Pressure Suite - Digital Science Fiction Anthology 3

by Various Writers

  Keats struggled to remember where he was and what he was doing. His hand found the eject lever, and he pulled it. The sensation of weightlessness overtook him. Keats felt like he was falling. His skin seared. The pressure crushed him.

  And Keats knew the darkness that lay before him was the actual Hell.

  Then there was light all around him. And pain. His skin burned. His lungs burned.

  And Dorothy’s voice.

  “Keats? Keats? I think he’s awake!”

  Awake.

  He wasn’t falling. He was lying down.

  Blurry objects began to resolve.

  He recognized the inside of the hyperbaric chamber.

  “Tinswaddie?” Keats managed to choke out. His throat burned too.

  “She’s alive,” Dorothy’s voice said. “She’s in the chamber on the next dirigible. The doctors think she’s going to make it too.”

  Keats realized that he had regeneration ointment slathered over his entire body. That burning sensation was from real burns.

  “You’re going to need to stay in there for a few days,” Dorothy said, her voice wavering uncharacteristically, “but the doctors think you’re going to pull through.” He couldn’t see her, of course. She was probably outside the chamber, watching on the monitor. But she was really there.

  Keats tried to answer, but no sound came out. He nodded instead.

  “And Keats,” she said. “I love you.”

  Keats nodded again.

  Pressure like Keats Lowdenville had experienced didn’t go away with platitudes. He knew the scars would be with him forever.

  He relaxed as best he could in the hyperbaric chamber.

  Skirmish at Heklara

  By James C. Glass

  Blood-red light spilled on hot faces as the echelon of Drop Probes turned north on final approach. Giant Procirus rose to greet them, to warm the faces of the many that might die that day. The three hundred troops inside the Probes were young, hand-picked and just out of jump school. It was their first day of real combat, not the usual mop-up operation. Strong resistance was expected, and the sharp stench of fear filled their nostrils as they made a final weapons check. They joked nervously about snake odors and made bets as to which squad would make it first to the airfield beyond Heklara. The reptilian invaders who had occupied the Terran colony of Torontos were now in retreat after a three-year war. Payback time had finally arrived.

  Velora Nett snapped a black magazine into her MAW-44 and released the safety. The assault module pulled back on her neck, and her spine was hurting. She let out a deep lungful of air with a whoosh, swallowed hard to keep down the contents of a pre-dawn breakfast and tried not to look at the others. We’re all scared shitless, she thought. Why can’t we admit it?

  “Up and on! Two minutes to drop!” Colonel Teg Andrist walked down the center aisle as they stood up clumsily, turning to present modules for inspection. There was a quick inspection of thrusters and para-sail packs; a word of encouragement, a pat on each helmet. As squad leader, Velora was first in line. With the others watching, Andrist turned her around to face him and put his hands on her shoulders. “Wish your dad was alive to see this. Kick some snake ass today, Corporal!”

  “Yes sir!”

  He continued down the line. “You are Jump Group One of the Twenty-First Hestidian Airborne Division. You are the best there is!”

  “Yes sir!” they all screamed.

  “I know this as fact, because I have personally trained all of you. You are the Banchees, and today you will kill Kraa. Let me hear it!”

  “Kraaaaaa!” they screamed in unison. For that instant, the fear was gone. In another instant, it would return.

  “Load and lock!” Andrist stalked back towards the control room as thirty MAW-44 bolts slammed home. “Drop position—move!”

  Clumsily they stood up, leaning forward against the heavy weight of the modules on their backs, hunching over to carefully step down into the drop bay running the entire length of the Probe. They sat down, legs stretched before them.

  “Hook up!” Andrist opened the control room door and stood in the doorway, bracing himself. “Thirty seconds to drop!”

