Rear Echelon

by Darryl S Ellrott

  The beast moved with deceptive speed for something so gigantic. It bounded onto the grassy lawn and scooped up one of the frozen warriors with a single sweep of its paw. The man was like a doll in its grasp. He had time to shriek once as he was crushed in the beast’s gaping maw. His discarded legs, bitten off above the waist, landed not far from Travis.

  “Shoot that mother!” shouted Deron Evans. The Bandits didn’t have to be told twice. Concentrated automatic fire pounded the air. The beast god jerked back a step, raising an arm to shield itself from the stinging fire. It screamed in rage, then retreated as the pulsing fire resumed. It swung around and crashed into the forest. In moments, the silence was broken only by the warbling of birds.

  Prince Nahuatl ordered a retreat to the safety of the wall. He stooped to sweep up the fallen redhead in his arms as the party swarmed back through the tunnel gates. The whole group raced for the village.

  Bainbridge looked grim. “She’s in bad shape.” The group had reconvened in Josso’s living room, and now they sat around his table trying to make sense of the morning’s events. Hardesty sat at one corner sipping on a flask, while Josso drank some of the native brew from a wooden cup.

  “She says her name is Gloria Piccolo, and she’s a Confederation citizen. She’s been in the jungle for days.”

  “So how in the hell did she get here?” asked Hardesty.

  “That’s the interesting part. She says she came here with Dr. Arnac. Apparently the kidnappers grabbed her by mistake when they got him. The women are taking care of her right now.”

  “You think she knows where they are.”

  Bainbridge looked at Josso. “What was the thing that was chasing her?”

  The old man chuckled. “The Wall is for more than just the lagarijos. We call him the God of the Mountain, but he is no god, just a beast. He lives in the high hills of the peak above the cloud cover. He must hunt in the jungles at night. No one has seen him in the daytime like that for many years.”

  “Any idea why he was after Ms. Piccolo?”

  “Maybe he likes her red hair.”

  “Here she comes,” said Hardesty. “Now maybe we’ll get some answers.”

  Gloria had been bathed and her ruined clothing replaced. The red hair had been slicked back with a comb. There were dark circles under her eyes, and her cheeks were sunken, but her eyes were bright.

  “I’m Captain Lionel Bainbridge of the Stellar Armada Marine Corps, ma’am.” he said, holding out his hand. “This is my CO, Sergeant Emil Hardesty. Our host is Señor Josso.” Gloria took his hand.

  The sincerity in her voice was palpable. “I’m glad to see you.” she said.

  Hardesty handed her his flask, and she took a long drink. “Thanks!” she gasped as the coughing fit subsided. “I needed that. Damn, that was good stuff!”

  “Don’t mention it,”

  “Thank God you guys are here. You’re the rescue party, right?”

  Bainbridge nodded. “If you could just start at the beginning, Ms. Piccolo, then go to the end. Leave nothing out.”

  “Here goes: I’ve been working for Dr. Arnac for two years now. I’m listed as his private secretary, but personal assistant would be more like it. I’m on call 24/7 for just about everything he needs. I do his correspondence, handle his appointments, take his phone calls - all that jazz. I even do stuff like pick up his takeout when he’s working late in the lab (which is often), get his suits pressed, make his travel arrangements – you name it, I do it. I’m his all-purpose gofer, and believe me, the government pays to make sure he’s well taken care of.”

  “Any personal stuff? Did you have a relationship with him on the side?” asked Bainbridge.

  “Are you kiddin’ me? That cold fish? Arnac was all work, all the time. I don’t think he had relationships with other humans.”

  “So you knew nothing about what he was working on?”

  “I wasn’t his lab assistant. I only have Gamma Level clearance. That meant I was allowed to man the front office.”

  “Okay,” said Bainbridge, “how did you end up in the jungle running from that beastie?”

