Chimera Company - Rho-Torkis Box Set

by Tim C. Taylor

  “Your alien has a point,” Arunsen told Osu. “Although what’s truly amazing is that I never imagined Green Fish could speak to a legionary without spitting on them. Maybe this Chimera stunt will work.”

  Maybe.

  Osu didn’t reply. It looked more to him like the love-hungry Kurlei SOTL was hitting on the female trooper.

  If the wind ever relented, and the cold eased – as it would do if they ever reached Bresca-Brevae – then Zavage was going to be a problem. Osu should nip that in the bud now.

  The cold, though, said otherwise. He shivered in his thermal coat, wondering how it could be that the extreme weather gear was proving so inadequate, and concentrated on placing one foot in front of the other as they trudged around the bikes. It was all he could do.

  Keeping going meant staying alive for the next five minutes. Osu couldn’t focus on a future beyond that.

  In silence, he pushed his body to move, cursing the Saruswine for their need to feed.

  OSU SYBUTU

  As day broke, so too did the storm. In the orange skies of a Rho-Torkis dawn, they saw aircraft flying a surveillance pattern to the west, too far away to spot them but looping ever closer. To the north, the black sky warned of a blizzard rolling their way, but it wouldn’t hit for hours, leaving them dangerously exposed to observation.

  Which left the Chimera group looking to the east and the edge of the Great Ice Plain.

  Beyond the high ice escarpment, a snow-covered lowland plain rolled out toward the coast. Beyond the horizon, around 80 klicks away, Bresca-Brevae lay nestled in the shelter of a natural harbor.

  For as far as Osu could see, the escarpment dropped hundreds of feet down to the lowlands. They had known they would eventually face this barrier unless they spent a couple of days detouring to the south, but the brutal reality of the plunge was terrifying this close up.

  “We lost our best rider,” Osu told Arunsen as they contemplated the descent. “You helped to bury him. I think Stryker told us enough to give us a fighting chance with the bikes, but your Saruswine? We hadn’t planned on encountering followers riding snow camels crossed with giant rodents. We can take a few of you on the bikes. It will increase the risk, but I’m prepared to take that. Once down, there will be no way back up for us. The rest of your party will have to head south and hope to meet us in Bresca-Brevae.”

  When Osu glanced at the Viking for his response, the big man laughed and slapped him on the shoulder.

  Osu brushed him away. “I don’t like being touched.”

  That only made Arunsen laugh louder. “On this, at least, you mean well, but you don’t know much, do you?”

  “Some things aren’t worth knowing, you barbarian oaf. If I need advice on cosmetics or jewelry for facial hair, I admit I have something to learn from you. I can’t imagine needing your advice on any other topic, unless you are going to tell me your beasts can sprout wings.”

  The big man stroked his beard braids thoughtfully. “Watch.”

  They sent the juvenile over first.

  Lily was riding him.

  They’d found a section of ice cliff a few klicks to the south where the drop wasn’t quite so sheer, and snow had drifted against the base of the cliff, reducing the drop somewhat.

  Even so, anyone sliding off the edge of the cliff would hit with such impact that they would shatter every bone in their body.

  The Saruswine, though, were tougher than that. Better adapted too.

  Whatever Lily did to the snowy white beast she rode, she never let on, but it made the creature squeal in panic and run off the cliff at a sharp angle.

  The legionaries looked on, incredulous. It seemed at first that the animal would scamper a diagonal path all the way down, but the smoothness of the ice proved too much and the creature began sliding on its side.

  The Saruswine squealed in terror, but powerful survival instincts took control. Its limbs folded away against its belly, but its feet dug into the ice, acting as brakes.

  Lily was screaming too. Hollering in excitement at this ultimate extreme sport.

  Perhaps egged on by the distress call of the youngster, the adult Saruswine followed, sliding down on their flanks and using legs and feet to arrest their fall.

  “Urdi won’t believe me when I describe this.” Zavage shook his head in wonder.

  “True,” Bronze replied. “We’ll just have to put him onto one of those oversized rabbits and push him over a cliff.”

