“Star-metal?” Ayria echoed. “Are you referring to meteor strikes? Rocks that leave a fiery trail across the sky as they fall from the heavens?”
“Yes. That is correct.”
A million and one thoughts crowded through Ayria’s mind at once. Did their mystics know something all along? Were they attuned in some way? Has the Horde, or something like them, ever been to Earth? Surely we’d know. Then a radical idea came to her. “Kohrk, you mentioned your people would eat iron? What did you mean by that?”
If I can devise a method to enrich iron levels in the blood whilst avoiding toxicity, we might be able to repulse the monsters at the basest level. Hell! This just might work.
*
The huge beast snorted and raised itself to full height. Mesmerized, Small Robes stood stock still, extended her hand and held her breath.
Slowly, warily, the massive creature edged toward her. Its huge wet nostrils quivered as it inhaled her scent. Small Robes cooed gently, and tufted, triangular ears swiveled toward her, rigid with attention and purpose.
“C’mon, beautiful,” she murmured, “I won’t hurt you.”
The proud head dipped tentatively toward her tiny fingers. Loud sniffing ensued, followed by a warm lick from an impressively long tongue that steamed in the cooling night air.
“What is it?” she squeaked, finding it increasingly difficult to contain her excitement.
“The database names them rhobexi,” Penny Frasier replied. “And as you can see, they look like a blending of a small bison and a stag. He’s a beauty, isn’t he? That’s Atilla, the alpha male of the herd.”
“What do you have them for?”
“For food. To enrich the soil. And of course, to study. I’m a xenobiologist, and find these creatures fascinating. The Ardenese left them here for us to utilize, and I’ve enjoyed discovering how familiar they are to animals back home. It reminds me that, despite the vast distances separating our worlds, life went on here in much the same way as it did on Earth. Yes, they were much more advanced than we were, but they still had the same dreams. The same goals and aspirations. People had families. They grew crops. Loved music and the arts, and the beautiful world they lived on . . . .”
“And it was all taken away from them,” Small Robes sighed. “They were helpless to prevent it.”
“That’s why I’m so determined to make this work. They’re relying on us to reseed their world and give them a fresh start. Us too, when you think about it. We’d already be dead if it wasn’t for their intervention. Gone . . . into goodness knows what.” Penny turned to look Small Robes in the eye. “I’m glad your people came through. You, the Caledonians, and the legionnaires. You led much simpler lives than we did, and you have a keener appreciation for the land. I’m sure that if we survive the coming months and eventually get to initiate the re-genesis protocol, we’ll all be looking to you to help us step into the future.”
Small Robes stared off into the distance. The sun was dipping behind the Garnet Mountains as Se’ochan, Arden’s moon, commenced her journey.
Yes. It would be nice to end the underlying tension that’s soiled things so far. But if we’re truly going to unite, it’ll take a lot more than hopes and dreams. Even among the nine tribes of the Cree, clan disagreements led to the terrible division between Blackfoot, Lakota, Sioux and Apache that brought us here. My own husband-to-be, rejected his family name to proclaim himself Chief of all Cree. And here? Our cultures are vastly different . . .
I wonder what the catalyst might be that eventually sparks the light of unity?
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
A Moment of Clarity
Mac scanned the route ahead from his position within the skidder. The cargo carrier was three times as large as a normal skimmer and twice as slow. But for today’s mission, it would suit their needs perfectly.
So far so good. We’ve passed several pods of dormant spooks and they haven’t sniffed us out yet. Mohammed’s suggestion to use the modified ammunition appears to be spot on.
They were coming up on two miles from target. As he had time, Mac decided to examine the special ammunition they’d be using today. While mundane manufacturing methods were forging ahead apace, Mohammed had urged the Special Forces team to use an alternate source until it could be ascertained how sensitive the Horde actually was to iron. This mission in particular depended on stealth, and so he had commissioned the production of over ten thousand rounds of crystal jackets. Fashioned by the Ardenese replicators, the batch had been produced in only half a day and were melded to glass tips, each of which had been dipped in iron.
