GeneStorm: City in the Sky (33 page)

Another hologram had sprung into being. It was a great sheet of images – dozens of pictures of women dressed in elegant, gleaming dresses in all manner of intriguing styles.

“Oh my! How interesting…” She looked at the edges of the image, and saw a green tab. She waved her hand through it, and another array of images appeared. “Oh look! Oh it’s beautiful!” There amongst the pictures was a female figure standing amidst a glorious billow of silks with a ruffled bustle and train. Kitterpokkie pointed at it. “Oh! Now see,
that
is quite the thing! Definitely the style.”

Somewhere at the back of the building, machinery hummed. There was a vibration – a jittering buzz. Shark and mantis looked at one another, then both dove for cover behind the counter.

A panel slid aside. A dress appeared, suspended from a sparkling hanger. It was identical to the one in the holographic image, except it seemed to have space for Kitterpokkie’s four arms. The mantis moved cautiously forward, touched the dress, then took it down and held it against her chest. She was utterly delighted.

“Tailor made!” She fluffed out the dress. To her amazement, the colours changed. “Good lord! I wonder if it interfaced with personal computer systems? Perhaps the fabric could be programmed?”

Snapper tried to be patient. “Kitt – come on. We have to go.”

“Wait wait wait wait wait!” The mantis flicked through and through images – scrolling up and down. “Go stand in the booth!”

“What?” The shark was appalled. “What if the thing fries me like a Sunday roast?”

“Oh don’t be such a baby! It’s perfectly safe!” She pointed an arm. “In you hop!”

The booth hummed and glowed with light once more. Snapper winced, half expecting it to strip off her skin. She leapt out the moment the lights finished, and began wiping at her arms.

“Can we go?”

“In just... a moment.” Kitt prodded at the hologram. “Here we go!”

Once again the wall hummed and whirred. A panel slid open, and a new dress appeared. Kitterpokkie came forward and swept it up in delight. “Oh! And backless – your dorsal fin is therefore completely accommodated.”

“Kitt, where am I going to wear a dress?”

“At the victory ball of course! Upon our triumphant return.”

“I’m not really the dress-wearing type.

“Well – I shall wear the dress, and you can be my handsome escort. Perfection!” The mantis bundled up the dresses, folding them carefully. They compacted down marvellously well. “Kenda! Do you want a dress?”

“No. I do not want a dress.” The man watched the street outside, refusing to look around. “We should leave.”

“Oh very well. But don’t say I never offer you anything fun.” Kitt took up her prizes. “Power – and surviving automation. So I believe we must now bear automated defence systems in mind. If a dress maker can survive, then so can a robot or a land mine.”

“Point taken.” Snapper saw Throckmorton through the windows. The plant had descended to eye level, and was beckoning with his tentacles. She move forward, carbine in hand. “I think the chaps have found something.”

They ducked back out through the door with Kitterpokkie, her dresses and her plasma rifle bringing up the rear.

Throckmorton silently led the way over to a ruin just across the street. A tree had grown up clean through the middle of the building, breaking down the roof. The walls had slumped over into the buildings to either side.

Further down the street, a ghostly hologram flickered – an image so distorted by age that it was merely a dancing stutter of lights. Snapper, Kenda and Kitt found Beau sheltering inside the building with the riding beasts corralled behind a wall. He had his immaculate pistols out – his weapons of choice. He was keeping a careful watch upon the nearby ruins. Beau jerked his muzzle towards the weeds at the back of the rubble pile.

“I found it up there.” He nudged something on the floor with one of his talons. “It was tangled in the weeds.”

Lying on the floor was an immensely long, thin arrow – a dart made of river cane almost two metres long. The thing was fletched with feathers, and tipped with a wicked point made from sharpened scrap metal. The cane was yellow and unweathered – the workmanship crude. Snapper knelt down and carefully handled the weapon, and the long shaft flexed slightly, like a good, stiff bow.