  “If any of them survive,” said Osu, “then feel free to put it to the green guy. Rather him than me... ewwww! That’s gotta hurt.”

  Lily’s Saruswine had crashed into the snowdrift at the base of the cliff, hurling up a white plume and throwing off its human rider. The beast’s momentum kept it rolling down the slope and onto the plain like a shaggy-pelted barrel.

  The legionaries tensed as the first adult hit the bottom, its riders and stores still on its back.

  It plunged through the snow, having retracted all its limbs into the thick folds of its belly immediately before impact. The troopers riding this beast were not thrown off but went down beneath the snowline with their mount.

  For a few moments, only their heads were visible above the snow, slowly sliding away from the cliff base. Then the Saruswine stood and shook its fur clean, scattering the riders and load that it had kept secure during the descent. One of the food canisters hit the ground and burst open, much to the Saruswine’s delight. Completely uninterested by the arrival of the other two adults, it began grazing.

  “Our turn,” said Osu when he was sure the troopers had survived.

  They mounted their bikes. To avoid crashing into the Militia below, they rode a short distance away from the edge and two hundred yards to the south. Line abreast, with Stryker’s bike at the far left on auto-follow, they waited on Osu’s signal.

  Should have requested a trooper to ride the spare bike, Osu told himself, but it was too late now. He glanced back and saw rebel surveillance aircraft getting dangerously close. Much too late.

  “Remember what Stryker taught us,” said Osu.

  “Yeah,” Bronze responded. “Basically, we channel some of Lily Hjon’s madness.”

  “Skragg it, man!” Osu admonished. “Don’t ever let her hear you say that. But, yeah, that’s what we need. A touch of Lily madness. Three... two... one... let’s ride!”

  They charged off the cliff. Maximum acceleration.

  Osu found himself imagining he had a rose tattoo and an industrial-scale attitude problem. It helped. A little.

  On the last few inches before the ice precipice turned to thin air, the legionaries boosted power to the front gravitic motor.

  Osu was flying.

  It wasn’t like the steep slope they’d descended near Camp Faxian; this was a two-hundred-foot drop through emptiness. The gravitics wailed loudly, searching for a floor to push against but finding nothing.

  Quieter, but more pitifully, Osu whimpered as he fought to keep loose and balanced. The three of them had agreed that this drop was survivable so long as they didn’t tip the bikes. If the base of the bike was facing anywhere but down when they landed... survivability rating: zero.

  The borrowed spirit of Lily Hjon kept his terror of heights at bay until fifty feet before impact. Then his body tensed and he screamed in fear.

  Ever so slightly, he felt the bike tilt forward. It was probably just a fraction of a degree, but the lurch in his gut felt as if he were a ship tipping off the crest of an ocean swell.

  He threw his weight back, and he corrected the forward tilt.

  Overcorrected. Now he was tipping back.

  He was going to land head first, his neck vertebrae acting as a shock absorber for the impact.

  Blind panic pushed him to accelerate away, instinctively opening up the rear engine to speed away from the danger.

  Over level ground, that’s what he would have done.

  As it was, the burst of power accelerated his flip, cartwheeling all the way back o
ver.

  Suddenly, the ground was just yards away.

  He pushed the gravitics to maximum and eased into a thumping impact that bounced him back up six feet before coming to rest a few inches above the snow.

  Osu sat there, staring ahead at the endless white and gripping his bike so tightly, his hands had probably melted through the handlebars.

  A distinctive animal squeak made him look up into the face of the young Saruswine. The beast contemplated him from a short distance away. “Nice backflip,” said its rider. “Shame about our spare bike.”

  Scattered across the snow to his left, Stryker’s bike had shattered into hundreds of pieces.

  “The auto-pilot was supposed to have coped with the landing,” Osu murmured. He shivered, realizing how lucky he had been.

  That had been close.

  OSU SYBUTU

  “We cannot stay here!” Osu resisted the desire to punch the ridiculous man in his hairy Viking face.

  For now.