Mac removed one of the new rounds from a spare magazine and rolled it back and forth between thumb and forefinger. Then he hefted it in his cupped hand. Clever idea. The weight and feel of them is superb. If these perform as expected, I’ll ask him to produce more. We can use them on ops where covert movement is essential.
Content, Mac turned his attention to their ‘present’ from Ephraim Miller.
The head of the technical division had excelled himself. Miller had been working on a device to destroy large numbers of the Horde without having to resort to energetic release. He had devised a cunning weapon that employed the use of an unstable micro gravity-well, sheathed within a vacuum. Programmed with an effective life of only three seconds, it was designed to activate and create a quantum vortex. If all went well, it would be able to crush their adversaries out of existence before it expired. As it was still in the experimental stage, it was unknown just how far its active field would reach, so Mac had volunteered to take a prototype with him on a trial run.
To maximize results, the dinner plate-sized device had been housed within its own null-point shield, and strapped to a fuel cell. In that way, once Mac chose to reveal its presence, he could be assured of attracting as many monsters as possible. Mac intended to activate it once the mission was over so they could assess its effectiveness from a safe distance.
It’s a heavy bugger. But then again, if it works, we won’t have to lug them about everywhere. We can use a skimmer to drop them off at strategic locations and detonate them when the time is right.
A barely audible chime sounded in his ear.
Time for final checks. Sitting forward, he activated the intercom-relay and spoke quietly and calmly into the microphone. “All squads standby for verbal checks.”
Pausing to allow everyone in the two craft to come fully alert, he continued. “Alpha, do you copy?” Stu Duggan, Sam Pell and Jumper Collins were traveling in the same vehicle as Mac; each gave him a thumbs-up.
Mac returned the gesture. “We are the fire-team. We will broach the perimeter, secure the hangar, and call in the skidder to help us recover the drones. Understood?”
Each man replied in the affirmative.
Mac turned to Stained-With-Blood and the rest of the Native Americans who sat opposite. “Stained-With-Blood? For the purpose of this mission, you will be Blood-one. Diving Hawk, you are Blood-two. White Eagle, Blood-three. Dancing Snake, Blood-four. You men will act in support. You will protect Ephraim’s ‘present’ and the perimeter breach to ensure our exit point remains free and unobstructed of the enemy. If an emergency arises, leave the device in situ, and fight your way to the RV point. We will activate the bomb remotely to create a diversion. Is that clear?”
“It is, Lieutenant,” Stained-With-Blood replied. The rest of his warriors looked on impassively.
Mac glanced across to the separate party traveling alongside in the other, smaller vehicle. He called, “Bravo, listen in. Mark, Sean, Fonzy, Andy. You are our cover-team. On the next marker, peel away as briefed and set up an observation and sniper post below the astrometrics observatory on Boleni Mount. Andy, Fonzy? You will partner up with the ANS-1X. Mark and Sean will move down from your position to provide midrange cover with the 420s. Roger so far?”
“Roger that,” Mark replied.
“Deploy Ullas and his Damonii around you on the hillside. They are your eyes and ears to da
nger. Any sign of trouble, get back to your sprinter and rendezvous at the spaceport breach. Confirm?”
“That’s a yes, Boss. All clear.”
Another gentle tone pinged out.
“That’s your signal, Mark,” Mac directed, “good hunting. Stay dark unless you need to update me urgently.”
The skimmer peeled away, accelerating up the mountainside. Mac watched them go before diverting his attention back to the technicians within the primary skidder. He addressed the civilians. “People. Your job is to assist us in the loading of the drones. As long as you stay within the null-field, you will be completely safe. Remember, you have been equipped with pistols and drilled in their use, so you won’t be entirely defenseless. Does everyone know what they’re doing?”
Half a dozen anxious faces indicated their determination not to mess up.
Good. Here we go. “Fire-team? Final weapons check. Activate HUDs and bring personal shields online. Go to internals. Sam? Ensure the covert link plays through to the spare console so blood-units can keep abreast of the state of play.”