“What the hell kind of giant bow fired something like this? Could it be from a – what was the Roman thing? A ballista?”

Kitt took up the arrow, and carefully inspected the shaft. “No, surely not. Surely an artillery piece would fire something thicker.” She bent the weapon, and noted the slight flex. “It has an elastic quality. Most interesting.”

“So someone lives here?”

“Well it is recently made. But these are not local materials. The shaft would appear to be some sort of cane…” The mantis checked the projectile’s fletchings. “Ah! I have it! This is a throwing dart, propelled by an atlatl or a woomera. A wonderfully efficient technology! The dart flexes and stores the energy. The impact can be fierce.” She looked out to the ruins. “Yes – a very efficient hunting weapon in close quarters such as these. I should love to meet the manufacturers!”

“We might beg off that pleasure for now.” The shark dryly patted Kitt on one shoulder and then moved to look out across the great green space beneath the forest canopy. “I haven’t smelled any smoke. Kenda?”

“No.”

“If they’re hunters, they probably range out in small groups. Probably no more than a day from their camp…” The shark listened carefully, searching the ruins for any sign of tracks. “Might not be many of them.”

Kenda shrugged.

“They are merely primitives.”

“So are the Striper tribe. You wait until you see a pack of ferals charge.” She felt for Onan’s saddle. “Alright, we have to go on. But caution. Quiet. Kitt – no more running off. And nobody set off any damned holograms.”

The group moved out once more, staggered two-by-two with Throckmorton cautiously drifting just above rooftop height. On – on into the weird green world.

The ruins became more and more grandiose. Here and there a taller building had collapsed, some showing damage from battle back in ancient times. A row of old cars had apparently been swept up by an explosion and flung hard into buildings.

Grimmer battle damage awaited them further down the road. A small square had once been home to some sort of fountain and sculpture, with the area rimmed with shops. A tree now grew out of the fountain base, jutting up from a pool of stagnant water covered in fallen leaves. A huge vehicle stood tilted in the steps leading to the fountain – a vast, squat, dangerous thing as large as a house. It stood upon huge ball-shaped wheels, and carried an enormous gun.

Kenda spurred over to the mighty vehicle and clambered from his mount onto the hull. A hatch atop the vehicle’s turret stood open. Kenda made to climb inside.

“Careful!” Snapper called a warning, her eyes still carefully watching the far sides of the square. “Check it from outside first! Critters like living in nice dark shelter!”

Kenda reluctantly held back. He dug into his pouches, and drew forth a small device. A small flame sprang into being with a click of his hand, and the man used the meagre light to peer carefully into the vehicle’s echoing old hull. He seemed satisfied, and slid inside the hatch, carefully carrying his sword in hand. He scuffled and clunked about, then emerged with a few pieces of stained, damaged loot: a helmet with a badly melted face guard, a small box and a horribly warped and melted plasma pistol. He examined the pistol in the daylight and saw that it was beyond repair. He coldly threw the thing away and clambered back down to find his mount.

Snapper flicked the man a glance. “Anything?”

“Burned out.” He looked at the damaged helmet, then tossed it aside. “Cannon’s damaged, too.”

“What was the box?”

“First aid. Autodoc.” The man gave a shrug. “Electronics are shot, but the pain killers might still work. Antibiotics…”

“Really?” Snapper had never found old drugs in all her years of exploration. “Well… good. Useful.” She circled Onan about, keeping an eye on the ruins. “Kitt?”

Kitterpokkie had dismounted and fetched the broken plasma pistol. She was examining it with a knowledgeable eye. She pointed out the burst, melted top of the sidearm.

“A containment disaster. The plasma chamber burst.”

“Looks grizzly.” Snapper winced, pitying the poor man that had last fired the thing. “Must have stung!”

“Thousands of degrees worth of plasma erupting. You want to be careful about these things.” The mantis’ own home-built plasma rifle has been slung carelessly across her back. “Can make a rather awful bang!”

“So I imagine.”

