along the banks.”

  “Yep – I know it well.” The shark led the way along beside the gully, her eyes constantly scanning the way ahead, the scrub to left and right, checking the sky for predators. “We’re just taking a slight detour.”

  They moved at a good trot, with Snapper pausing every few kilometres to check the gulley floor from high above. Kitterpokkie came riding her lavender budgie up beside her friend, and peered down into the gully. It was indeed an earthy red – dirt banks a dozen metres deep, and a broad floor littered with rocks. A thin brown stream still meandered between the boulders down below, but from the scrub and trees growing here and there, it seemed that the waters never rose high. The mantis kept well back from the edge.

  “Ah yes, this must have been a river in ancient times. Clearly the area once saw far more rainfall. Far wetter entirely.”

  “Yep. Pretty much.” Snapper pointed to some metal debris down below. “Some really old junk down there. All rusted out. Must have been there pre-GeneStorm.”

  “What are we hoping to see?”

  “Just an intuition I have.” The shark clucked her tongue, and Onan walked onwards. “Kitt – check your gear. You’ll want to tie down whatever’s doing that rattling.”

  The mantis flushed, and hastened to mess about with her plethora of equipment. There was a gourd canteen, her water skin, blanket, saddlebags… she eventually discovered that the butt of her plasma rifle was banging rhythmically against a box of scientific instruments behind her as she rode. Shift it as she might, the science kit seemed to bang and rattle against the gun. The only solution was to finally just carry the rifle in her arms. She felt ridiculously combative, but at least noise had finally ceased. Toby rode up beside her, helped tie a loose strap behind Kitterpokkie’s saddle, then approvingly patted her budgie’s back.

  “You’ll do us all proud, miss. Never you fear! Just keep listening to Snapper. She knows what she’s doing. And don’t be afraid to speak up if you notice anything. Anything.” The old veteran prospector rode a big bird that chattered as it ambled along. “You have a scientific eye. That’s valuable. Damned valuable!” The dog passed the girl a bottle of whiskey. “Keep this in your satchel. Even if you boil water, put some whiskey in your water bottle before you fill it. Stops it going gamey over a long day’s ride.”

  “Oh!” The mantis examined the bottle. It was full to the brim with a dark brown whiskey. A home-made paper label read:

  “Cobbleback’s Liche-Water,

  the Embalmer’s Friend”.

  “Thank you, dear Toby.” The mantis wondered if the liquor might perhaps start eating through the bottle. “Thank you.”

  Toby kept his eyes on the scrublands all around them. “Now you just keep your brain ticking over and your eyes open. Away from the villages and caravan routes, the weird-lands can get a little challenging.”

  They all rode onwards along the gully’s edge, with Throckmorton sailing merrily out over the drop. Samuels ambled his riding bird up beside Kitterpokkie, and cast an eye towards the bottle in her bag.

  “Cobblebacks?”

  “Ah yes.”

  “Excellent if you need to start a fire.” Samuels tapped at the side of his beak. “Not to be taken internally.”

  They rode onwards through a land made spectacular by tall mutated grasses that were striped and speckled in wonderful clear colours. Clumps of trees sheltered hanging nests occupied by little mutant butterfly bats. The creatures looped and swirled, flashing brilliant colours as they chased each other merrily through the sky.

  The place had an eerie quiet. Wind sighed gently through the grasses. Small creatures in the grass made soft sounds. In the distance, Kitterpokkie caught sight of a herd of creatures browsing on the grass: agile things, part ladybug and part kangaroo. The creatures raised their heads on supple, armoured necks to watch the travellers pass by.

  Beau rode merrily atop Pendleton, looking in fine form. His rather threadbare clothing had been miraculously repaired and replaced – apparently by Beth Baker, if the needlework was any clue. Resplendent in cuirass and gleaming plumage, the man cantered forward to Snapper’s side as she reached a rise up above the gorge.

  The gorge became shallow here – shallow but broad. A ruined old bridge crossed the dry shallows. Huge rubble mounds clustered about the banks where an ancient town had once stood. The craters and fallen walls were overgrown with brambles.

  Snapper had spent many, many weeks in her early prospecting days turning over the surface rubble and sinking dozens of test pits. There were a few pieces of scrap steel to be had – rebars and girders – but nothing of real value. The surface layers had been mined out long ago. The only building still left with any recognisable shape was a long, curved structure made from a bottle green polymer. It had been bombed – one end of the building was smashed, and the other was nothing but a gutted tower and walls – but it could be rather beautiful in the light of the setting sun. The word ‘Padbury’ was written along the side of the building in letters three metres tall.

  Beau sat on his mount beside Snapper, peering down into the river shallows. He frowned as he looked out across the surrounding terrain.

  “Can you see any Screamer tracks entering the gully?”

  “Nothing I can see...” The shark girl scowled. “Looks clear.”

  The fox-pheasant adjusted his cuffs. “Perhaps they entered the gully piecemeal? Trickled in
over time…?”

  “Surely they’d still have left trails?” Snapper looked down at the ground, stroking at her sabre hilt. “Even if they wandered here in twos and threes…”

  She let her words drift to a halt, then adjusted her glasses. She leaned forward in her saddle.

  “It’s different.”

  “Different?”

  “Just… looks different.”

  The shark scowled and rode forward – down along the decayed tarmac that marked an ancient road. The others came cantering down to join Snapper as she reached the rubble field beside the huge old green building. The shark winced as she dismounted, and then knelt gingerly to comb her fingers across the surface of the dirt.

  Dust. Rock and dust.

  Snapper and Onan both inspected the layer of loose dirt. It was filled with shards from the green building, with brick and pieces of shattered ancient concrete. The shark slowly arose, throwing a handful of dirt away.

  “This is recent. Everything else here is compacted down.”

  Toby rode up beside her. He too knew the ruins here of old. The dust was new. Part of the old green building had newly collapsed.

  “Explosives?” The old dog looked around and pointed to the riverbed. “Must be! Threw dust and rubble all over the gully. If you didn’t know the place, you wouldn’t think about it twice.”

  “Yes…” Snapper looked about herself, limping as she walked. “But why? Why bother?” The shark gave a sudden blink. “Was it take-off blast from a rocket?”

  “Have to be a bloody big rocket.”

  Apart from newly fallen walls, there were no changes. Snapper tilted her head back to look up at Throckmorton.

  “Throcky! Do you see anything?”

  The plant cruised around and around in circles above the ruins. His little plant faces peered down on long necks, inspecting here and there. Finally he returned and gave an expressive shrug.

  “Fallen walls. Landslides. Crater.”