  “Arnac got invited to be the keynote speaker at a prestigious conference in New York. I got to go along. They hit us as soon as we entered the underground parking garage. The noise, the gunfire, the explosions – it was terrible! I was in the back seat with Arnac. Two goons in black leather and black helmets blew up the bodyguards right through the windshield with high-powered compression rifles. What a mess! I got their blood all over me.”

  Bainbridge peered at Gloria. “Who hit you? Did you recognize anything?”

  “Not at that time,” said Gloria, sipping the strong native brew that resembled coffee, “but I did pick up a few hints later on.”

  “Go on,”

  “Arnac and I were black bagged and trussed up immediately. Then somebody sprayed an aerosol can under my nose and I was out like a light. Neither of us woke up until we were in hyperspace headed for this jungle hell hole.” She glanced at Josso. “No offense, of course.”

  “Entiendo.”

  Bainbridge cut in. “Did the kidnappers make any kind of ransom demand?”

  Gloria was incredulous. “Ransom demand? You don’t get it, do you?”

  “Enlighten me.”

  “The kidnapping was a fake. Arnac was in on it the whole time.”

  If Bainbridge and Hardesty were surprised, they played it cool. “Okay, what happened then?”

  “Oh, Arnac was hot! Said I should be disposed of immediately. The prick! After all those midnight coffee and doughnut runs.”

  “They didn’t tell you why they kept you alive?”

  “Yeah,” she replied bitterly. “They planned on passing me around once we got wherever we were going. That, and something about being a potential test subject.”

  That remark got the captain’s attention.

  “Ms. Piccolo – “

  “Gloria.”

  “Gloria, did you hear the word ‘Machai’ at any time during the trip? Is that word familiar to you at all?”

  “Yes!” she said, surprised for the first time. “I heard that word a lot, especially after we landed. What does it mean?”

  “It’s a name. Armada Intelligence thinks it’s the name of the people we’re dealing with. Now: where did they take you?”

  “I could see out the shuttle window as came down. We landed inside the gates of a walled city. It was west of the big river.”

  Now Josso cut in. “A city like ours? Like Asilyo?”

  “No,” replied Gloria. “Nowhere near as nice. It was much older, overgrown, in ruins. It was the underground parts they wanted.”

  “Pericu!” he breathed.

  “You know this place?” asked Bainbridge.

  Josso nodded. “Its name means ‘lost city.’ It’s an ancient place not built by the Libera. Our scholars believe that it was abandoned by the same civilization that built the Wall. It had a dark reputation even before these villains arrived.”

  “Okay,” said Bainbridge, “how did you get away?”

  “I seduced a guard,” she said. “You’d be amazed how much a man lets his guard down as soon as he drops his pants. I was able to get the jump on him, and from there I got out of the city.”

  “Pericu is many kilometers from here, through jungle, mountain, and swamp. There are worse things than the Lagarijos in that jungle. How are you still alive, Joven?” asked Josso.

  “I grew up sailing my father’s boat off Long Island. I had my navigator’s certification before I bought my first training bra. That ‘lost city’ is right on the coast. I stole a canoe and followed the coastline south. There were plenty of barrier islands to stop at along the way. The current brought me right down. Then I wrecked on some rocks I never saw and was washed up about five miles up the coast. It was that last five through the jungle that almost killed me. Then that monster! I thought I was dead.”

  Hardesty took back his flask and hit on it. “You got guts, sist
er.”

  “Sir,” said Travis, “I don’t get it. Why kidnap Arnac and bring him to Askura? Why set up that orbital defense platform to ambush us? What are they after?”

  “A lot of what Gloria says makes sense with what I already know,” said Bainbridge. “Arnac has always been something of a shady character, but a genius. He was working on something for the Confederation that had big military applications. I’d heard rumors in the pipeline that if it worked, it could affect every line soldier in the Armada. Now it looks like he’s gone over to the other side.”

  “Other side?”

  “You’ve heard of the Machai?”

