by Paul Kidd
Shaani led Rustle up the rear ramp and into the hold, where Benek was asleep. She took the plant up on to the deck under the dappled shade and mixed him up a nice, slushy tub of water and compost. Shaani helped him settle down for a nice drink and mulch, happy to see his toothy mouths beaming away as he hydrated.
Shaani unhooked her armor and let it drop. She sailed her hat and goggles onto a lounge chair and straightened out her long, silky-white ponytail.
Time to think. Benek was a moral problem that weighed heavily on the rat’s kindly heart. He had been working to secret agendas; the man had strange plans. He may even have never really been a friend. The world was in trouble because of his actions. He had unleashed something positively awful, and it was time he stepped up and helped deal with it. Shaani decided to make the man a nice cup of tea and some fresh fruit scones and sit down to have a decent heart-to-heart.
She carried a tray with tea and scones down the steps into the hold, being careful not to spill. She tried to smile her nicest ratty smile. “Here we go, Benek, old thing. Now let’s see if we can sort everything out, shall we?”
Something hit her in the stomach. The rat croaked. Wheezing, she was unable to breathe. A second blow behind the ears made the whole world flash a brilliant white and she went down.
Shaani vaguely felt herself being dragged. She was relatively aware of things happening. She lay, unable to think, hearing things—random clanks and bangs …
Someone threw water in her face then dragged her into a sitting position, slamming her up against the hull. The rat blinked. Her feet were bound together, her hands tied behind her back, and a rope secured her to a ring bolt. A gag had been shoved into her mouth, tied in place with a greasy length of twine. Shaani felt the whole world spin and whirl.
Benek had managed to shatter his wrist restraints. The man pulled on his armor and found his sword. He then squatted down to look into Shaani’s face. “Animals … with pretentions. Delusions. Mutant abominations who think to claim the Earth.” The man helped himself to Shaani’s red security arm bracelet. “Of all of them, you are the most pathetic I have encountered. A rat, a vermin. You speak like a human, you walk like a human, but you are not wanted by humanity. You are a creature of the sewers, nothing more. And we will put all of you creatures back where you belong.”
With malice, he propped Shaani’s computer reader on a box in front of her. He opened up the screen. “Computer. Run all information on laboratory rats. History, breeding, the many uses of.”
“Confirmed.”
The man turned, took his weapons, and walked out of the ship, heading toward the ancient starport. Behind him, Shaani stared, dazed and lost, as the encyclopedia files began to play.
Xoota and Wig-wig came back down through the trees that grew all over the sharp slopes of the gully. The quoll was hot and tired. It had taken some time, but she had found a vantage point from which she confirmed the broken pipelines that led beneath the starport fence. The knowledge was hard won: it had taken an hour of arduous tree climbing and led to an encounter with a patch of territorial mistletoe that had pelted her with rock-hard berries. Ahead she saw the ship where she’d left it beside the watering hole and felt a surge of relief. She waved to Budgie, who had made a nest in the cool, shaded dirt between the front wheels. Slinging her shield, Xoota made her way up the back ramp and into the hold.
“Hey, Shaani. I might have found a way in. I don’t think the robots have—”
The white rat was sitting, tied up, in the hold, staring bleakly.
Xoota drew her pistol and ran to Shaani’s side. Drawing a knife, Xoota hastily cut the rat girl free. “What happened? Where’s Benek?” she asked, though she knew the answer. “Wig-wig, check the ship. Make sure it’s okay and look for Benek.” Xoota returned her attention to Shaani, who had yet to move. She removed her gag and peppered her with questions. “Has he gone? Did he hurt you? Are you all right?”
Xoota froze when she realized the rat girl was silently crying.
Shaani had been weeping, long and hopelessly. She simply sat in place, utterly lost. Xoota hastily checked for traces of drugs but found none. Shaani shivered under her touch like a broken animal, staring at the computer screen. Xoota looked at the screen, saw the images, and suddenly felt cold.
The film showed lab rats—little, white rodents, kept in cages. They were tools for human scientists, bred at whim, used horribly as subjects on which to test drugs and petty cosmetics. They were used for surgery and vile experiments. They were organic tools, killed and vivisected at whim, bred for death and torture.
