by JE Gurley
“Maybe we should split up,” Plia suggested.
“No. We stay together. Less chance of getting lost and splitting up divides our firepower.”
“Maybe the real Lokians, the lizard race, had weapons powerful enough to kill Ravers. I mean, the Ravers must have been dangerous to them, too, right?”
Dax looked at Cici and grinned. “Good thinking.” Now they had two things to search for: weapons and a way to shut down the power. He took out his knife and scratched an arrow on the wall to blaze their trail.
“We were so wrong about this planet,” Cici said. She shook her head slowly as she walked. Her face betrayed her anguish and confusion. “My sympathy was with the Huresh: at first, because of the change in the environment; then, because of the Ravers. Now, we learn they were the invaders. It’s difficult to erase all that preconceived emotional baggage. The real Lokians, who I should feel sorry for, created monsters that killed men, women, and children – farmers and businessmen, not military. Who was in the right?”
“The settlers might not have known the history of the planet they settled. Their leaders might not have bothered telling them. The fact that they vanished tells me they received no support after the colony was established. They left on their own to thrive or die. They might have thought the Ravers were wild animals not exterminated by the terraforming.” He shook his head, confused. “I don’t know, Cici. Like most wars, it depends on which side you’re on. Whatever their sins, the people in the cities did not deserve to die in the manner they did.”
“Right now, it’s us against the Ravers,” Ivers pointed out. “Who and why doesn’t matter. Let the historians and the philosophers figure it out.
Dax conceded Ivers’ point. “Right. Let’s keep searching.”
After several dead ends and returning to their starting point to retrace their steps, they entered what at one time had been living quarters, a large space with rows of low stone partitions dividing the room into individual quarters. Piles of rusted metal that might have been bed frames, and the dust of personal effects filled the spaces. Holes in the floor marked a communal lavatory. Dax counted the stalls.
“No more than a few hundred survivors out of an entire race of people,” he said.
“All dedicated to creating monsters,” Ivers added. “I wonder how many of these people became Ravers?”
“I get the feeling it was like a cult,” Cici offered. “The remnant of the survivors banding together and dedicating themselves to one last great act of revenge, offering their bodies as the raw material for weapons.”
“Kind of like ‘last person to leave turns off the lights’,” Dax said. “Maybe just a handful remained unchanged to continue the process. Either something happened before they could release all of the Ravers, or they had a change of heart.”
Ivers had a different opinion. “Considering they managed to wipe out the invaders without the Ravers in hibernation, they might have decided to save them for a second wave of invaders.”
“You mean us,” Cici said.
Ivers shrugged. “Well, we’re not really invaders, but they might consider us unwanted visitors.”
Ivers’ statement intrigued Dax. “So you think the Ravers are intelligent.”
“Don’t you? You saw how smart they are. They know how to disable a spacecraft. They engage in tactics. I suspect they retain a great deal if not all of their former intelligence.”
Cici made a face. “Oh my God, an intelligent being trapped in a monster’s body. That’s awful.”
“That’s the price of revenge,” Dax said.
“Take a look at this,” Plia said.
She stood farther down the room by another set of stalls. Dax went to join her. She stared at three reptilian skeletons. They lay side by side amid a pile of what might once have been a bed. Judging by their stature and backward-jointed legs, they were Lokians.
“It looks as if they simply lay down and went to sleep,” she said.
“Or took their own lives,” Cici said. “These may be the last Lokians. Maybe they decided against releasing the remaining Ravers.”
“We’ll never know,” Dax said. “It doesn’t much matter now.”
Ivers was getting restless. “We’re finding nothing here. It’s a maze. We need to check out the other door while we have time. We can come back here if necessary.”
“Do you think the Ravers know how to release their fellow creatures?” Cici asked.
Ivers turned to leave. “I don’t want to find out.”
