To Well And Back (The Deep Dark Well)

by Doug Dandridge

  “One of theirs?” asked the Admiral, wiping sweat off his brow.

  “No, sir,” answered the other officer. “It looks like that ship from the Donut is still with us. She’s dropping into the clouds. Still visible on infrared. The enemy is trying their damndest to take her out.”

  “Watch where you step, human,” came the heavily accented voice of one of the Maurid guides that were with them, residents of the mission they had established at the base.

  Krishnamurta looked over at the alien who was standing there on all four limbs. Its dog like muzzle was full of sharp teeth, and its coarse fur was a blend of orange and purple that camouflaged it perfectly in this jungle. Intelligent eyes looked into the Admiral’s. It was really only standing on three limbs realized the officer. The fourth, the left rear limb, was off the ground, the paw opened from walking mode, fingers revealed and one pointing at a plant off to the side that stretched a tentacle like vine across the path.

  “Sagara plant will wrap you up and snatch you away,” said the hissing voice of the creature. “Step carefully over it.”

  “Thank you,” said the Admiral, making sure he took a long step over the spine covered vine that belonged to one of the carnivorous plants of the nightmare jungle. He saw some of the other troopers looking back at him with slight smiles on their faces. They had been in this jungle for almost a year, working with the natives, and recognized the threat. He and his spacers had not, and must depend on those who knew to guide them.

  “Why not just blast the damned plant?’ asked Madrake, pointing the left arm of her armored suit at the large, evil looking vegetable about forty meters away through the jungle. The laser tube that was built into that arm was pointed directly at the target life form.

  “No,” said the Maurid, coming out of the four legged stance that was their primary locomotive orientation, standing to his full two meter height. He put a hand on the arm of the suit and gently pushed down. “You kill Sagara, and all motile vegetation in area goes wild. And plant make trap for those who follow.”

  Great idea, thought the Admiral, nodding his head and motioning for his officer to lower her weapon. We have the natives on our side, in an environment they know well. Might as well use that knowledge against our opponents, who wouldn’t pass the time of day with this alien, other than to shoot him down.

  “Lead on,” he told the alien. “We will demur to your wisdom on the matters of this jungle.”

  The creature looked confused for a moment, then recognition came to his eyes. He gave a human nod and went back to all fours, his forward hands folding back into paws.

  “Keep the Marines and Spacers alert,” he said to Mandrake.

  “I don’t trust these creatures,” said the Lt. Commander, nodding her helmeted head toward the Maurid that had leapt ahead.

  “I do,” said the Admiral with a smile. “After what the Nation of Humanity troops did back at the mission, they would be fools to have anything to do with those xenophobes.”

  Mandrake looked at the Admiral, her visor up, a frown of disgust on her face.

  She saw it as well as I, thought the Admiral, looking back into the jungle as he walked, making sure to look down every few moments to be sure of his footing. The animals just walked into the native hospital and shot down females and babies. And enough adults escaped to bring the news back to the ones in the jungle. If the Nation Marines don’t watch out, they’ll have all the tribes in the area out for their scalps.

  He looked ahead at the lithe looking alien walking the path ahead. The sheathed form of a sword was strapped to his back, along with a blow gun, and the Admiral had seen bows and arrows among others of the native contingent. I wouldn’t want them after me in this jungle, tech gap or not.

  * * *

  Major Dronning Dumas cursed again as he slammed his vibra blade through yet another tough vine in the endless series of such, after checking to be sure it wasn’t one of the carnivorous kind. Of course, since they mostly mimicked ordinary non-motile vines, that was quite a task. Why did it have to be a fucking jungle, he thought, then said a quick prayer for his use of a curse word. Dumas was from a devout family, and believed that God listened to whatever man said, for good or ill. But maybe he’ll forgive any of our transgressions this day, he thought, smiling at the vision of the dead Maurids in the hospital the Suryans had established. We sent enough of the Satan Spawn back to their master to make God rejoice.

  Just as that thought crossed his mind an arrow came flying out of the jungle to strike his armored chest. It clattered into the air, and Dumas sent a stream of hypervelocity pellets into the jungle, seeking the projectile’s origin. Other rifles joined in, and tree trunks splintered and then shattered under the assault of high velocity rounds. Several trees fell over, and then the Marines were battling the omnipresent vines that were attached to carnivorous plants that grew on the great trees.

  Dumas slashed with his vibro blade, cutting through vine after vine. A scream alerted him to someone who was not having such luck, and the officer ran over to a trooper that was covered in the vines. A couple of slashes and the trooper was free, blood streaming from areas that battle armor didn’t completely cover, the tough fabric of the joints. The man thanked the major in a quiet voice, then fell over and lay still. Dumas did not have to do much to prove to himself that the man was dead, poisoned by the damned vine that seemed to be as much animal as plant.

  “Report in,” he called on his com while he stood over the dead man.

  “First Platoon, A Company reporting in,” came the first voice over the com, followed by all the others counting down, until came one he didn’t want to hear.