Xoota grabbed Shaani’s face and turned it away from the screen. She held her friend tightly in her arms, wanting to somehow crush the hurt out of her. Wig-wig hastily turned the computer off.
Xoota had no idea what to say. She tightened her fingers in Shaani’s hair, and simply rocked her to and fro. “You are our scientist. You’re the smartest creature I’ve ever known.”
Rustle came blundering up to the hatch, full of concern. He snapped his jaws, waving his tentacles, signaling that Benek was nowhere in sight.
“Benek gone. He let all our water run out of the tanks,” said Wig-wig.
Xoota looked up at her crew. “He must have gone to the starport. Wig-wig, stay with Shaani. Don’t let her be alone. I have to steer us out of here before he gets to the computer and it finds out we’re here.” Xoota estimated they had about an hour until sunset. If they were lucky, they’d find cover before the computer’s minions could attack. “Rustle, ready the sails.”
Xoota raced for the control cabin. She had to leave Shaani in the many little hands of the earwigs. Shaani was the best friend she had ever had. And Benek had hurt her in the worst possible way. When Xoota caught him, she would cut him open and let him bleed out on the sands.
CHAPTER 13
The first light of predawn filtered out across the plains. Above the burned grass, two wicked, little, silver airships hunted for prey. The computer entity was hungry for blood and used the metallic drones to search for signs of the Sand Shark. Looking to flush the crew out, ships fired into anything that might offer cover, but the only thing they succeeded in finding were double-headed emus and spiked kangaroos.
The Sand Shark was not on the plains. She was neither hiding in a stand of trees nor taking shelter in the hills. Instead, she sped along the hard-packed beach at the very edge of the ocean, catching a stiff sea breeze. She raced so fast that she almost heeled clean off her starboard wheels. There had been no time to take on new ballast. But the ship was steady, the terrain utterly flat. The Sand Shark raced through a moonlit night suspended between the worlds of land and sea. Then it met the looming sandstone cliffs that were down the shore. As daylight hit, the ship made her way over flat sand, and Xoota parked her in the shadow of the cliffs beside the sea.
As they looked back at their course, they saw that the waves had washed away the ship’s tracks in the sand. Xoota had been driving the ship hard, with half an eye over her shoulder, expecting death to strike from above. Her antennae tingled from overuse. But that bit of luck was welcome. The quoll rose from her control chair and made her way out onto the deck, where Rustle and Wig-wig were securing ropes and checking knots.
Shaani sat on the deck, in the shadow of the cabin. They had put a blanket around her, but it had slipped off her shoulders. The rat’s eyes were blank, her fur, dull. Xoota looked at her, feeling desperate. She had no idea what to do; people skills were decidedly not her strong point. The quoll walked over to quietly consult with the earwig swarm.
“Hey, Wig-wig, how is she?”
Wig-wig gave off a chorus of worried, little sighs. “Sad. She will not talk to I.”
“Okay.” Xoota rubbed her face, trying to think. “All right. Well, you guys go and rest.” She patted Rustle on his big, green trunk. “And well done. We made one hell of a good run. We hit eighty kph down on the sand.”
They were almost back at the old desalination plant. Xoota had
no idea what to do next. For that, they needed Shaani. When in doubt, tea shall be your salvation. Xoota brewed a pot using the water from her canteen and fetched the ancient, blue-striped mugs that Shaani set such store by. She poured the tea, adding condensed milk brought all the way from Watering Hole. She sat beside Shaani and said nothing.
The rat girl held her mug and stared sadly at the deck. Xoota looked down at her own boots.
“This is our world. We’re the ones making it. It’s all about what we do, not about the past. About things we can’t control. I need you. We all need you.”
The rat hunched in on herself.
Xoota felt a sudden stab of annoyance. “Who built this ship? Who even figured out that it was possible? Who navigated us across the entire desert?” The quoll kicked her boot heel irritably against the deck. “Gas masks, artifacts. You made a forge out of nothing but charcoal, mud, and sand.
