“I don’t think I can climb that last bit,” said Erik. “That’s vertical.”
“That’s why god invented rope,” Trace quipped. “Come on, you good?”
“Major!” said Krishnan, pointing down behind. She and Erik looked. Even without binoculars, Erik could see small, dark figures making their way toward the foot of the rocks they’d just climbed. “Worth a shot?” Krishnan suggested, fingering his rifle strap.
“Five hundred meters,” said Trace, with a critical eye. “Wind’s picking up. The rifle’s only certain to about three hundred and fifty when it’s still and flat. If we sat here for five minutes and expended ammunition we might hit one or two, but the weather’s turning. Let’s go.”
Erik did not enjoy the next bit at all. The ridge was more up than straight, and mostly on a knife-edge wide enough only for one person. On either side, an increasingly sheer and alarming drop, and now the wind was beginning to really blow, forcing even Trace to occasionally pause and crouch. Erik took his arm from the sling for balance, ignoring his shoulder’s painful protests. On any ledge large enough for his boot, snow had accumulated, though the wind now whipped it away, and Trace’s preceding boot cleared some more on purpose.
It seemed to take an age, but finally they reached the foot of the rocky shoulder. It was as vertical as Erik had feared — not shale or loose stone with many grips, but granite with only slim ledges and grooves for possible finger and toe holds. One look and Erik could not deny it any longer — the prospect of climbing this, in the wind that was building, frightened him more than combat.
“Well,” said Trace, voice raised against the wind, “not getting up there in boots.” There was more space here at the base, and she sat, and pulled at the straps. “Got some spray-on?” she asked Krishnan, who knelt to rummage in his pack, then produced a can of spray. Trace pulled off her socks, stuffed them into her pockets, and applied the spray to her feet and toes. It formed a thin, almost plastic film — an adhesive and insulator, marines and spacers both used it to protect from cold and frostbite. Then Trace did the same to her hands and fingers.
“I’ll take your boots,” said Krishnan, doing that.
“Rope,” said Trace, and he gave her that, the two marines all business in preparation.
“Major,” Erik attempted. Wanting to call her Trace, but unable in the presence of a private. “Are you sure? Is it worth it?”
“This world used to be parren,” said Trace as she worked. “They never occupied it much, never really explored, just built some temples and a few cities on the lowlands. Same when the tavalai got here — tavalai don’t like the cold. They’ve got a lot of worlds, they never bothered much with this one. If there was a place you could hide mountain temples in for that long, it would be here.”
“What if Styx was wrong?” Erik persisted.
Trace studied him. Probably she saw the fear there. Erik was beyond caring. She’d seen nearly everything else by now, why not this as well? “If she’s wrong,” said Trace, “or if I don’t make it down, then use coms and call Phoenix. You might even get assistance before a missile, I’d reckon you’re a fifty-fifty chance. But I’ve got a feeling about this one, I grew up in mountains and something about this place has just felt since I got here…” she looked about, at treacherous drops and stunning views, with an affection that Erik would never understand, “…like coming home.”
Erik was seized by the strong urge to embrace her. But that was something he could certainly never do before a private. And it was a revelation to him, just how much of his current fear was not just being perched on a precarious ledge in strong wind and one functioning arm, with pursuers likely trying to kill them. Much of this fear was not for himself at all. It was for her.
And then she was gone, with that damnable refusal of hers to contemplate an emotional moment where it might interfere with an ongoing job, scampering up the apparently sheer rock wall like some hook-clawed climbing insect. All Kulina learned to climb, Erik knew, but he’d never seen it quite like this. This was the expertise of someone who’d been scaling sheer cliffs since childhood. And it was a skill once learned, apparently not forgotten.
“Sergeant Kunoz says she scares the shit out of the officers,” Krishnan muttered, apparently not thrilled with this himself. And not caring to call him ‘Captain’, in this particular moment. “None of them want to be the one with her at the moment she does something crazy and gets herself killed.”
Erik knew he should have reprimanded the younger man. It was no way to speak of your commanding officer, particularly with your ship’s captain. But right then they were all feeling very small, frail and human… or he and Krishnan were. And he knew exactly what the Private was talking about.