The craft decelerated as the outer perimeter loomed.
In bygone days, the steady ranks of brilliant white pylons arching off into the distance on either side would have been enhanced by a curtain of shimmering blue light. A necessary precaution, to protect the unwary from the energies being unleashed inside as star ships maneuvered to and fro prior to departure. Now, the force field lay dormant. All that remained was an inner, meshed fence.
Mac suppressed a giggle. All that advanced technology and they still find a use for good old chain-link. Please God, don’t let it be made of some unheard-of metal we can’t cut through.
The skidder glided to a halt. Like a well oiled machine, Mac and his men slid over the sidewall and dropped to the ground. Fanning out, they quickly ascertained the way was clear. Mac signaled to Stained-With-Blood and his warriors to join them.
Once everyone was ready, they edged forward and positioned themselves against the railing itself. Mac removed a small sachet from within one of his pockets and broke the seal on top of the spout. Selecting two areas spaced widely apart, he sprayed solvent from inside the pouch over the top links. A pungent aroma filled the air. It was closely followed by a faint sizzling sound. Acid ate through the resin-covered wire, its progress marked by faint wisps of smoke. Within moments, the entire section sagged forward, to be caught by the waiting teams.
Beckoning the skidder forward, Mac used hand signals to indicate that the mine should be lowered over the side. Taking possession of the device, he glanced about, selecting an area several yards outside the entry point to position it. The breach should siphon the bastards into a more concentrated knot before we blow it.
Mac stared toward the Garnet Mountains in the west. About an hour until sundown. Perfect. Time to get the ball rolling. Activating the internal system, he called, “All units, those with HUDs are to switch to rotating frequencies now. Primary pattern will be sonic motion diffusers. Infrared and ultraviolet will be set to secondary. Remember, until we retrieve the drones, stealth is of the utmost importance. Do not engage the enemy unless you have to. Once we have our consignment onboard, it’ll be gloves off. You know what’s expected. Good luck, everyone.”
With that, he turned and ushered the fire-team forward.
Mac had decided to avoid the terminal altogether and had fashioned their entrance in an area adjacent to the main building and opposite a vehicular subway. The plans indicated the four hundred yard long tunnel would give direct access onto the facilities service road.
Adopting a diamond formation, Mac led the way as they crossed into an outer zone that looked as if it used to be used for parking. The huge glass windows of the reception wing caught the ruby-red shafts of the setting sun and enhanced them. Reflected, they bathed Mac and his men in warmth and glory. Despite the danger, Mac felt an ineffable moment of peace and tranquility that made him yearn to stay in that one spot forever. He checked his step.
“Boss?” Stu queried.
“Relax, boys,” Mac replied, indicating the burnished image before them, “just enjoying the moment, and catching some rays on a beach somewhere.”
“Damn! And I forgot my sun block, too.” Jumper patted himself down in a mock effort to discover the elusive tube of cream.
Suppressed sniggers skittered back and forth over the airwaves. Dressed as they were from head to toe in protective armor, the quip wasn’t wasted on anyone.
“Okay, quiet down,” Mac said, “my bad. Stay sharp. We’ve got a job to do.”
Discipline restored, they pressed onward without incident until the tarmac began to fall away into the underpass. From his position, Mac could see the central roadway within was lined on either side by raised, gantry-style walkways. The angle of the sun created sharp contrasts between light and dark, and the interior soon became lost in shadow. Mac shut his free eye to help it adjust to the muted conditions they would find inside.
“Dust devil formation,” he instructed.
The team split into pairs. As they disappeared into the gloom, each soldier positioned himself back to back with his buddy. Advancing, they pirouetted around each other. Progress was slow but sure. High and low, left and right, every nook and cranny was scrutinized with professional objectivity.
Ebony stretched away before them, exacerbated by the glaring aperture presented by the other end of the tunnel. The rotational frequency displayed on their HUDs reduced the disparity considerably.