“You’re scientist. Not because anyone bred you to be one or meant you to be one. You had an image of what you wanted to be—a noble image—and you became it.”
The quoll blushed. She stood up and looked over the rails.
“This is Gamma Terra. No one cares what your people were. What’s important is what you are. And you are a scientist. Now drink your tea; then come sit with us at the railings. We need you to tell us how we’re going to beat Benek and this damned computer army.”
Xoota walked off, slightly embarrassed by having spoken her mind but confident that what she said was true. As she looked out at the sunrise on the ocean, Shaani joined her at the rail.
“We’re near the desalination plant?” asked Shaani tentatively.
Xoota nodded. “About ten kilometers, far as I can figure.”
“Good. We can do this.”
“How?”
The rat sighed. “With EMP. With a stiff upper lip … and with science.” She lifted her mug. “Always with science.”
The sound of the sea was soothing. Standing beside the Sand Shark’s rail, the white rat laid out her plan for her friends to see.
Bugs, sewers, and reactors. Science at work …
Nighttime under a dying moon. A vast field of ancient buildings, dazzling white beneath the haze of countless spotlights. Small figures working. Vehicles moving. The night was filled with the distant sounds of industry. Sparks from robot welding equipment bounced and danced across the rock. Somewhere in the depths of the buildings, heavy engines hummed.
It had taken two days for the Sand Shark’s crew to prepare themselves. Finally Xoota, Shaani, Rustle, and Wig-wig crept along a dusty gully toward a nest of ancient sewer pipes. The ship was hidden in a stand of trees nearby. Dawn would surely see the ship discovered. But she was there, ready for a fast escape should everything go as planned.
When everything went as planned, Xoota reminded herself as she gingerly carried her bundle down toward the sewers. She hastened after Shaani holding her package as if it were a ticking time bomb.
“It’s burning me. I can feel it burning me.” The white rat twirled her tail. “The drugs will fight that off for a while.”
Xoota gingerly shifted her package. “How long is a while?”
“Oh, long enough. It’s only radiation; don’t be such a baby.”
Both women carried bundles of old tablecloths taken from the ancient prison. Inside the tablecloths, they each had one of the huge pupae of gamma moths taken from the desalination plant. The damned things were due to hatch in days, maybe only hours. Xoota was sure she could feel the creature stirring. In the dark, the cocoons all glowed a faint, unpleasant green. Xoota and the others had loaded up with antiradiation drugs so they could withstand the rads, but Shaani with her natural immunity didn’t need any.
They made their way along a gully filled with rusting metal and shattered concrete. Shaani and Xoota were clad in their newly fitted armor—elegant black suits that had a definite sense of style. Wig-wig bustled along beside them, and Rustle followed, carrying yet a pair of radioactive pupae. Shaani and Xoota climbed up to the weeds that edged the gully. Out on the old tarmac, slaves were clearing rubble as a robot whirred around. Standing guard over the ships were sinister figures clad in sealed suits of ancient armor. The men inside the suits were clearly as massive as Benek, juggernauts of muscle, bone, and steel.
Xoota watched all the dust and activity in careful thought. “What are they doing?”
“Nothing good.” Shaani’s ears twitched as some sort of distant machinery broke down in a screech of gears. “But I think it has them a tad distracted. Thank Oppenheimer for small mercies.” The rat inspected the insides of a broken pipe that led off toward the ancient starport. “I can’t see any traps or sensors here. They mustn’t be aware of it.”
Shaani pulled out a little, homemade toy, a ranging device she had made for their catapult. Rustle held it steady while she took a sight from each arm of the device then checked the angles. She jotted numbers down into her notebook with a stubby pencil. “Range is … I make it about nine hundred and fifty meters …” The rat rubbed her eyes, looking tired.
Xoota watched her carefully. “Are you all right?”
“I’m fine. Just a new alpha coming on. Feels like a wonky one.” She looked away then deliberately straightened her shoulders. “Right, let’s get cracking.”
The rat was still haunted by that damned computer and its articles on lab rats. Xoota cursed Benek then cursed the whole damned human race.
