Blighted Star (16 page)

What
the hell was going on? The mission brief had clearly stated that the
Cephalopods were tool users, but only at an equivalent level to Earth’s Stone
Age. How had they acquired such sophisticated technology? Had they had it
hidden all along?

What
should he do? he tried to comm into the fleet ships far above, tried to get new
orders, guidance, anything, but the simulation  gave him nothing but
static. He was being jammed. He looked around, many of the ships were peeling
off, heading skywards again, cutting and running. But equally, many of them
were pressing on into the lacework of shining beams. He and a hundred or so
others dithered in the middle, milling about still taking evasive action. What
should he do?

There
was a blinding flash of light in the cabin, and Jackson’s view had snapped back
from the landing craft’s visuals to his own surroundings. The beam of light
that had transfixed them was now gone, but it had left a green after – image
which faded gradually to reveal the carnage that had been caused. About half
the platoon were dead, were in fact gone; or had been half vaporised by the
strike. A gaping hole in the deck showed the ocean climbing up to hit them,
while a corresponding hole above showed the sky from which they were falling.
All power was gone, and he couldn’t even patch the craft’s visuals again. He
had about twelve seconds to listen to the screams and yells of his men and to
wonder what he should have done instead. Then the V.R. ended.

Comparing
notes with the other cadets later, it emerged that there was no “right” answer
to this simulation, or at least no way to avoid destruction. The point was
apparently to instil in the officers a sense that no matter how much you think
you know about the enemy, how exact your intelligence is thought to be, it is
still possible to be surprised by an enemy’s strength. It was felt that this
was a lesson only bitter experience could really teach, since it called for an
adjustment of attitude rather than the absorbing of information. It wasn’t even
formally assessed.

<><><> 

The
unit gathered in the centre of the crossroads. A second’s pause to gather
themselves, then they split into search teams and advanced in three different
directions. As each house was reached, the men took turns to push their way in,
conducted a brief search and emerged, making their reports to Jackson.

“Herschel.
Nothing.”

“Ferelli.
Nadir.”

 “Sanchez.
No sign, Sir.”

After
twenty minutes of fruitless searching, the soldiers gathered outside the door
of the Frenchman, the only door behind which they knew there to be a trace.
Jackson held up his balled fist and jerked it once, twice, three times until
their attention was all fixed, then keeping the rhythm he extended one, two,
then three fingers. On the third finger, two troopers booted the door, smearing
the black substance on its surface. The door fell inward on its hinges and a
third man, Ferelli, advanced, holding his targe-gun before him. Ferelli’s voice
came to Jackson’s ears, both naturally through the air and through the comm -
implants.

“One
body Sir. Looks like he choked or something. Otherwise, clear.”

Jackson
looked down on the body in the storeroom. He readily recognised the face of the
man who had complained so bitterly and so often over the last week, except that
now it was dreadfully distorted; the tongue protruded right out of the mouth,
and a ghastly purple overlaid the white pallor of death. The scrabbling fingernails
had inflicted gashes on the throat. Jean-Pierre had died coughing and vomiting
and had spasmed into the foetal position. Around him, the floor was covered in
a dry brown substance like soil which crunched beneath the feet. Jackson picked
up a container. It held the same substance, but he was none the wiser. Looking
on the shelf he saw the Coffee-Maker. Ferelli saw it at the same time and
whistled.

“Worth
a fortune…”

Jackson
checked that the images had been sent, then strode out of the house. His men
looked tired already. Well, it was going to be a long night. He called up Lana.

“Lana,
Jackson here. You got to them yet?”

“Almost
there, it’s hard to see because there’s a storm round here.” As if to confirm
Lana’s statement, Jackson clearly heard the crashing of lightning in the
background, drowning out the roaring of the wind that she was hearing.

“Let
me know when you’ve got them, we’re moving down to the lakeside now.”

“Willdo.”

<><><> 

Lana
cut the comms, then concentrated on her flying. Keeping the pared down craft
stable in the buffeting inside the storm was proving to be a real bitch.
Without the fuselage, the craft had the aerodynamic refinement of an old
fashioned shopping basket. Next to her, Patel had already tightened the straps
which held him secure as far as he could, but there was still puke on the legs
which dangled from the strut he sat on into the howling gale below. She
wondered how much use he was going to be on the cannon swaying above him when
the time came. He looked up at her with eyes full of misery, and she smiled
encouragingly back.

“Don’t
worry, the nanos will be starting to take care of the air sickness any minute.
Just hang on in there!” The trooper tried to smile back, but Lana definitely
had the feeling that he hadn’t heard a word she had said.

They
couldn’t see anything from up here in the cloud, yet they must be over the
position by now. Cautiously, and all too aware that she was flying in darkness
with only basic instruments over unknown ground, Lana lost height.

Dropping
below the cloudbase didn’t make the visibility all that much better as the
raindrops washed against the windscreen, spreading out like the stars seen from
the flight deck of a transiting starcraft. As they slowed, the drops
increasingly fell behind the screen, plashing against their faces. Patel stood
up on the strut and clipped his harness onto the base of the cannon. He gripped
the double handle with both hands and swung the gun down towards the ground,
peering through the sights. Lana lost more height, gaining perspective on the
ground from the contrast between the rain – lashed lakes and ponds and the
sodden grassland. With her greater experience of viewing things from above it
was her who spotted them first.

The
two dots were moving through the landscape between two bodies of water, behind
them by about one hundred and fifty metres, the elongated figure of the
pursuing animal showed clearly in the regular flashes of lightning. From this
height, there didn’t seem to be anything wrong with it other than the slow pace
with it progressed. The two men still hadn’t seen them, and Lana commed through
to Grad.

