by Barry Kirwan
Rashid jiggled his head and put the device away. Something beeped, and Rashid pulled out a radio. “Hello? Yes, she has almost found us… No, don’t worry… Really? Yes, please do, as quickly as possible. I –” Rashid stared it a moment, then dropped it into his rucksack.
“Transmission jammed?”
“Yes. Come, we must go deeper now.”
“We could defend from here.”
Rashid shook his head. Blake decided to defer to Rashid’s judgement this time. He slung a rifle over his shoulder, checked the charge in his pulse pistol, flicked on the torch, and followed Rashid down a steep, dark tunnel.
The air wasn’t getting hotter. Blake remembered a schoolboy trip to Luxor and the Valley of the Kings, and how the temperature rose inside those claustrophobic tombs. Yet here it was almost getting cooler, with the faintest stirrings of a breeze every now and again. They’d been on the move for an hour. Blake’s thigh and calf muscles screamed at him. Eventually, after nearly going over on his ankle for the second time, he called Rashid to stop.
The pause was short-lived. Blake was in the middle of suggesting that maybe Jennifer and the others had not followed them in, when they heard a dull crack in the passage behind them, courtesy of a small device Rashid had placed there five minutes earlier. Without a word they set off again; the others were gaining. He remembered, as a boy, an uncle who used to keep weasels, and would love to drop one down a rabbit hole. Blake never saw what the weasel did to the rabbits, but its blood-stained fur when it re-surfaced was proof enough. “We can’t make a stand here, Rashid, we need some open space.” Not that they’d seen any for forty minutes.
Abruptly, Rashid halted, so that Blake almost bumped into the back of him.
“You wanted a clearing, I believe, Commander?”
He moved beside Rashid and shone the flashlight. It failed to reach the other side of the vast cavern before them, but it did illuminate its contents.
Blake sighed. “Not again,” he said, shining a beam onto the nearest, turquoise, basket-ball-sized object protruding from the dirt floor.
“What is it exactly, my dolphin is having a hard time interpreting the terrain.”
Blake wasn’t surprised by what he saw: it answered a long-harboured question. “Part of me always wondered why the spider race didn’t put up any fight, pacifists or not. One of the strongest instincts of any creature is to protect its young. So, by not fighting, they left their city intact, ready and waiting. But not for us.”
Rashid turned his head sideways, then back. “Eggs? Is that what I’m seeing? But there are thousands here.”
And not only that, Blake thought. They’re so closely packed, if we try and run through them we’ll break them. He looked around. They were on a stage-sized triangular promontory a metre above the flat egg-field stretching out into the rest of the cavern. He presumed there were no exits on the other side – why would there be? This whole thing seemed man-made – no, spider-made, he corrected himself. “We make our stand here, Rashid.”
Light exploded into the grotto, sending a searing pain to the back of Blake’s eyeballs, blinding him temporarily. He fired three times before his rifle was kicked out of his hands. Two men were suddenly on either side of him. One seized Blake’s pistol from its holster, pressing its barrel to Blake’s neck. The other rammed his foot into the back of Blake’s leg, so that Blake dropped to his knees. When his vision returned, he saw Rashid in the same position, but his dolphin had been torn off. A spike-flare, fired into the ceiling above the stage, sputtered a ghostly pale light over them, and revealed two gaping sockets where Rashid’s eyes should have been.
“That was a little too easy,” Jennifer said.
Blake watched her as she strutted in, then he saw her freeze as she glimpsed the eggs for the first time. She wandered over to the ledge, staring out across a sea of unhatched spiders.
“Let’s do it now, Captain,” said the one with the pistol barrel nudging Blake’s neck. “Then we can torch this place, or at the least bring the roof down and seal it.”
“Do you suppose,” Rashid said, as if making polite conversation, “that this is the only nest?”
The man standing behind Rashid whacked the back of his head with the butt of his gun. “Quiet, you scum. You killed my brother when you broke out.”
Blake held up a hand, looking over towards Jennifer, who had turned away from the eggs.
“Let him speak,” she said.
Blake acknowledged with a nod. “Jennifer, no one was dead when we left. Rashid was very careful.”