They returned to the hibernation room. Plia repeated the lock-picking process on the second door. A high-pitched whine greeted them when the door opened and became louder as they travelled the narrow corridor behind it. The sounded grated on Dax’s nerves and made his teeth tingle. It was the sound of machinery. The tunnel ended at a metal door. He placed his hand on the door and felt it vibrating.
“Plia?”
Plia examined the door for a few minutes, running her hand along its width. “There’s no lock, but this door is different.” Finally, she pressed her hand against the center of the door and stepped back, as the door split into four sections and withdrew into the wall. The hum became a screech.
They exited the tunnel onto a narrow walkway circling a deep cylindrical shaft ten meters in diameter. The center of the shaft contained a slim metal rod half-a-meter thick. It ran from somewhere above them down into the depths of the black abyss. A gust of hot air rose from the chasm. As they watched, a blue halo of light rose along the length of the rod. As it passed them, the hairs on Dax’s arm rose, and the displays on his suit monitors flickered. The light ring continued for several hundred meters above them before dissipating. Set at intervals along the walls of the shaft, glowing metal rings became brighter as the halo passed.
“It’s some kind of geothermal generator,” Plia said. “The apparatus converts heat energy to electrical energy. The induction rings in the wall act as transformers increasing the power and siphoning off the energy. The shaft must go for kilometers down to the mantle.” She looked at Dax and smiled. “This machinery had operated unattended for centuries. The builders knew what they were doing. After the initial investment of time and equipment, it produces power at practically no cost as long as there is magma at the planet’s core. We couldn’t do this, not on this scale.”
It took a lot to amaze Plia. Dax had no doubt she was right. “The problem is we have no idea how to shut it down.”
“I seriously doubt we could,” Plia answered. “If we simply shut it down, it might crack the mantle and destroy the planet.”
“There must be a way to shut down the power to the cryocrypts,” Ivers said. “I don’t want to destroy the planet, just the Ravers.”
Dax leaned over the rail and stared into the depths. “The builders of this contraption strike me as the kind of people who would rather destroy their world than let anyone else have it or benefit from their technology.”
His suit com hissed. He switched it on. “What?”
Romeo’s voice was more animated than Dax had ever heard it. “They’re coming, about ten clicks out.”
“Damn. Okay, join us in the main hall.”
“I’m almost there now.”
Dax looked at Ivers. They had failed in both their quests. “What now?”
The halo of light, much dimmer than before, slowly descended the rod like Time Square’s Big Apple at midnight on New Year’s Eve. Ivers gritted his teeth, raised his ion disruptor, and before Dax could stop him, fired at the halo. A brilliant blue arc of light leapt from the rod to the disruptor, knocking Ivers off his feet and sending him into the wall. The disruptor laid smoking beside him. Ivers was alive, but stunned. The halo continued uninterrupted down the shaft.
“That was a damn fool thing to do,” Dax barked. “You could have killed us all. You almost did kill yourself.”
Ivers slowly rose to his feet. He was unsteady and held onto the rail. “I had to try something.” Gingerly, still bracing hi
mself on the rail, he bent over to retrieve the disruptor. He gave it a quick examination. “Damn, I fried it. Useless.” He tossed it to the ground.
“Great. It was our only effective weapon. When I asked what now, I expected an answer, not a suicide attempt.”
“What do you want me to tell you? We have, had, a disruptor and three lasers. We could never hold off the three Ravers that are coming. If they awaken the rest, we’re outnumbered a couple of hundred to five.” He shook his head. “Those aren’t odds we can work with.”
“So you tried to blow up the planet?”
He glared at Dax. “Yes. We’re going to die. I wanted to make our deaths count for something.”
“Maybe we should die.”
Dax turned to stare at Cici. “Why would you say that?”
“The race that spawned the Ravers did so to defend their world. Why shouldn’t we allow them to retain it for themselves? They wiped out the invaders. They are going to wipe us out. It’s their world. Leave it to them. In the end, they win.”
“I’m not ready to die to quiet their restless ghosts.”