  Velora plugged in her thruster, clutched her heavy weapon to her and remembered the look on her father’s face the day she had graduated. He had come up to the platform, his uniform covered with battle ribbons, eyes glistening as he pinned the hawk and lightning bolts on her lapel. Her brother Tal, dear gentle Tal who should have been there in her place, watched from the audience. He came up afterwards to give her a kiss and a hug, and then disappeared into the crowd, away from his father’s stern face. She had been given special applause for she was only the third woman to graduate from jump school. Now she wondered if she was the only one left alive. She looked up at Colonel Andrist. Someday, she thought, I will command a drop.

  “Visors down! And kill Kraa!”

  The floor dropped from beneath them and a shockwave of air hit their chests as the thrusters came on. Velora swung to her right, taking her central place in the delta-wing formation dropping towards the valley below. They had come out at seven thousand feet, heading north. Low-lying hills were on either side of them, and straight ahead was the village of Heklara, now occupied by retreating Kraa survivors left to protect their last airfield beyond. She counted three Kraa Gull fighters and two S-10 Chugs before the concrete strip was obscured by the village, and then they were coming in low and taking forward fire as the lead unit in, followed by nine other drops. They were The First. Velora felt pride surge within her, even as thermite fire rose to meet their attack.

  A human being next to her exploded, spraying Velora with blood and shredded tissue. She gasped, aimed her weapon from the hip and fired a burst towards the Kraa perimeter around the village. Dust swirled from the steel splinters of the Reaper rounds she fired and a reptilian face disappeared in gore. She hit the ground on the run as the thrusters shut down and pounded on the release catch twice before the heavy module popped off, suddenly feeling light and fast and emptying two magazines as she moved forward. The Kraa were falling back towards the colony village they had occupied and a moment later she was chasing them, looking straight ahead, not noticing the spider-traps opening up around them on the hillsides and spilling forth the hundreds of Kraa hidden there. She didn’t notice until Reapers and Red-Dots were tearing into her squad from all sides, bodies exploding like bombs or bursting into flames. Everywhere she turned there were Kraa, firing at close range. Everywhere she turned there was carnage, bleeding corpses that were once human beings for whom she was responsible. The Kraa streamed down hillsides from every direction, screaming victory, tearing at torn bodies with sharp claws.

  And Velora Nett ran for her life.

  She sprinted towards her right, around the base of a hill, shredding two Kraa coming at her and running like she had never run before. In only seconds it was suddenly quiet, except for the pounding of her boots on hard ground. No gunfire, no screams of death, only silence—but when she stopped, she heard the faint shrill victory cries of the Kraa and knew full well what they were doing to the wounded or any other survivors. She ran again, following the line of hills until she could no longer hear the horrible sounds of the Kraa, and hid herself between three large boulders near a summit overlooking the village. Deep in shadow, she cried bitterly. Her comrades were dead—and she had run away.

  Night came, blessing her with darkness. Velora ate a cracker, drank some water and listened for the slightest sound. At midnight, she heard something: a scratching on rock and then breathing. She leveled her weapon downhill towards inky darkness, held her breath and watched something crawl towards her. A face. Human. She called out softly, “Over here, quick, in the rocks!”

  A boy, younger than herself and smeared with blood and dirt, scrambled up to her and collapsed at her side. “Oh, is it good to find someone else out here. I thought I was all alone.” Immediately, with the sound of his voice and his delicate face, he reminded Velora o
f her younger brother.

  “Where did you come from? I thought everyone else was dead!”

  “I’m radioman for drop four. We got caught right in the middle. About half of our unit pulled back and got away with the rest of the drops, but I was forward with my corporal when the snakes started coming out of the ground all around us. They got the corporal, and I ran like hell. Most of their fire seemed directed towards the first units. Is that where you were?”

  “Drop one. I’m Nett. Velora. Corporal. Your radio still work?” She pointed to the mound on his back.

  “Haven’t used it yet. Think we should try it?”

  “No, we’ll wait until light. The village is just over the hill, and I want to see what’s going on first. You got a name?”

  “Private Avan Hansold, ma’am. I’ve heard about you. Your old man’s a general or something.”

  “Make that Vel or Corporal, Private. I’m not an officer.”

  Avan grimaced. “Sorry—Corporal.”