“LIAR!” the man behind Rashid pushed forward with his knee into Rashid’s back, toppling him to the ground.
“We will hear them out! Obey my orders!” Her right hand slipped into her jacket pocket.
“The hell we will, we have our own orders.” The man with the pistol barrel wedged into Blake’s neck stepped back and levelled his pistol at Blake’s forehead. Blake saw a flash of violet, just before the man slumped to the floor like a sack of dead meat, his head detaching itself half-way before he hit the ground. A fountain of blood gushed from the stump that used to be his neck. Blake didn’t miss his opportunity. His left hand formed a fist and slammed into the second man’s groin. As the man doubled-over, Blake kicked off the ground, catching the man’s chin in one palm and his shoulder with the other. He pushed and pulled both arms with equal force until he heard the man’s fifth cervical vertebrae snap.
Jennifer stood between him and Rashid, a thin short metal rod in her right hand. The man who had been holding Rashid down was on the floor. He wasn’t breathing. Rashid stood over the man, looking unruffled. Sarowan training must be pretty good. Blake prized the pulse pistol from the closest dead man’s fingers, glancing at Jennifer, who didn’t seem to mind.
“Whatever,” she said, dismissively, retracting the nanoblade into its hilt. “I’ve been watching them since yesterday. Furtive looks and conversations, secret radio conferences with base.” She squatted down, pocketing the nanosword. “One thing I learned in Dublin in the War, leading small groups of insurgents, is to tap their comms devices. First I thought it was just a renegade element in my ranks, till I found out one of them was getting orders direct from Josefsson. Best bit,” she emitted a hollow laugh which echoed across the chamber and bounced back to her, “was when Josefsson gave the instruction that if I vacillated – typical Josefsson language, don’t you think? Anyway, if I vacillated, then I should be eliminated too.” She stood, and shrugged, facing them. “Now, Commander Alexander,” she said, wandering back to the edge of the egg-field. “You were saying?”
“Sanjay is a brilliant man, a strategist! There is order in Esperantia, there is purpose. It’s down to him and him alone!”
Rashid shook his head vehemently. “He is a wolf, Jennifer!”
“Wolves have clarity! They’re strong, they survive.”
“Yes, by eating sheep!”
Blake held up a hand. The argument between Jennifer and Rashid was getting nowhere. “How soon before others arrive?”
“I told them to wait outside.” She glanced over the three dead men. “However, I’m not sure I’m in charge anymore.”
He thanked God she had heard them out. But she was strongly defensive of Shakirvasta, blaming her current predicament on Josefsson. She was still clearly making up her mind what to do about him and Rashid. Unfortunately, her support hung on Blake’s willingness to commit to Jennifer’s no-holds-barred mission to seek out and destroy the Alicians. Reason apparently had its boundaries.
Rashid at least had his dolphin back in place. He seemed to be listening to something; he kept tilting his head towards the floor.
“Let’s talk about the eggs,” Blake said, hoping they could find common ground. “Any idea when they might hatch?”
“Not for a long, long time, Commander!” A voice boomed out from the distant edge of the chamber.
The trio swivelled around, unwilling to believe their ears without visual corroboration.<
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“Dimitri?” Jennifer said, at the same time as Rashid sputtered, “Professor?”
The figure of Dimitri Kostakis loomed out of the darkness. He stood feet splayed on a narrow lev-panel, using a gnarled wooden staff to punt along over the eggs. It reminded Blake of the character from Greek mythology, Charon, who ferried poor souls across the river Acheron to Hades. He noticed Kostakis was careful not to touch any of the eggs with the staff.
Jennifer glared, her initial joy at seeing him now shrouded. Blake shouted to him, “Professor, what in the world are you doing here?”
Kostakis beamed through a straggling beard which merged seamlessly with his swathes of black hair. “I am on the best adventure of my life!” He reached the edge, and Blake and Rashid each leant an arm to help him up without propelling the levi-panel back out over the eggs. “And my Jennifer, it is so good to see you again, I had no idea you would be here to put things right. This means –”
She flared. “It means you’re wrong on two counts, Professor Kostakis. First I am not yours, and second, I have not yet decided about these two renegades.”
