Alien Shores (A Fenris Novel, Book 2) (27 page)

32

Shrouded in stolen gray cloaks, Cyrus and Jana attempted to imitate the other humans: head bent forward, shoulders slumped, and moving with a half shuffle. Cyrus had used such tactics before in Milan, imitating the natives. That time he’d entered a costly pavilion to deliver Dust to a rich merchant.

Today he approached a Kresh city by a fine wide avenue, surfaced with a rough blue substance that rasped underfoot. They had overpowered some workers earlier and stolen their baggy garments and black produce bags to hide their weapons.

Cyrus practiced his null. It was hard work keeping it up; he felt winded and his legs were shaky. Jana looked around, gawking at the sights.

The avenue led to the main street. On either side rose spires, red and purple. They looked glassy and reflected the sunlight with hurtful brilliance. In places, crystals scintillated within the spires, giving it a fantasy feel, as if the structures cost priceless sums.

Their feet scraped across the rough substance. It was like nothing Cyrus had seen before. Perhaps it had originated on the Kresh home world many light years away. Cyrus put a hand on Jana’s arm, keeping her from heading down a side lane.

“We’ll keep on the main avenue for now,” he said.

She nodded, and continued to stare right and left.

“Don’t do that,” Cyrus whispered.

“What?”

“Look around like that.”

“I’ve never seen a city before,” Jana said.

“You twist around like a tourist,” he whispered. “You have to blend in or someone is going to report us.”

The avenue led close beside a two-hundred-foot shaft of silver. It was much more slender than an Earth apartment complex. Surrounding this was an expanse of clean orange sand upon which rested half a dozen peculiar objects of rusted metal. Were they art things? Perhaps they were Kresh fetishes or trophies.

A Kresh stood on a circular steel platform in front of the spire. The alien regarded one of the rusted objects. The creature held a box, slowly twisting a dial.

Cyrus took one of Jana’s hands and squeezed hard enough so she looked at him. “Concentrate on the road for now,” he whispered. “You’ll have a chance to look around later.”

She was a hunter, a warrior. She understood and stopped gawking unnecessarily.

The spires increased in height the deeper they moved into the city. In places, large glass boxes seven or eight stories high and just as broad stood in place of the towers. Humans entered and exited those. Were they cube apartments? Cyrus didn’t see any windows.

The process of movement among the various people seemed to depend on type. The regular, genetically unmodified humans like Cyrus and Jana shuffled with a defeated spirit. The Bo Taw strode importantly but slowly, like flamingos Cyrus had once seen in a zoo. The Vomags had a military bearing. No one had skin as white as he did, although some were lighter skinned, the Bo Taw the most so.

Beside some of the glassy boxes were plazas composed of stone tiles. There humans ate at round marble tables. A few of the tables boasted awnings. He spied only a few Kresh. They always stalked like predators, ready to strike with incredible speed. The humans stopped in apparent reverence whenever an alien neared.

Once, Cyrus and Jana halted. The raptor-like alien didn’t notice them, with its streamers glittering in the sunlight. The three-toed claws scraped across the rough surface. The two Vomags following at a discreet distance gave Cyrus a second glance, but nothing more.

“What are we looking for exactly?” Jana whispered.

That was a good question. Cyrus didn’t know. Where would they keep Klane? How close was the Anointed One? As he moved through the alien city, a dull feeling of despair began to grip him.

Don’t listen to it
, he told himself.
You’ve been in worse spots and won. Remember, not that long ago you were in High Station 3. You didn’t have any friends, either. Now you have Jana, Skar, and the others
.

“Cyrus,” Jana said, tugging at his sleeve. “Look!” she pointed into the sky.

Craning his head, Cyrus saw a distant bright speck. His woman had terrific senses. He recalled that she had been the one to watch for demon sky vehicles. The speck grew, and it looked as if it was headed straight down toward them.

Had cyborgs broken through the outer asteroid belt? Was this a nuclear missile taking out a Kresh stronghold? No one else noticed or ran screaming in panic.

Even so, he expected missiles to loft or beams to fire, intercepting the thing. But that didn’t happen. Soon, the speck became a large round object and it slowed, with shimmers or heat waves before it. A minute later the object floated, still headed straight for the city.