  Velora smiled faintly. “Yes, my father was a general, Gera Twenty-Third Skyhawks Division.” Survived the war only to die of a heart attack, she thought. Just as well. Now he doesn’t have to know his daughter ran from a fight and left people to die.

  “First ones in on Torontos when the Kraa first invaded in full force. Boy, that must have been something.”

  “Yeah. Look, we’ve got to move to the top of the hill and see what’s going on. You have maps?”

  The boy nodded. “And a recorder. Sure looks bare up there. No cover at all.”

  “We’ll drag some brush up with us, enough to cover up with if a Gull comes over.”

  They left the rocks and crawled on hands and knees to the top of the hill. There was no dried brush to be found, and they huddled in a shallow depression on the summit. It was totally exposed to view from above as they peered down towards the village. Velora scanned the visible and infrared spectrum with her binoculars, sweeping the valley. Below her, green figures moved on the hillsides, popping into the ground and out of view. In the village, two Chugs were moving into a street facing the valley, and a crude barricade had been restored there. Figures scurried around in the village square and then suddenly came together like a herd of animals being driven. Velora zoomed in with the binoculars and saw a group of adult villagers and children being herded by four Kraa…“Uh oh, they’ve got civilians rounded up. And the Kraa are going back into their spider traps again. Do they really think that can work a second time? What we need to do is call down some microwave and boil those hills.”

  “So give me a frequency,” said Avan.

  “No call now. I don’t like those civvies being down there. Another attack and they’ll all be killed for sure. But set it for thirty-five-fifty-five, and be ready.”

  “Yes, Corporal.”

  She looked at Avan over her shoulder. “Call me Vel. Look, we can clean those hills with a call, but I need to see what they’re setting up in the village. We’ve got to get closer, maybe even into town. You with me for that?”

  “Not too crazy about it, but you’re the corporal.”

  “Good. Best to move in now and get settled before sunrise. Let’s see those maps.”

  Velora pointed with gloved fingers. “Here, here and here is where they’ve dug spider traps. We’ll want to bracket all these hills. Write down the coordinates now so you’ll be ready.”

  Avan did as he was told, quickly yet carefully. Velora watched him work, struck again by how much he reminded her of her brother: quiet, thoughtful, contemplating his drawings or lost in music, his dream world taking him away from a father who talked only about war. Sweet Tal, who was supposed to be the warrior but couldn’t be. And then the Kraa invasion of Torontos Colony had come, and there was a war for a daughter to fight.

  It remained to be seen if Velora Nett could be the warrior her father had expected. At the moment, she was filled with doubt.

  They crawled back to the base of the hill and circled towards the airfield, staying high enough to see the entire village. Small fires burned along the airfield, dimly lighting a line of Kraa shelters. Guards walked randomly around a trio of Gulls parked nearby, and two missile and Gatling-platformed Chugs blocked the main street of the town. Velora made notes on everything and checked coordinates on Avan’s maps before they moved on. They came to a shed at the edge of town, behind a darkened house that had shown lights earlier in the evening after the Kraa had herded the civilians into it. There had been muffled shots, and later the Kraa had left. Something bad had happened in that place, but it was close. They hid in the shed until just before dawn, and then scuttled into the house in hopes of getting a better look at the streets. What they got was a look at another horror of war.

  The stench hit them as they entered through the back door of the unlocked building and worked their way cautiously down a darkened hall, past a small kitchen heaped with debris and garbage. They entered a larger room at the front of the house. There were piles of bodies—men, women and children, Torontons, all of them third-wave humans with large, dark eyes engineered especially for the weakly-lit planet of a red dwarf. They had come here for a new life and found death instead, their blood now covering the floor and walls and windows of the house.

  Avan turned and threw up in one corner of the room. He wretched and wretched until nothing more would come up, then wiped his mouth on his sleeve, ashamed, and moved near Velora, who was at a window facing the street. “Doesn’t this have any effect on you, or is it just all in a day’s work?” he asked bitterly.