“She’ll be fine,” he said, as much to calm himself as the other man. Already above him, Trace was ten meters up and moving fast. “She’s done this a thousand times.”
Erik had thought it might take twenty minutes’ careful climbing to scale the wall, but Trace did it in five. Showed what he knew about climbing, Erik thought, as Krishnan took prone position behind some covering rock, and sighted his rifle down the ridge they’d climbed. He had a sight on the rifle, so Erik took the binoculars and stared. And after many long, freezing minutes, finally saw a dark figure clambering up the ridge.
“Can’t see what species for sure,” Erik muttered.
“Sure as hell not tavalai,” Krishnan replied, adjusting his sight for a long-range shot. “Parren look pretty much like humans from range.”
Erik threw a glance back up the cliff Trace had scaled. She’d taken a rope, and said she’d find a way to use it to get them up. Where the hell was she?
Something smacked loudly off the rock behind him, simultaneous to the shweet! of a bullet, and he ducked, swearing. “Stay down Captain!” said Krishnan. “Just our luck, the fuckers have longer range rifles than we do. Where is that bastard?”
Another shot, this one further away. “I see him,” Krishnan announced, unflinching. “He’s out of range too, ‘specially in these crosswinds.” He fired, a single shot, then pulled back as another shot hit nearby rocks. “I’m not going to hit much, but I can slow them down.”
“What odds they’ve got grenade launchers?” Erik asked, keeping low. His service pistol would be even less use than Krishnan’s rifle at these ranges.
“Probably much worse than that, sir.” Another shot. “Otherwise they wouldn’t be coming on — as soon as they get close enough, I can just pick them off on this ridge. I reckon they’re just getting close enough to use their heavier stuff.”
Which would clear out the base of this cliff pretty quickly, Erik thought. He cast a desperate glance back up the cliff. Where was Trace’s rope? Where was Trace?
He was still wondering ten minutes later, as Krishnan reported two hits for uncertain results, but the attackers kept coming, scrambling fast from cover to limited cover. Then a voice spoke behind them, muffled. “Boys! This way, move!”
Erik spun, and saw only blank rock in the darkening gloom. Blank rock, and a small, dark opening at the base of the rock that hadn’t been there before. He blinked in astonishment, then whacked Krishnan on the shoulder. “Private! Let’s go!”
Erik got his feet into the opening and slid… his boots found empty air, and he pushed through on raw trust… and gasped as boots hit a hard floor. The surrounding rock was dark, lit only by a single green glow-stick. The stick was clipped neatly to Trace’s collar, gleaming reflection in the lenses of her AR glasses beneath her cap brim. About her, about them, was a corridor, carved in rock.
Krishnan came sliding through, more awkwardly than Erik with his pack and weapon, as Erik steadied him one-handed. Trace touched a small panel on a wall, and the opening vanished, plunging them back into green-lit darkness. Erik stared at Trace in relief and incredulity.
Trace grinned at him, looking suddenly like a mischievous little girl who’d discovered a secret way to sneak somewhere she wasn’t allowed. “Can
you believe it?” she asked incredulously, nearly giggling. “This place is amazing!”
Erik laughed, and this time he did hug her. She surprised him by hugging him back, and showing no sign of minding. “Come on!” she gushed, with a couple of hearty whacks on the delighted Krishnan’s shoulder. “I only rushed through on my way back down, but there’s a chamber here that looks really promising! This way!”
6
Barely twenty minutes after release, following a gut wrenching, high-G descent, Phoenix combat shuttle PH-3 came down hard on the mid-level landing pad on Doma Strana’s main face that Echo Platoon were now insisting was best.
Alpha Platoon poured out the back, unracking in rows, local tacnet unfolding on visors as Squad Sergeants told them where to go. As soon as Lieutenant Dale was out, Lieutenant Jersey lifted PH-3 in a roar of thrusters that would have been dangerous at this proximity for unarmored humans, but was no trouble for Dale in his armour. He thumped through the waves of hot exhaust, observing Phoenix and Makimakala guards on higher and lower platforms up and down the cliff face, watching the leaden skies.