Cyrus looked around. The streets were deserted. Where had everyone gone and why? They’d disappeared without screams or panicked movement. How the populace had accomplished the disappearance without their noticing it didn’t matter. He needed to keep calm and keep his wits.

“We have to hide,” he said.

Jana looked around. “The people—”

“Have done a bunk,” he said.

She stared at him.

“They’re hiding for some reason. Maybe we should hide, too,” he said.

Jana dragged him to a niche between what seemed to be two sheds. As he craned his head, watching the thing, Cyrus began to ponder the odds. This was as long a shot as there was. It was crazy, but he was the Tracker. He was supposed to find and free the Anointed One. They had wondered how to get into space. Maybe this was the ticket, the descending vehicle.

Cyrus took a deep breath as he composed himself.

“What’s wrong?” Jana asked. “You seem tense.”

“Just a minute,” he whispered.

Maybe she heard the urgency in his voice. She said no more, letting him concentrate.

With his fingers splayed apart and touching his head, he strove for calm. He wanted to do this quickly but thoroughly. This was their chance, and maybe this was their gift.

Skar, bring the rover. Come into the middle of the city. When you see a lander, something that can go up and down from space, capture it. You have to come now
.

Cyrus exhaled and rebuilt the null. He forced himself into a calm state and stared at nothing. The ground shook under his feet and a strange odor roiled over him. He didn’t look up to check; he strove for the ultimate null. When the Bo Taw mentally began searching—he felt a whispering mind and then nothing.

Finally, Cyrus looked up and found that Jana was at the edge of the alcove peering around a corner. He tiptoed to her.

“What are you looking at?” he asked.

“Demons,” she said. “Demons came out of the spaceship. You can see the last one entering that spire over there.”

Cyrus peered around the corner. He saw the ship. It was a circular craft almost completely filling a plaza, resting on stone tiles. Two glass buildings surrounded the spacecraft. The ship appeared to have several decks inside. He couldn’t believe anyone would have tried to squeeze such a vessel down between the buildings. In some places, only ten feet separated the craft’s hull from a glass wall. The craft had a ramp coming down out of its belly, touching the plaza. The Kresh must have exited the ship from the ramp. Behind the last Kresh followed a squad of Vomags. The group entered the nearest spire, the tallest he’d seen, with a greater girth than the other towers. The spire was half a block beyond the glass buildings surrounding the plaza and three blocks from Cyrus and Jana.

“Why are they going into the spire?” Jana asked.

Cyrus’s eyes narrowed. When the seeker had been alive, she’d said they had to move fast. Time was critical. If the aliens had the Anointed One, would they realize whom they held? Maybe. Would they want to study the human in detail?

Cyrus Gant nodded. “I think we know where they’re holding Klane.”

“In the spire?” Jana asked.

“Yeah. It’s the tallest, seems the most important.”

Cyrus squinted. He counted several Vomag soldiers up there on terraces. Why hadn’t he noticed them earlier? Maybe because he hadn’t been looking up. The terraces looked artificial, as if they’d been glued to the spire. The Vomags there held long-barreled rifles that might have scopes. Were they sharpshooters?

“Did you get through to the others?” Jana asked.

“I don’t know. I’m not that good at telepathy. I sent a message. We have to hope it went through and that no one else caught it.”

Jana searched his face. “Do you really think we’re the ones the prophecies foretold?”

“That’s hard to know,” Cyrus said. “We’re here, though, and we have to do something.”

“What?”

“Come on, follow me,” Cyrus said, heading onto the street. No one else was outside. Maybe this was the perfect moment to make their move.

Jana hurried beside him, whispering, “What’s your plan? Do we follow the Kresh into the building?”

Cyrus blinked twice as he strode purposefully down the street, mulling that over. Could he and Jana defeat unknown numbers of Vomags, Bo Taw, and Kresh? Did the aliens have precise protocol or metal detectors in the building? The more he thought about it, the less this seemed like a good idea, just barging into the tower. But if that wouldn’t work, what would?

While chewing his lower lip, Cyrus thought furiously. He remembered the first time he’d seen an alien aboard Teleship
Discovery
. He’d used psi-power against it, but the Kresh had worn a device, blocking him. The aliens were unbeatable, raptor-like dinosaurs with ultralogical minds.