  “We’re lucky the aerial reconnaissance hasn’t already spotted us. Let’s not wager our lives on that luck holding.”

  “We wait here,” Arunsen replied as if making the decision that could cost them their lives was as everyday an occurrence in the life of Militia troopers as which dumpster kiosk to eat from that day, and which brothel to visit that night.

  The big man frowned, surprised that Osu didn’t accept his judgement without question. “The lea of the cliff face will be the best shelter when the storm hits. I want to give our injured Saruswine a chance to heal too.”

  “The chance to heal?” Osu tore the air in front of him. If Arunsen hadn’t been shot in the leg, it wouldn’t have been the air but the Viking’s beard getting ripped off his face. “The animal has two broken legs. Shoot the beast and shift its load to our bikes and get out of here already. The forest starts just ten klicks away. It will shelter us from the storm and from observation, but every second we dally makes both less likely.”

  Arunsen tilted his head back a little as he appeared to consider the suggestion. He looked as if he were sniffing for answers.

  He’s Militia, thought Osu. That’s probably exactly what he’s doing.

  “Too risky.” Arunsen looked to the northern horizon which had been swallowed by the angry storm cloud getting close now. “I don’t want to be caught in the open. Better to stay here.”

  “Hey!”

  Osu followed the angry shouts and saw a fracas brewing between Bronze and Meatbolt, the trooper who looked like a junior version of Arunsen.

  “What’s going on?” asked Lily. Troopers stopped what they were doing and backed up their man against Bronze.

  Zavage hurried over across the snow to do the same with his.

  “Don’t you ever – ever – say that again!” Bronze was screaming in fury. He must have lost it completely. Osu had never seen the man like this.

  “What? You ignorant, jack-wipe arse filter.” Meatbolt punctuated his words by shoving the legionary.

  Bronze hesitated before laughing at the young trooper’s cack-handed insults.

  Then he tore at his opponent, flicking back Meatbolt’s hood and half ripping out his scarf.

  The trooper backed away, curling in on himself and pulling up his hood and settling his hat that had become dislodged. But in so doing, he exposed himself to Bronze who had discarded his gloves in the snow and came at Meatbolt with open hands, which he plunged down the trooper’s neck, throttling him.

  “Sapper Zy Pel! Stop that immediately!”

  Osu’s words were redundant. Troopers had rallied around their comrade and kicked Bronze to the ground. His hands were already shockingly pink with cold, but Zavage had the man’s thick winter gloves back on in seconds.

  “If you insult a legionary like that,” said Bronze, “expect them to kill you with their bare hands. It’s not a metaphor, tramp soldier.”

  “You’re insane.” Meatbolt gave Bronze a half-hearted kick in the shins but allowed himself to be led away.

  “Flee for the trees if you like,” Arunsen told Osu, “but we’re staying here. And if your man tries anything like that again, when we head off, he’ll stay here under the ice in a grave that I will make you dig. Sort him out, Sybutu.”

  Osu fumed. Brawling was the last thing he needed right now, but Bronze was not like Stryker or Heidl. Everything he ever did was calculated.

  “We are in greater danger than I realized.” That was the only explanation Bronze offered when Osu pushed for one. He didn’t say it in the common tongue, either. He used BDZ – Battle Dialect Zulu.

  He’s worried about Sward, Osu realized. Even in a whisper, the Militia Zhoogene might overhear, but BDZ was a secret the Legion didn’t share with anyone. Certainly not the Militia.

  “Better have a good explanation,” Osu replied in BDZ. “We’ll have time to talk later when the storm hits.” He regarded the skies. Now it was much too late to reach the forest. “Looks like we’re staying put.”

  OSU SYBUTU

  They hadn’t much time before the storm crashed against them.

  It grieved Osu to make the admission, but the violent weather hit so quickly that they would never have made it to the forest.

  Under Osu and Zavage’s direction, they set the uninjured Saruswine to work bulldozing snow into two berms that angled out from the cliff and met in the middle as a bastion against the elements. The beasts, of course, thought they were being treated to copious amounts of free food, and when they had eaten their fill, nothing could convince them to push up more snow. The troopers and legionaries worked at adding to the height of these berms, angling their sides at forty-degrees to maximize stability and deflect the shrieking winds.