The tunnel was blocked by large slabs of crushed and broken pipe. Rustle bumbled over, lashed out with his powerful tendrils, and wrenched the rubble aside. Shaani shined a flashlight down the tunnel, powering it with her own bare hand. The way looked dusty but unoccupied. The pipe seemed to stretch off forever into the dark.
“Right, chaps, here we go.”
The team crept into the concrete tunnel. Rustle had to crouch to move, but the team went carefully onward, with Shaani lighting the way.
Xoota tried to hitch back her shield. “Are you sure the moths will do the trick?”
“Quite sure.” Shaani’s white face glimmered in the dark. She looked sleek in the full set of ancient armor, ponytail, and spectacles. Her fusion-powered chainsaw was a wonderful added touch of insanity. “The moths flash heavy electromagnetic pulses. They will disrupt any complex electronics within hundreds of meters around them.
“We have to plant some next to the communications equipment in order to destroy the computer intelligence’s means of escape. And the others—we will plant them down near the reactor, inside the main shielding.”
“And when they hatch, that will blow up the power plant?”
“Oh, it will be a damned impressive bang.” The rat patted her bundle. “Thankfully we’ll have some time to get away in the ship before these little devils hatch. QED.”
Xoota looked at her bundle in thought. Gamma moths were the least-loved beings in all of Gamma Terra. She was certain she could feel her skin tingling from radiation. “How big will this explosion be?”
“That depends on what sort of reactor. I mean, it could be an itty-bitty fusion deal. That’s about a kiloton worth of bang. Then again, if it’s an antimatter reaction chamber, we could be looking at a megaton. Might get a bit dicey.”
Xoota gave an uncomprehending shrug. “But what sort of force does that translate to?”
The rat hitched up her chainsaw. “Well, look at it this way. The bombs from our catapult are about three kilos. Three hundred and thirty three of them would equal a single ton. Three hundred and thirty three thousand of them would equal a kiloton. Three hundred and thirty three million of them would equal one megaton.”
“Oh.” Xoota blinked. “Wacko.”
“Should be a bit of an eye-opener.” The rat waved the way forward down the tunnel. “All right. Come along, chaps. Science ever onwards.”
Xoota took point with her shield up and pistol out, spare energy cells tucked into her belt pouch. Wig-wig swarmed along beside her, partly on the floor and partly on the
walls. Behind then, Shaani carefully counted her paces. She had a notebook and pencil fixed to her forearm and her insanely sharp chainsaw held in her hands. She used her penlight to check markings that were printed on the walls.
The old tunnel echoed as the team moved cautiously forward. Thankfully they had not encountered any creatures in the pipe. There was only sand, a few rocks, and a smell of dust. But ahead they noticed a small, bronze box, flat and smooth at the edges, had been affixed to the ceiling of the tunnel.
Xoota motioned Wig-wig to a halt and edged a little closer. She quested carefully with her whiskers and her eyes. “Shaani?”
The rat came quietly forward, ears pricking. There was a faint humming in the air. “Another sonic fence, I think.” She moved her hand with its blue and gold ID bracelet closer to the line across the tunnel. There was a faint whining sound that felt like a needle being hammered into the brain. The rat jerked back her hand. “Bother. Ah well, we’ll use the tried and true.”
Rustle opened a bag and pulled out the two alien teleportation units. Shaani used the tip of her chainsaw to push it carefully past the fence line until it was well clear of the danger. Shaani set up the other unit for action.
“Wig-wig? Once you get through, just flip that little switch on the box up on the wall. That ought to be the cutoff.”
“Okay, pretty rat.” The earwigs bustled into the teleportation unit. “It won’t take a minute.”
The earwigs transferred past the invisible fence line. Wig-wig gathered up his many happy parts then skittered merrily up the wall. It took the bugs a few tries to push the switch atop the bronze box—the earwigs were not really made for exerting quite that kind of force—but the fence shut down with a dying hum, and the passageway was quiet. Shaani tested the area by edging her hand forward. All was well, and the party crossed the invisible line.
From up on the wall, Wig-wig seemed to frown. “There is a little light here. It is red.”