“Hey!
I’m up here! Get ready, I’m coming down for you.” Below, one of the dots, then
the other, lightened as the two looked up. Lana repressed the urge to wave, and
concentrated on making her turn. As she did so, the dark sky was ripped right
open by a blinding stream of light. Patel had seen his opportunity and had shot
at the horse. Lana could see nothing for a moment, and was further
disorientated by the incredible double boom of the zapped air expanding out
along a two hundred metre column, then the same air rushing back into the
created vacuum. Lana let go of all the controls, knowing that the craft would
right itself without further inputs. Even so, they wobbled dramatically, and
when she got her sight back it was to see Patel scrambling back onto the strut
his feet had skidded off when they swerved. He looked over to her and mouthed
the word “Sorry”.

They
both looked through the rain to the horse. It was down. The head was gone,
utterly vapourised by the powerful energy beam. Patel grinned and patted the
cannon, giving her the thumbs up. Lana grinned back, all forgiven, and the
swooped down to where the figures were waiting.

Grad
strode up beside her and they kissed through the airframe. Lana felt as if they
had been separated for years. She bit his lip and wrapped her arm around his
neck, pulling him back when, with a yelp, he tried to pull away. In the end, he
tapped her back, twice, and she let him go.

“Easy,
easy.” he said with a grin, “Listen, what was that you hit the horse with? The
‘Twenty’?”

“Sure
was.” the trooper swung the barrel in a small circle. “Made a real mess. What
was wrong with the damn animal anyway?”

“That’s
what we need to find out, right Jim? We’ll need to take a sample. We need some
kind of sealable container or bag. You got anything?” Lana shook her head, the
soldier held up a hand, then dug into a pouch on his belt. He held up a first
aid box, from which he removed the contents, then he passed the empty container
across.

“Thanks,
perfect. Stay here Jim, you look beat, I’ll go.” With that Grad sprinted off in
the direction of the fallen beast.

The
bottom of his trousers were completely soaked through, and with every step the
water squelched out of his shoes. He couldn’t wait to get into a warm shower,
then into a soft warm bed. “Must be getting old.” he thought. Up ahead the sky
was finally beginning to get lighter as the storm heads peeled away from the
horizon. Soon the unnatural dark would be gone and the evening twilight would
return before giving way to a night bright with stars. He slowed his pace.
Here, surely, was where the beam had struck down? He searched around a little,
and there, slightly to one side of where he’d expected it to be, was a blast
mark. He caught a whiff of the burned ground which would extend downward for
maybe a metre. There was also another smell, one of vile decay like rancid
meat. Looking at the grass around him he could see small fragments of brittle
looking bone, and gobbets of discoloured flesh. There was surprisingly little.
The trooper hadn’t been joking, the cannon certainly had made quite a mess. The
whole horse had been blasted away!

Very
carefully, Grad bent down and scooped up a specimen of the flesh, using the lid
to guide the substance in without touching it with his hands. Straightening up,
he turned and jogged purposefully back to the others. Over to his right, the
surface of the nearby lake swirled slightly and a few bubbles rose to the
surface as the muddy bed was disturbed.

They
rose into the air, through the last drops of rain, and turned back towards
Crescent Waters. Grad and Jim found what comfort they could on the open cargo
deck, their clothing working its hardest to combat the chilling of the wind
after their soaking. Lana, glanced back every now and then to check they were
okay. In the end, she glanced back, and they had both nodded off in exhausted sleep,
the First Aid box making a lump under Grad’s tightly closed jacket.  

<><><> 

The
news that the two missing men were safe was not nearly as welcome to Jackson as
the news that the cannon was on its way back to them. They had by now left the
town behind them and were jogging along the unfinished road towards the lake
where the rest of the traces were clustered. Jackson had no idea what to expect
from the cluster. Perhaps they would be in a similar condition to the
Frenchman. Perhaps worse. From the traces there was no way to tell what state
the bodies were in, the only thing he knew was that they were by now certainly
looking for bodies, not some sort of malfunction in the surveying system. He
glanced at the sky, Lana would be back in about forty minutes… That would give
them about fifteen minutes at the lakeside. He hoped that would be enough. One
of his men suddenly stopped and lifted up his arm, a moment later the troopers
voice came over the comms.

“Sir,
think you should see this.” The trooper turned, found him, and pointed with the
targe gun to something on the ground near his feet. Jackson jogged up.

The
object on the ground was about a third of a metre long, and ten centimetres
high at its highest point. it was roughly lozenge shaped, and coloured a dark
grey like ash. Jackson hunkered down and looked more closely. It was hollow,
and the inside could be seen through many rents in lines down each side. At
each end, there were solid lumps with two thin stick like projections at angles
in the grass. Slowly, the shape resolved itself and Jackson realised he was
looking at the cadaver of a dog. He reached out with his hand and touched the
ribcage. At this merest of touches, the whole carcass crumbled away to dust. He
looked up in puzzlement to the men gathered around him. He straightened up,
dusting the black smudge from his finger on his combat fatigues.

“Herschel,
get a sample, then follow us.” he led them on down to the lake.

While
she waited for the next report to come in from Jackson, Athena continued
composing the message she would have to beam out to the next settlement ship,
already well on its way to Saunder’s World. She scrolled through the reports
she had sent since their arrival, charting their early success, followed so
swiftly by the catalogue of failures and disasters which had left nearly a
third of the colony dead to some unknown cause, and the rest of them living in
fear. She wondered if, when the oncoming ship received the signal, any of them
would be left alive. She allowed herself the brief luxury of despair, then with
an effort, drew her reserves together. It would not do any of them any good to
give up now…