Two people couldn’t rescue the Anointed One here in a high-security area, at least not while using regular commando tactics. For a commando operation to work, they needed overwhelming surprise and fierce firepower at the concentrated point. What he hoped to do here would be like a Latin King figuring he could travel all the way up to Level 1 Milan and kidnap the city governor. For a Latin King to do that, he’d have to do something utterly original. That meant Cyrus had to do something original here.

Cyrus noticed prowling Vomags near the targeted building’s entrance. They couldn’t go through the front door, not brazen as could be. His step slowed.

“What’s wrong?” Jana whispered.

Inspiration came, but Cyrus rejected the idea even as he thought it—too crazy and insanely wild. Yet what other chance did they have?

He was stuck on an alien moon, two hundred and thirty light years from Earth. Everyone he’d known from Earth was dead or captured. The aliens had psionic wizards and supersoldiers. He had a gun and a knife and the most beautiful woman anywhere. If the Kresh captured them, the result would be torture for Jana and him for the rest of their short lives.

A Latin King would do something crazy. That was better than dying, right? He nodded, and he turned to Jana. “We’re heading for the lander,” he whispered out of the side of his mouth.

“But the Anointed One is in the building,” she whispered back.

“Yeah, and we’re not going to get in now, are we? Do you see those soldiers? No! Don’t stare. Do you see them near the entrance?”

“Yes,” she said.

“We’re going to hijack the lander,” Cyrus said. “Then we’re going to lift off and get our friends.”

“We can’t leave the Anointed One behind.”

“We’re not going to,” Cyrus said. “Once I have Yang and Skar aboard, we’re going in.”

“Going in how?” she asked.

“You’ll see.”

Jana stared at him.

Cyrus ignored her, because he saw out of the corner of his eye the soldiers studying him. He had a crazy impulse to wave, but he held it at bay. Letting his shoulders slump a little more, he headed for the plaza with the lander. The open ramp had given him the idea. No one stood on guard there. Why should they? No one would dare enter a master’s lander.

He tried to settle his nerves, but his stomach roiled with butterflies. This was just crazy stupid, but then, he was from Level 40 Milan. Everyone in the city knew that Latin Kings were the wild men of the slums. You didn’t want to mess with them, because you never knew what insane stunt they would pull to take revenge.

“It’s go time, baby,” Cyrus whispered under his breath.

“We hunt,” Jana whispered.

Cyrus squinted. He could hardly feel a thing, emotionally speaking. He felt numb. When in doubt, brazen it out. He was a Latin King, the lord of the streets and alleyways. Now the aliens were going to find out the hard way that they shouldn’t have messed with an Earth ship.

Cyrus’s booted foot stepped onto the ramp. Keeping his stride steady, he went up, with Jana beside him. Inside the craft, he spied a mechanic by his coveralls. The man carried a toolbox, or what looked like a toolbox.

“Wait a minute,” Cyrus called.

The man stopped and turned around, regarding him.

“Where’s the control room?” Cyrus asked.

“Did the Revered One send you?” the mechanic asked.

“That’s right. He wants you to show me the control room.”

“He?” the mechanic asked.

“Oh yeah,” Cyrus said, wondering how he’d screwed up like that. “I mean the Revered One.”

The mechanic shook his head. “Our Revered One is female.”

“Of course,” Cyrus said. “Now take me to the control room.”

The mechanic made a strange face, opened his mouth as if to protest, and then shrugged. Maybe he was thinking things through. “This way,” the man said.

“Is the crew still on duty?” Cyrus asked.

“The Revered One ordered them to stand by,” the mechanic said. “You should know that if she sent you.”

“Hurry,” Cyrus said.

“I’ve never seen you before,” the mechanic said, finally looking suspicious.

Cyrus drew his gun and jammed the barrel against the mechanic’s ribs. “Do I have to kill you?”

The mechanic looked at him blankly.

“Show me the control room,” Cyrus said, shoving the barrel hard into the man’s flesh.

The mechanic stumbled and dropped his toolbox, making it clang on the floor and things rattle inside it. Raising an arm, he pointed down a corridor. Cyrus shoved him in that direction. Then the three of them hurried, the mechanic tight-lipped, Cyrus with his free hand on the man’s collar, and Jana bringing up the rear, her gun out, too.