They entered the cryochamber room. Romeo waited for them, out of breath. Dax looked at the rows of caskets. He did not see the remnants of a civilization. He saw animal pens. The race that spawned the Ravers was long gone. So, too, should be the monsters they created.
He turned to Plia. “How much shielding do you think this rock can provide?”
“Against what?”
“An anomaly.”
She gasped. “You want to activate the Skip Drive on the ground? That’s … that’s madness!”
“Yeah, I get it. I read the owner’s manual. It states specifically on page one not to attempt a Skip while on the ground. It voids the warranty. I can activate the engines from here with the comp link. In their condition, it won’t be difficult to induce an overload. The blast would be the equivalent of a five-megaton explosion. Can these walls withstand the blast?”
Plia froze. He hoped she was considering his question and that he hadn’t broken her brain with his request. The others stared at him in confusion, all but Ivers. He understood. “You want to kill the Ravers outside without destroying the planet.”
“It’s a thought. Of course, I might just wake up the Ravers in here, but that’s a chance we have to take. I take it you don’t object.”
“I’m in. If it takes care of the Ravers outside, we can let the Navy deal with the ones in here.”
Plia began doing the computations on her suit computer. She spoke slowly as she considered the results. “I think the walls will hold. I’m not sure a deliberate Skip detonation has ever been attempted.”
“Great, I’ll go down in the history books.”
“I’m not sure about the radiation,” she added. “It might release some short-lived exotic particles that could pass through stone like tissue paper.” She looked at Dax. “You might become sterile.”
“Great, no little Wyldds running around. I’m counting on the door to the power core being radiation proof.” He looked around at the group. “Are we agreed?”
Romeo swallowed hard. His Adam’s apple quivered in his skinny throat. He nodded his head.
“I’m in,” Cici said. “We shouldn’t destroy their world after what they did to save it.”
“It’s slightly better odds than facing the Ravers,” Plia said. “I’m in, although there is always the chance we will damage the power core. If that happens, we will all die anyway.”
“My, aren’t you a little ray of sunshine,” Dax said.
“Hell, you know my answer,” Ivers said. “Kill these fuckers and let’s get out of here.”
“Okay. Here goes.” Dax entered his captain’s code on his suit computer, and pulled up the screen for Fortune’s Luck’s engineering data. It took surprisingly little effort to start the Skip Drive. Probably because no one anticipated the concept of initiating a countdown if you weren’t prepared to Skip. I’m making history.
“Two minutes,” he said. “We had better move.”
They took refuge in the shaft and sealed the door. The shrill whine was annoying, but they would have to tolerate it for a few minutes. If they failed, it wouldn’t matter.
“Twenty seconds,” he announced. Strangely, he didn’t feel fear. He had been through too much to be afraid. He felt a sense of anticipation as he did before any normal Skip, but mostly he was relieved. He had thrown off the chronic morbidity that had threatened to turn him into a vegetable and had made an executive decision. Now, he would see if it was the right one.
At two seconds, he held onto the rail. For five seconds, nothing happened; then, the ground shook, a slight tremor at first, but it quickly turned into a Magnitude 6 quake. The tremor knocked him to the ground. He was glad he wore his suit to cushion his fall. The balcony rattled as if it were going to break free and plunge them into the shaft. He lay on his stomach, staring down into the abyss. The light halo rose upwards toward him. It briefly flared bright enough to cast shadows, and then flickered out, leaving them in absolute darkness. The tremors abated, but only for a few seconds. Then, the entire shaft groaned and rumbled. The heaving balcony bounced him across the floor before tilting at a steep angle. He slammed into the wall. He heard someone scream; Plia or Cici, he thought; then, realized it was him.
He passed out.