  “This is Fourth Platoon, E Company reporting,” came the tired sounding voice. “I have six men down to an ambush. Those damned demon dogs just move into place without a sound and strike.”

  “Stay in place, Fourth Platoon, E Company,” called back the Major. He closed the circuit and again stared into the jungle. He had entered with two hundred and seventy-three men, leaving a fifty-two man detail at the base. And he had already lost twenty-two men, without even contacting the Suryan bastards he had been sent in after.

  “Report,” came the voice of the Admiral over the com. Dumas cursed again, and prayed under his breath that Quaid would get in front of the enemy in quick time, so that the Major’s command would not have to keep trekking through this purple and orange hell.

  Chapter Nine

  The art of war is simple enough. Find out where your enemy is. Get at him as soon as you can. Strike him as hard as you can, and keep moving on. Ulysses S. Grant

  Another laser beam came lancing into the sky, hitting a second robot, this time in the head area. The cranium of the bot exploded into semi melted pieces. The brain of the bot was not in that section, but much of its sensory systems were.

  “Locate target and open fire,” yelled Pandora as soon as she activated her com. She shut the unit down instantly and used her grabber units to move away from that location, using the other bots as cover, and hoping that she hadn’t attracted the attention of the ships in orbit.

  Two of the robots had not come out of the ship on time, or so it seemed, or else had gotten lost somewhere up here in the atmosphere. Her twenty-one remaining robots all targeted the area of ground that the fire was coming from, a hill thrusting up from the jungle, and opened fire with their own light amp and particle beam weapons. A quartet of robots had racks of missiles on their backs, and each fired one at the target, the grabber powered weapons taking off in a streak of light and accelerating into the hill.

  The hill exploded in a cloud of dirt and debris as the missiles hit, while the lasers and particle beams played over the obscuring dust. A couple of beams came up, tracked on Pandora’s HUD display, and then the fire stopped. Moments later her bots ceased fire, and the rest of the fall was uneventful, though Pandora kept waiting for that battleship class laser to come knifing out of the sky.

  At three thousand meters above the jungle s
he started her deceleration, pulling multiple Gees that were absorbed by her suit’s inertial compensators. To her it felt as if she were floating out of the sky. She turned her vision back to the hilltop that had housed the enemy and was gratified to see several bodies lying out in the open. Whoever else had been up there had retreated back under cover. Now she only had to hope that they would stay under cover until she made it down.

  Pandora looked down and saw a small break in the canopy. She steered her suit for that opening and breathed a sigh of relief as the jungle closed in around her. Looking up she could see several of the robots following her down, and hoped the rest would come down nearby. Looking back down she aimed for an open spot between a trio of forest giants. The suit touched down softly, and she ordered her visor up through internal link.

  The air was a cloying mixture of sweet and sickly odors. Pandora has spent some time among the jungle habitats of the station, exploring the strange flora and fauna. But they had been nothing like this steamy cauldron of life. Strange sounds came from every direction, chirps and squeaks, and screeching yells. If not for her armor she would have been very frightened. With it she was sure she would be the match for any plant of animal in this forest. Against intelligent creatures with high tech weapons it might be a different story.

  Pandora sent out a low power signal, orientating all the robots on her. They returned the signal, and she knew where all twenty-one of the robots were and their operational status. The two damaged in the attack while they were falling were the only ones not at full capacity, and they were still usable combat machines. Her next signal released masses of miniature machines from the robots. They swarmed out in their hundreds of thousands, spreading kilometers in every direction. The machines, pizzoelectric micrometer robots, found perches on tree branches and leaves. Within ten minutes they had formed a ten square kilometer communication and surveillance network that continued to spread. Their signal transmission would be low, and would not allow anyone looking down on the jungle to get an exact fix on Pandora or her robots.

  Now to figure out how to hit the enemy, thought Pandora, looking at the area through her heads up display. She was getting indications of bodies of people moving to the north of her position. In three distinct groups. And from the way they were moving she had no trouble working out what was going on. One group was trying to get away, and was being herded into the group that was heading toward them from ahead. In fact, even while she was observing one of the bodies stopped and went to ground. An ambush, she thought, a tight smile on her face. It never entered her mind to run and hide herself. Here was the enemy, and she thought of the admonition of Nathan Bedford Forest, get there first with the most. She didn’t have the most, but she did have considerable firepower at her disposal. And another girlhood favorite, Stonewall Jackson, would have advocated a flank attack.

  [Let’s get a move on] she sent to her robots, while plotting where she wanted to go, and what she wanted to do when she got there.

  * * *

  “Assemble it there,” ordered Watcher, pointing to the central flat area of the large room. The interior of the pyramid smelled musty, as befit a structure that had probably not been open to the air for millennia. The wormhole portal shimmered against the wall of the room, robots stepping through at intervals, bringing loads of equipment with them. An object was being assembled in the center of the room, and the robots that had come through were busy building more of the vehicles to either side.