Kostakis’ smile faded but then resurged. “Still, it makes my heart swell just to see you. I have had a lot of time to think, these past months.”
Rashid lifted a hand. “More soldiers are coming. I can hear their comms. We must go, now!”
Neither Blake nor Jennifer moved, other than to check their weapons.
Rashid climbed down to the levi-panel. “They are preparing a fire-stormer – I can hear the ultrasonic charger winding up towards detonation.”
With that, they rushed to the edge, Blake grabbing Kostakis’ arm in the process. “Will this thing carry all of us?” As Kostakis got on board, it dipped and wobbled, so that they all momentarily clung to each other for balance. Rashid jabbed the staff to the ground to prevent them toppling, puncturing an egg, and shoving them backwards. A spume of yellow-brown gas spurted from the crushed shell.
“Do not breathe in – poison!” Kostakis shouted, as he covered his nose with a sleeve, and tried in vain to protect Jennifer’s face.
“Dammit, Dimitri, get off me, you haven’t had a bath in weeks!”
Rashid punted fast and fluidly into the darkness. The others crouched down, holding the edges of the lev-panel, remaining still, the elevated stage receding into the gloom. They all watched, waiting. “Professor,” Blake whispered, “can we run through the eggs?”
“That would be unwise: their yolks contain a fast-acting acid. We would die a miserable death.”
They heard a dull pop, then nothing. Blake hoped against hope that the fire-stormer had failed. A few seconds later fire erupted, engulfing the stage, and a tidal wave of flame flooded out across the eggs towards them. Blake felt searing heat on his face. He knew worse was yet to come, since the flame-front would breed until every last breath of oxygen had been scavenged from the chamber.
The tsunami of flame rushed toward them, but as it did so, eggs exploded in its pathway, mustard-coloured gas rising like a veil in front of the firestorm. Rashid’s strokes grew more furious and jerky, but powerful, too. Blake knew their lives were literally in his hands: one slip, one lost push, and they might be swallowed in fire or a cloud of acidic gas.
Rashid didn’t falter, however, and the curtain of gas grew thicker, but it no longer chased them, becoming an opaque barrier against the fire. Rashid continued to punt furiously, though the flame front flickered, dying, strangled by the gas. The spiders have saved us again, Blake thought. “Rashid, it’s okay, you can ease off now. You’ve saved us all, today. You too, Professor.”
His mind switched to Glenda. That was close. Mr. Shakirvasta, you and I are going to have a little talk, soon.
They reached the opposite side of the chamber, remaining quiet. Blake knew the soldiers would wait a short time and then enter with breathing apparatus and scanners. They disembarked, and followed Kostakis through a narrow, undulating schism in the rock face. After five minutes of hurried walking they emerged into a smaller room-sized cavity. Clearly, Kostakis had been squatting there for some time. Scattered clothes, a fusion stove, almost-empty boxes of rations, a dank-looking sleeping bag, and a bucket of water that didn’t look remotely drinkable, all lay haphazard on the floor. Pride of place was a small skel-table made of pneumatic micro-mesh, upon which lay a wafer-pad, glowing dully in the dim reddish light that would keep his eyesight cave-adapted.
“My home, my office, my laboratory,” he said quietly, with a mixture of embarrassment and pride. “I’m doing the best research I’ve ever done in my life, not that there are any journals to publish in or conferences to go to.” He belly-laughed, wheezily.
Blake smiled, but saw how haggard Kostakis looked – in the harsh ruby light his facial flesh sagged like jowls; he had lost a lot of weight, fast – no one fared well on rations, especially living in continuous night. Blake noticed that Jennifer’s glower masked traces of concern, maybe even shock. Good, you need to smell the coffee. He seized the opportunity. “I’d say your side has been chosen for you, Jennifer. Shakirvasta never trusted you fully. Josefsson doesn’t take this sort of action without covering his own ass first by checking with his boss. He could maybe have gotten away with explaining you were killed in crossfire, but, well, we all know a fire-stormer is designed to take no prisoners.”