Inside the doorway was Lieutenant Hausler — PH-1 was down on the same pad, the current policy being two airborne and one landed for fast extraction. Hausler looked stiff and uncomfortable, a marked change from his usual languid cool, his flightsuit collar high against the chill through the door.
“Lieutenant Hausler,” said Dale with respect, popping his visor. A spacer lieutenant technically outranked a marine lieutenant, but grounded on a planet, command rested with the highest-ranked marine. Amongst Phoenix marines, in the Major’s absence, that always meant Dale.
“Lieutenant Dale,” Hausler said tightly. “Shuttle sitrep, we are two up and one down, as you’ve seen. Lieutenant Zhi deems the higher and lower pads unsecure at this time, so we’re sticking to this one and the two adjoining. We’ve positively IDed the enemy shuttles as parren-class, they have no human designation we’re aware of, perhaps slightly below our own in capability.
“Upon first contact I ordered PH-4 into a tactical retreat with PH-1, where we evaded enemy contact in the mountains. I considered the risk to Phoenix assets unreasonable in the circumstances — we could have destroyed several enemy vehicles but at the almost certain loss of at least one of our own given the numbers against us. Phoenix only has three combat shuttles remaining, given our broader circumstances I judged that we could not afford to lose another for little strategic gain, as Lieutenant Zhi held a good cover position in Doma Strana from which he would prove difficult to dislodge.”
Dale smiled grimly and held up a forestalling hand. “Lieutenant, you did the right thing. We’re short on shuttles as it is, and Zhi didn’t need you.”
Hausler didn’t look any happier. It was, of course, why he was uncomfortable — he felt he’d flown off and left his marines in danger. Which he had. But sometimes there was no other choice. “Echo marines destroyed one enemy vehicle on a landing pad, but the rest got away before the local security arrived. We think there were about fourteen of them, all told. We’ve got six local security also now airborne, as you’ve also seen. We don’t trust them and we’re keeping an eye on them, but Kulid-One and Two have talked to them and say they seem okay. Both the tavalai shuttles also evaded as we did, we couldn’t talk to them because of all the jamming. We still can’t.”
Dale nodded grimly, as several Echo marines came running in, then waited nearby — a briefing from Lieutenant Zhi, Dale thought. “Yeah what’s with that jamming?” he asked. “Lieutenant Jersey was saying on the way down that she couldn’t talk to anyone.”
“We’re not sure,” Hausler confirmed. “But the jamming’s still going on. It’s an unusual type, we’re not having much luck tracking it. So much of the tech out this far from human space is strange to us, but even Makimakala’s people can’t pinpoint it. We’re still searching.”
“And still no sign of where the Captain and the Major went?”
“Nothing yet. The local security say they’ve got vehicles out looking for them, but with the jamming we can’t talk to them. The Captain’s a damn good pilot in anything. If I were him I’d have put it down somewhere and hid. PH-3 is searching for them now…”
“We saw her coming in,” Dale confirmed. “Jersey’s gone to join her.”
“Lots of good hiding places in the mountains,” said Hausler, “and jamming works both ways — an enemy vehicle that found them couldn’t call for help. Plus the Major and Private Krishnan were fully armoured, and in the mountains even combat shuttles can’t just engage that from range. They’d have to get in close, and marines can shoot shuttles down real easy when that happens.”
Dale wasn’t sure about the ‘real easy’ bit, but then shuttle pilots always felt their vulnerability more acutely when engaging well armed and grounded targets. Hopefully whoever was chasing the Captain and the Major would feel the same. “Good,” he told Hausler. Which meant ‘awful’, and not good at all. “Stay in your ship, Lieutenant, I’m sure you’ll be needed soon.”
“Look, Ty,” said Hausler. “We’ve got two Makimakala shuttles and six local security doing overhead orbits, that’s plenty of local security, I should get out there and help look for the Captain and…”
“We can’t trust local security,” Dale said firmly. “We’re only just starting to trust Makimakala, and they’ve got people down here too. We need at least one of our own shuttles on immediate standby in case we need mobility fast, and with the jamming, we can’t talk to Tif or Jersey if we need them back here.”