  Watcher looked around the room while the robots worked. He felt strange being here, he who had not been off the Donut for thousands of years, save the few excursions he had made into space. One of those excursions had been to rescue the woman he was determined to save again.

  The superman sent a signal over his link to the computer that was housed in this step pyramid that had once been the transportation nexus of this world. It took a moment to go through authentication, but once the computer recognized his authority it was open to all commands. He sent an opening command to the machine, his eyes set on a small personal door that the schematic said went into the world outside. The metallic door made some noises, started to move, then stopped. It did this several times before it finally slid open, and the light of day came through the aperture.

  Watcher lowered the visor on his armor, caution being a habit with him. He hadn’t gotten to such an age without knowing when to be careful, to not take chances. Some were unavoidable, like rescuing the woman he loved. Some, like making sure he was covered from head to toe before entering a hostile environment, were not.

  The jungle surrounding the pyramid was beautiful, a riot of orange and purple. It was from the Maurid home world, transplanted here to make this their own. He knew from the data banks that it was once a populated world with only half of the surface going to natural habitat. There had been billions of Maurids and other sentients living on this planet at that time. Now it was all natural, thanks to Vengeance and the murderous station computer, the dwelling place of plants, animals and primitive Maurids. And deadly to any unprotected being that didn’t know its perils. That didn’t include Watcher, who had memorized this ecosystem until he could name all of the major players, and how they could efficiently kill the unwary human.

  Watcher looked down the steps, now covered in the remains of rotten vegetation, and layered over by vines and roots. None had penetrated the material of the pyramid. That would have been impossible without something more robust than mere plants. In a million years this pyramid, built with the technology of the Ancestors, would still be standing, and a quick lasering would reveal a structure as new as the day it was made. The structures that were wormhole hubs had been made to be impenetrable to anything but negative matter, antimatter, and kinetic weapons in the gigaton range, though smaller weapons might cause some surface damage.

  There were several depressions in the jungle, seen by the way the tops of the trees were lower than those a kilometer in each direction. Most eyes would have missed the difference, but not those of Watcher. They were craters, the remains of kinetic weapons that had been thrown at the pyramid, and had been deflected at the last moment by the structure’s defensive systems. Weapons that I caused to fall, thought Watcher with regret. There was so much he needed to make amends for, and he only hoped that he would live long enough to do so. But can I live a million years? he thought, shaking his head sadly. He was said to be immortal, but didn’t know if that was really truth, or if he was just extremely long lived. And he was sure he could be killed, no matter his life span.

  I don’t have time for this right now, he thought, taking one last look at the jungle. Time to get off the pity pot. He made his way over to where he knew the vehicle hatch was located, which area was covered with vines, and even the large roots of a couple of trees that were precariously perched on the soil that had built up on the larger steps of the pyramid. The hatch would not be useable as long as that buildup was in the way, so the first order of business was to clear it.

  Watcher reached over his shoulder and pulled the particle beam weapon from its sheath. He flipped the safety engaging the weapon, which was shaped like an oversized rifle, a very oversized rifle, with multiple barrels like a Gatling gun at the business end. There was no conduit to the weapon, no connection to the backpack which contained an internal accelerator whose only purpose was to accept particles from its wormhole portal, then send it to the weapon through another link. The main accelerator was back on the Donut, where it could build up a beam to near light speed if such was needed. Watcher locked his suit arms into place and set his grabber units to compensate for the recoil. He aimed at the target after doing a quick computation of how long he needed to stay on each area, then pulled the trigger.

  The suit bucked back as the gun ejected micrograms per second at point five c. It pointed at the target area as an angry red line, the result of friction with the air, sounding like a mass of hostile bees on speed. Where the beam touched the vegetation turned to ash and the soil blew i
nto the air. The hatch was not visible as it was cleared, sealed as it was into the building. But Watcher’s HUD showed him the outline of the hatch, and he sprayed the particle beam back and forth to clear it like a garden hose cutting through dirt.

  The weapon stayed cool in his gauntleted hands, another wormhole siphoning the heat off to a sink within the station. The barrels rotated every couple of seconds, bringing a new conduit into line while the last one cooled. Watcher couldn’t wait to try the weapon out on those who menaced Pandora. He hated that there was still a bit of Vengeance inside him, but was coming to accept that in this Universe some bloodthirstiness was useful, for certain situations. And this was one of those.

  With a last sweep of the weapon he cleared the door. A mental command to the local computer and the door started to rise, slowly at first, then more quickly as hinges and motors that had not been used in millennia moved into action. Soon it was raised up to the sky, revealing an entry room with a dusty floor, but no evidence of intrusion by the jungle.

  The room within was still empty, and Watcher ordered the opening of the door that led further into the interior. It slid aside, revealing the gate room, and the robots that were finishing up the assembly of a quintet of hover vehicles.

  These were like the tanks of old, able to fly at low altitude, but most often used to hover low over the ground. Each vehicle was five meters long by three wide, with a small turret on the top which contained a particle beam weapon and missile launchers along the side. [Are we ready?] he sent to his command robot.