Something caught Mac’s attention. He froze. “Stop, stop!”
Scanning the causeways ahead, he could see an undulating distortion in the air. It was faint, but definitely something that shouldn’t be there. Horde?
“Take a knee,” he whispered. “Eyes on. Ten and two o’clock high.”
As he waited for the rest of his team to consider the anomalies ahead, Mac tried to define what he was seeing. He zoomed in. Yup, it’s them all right. At rest and in an almost catatonic condition. Ayria said they adopted this kind of state when they went inactive, but this is the first time I’ve really had a chance to study them asleep.
The rippling curtains had no defined parameters, and seemed content to etch the darkness in shivers. A baffling amalgam of substance and texture, the proximity of each specimen couldn’t be clearly defined. Yet every so often, one of them released a pulse of electric-blue desire which skittered off through their collective consciousness. As it did so, rumbles of protest and outbursts of lurid scarlet energy split the air, distinguishing an alarming array of horns, talons, and fangs, all packed tightly together.
There must be hundreds of them.
“No second-guesses required then?” Sam said as another plasma ribbon crackled through the right-hand mass. Arching across the subway, the discharge danced through the sleeping essences lining the opposite catwalk, almost rousing them from slumber.
Waiting patiently for the disturbance to subside, Sam offered his opinion. “Boss, they’re obviously in some form of suspended animation or sleep-like condition. Most probably to conserve strength while there’s nothing about to feast on. But look at them. From the way they’re acting, it appears to me as if some of them are dreaming.”
“What makes you say that?”
“Remember our last op, where some of the Horde tried to ambush us? They’d hidden themselves under the ground and reduced their auras so they were practically indistinguishable from their surroundings.”
“Much like what we have here.”
“Yes, but we didn’t see any of these static flares. They were awake, they were lucid, and in control. They were making a deliberate attempt to increase the element of surprise. This is something different. They’re not expecting any action whatsoever. In fact, they’re so chilled, they’ve flaked out. And what happens when a cognitive mind falls asleep?”
Realization sent a thrill along Mac’s spine. It dreams! What the hell would monsters fantasize about? Hang on! But that would mean these sneaky b
uggers are . . .“Jesus, we’ve got to make sure this intel gets back. Guys, take things nice and steady. There’s more to these spooks than we think. Don’t do anything that might wake them up. Once we exit the tunnel, I’m going to relay a message back to Commander Cameron. Some egghead ought to be able to make sense of all this.”
Glancing ahead, Mac could see where some of the Horde had spilled over the railings on both sides of the subway, only to lie inert on the tarmac.
Fortunately for us the road is so wide.
Tightening formation, they crept forward again. Mac advised, “Use your cold lights to mark the edge of the mass. Err on the side of caution. Give the driver at least a yard’s grace on either side.”
One by one, each team member removed a number of small plastic tubes from a special pocket on the side of his belt. The sticks looked inconspicuous until they were bent into an inverted V shape and shaken roughly. That procedure broke a small chamber in the middle of the rod that allowed two inert chemicals to mix together. Once combined, the liquid glowed with a soft, red phosphorus radiance. Designed to last close to twenty minutes, they would provide a safe channel for the skidder to navigate without having to resort to lights.
Slowly, arduously, the team picked their way through the slumber party from hell. Leaving their beacons every five yards or so, it took them just over ten minutes to emerge into the cool dusk air.
Adopting a defensive arc, each soldier scanned the vicinity. The dwindling light cast a spectral shroud over the scene. To one side, for almost as far as the eye could see, the silhouettes of a multitude of spacecraft in all shapes and sizes haunted the launch and standby zones. Further along, closer to the terminus, mystery hulks peeped out from the ranks of pens and hangars edging the field, hinting at further mysteries within. Witnessing the number of liners now lying abandoned chilled Mac to the bone. He recalled Saul’s words from the briefing of only a few weeks previously. “How about that,” he murmured. “Marie Celeste doesn’t do it justice. It’s a ships’ graveyard.”
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