Hausler looked displeased. He nodded, tucked up his collar against the cold, and went back out to his ship. Dale nodded to the Echo marine and his partner who’d come down to meet him, and they walked together up an adjoining, black stone hallway.
“The LT’s okay and no casualties in Echo,” said Lance-Corporal Koch. Koch was leader of Second Section in Zhi’s First Squad. It was the Major’s policy that briefings and catch-ups should be left to lower-ranked marines, leaving officers to their commands instead of playing errand boy. “We were heading to the upper cargo level, a scheduled meeting with Aristan. Then the attack happened, we got shut in, we had incoming missiles on scan, the Major got the Captain out on a cargo runner… you saw all that from Phoenix?”
“Yes, but continue.”
“Yessir… well the missiles seemed to chase the cargo runner, the Major must have figured the Captain was the target. We took a couple of hits in the cargo room but nothing direct, we’ve got some damaged armour but nothing more. Finally managed to blow through those fucking reinforced doors, you wouldn’t believe how heavy they are… and then the enemy flyers were coming down on the higher pads.
“We had some firefights in the corridors, nothing conclusive, they didn’t seem to get anywhere and we killed six of them that we saw.”
“What were they?” Dale asked.
“Parren. Lighter armour, pretty advanced but… well, you pick on Koshaims with light armour, you get fucked up. Then they left and ran. The LT’s got no idea what they were after, I mean if they were after the Captain, well he left, so why did they then come and land here?” Dale nodded grimly, thinking. “The froggies lost a guy, none of the civvies were hurt…”
“Makimakala lost a karasai?” Dale pressed.
“Yes sir.”
“Send our condolences.” The young Corporal blinked at him. “I mean it. We’re allies, we’ve fought battles together. We show respect.” It wasn’t Dale’s instinct at all, but it was what the Major would have done. With her missing, Dale felt there was nothing more important than to run Phoenix Company as she would, and let everyone see it.
“Yes sir,” said Koch. “Sir… Lisbeth’s missing.”
Dale stopped, and rounded on Koch. “She’s what?”
“Missing, sir. She was taking cover with the Furball and some of the froggie civs, Leech and Rakowski were there, they say someone cut the power and something got into the room, but they didn’t get a clear look. When
the power came back on, Lisbeth was gone. We’re searching now, the Furball’s pretty upset.”
Dale advanced a step on the Corporal. “And you didn’t think to tell me this first?”
“I was… I was going to…” Koch swallowed. “Sorry sir, I thought tacticals first, then…”
“Shit,” said Dale, with feeling. “No blood or sign of struggle?”
“No sir. Looks like an abduction.”
“Shit!” With more feeling this time. “I knew we shouldn’t have let her come down here… what’s coms like in here?”
“Um… actually better inside the rock than outside, I think that’s Ensign Uno’s work, he’s got us patched into the local coms systems in Doma Strana. But as soon as we go outside, static. We’ve got word to the local security and Makimakala shuttles, told them not to let anyone leave. As far as I know, no one has.”
“God damn it,” Dale snarled, resuming his armoured stride. “When we get the Captain back, he’s going to kill us.”
“Major,” Krishnan said, voice low in the echoing stone passage as they walked. “Would you like your boots back?”
“Yeah in a minute, Kel.” It was his nickname, Erik vaguely recalled — Kelvin Krishnan, a bit tame by marine standards. But Krishnan had only been in the service for a year, and on Phoenix for less than that, so likely he’d acquire a more colourful one before long.
“How did you get in?” Erik wondered. “Can’t those guys after us just get in the same way?”
“No chance,” said Trace with certainty. “Look, I don’t know what’s going on, but when I started using these glasses up the top, an icon appeared and led me to a hidden hatch… I think the hatch was using holographic projection to camouflage itself, like the one you came through, but it’s damn tough and will take a lot of explosive. So I figure that buys us some time.
Kantovan Vault (The Spiral Wars Book 3) Page 8