The mantis pointed to a mass of burned out electronics in the handle of the weapon. “Here, I believe, is the culprit! See here? This was a computer system. They integrated everything by computer. Smart chips in every weapon – wireless communications. But they all caught an electronic disease…” She dusted off the electronics pack and blew on it. It was in perfect condition. The mantis passed it up to Snapper. “Dicey things, old plasma guns. The only safe ones are the ones that were never turned on while the disease was around.”

The helmet was still good – a solid piece of high technology work. With the burned bits removed and a new liner, it might make a good piece of gear. Snapper pushed it into Onan’s saddle bags and patted it happily. The small finds were pleasing – they seemed to be omens of excellent things to come.

A soft honk came from above. Throckmorton came speeding down from rooftop level, his leaf wings thrashing like mad. He wrenched to a halt amongst his friends, waving his tentacle arms.

“Hide!”
The plant pointed to the far side of the square.
“That way! Quick!”

Towing their clumsy pack beetles, the group galloped swiftly across the square. A dense tangle of mutated pumpkin plants grew up and out of a fallen wall. The adventurers plunged behind the mass of ruins, then sheltered behind the immense pumpkin leaves. Snapper and Beau kept to the fore, well hidden and still mounted, resting hands upon the snouts of the pack beetles to signal them to silence. Throckmorton settled onto a nearby roof, crossbow at the ready and only a few of his little heads showing.

Snapper waited, listening carefully, tall ear fins searching carefully as she slowly turned her head.

There was a clatter from the ruins edging the square. Something flickered and then another sound came – a guttural snap and snarl. Suddenly there were creatures moving in the streets – savage shapes that moved with nervous speed.

They were small, hunched little humanoids, with leprous fur and rat-like heads and tails. Their upper limbs were a pair of boneless tentacles. They bore bundles of long reed darts and atlatls made from long, carved thigh bones.

Four of the small creatures stalked out into the open square. They could only have been a metre tall, with noses tipped by wicked little horns. The creatures snapped and snarled at one another, then moved further out into the open as yet more of their kin arrived.

Three more of the creatures came from the ruins, then three more. And then the ruins seemed to tremble.

A vast beast emerged from behind the wicked little humanoids – a great ragged thing that looked like a monstrous version of the others. It slumped forward, knuckle-walking on its tentacles; even so, it was easily six metres tall at the shoulders, and must have weighed a great many tons. Four or five of the miniature hunters were riding the thing, perched upon its back or clinging to its fur.

The monster moved ponderously forward and walked to the fountain, dipping its fanged muzzle to drink deep. Several of the smaller creatures joined it, while others squabbled, cuffed each other, or kept watch on the ruins. Some had kills hanging from their belts – small creatures hunted down in the rubble. Two of the little monsters fought over one kill, eventually tearing it bloodily in half. Each immediately ate what it had won, skin, bones, guts and all.

One of the little monsters suddenly stiffened. It ran a few steps to stand beside the huge ancient vehicle near the fountain. There were scuff marks on the hull from Kenda clambering aboard. The little creature sniffed at them, then lifted its horned snout to snuffle searchingly at the air.

Throckmorton had led the party well: they were downwind of the group of little hunters and their titanic guardian. The sniffing savage seemed satisfied that all was well. It scuttled back to the others, and was soon squabbling with its companions over the division of a meal.

The creatures drank, then some pointed to the pumpkins. But it seemed meat was what they were after. A leader cuffed the most argumentative of its fellows into line, and the lumbering behemoth was turned to the west, paralleling the distant lake shore. The gaggle of beings moved on, picking up and over some fallen buildings and vanishing off into the gloom.

Slowly, the flying flowers returned. All the little life forms that lived amongst the trees emerged again. Throckmorton silently lifted up off the rooftops – almost invisible amongst the hanging vines. He watched the giant monster as it lumbered away, and then he finally sank back down to join his friends. His tentacles indicated that the coast was clear.