  When they’d built them six feet high, they punched a step through the point where the two walls met and brought the animals and personnel inside. With moments to spare, they pulled across sheeting they had attached to the cliff face and secured it to the ground.

  Then the blizzard hit.

  One moment they were being buffeted by winds like icy daggers, and then in an instant they were flung into the pitch-black. Nighttime in hell.

  Ice demons whistled and roared as they assaulted the shelter. In the light of glowbulbs screwed into the ground, the sheets overhead dimpled violently under ferocious wind punches.

  Suddenly, a sheet tore loose from the cliff.

  “Take it down!” Osu bellowed, but his voice was too puny in the face of the blizzard. He stood up and tried pointing to the flapping sheet, but before he could extend his finger, the wind ripped the sheet away and it was gone.

  The effect was instant. The snow blowing through the gap in the wall became a stream of white, blasting inside like the anti-version of a plasma flamer. The remaining sheeting, however, shook less violently now, and the wind seemed to be blowing the snow up over the walls and safely over their heads. Very little descended through the gap left by the missing sheet.

  The flow of snow through the gap in the wall was another matter. If they didn’t stop that, the shelter would fill and they’d suffocate.

  Enthree fixed that problem.

  The Muryani trooper had developed a special affinity to the Saruswine. She roused the two uninjured adults, who had pushed themselves against the cliff, and led them to the gap in the wall, parking them line abreast.

  The seal was far from perfect, but over the next few minutes, the snow piled up against the animals, sealing the hole. So long as Enthree remained nearby, the Saruswine seemed unconcerned by their vital new role.

  As long as they were well fed, they would go where led and perform the duty required of them without complaint.

  They would make perfect legionaries, thought Osu.

  OSU SYBUTU

  “Meatbolt is one of them.” Bronze was squatting next to Osu, with his head inside the sergeant’s hood. Against the howling wind, and the snow bombarding the walls of the shelter, it was the only way to be heard.

  Even so, Bronze spoke in Battle Dia
lect Zulu.

  And that made translation tricky. Bronze wasn’t making sense. “A rebel?” Osu queried.

  “No. What Stryker called the vampires. He must have been infected for days.”

  “Days? You thought Stryker would change within hours.”

  “I don’t know why Meatbolt’s taking so long. Could be the cold, could be natural resistance, or perhaps the infection is weak because whoever infected him is too many iterations removed from the source of the outbreak. But I’m absolutely certain. Meatbolt is one of them.”

  “What makes you so certain?”

  “When I appeared to choke him, I felt the skin on his neck. He’s growing feathers.”

  “Feathers!” The notion was so surreal that Osu broke out into the standard tongue.

  From the corner of his eye, he saw Enthree’s head swivel in interest at his exclamation.

  Holy Azhanti! I must be hallucinating. Despite the intense cold, the Muryani had undone the front of her coat and was baring her hairy torso at him.

  Osu decided to pretend he hadn’t noticed.

  “In humans, feathers started to grow in the final phase of the infections I saw,” Bronze explained. “Whatever he is now, he’s no longer human… although he thinks he is.”

  “And so do his former comrades.”

  “Indeed. But we must regard him as an enemy.”

  “Bronze, you still haven’t leveled with me about who they actually are.”

  “Best for your sake that you do not know.”

  “Is it? As far as we know, the three of us here, and Urdizine hopefully safe in Raemy-Ela, are the only Legion survivors in this system. We’re way past ‘need to know.’ ‘Need to survive’ is where we’re at. Spill!”

  “I know only what I’ve experienced myself and…” Bronze hesitated. That didn’t bode well. “And briefing from temporary allies who may have been unreliable. Those allies called them the Invaders. I saw them hit two worlds. Trying to quietly take them over, it seemed to me. I’ve heard there were takeovers on other worlds too. Some successful, some not. My allies thought the Federation is experiencing an invasion that barely anyone knows about. I think they’re right.”