  “Only from history books.”

  “People like the Libera weren’t the only ones to set out from Earth a thousand years ago. Most, like Josso’s people, made for unsettled worlds following established shipping lanes and known routes. A few, like the Machai, wanted nothing to do with the beaten path. The Machai were said to be looking for God Himself, and they believed he could be found out there in the darkness between the stars. Nobody ever heard from them again. Now we think they’re back.”

  “Do you think they found God?”

  “Or He found them. Look, officially, the government’s position is that the Machai don’t exist. These people are terrorists, and our job is to find Arnac and bring him back alive. However, I have a second set of orders. Things have been happening for the last year or so, things that make the higher-ups nervous. Contacts have been made, and people have died. The word ‘Machai’ has been bandied about in the corridors of power. My orders are that if Arnac has gone across the river, we’re to make sure what he’s carrying doesn’t fall into enemy hands.”

  “So you’re going after him, right?” asked Gloria

  “Negative. Our plan was to establish a beachhead on Askura and land a company. The Alphas were going to lead the assault. Now we’re just twenty survivors. Back home, they know by now that something’s happened to the Halsey. It’ll be a minimum of six weeks before a new expeditionary force can be assembled and arrive here for extraction. If we go by the book, we hunker down and wait for the cavalry.”

  “If you wait that long, they’ll be gone,” said Gloria. “I didn’t pick up a lot during my time in the city, but I did overhear some conversations. I remember three things: something about a formula, something about a queen, and something about a harvest. I don’t know what they were talking about, but they made it clear they weren’t planning on sticking around.”

  Josso’s face clouded with concern.

  “That means something to you?” asked Bainbridge.

  “I fear I can guess why your people have come.”

  “Let’s hear it,” said Hardesty.

  “The Lagarijos,” he began. “They are less than men, but more than animals. They have their own tongue. They build no cities, but wield cruel weapons. Legend has it that they were allies of the men of Pericu, and together they served the same dark gods. No living man has ever seen their queen. They protect their Mother with their lives, and will let no one come near. Their dens lie deep in the swamps, near the delta of the great river. There are hatcheries there, many millions of eggs.”

  “And with those eggs - ,” began Travis.

  “ – Someone could make a lot of new servants,” added Bainbridge.

  “ – Or soldiers,” finished Hardesty.

  Bainbridge was silent for a long moment. Then he let out a long, explosive breath. “My orders are clear. What Arnac was carrying cannot be allowed to leave this planet with the enemy. We have to move on Pericu at the first opportunity.”

  “Do you have any maps we can use?” he asked.

  “Sí,” said Josso, rising. “I will tell Yanita to put on some fresh brew. Something tells me we will be up late.”

  Chapter 7

  Travis Buckley kept his eyes in front of him as he trudged up the trail. He tried to be grateful for the good things and ignore the bad things, like how he couldn’t keep the sweat from dripping into his eyes. How aggressive (and effective!) the Askuran mosquitoes were. How heavy his twenty five pounds of gear could get after a day on route march. The idea was to cover five to ten miles a day, walking for fifty-five minutes and resting for five minutes. Each Marine carried two pairs of socks, which he got to change every six hours. The old socks hung from the back of his pack to dry, but nothing was likely to dry much in the oppressive heat and humidity.

  The one thing he was grateful for was the Causeway. Laid by the ancients as a permanent road through the jungle, the twenty foot wide gravel-bedded earthen road made the idea of doing ten miles a day through jungle possible. There would be an occasional pause for a downed tree, but at least they weren’t hacking their way through impenetrable underbrush for hours. At this rate, he would only have to suffer through five more days of route march. Travis remembered the briefing that had taken place the morning after Gloria’s arrival.

  Captain Bainbridge had glanced at his lists. “The scouting party will consist of myself, Corporal Driveway, Corporal Franks, Lance Corporal Guererro, Private Buckley, Private Evans, Private Nowitski, and Private Hasinski, who’ll be our field medic. Prince Nahuatl and his handpicked men will be handling advance scouting and guide duties.”