17
Cici’s only proof that she was alive was the pain that racked her body. When the Skip engine exploded, she first felt a wave pass through her body that left her disoriented. The anomaly boundary, she realized. For a nanosecond, she had wavered between realities. She had no time to analyze the feeling. The balcony beneath her danced faster than her legs could follow. She hit the floor hard, holding on for fear it would bounce her over the side. The episode had lasted less than a minute, but it left them in total darkness. She fought a rising panic. She was alive, and as far as she could tell, not seriously injured, simply bruised and battered. She sat up, wincing at the pain in her elbow.
“Is everyone all right?” she asked.
Someone turned on his or her suit lights. She saw it was Ivers. He played his lights over the group. Dax appeared to be unconscious. The section of walkway on which he lay had broken free of the wall and canted at a twenty-degree angle. Only the rail had kept him from plunging into the shaft. Plia stood and brushed herself off as if nothing had happened, her face as expressionless as ever. Romeo sat with his back against the wall, looking bewildered.
“Yeah, I’m okay,” Ivers answered. “The quake or the EMP must have knocked out the core.”
She stood, holding onto the rail until her legs steadied beneath her. “Do you think it worked?”
“I doubt even a Raver could have survived that blast.” He leaned over the broken section of walkway and shined the light in Dax’s face. “I’m surprised we did.”
“Is he all right?”
“Yeah, just stunned I think. He’ll be okay.” He grabbed one of Dax’s arms and dragged him up the slope onto the section of walkway on which they stood.
“I don’t detect any radiation,” Plia announced, “but our suit meters aren’t designed to detect everything.”
Cici rubbed her head through her helmet, thankful she had it on. She felt as if she had gone twice around a Tilt-A-Whirl and been thrown out headfirst. Her head throbbed and her muscles ached. She was glad the incessant whine of the power core was gone. “Is it safe to open the door?”
Ivers stood by the door feeling it with his hand. “No heat. We were pretty far inside the mountain. I think it’s safe.”
Dax roused, groaning. He held his hand to the back of his head. “What happened?”
“You passed out,” Ivers said. Cici thought he was gloating a little.
“Why is it so dark?”
“The power core failed,” Plia replied.
“What’s that going to do to the cryo units?” he asked.
Cici had forgotten about the Ravers sleeping just outside the door. A sense
of unease crept over her. “Will they awaken?”
“Maybe it killed them,” Romeo offered.
Dax stood, wobbling. He braced himself against the wall and shook his head to knock out the cobwebs. “Don’t you think we had better find out?”
Ivers opened the door slowly. A blast of hot air rushed inside through the gap, bringing with it the odor of burnt sand and ozone. Cici sneezed and batted the cloud dust away from her nose with her hand. She hated dust. Her nine months on Loki had not changed her opinion of dust. Too late, she remembered the face shield of her helmet and lowered it. Without power, the tunnel was as dark as pitch. Ivers led the way with his suit lights and flashlight. When they had gone halfway down the tunnel, the power core groaned, produced a series of sharp loud clicks, and emitted a troubling noise that rose in frequency from a low grinding sound to an irritating high-pitched warbling. The blue halo of light resumed its journey up the rod, and the lights flickered before coming back on.
“At least we didn’t destroy it,” Ivers said.
Cici wasn’t as certain. The high-pitched drone seemed less steady, undulating up and down the frequencies. The halo rose in a series of short jerks instead of its previous smooth transition up the rod. Fingers of blue light arced between the halo and the metal bands in the wall. “No, but we bent it a little, I think,” she said in response to Ivers’ statement.
When they entered the cryo chamber, the worst sight imaginable awaited them. The lids on the crypts were all open, revealing the Ravers inside. A mist rose from each of them. “Oh, my God!” she gasped. “They’re waking up.”
“The caskets must have a fail switch that begins the revival process when the power fails,” Ivers said. He turned to Dax. “You were right.”
“Hell of a time to be right.”
“Back to the power chamber,” Ivers said.
Plia said, “I would not recommend that.”
Dax stared at her. “Why not?”
“The quake damaged the power core. It’s arcing in an attempt to stabilize. Those arcs contain a couple of billion joules of energy. That’s several billion Watts. If one hits us ….”