She turned away, and walked to Kostakis’ desk. “Josefsson never trusted me. He was desperate, saw me as a threat. Maybe he thinks Shakirvasta will get over my death. Josefsson believes himself indispensable to Sanjay.”
Rashid spoke. “Do not delude yourself, Josefsson is merely a puppet, you of all people should know that.”
She whirled on him. “And you know that from her, don’t you?”
Blake frowned. Since no one answered, he asked. “Who?”
It was the trigger Jennifer had been waiting for. She rounded on Kostakis. “That conniving little bitch, Antonia! You know, that prissy little whore you were spending so much time with before you left!”
Blake looked open-mouthed to Rashid, then Kostakis.
Jennifer cracked. She launched herself at Kostakis, pummelling her fists into his chest. “How could you? How could you?”
Kostakis stood there letting her vent her anger. Blake thought about interfering, but she wasn’t hitting him hard – he knew she could kill Kostakis if she wanted to, despite their size ratio.
“My dear Jen, nothing happened between me and Antonia, I swear.”
Jen leapt back, eyelids red. Blake noticed with alarm what she had in her right hand. “Liar, Dimitri! Don’t you think I knew all about your secret little rendezvous, your soirees?”
Kostakis held his ground. “The resistance, Jen. We were trying to form a resistance. I couldn’t tell you, because…” His mahogany eyes looked as if they might split. He spoke in a small voice. “Shakirvasta manipulated you, my love. He has played like an alchemist on your grief for your brother Gabriel, turning it into an unquenchable anger, taking you away from me, from all of us.”
Her nostrils flared. “She stayed the night more than once!”
“There were curfews. Shakirvasta wasted no time seizing control. She wasn’t the only one who stayed. Carlson was often there, Rashid too.” He nodded in Rashid’s direction. “On my mother’s grave, my dear Jen, I never touched her. If you don’t believe me…” he nodded to her right wrist.
Blake watched Jennifer’s white-knuckled hand closely as it clutched the nanosword, not yet enabled. Her eyes bored into Kostakis’ with a fierce intensity. She took a step backwards, turned around, then storm-marched down another exit from the cave. Kostakis made to go after her, but Blake spoke up. “Leave her, Professor. She’ll be back. She needs time alone.”
They waited an hour. Rashid had ventured back towards the egg chamber, and employed his sonar to detect the soldiers’ summary search on the other side of the chamber. He heard them leave, reporting on the radio that all were dead, that the mission was accomplished. He returned
to Kostakis’ refuge.
“Half the eggs have been destroyed, Commander, but the soldiers do not seem to be aware of them, since the ones on their side of the chamber were vaporised. They found enough ash from the soldiers we killed to think we are all dead.”
He nodded. Kostakis sagged on his small camp chair, like an overgrown scarecrow. Blake was just thinking they would have to go and look for Jennifer, when they heard a shrill scream echoing down the passageway she had taken. Blake had never seen Kostakis move so fast, as he jumped up, grabbed a torch and bolted down the narrow tunnel.
“Should one of us stay here?” Rashid asked.
A second scream, full of pain, reverberated into their room.
“No, we stick together.” He ran, followed by Rashid, cursing the fact that every event seemed to push him further away from his main mission, to rescue Glenda. He heard Kostakis shouting up ahead, and picked up his pace, ramping up his pulse pistol to maximum.
Chapter 21
Gridfall
Despite Micah’s attempt to play it cool as Captain, a “Wow!” slipped out as Grid Station 359 Alpha grew large in front of them on the viewscreen. It reminded him of a giant sea urchin, hundreds, maybe thousands of electric blue spines stretching out into space, myriad ships docked at the ends. The central hub was lozenge-shaped. Every part of it – and his resident told him it was forty kilometres long, converting automatically into its host’s metering system – glinted dark phosphorescent indigoes and blues. He was getting used to Angel’s gift, with its sporadic but well-timed alphanumeric data drops into the right side of his vision, to the point he wondered how long they’d survive without it. Once he’d read or scanned the data, it faded out – evidently the resident included a cognitive feedback loop. He reckoned it should win the resident’s designer the galactic equivalent of the Nobel Prize.