  Struts McCaskey, who was sitting between Travis and Numbnuts, was incredulous. “How in the hell did Numbnuts get it over me?”

  “It was Hardesty,” said Travis. “He begged to get rid of him.”

  “Hooray!” said Numbnuts.

  “Yeah, have fun on forced march, dickhead,” Struts muttered.

  Bainbridge continued. “As you may have guessed, waiting for reinforcements is a no-go. There is now strong evidence that our original target, Dr. Arnac, has gone over to the other side. What’s in his head cannot be allowed to fall into enemy hands. It could tip the scales in an upcoming war. We either have to reacquire Arnac, or we have to neutralize the terrorist threat. I hope that means we all get to go home, but we’re prepared to use all our resources to accomplish the mission. Is everyone perfectly clear on that?”

  “Yes, sir!” was the unanimous response.

  “Stage one is strictly snoop-and-poop. Our gear will be minimal. Our target is Pericu, a walled city approximately fifty klics north of here. Our objective will be to assess the strength of the enemy. Stage two will lead by Sergeant Hardesty. He’ll be bringing any equipment we might need for a possible assault up the supply line within twenty four hours of stage one. His team will consist of all remaining personnel, including Señor Josso and a contingent from Asilyo. Sergeant?”

  Hardesty stepped forward and began to read off a list. Travis didn’t catch every detail, but some of the items jumped out: the caseless AP guns – heavy machine guns that fired jacketless rounds as well as anti-personnel and armor-penetrating rounds – and three 60mm mortars, along with fifty HE, AP, and AMP rounds each. He also remembered shape charges – high explosives that could be used to breach a wall – on the list. All that, along with plenty of M1B ammo and field rations, would be packed up the causeway by Askuran mules, which vaguely resembled their Terran counterparts.

  The Prince himself, eager to get in on the action, was playing point man far to the front. His wing men flanked him on either side. Together they scoured the jungle ahead sniffing out potential ambushes. There had been no incidents yet, for which the Prince seemed sorely disappointed.

  By the third extended break of the day Travis was feeling decidedly light-headed, and the Prince was nowhere to be found. His two wingmen had reported in, but Nahuatl was late getting back. Travis took a thirsty swig from his canteen and wiped his fingers across his eyes to try and clear them of sweat. He thought he saw someone just inside the tree line.

  Procedure would indicate that he sound the alarm, but as he opened his mouth to yell, he couldn’t make a sound. He could see a shadowy form just beyond the brush. Were those human eyes? It was getting hard to think. He had to know. Without a sound, and against all his training and better judgment, Trav
is left the path and stepped into the woods.

  He searched through the dimness of the triple canopy for some sign of his elusive visitor. It had to be a girl; he was sure of it. He turned his head at a rustling sound, and he caught sight of her in the corner of his eye. A young native girl, nut brown and clad only in shadow beckoned to him, her eyes flashing.

  Forgetting everything, Travis bounded after her. She outdistanced him easily. Just as he was about to seize her by the arm, she would melt away. He would catch sight of her yards ahead, her taunting laughter driving him crazy. His blood pounded in his ears and his breath came in ragged gasps. When he caught up to his quarry, he would pin her to the ground and take her on the spot, forcing her to satisfy his every pent-up desire.

  As he parted two saplings that were blocking his path, Travis stopped short with a gasp. He had found Prince Nahuatl. He was on his knees, his back to a tree, with almost every inch of his body encased in crushing vines. Clinging tendrils bound his calves to his thighs, pinning him in a kneeling position. More binding trailers held his arms wide, pulling them around the sides of the tree like a crucified sinner. Several more descended from above, throttling him. Most disturbing of all, the vines rustled with a terrible vigor as they strained to squeeze the life out of their victim.