  “Lucky all I’ve had to eat in twelve hours is a cracker. Besides, seeing this makes it easier to kill Kraa when the time comes.”

  “Yeah? Well, it doesn’t help me much, but then I’m not in for life. You career people are hard asses.”

  Velora looked at him sharply. “You don’t know shit, Private. And what did you expect from the Kraa? They happen to be fond of killing, and right now I feel the same way.”

  “Oh, Jesus,” said Avan.

  “What the hell did you get into this war for?”

  “Nobody asked me. I was drafted.”

  “Oh. Tough deal. But you and your radio are important to me right now, and I want you sticking it out, okay?”

  “I’m still here, aren’t I?”

  “Get over here by the window, but keep low. There’s a Chug up the street that can look right in here. Another one left of me, just sittin’ there. We’ve got to get a message out about those spider traps, so start your recorder. It has to be quick to minimize interception, so set up the transmission for a half-second pulse.”

  Avan did as he was told. “If they’ve changed the entry code since yesterday, we’re dead.” He punched in the code letters, set the beeper to indicate a coming transmission and turned to hand Velora the recorder. She talked into it for nearly a minute, giving the coordinates of the hills, the approximate number of Kraa hidden there, the placement of Chugs in the town and the fact that they had found slaughtered citizens.

  They waited. The engine of the Chug up the street suddenly growled into life. Velora peered over the window sill. “They’re loading up. Supplies coming out of a house across the street, carried by civilians. Only a few Kraa guards—whoa!” She ducked her head down into the gloom. “Almost saw me. Looked right over here for a second. I see four guards, maybe a dozen civvies.”

  The radio chirped. Avan checked the return code showing on the display, then jacked in the recorder and with the push of a button transmitted Velora’s one-minute message in a single half-second burst. In a few minutes there was another chirp as the return message arrived. Avan listened intently, Velora still watching the street. “Vel, I’ve got Colonel Andrist here. He says sit tight. They’re comin’ in at oh-six-hundred, and he’s called in a microwave sweep from low orbit at that time.”

  “Okay, we stick it out here,” said Velora. And do what? she thought. How do I make up for running from a battle? Die?

  There was a sound from the kitchen a
t the back of the house, a rattling sound, and then a crunch, like someone stepping on broken glass. A shadow moved in the gloom of the hallway.

  Velora swung the MAW-44 towards the hallway, pressing her back against a wall. “Avan, stay right where you are.”

  His eyes were the size of a credit coin.

  The shadow came slowly down the hall and paused at the edge of the room. Large, liquid eyes gleamed dully in the pre-dawn glow. A tiny girl stood there, barefoot, filthy dress brief enough to show dirty arms and pencil-thin legs. Her thumb was in her mouth and she looked straight at Velora, considering her for a moment, and then she walked over to the far corner of the room to rummage around under a pile of broken bodies. She pushed and tugged at something, and came up with a blond-haired doll covered with blood. She hugged it to herself, and looked at Velora again with huge eyes.

  “Oh my God,” said Velora. “That must have been her mother.”

  The little girl started back towards the kitchen, but stopped when Velora beckoned to her. “Come here, darlin’. I’m a friend, and we won’t hurt you. Do you want something to eat? Here.” Velora took a ration bar out of her pocket and held it out to the girl. The child hesitated for an instant, then walked boldly over to Velora and took the bar from her hand. Only at that instant did her thumb come out of her mouth—she tore the wrapper off with her teeth and began to eat. Velora stroked her hair, smiling at Avan. “Tough little kid, a real survivor. How long you been in here, hon’?”

  The child remained silent and the ration bar disappeared quickly. She stood there waiting for more, and Velora fumbled in her pack. “Can you talk to me?”

  “Here,” Avan said, and he handed a ration bar over to the child, who took it without looking at him.

  Silently, the doll hugged to her breast, eyes never leaving Velora’s face, the little girl wolfed down the second ration bar. Velora sat the child down on the floor next to her and peeked out the window again. “Still loading. More guards now. I think they’re getting ready to move out.”