Star Cruise: Marooned (8 page)

He glanced over his shoulder as two Shemdylann inflicted long, shallow cuts on the screaming human’s arms and legs with the rough edges of their pincers before flinging him into the lake. As Harelly attempted to rise, someone else pushed him further into the water with a splash. Out in the center of the lake, Red observed several rippling vees, as the big eels caught the scent of blood.
 

At least the venom would render the poor passenger unconscious pretty efficiently once the attack started.

He heard Bettis retch.

Filled with adrenaline and determined not to lose this chance to escape, Red fell to his knees and began digging under the energy wall, hoping perhaps it didn’t go all the way to bedrock. Callina joined him, as did the others. Sand flew. The small trench deepened to four inches, then six, but the energy’s shimmer resisted any attempt to push so much as a finger to freedom. Red stopped excavating for a moment, grabbing Callina and yanking her to her feet.

“You keep an eye on what the soldiers are doing, there at the waterfront. Tell me the instant any of the bastards turn in our direction.”

She gulped. “I can’t watch—”

He shook her so hard her teeth rattled. “That poor guy is dying right now to give us a chance here. We can’t waste it. Now open your damn eyes and report to me when the enemy moves. Look at them, not him.”
 

Swallowing hard, wiping blood off her lip from where she’d bitten herself, she said, “Okay, okay.”

“I think we might be getting to the edge,” her husband called. “The light’s weaker.”

“Keep your voice low, some of them speak Basic.” He sprinted to help with the frantic digging.

CHAPTER FOUR

The concussion of the windows breaking and the fire bombs hitting the floor left Meg frozen in shock for a moment, hands over her ears against the awful sound. Flame squirted across the floor right in front of her, blazing waist high. Screaming Red’s name, she retreated in the only direction she could go, down the hall to the kitchen. Fire was licking at the doorway to the conference room as she ducked inside the kitchen to grab the nearest pack, sweep the map to the research station into the bag, and take the large knife she’d been using to slice meat for sandwiches. Preparing to flee out the rear door of the station, she turned and froze.

Too late. Pausing those few seconds to grab the items she needed had given the alien fire time to fill the hall. How the seven hells could the stuff move so fast? The heat and smoke were overpowering. Already burning, the entrance to the kitchen and the hall beyond were impassable, a solid pit of flames. She heard the structure creaking under the assault. An ugly tongue of red and yellow ran from the top of the door across the ceiling toward her, fat sparks dropping to ignite new blazes.

Pulse pounding, grabbing a towel from the stash in the robo to put over her mouth and nose to block the smoke, she retreated. She dropped to the floor to get below the smoke as best she could, and crawled to the end of the small kitchen. Scrabbling desperately at the wall, she felt her fingers slide over a crack, and she remembered there was a door to some kind of storage space. Crouching, she managed to get the portal open and slipped through, slamming it shut against the fire.
 

The storage space was blessedly smoke free for the moment, although ghostly gray tendrils seeped through the narrow crack in the portal. Meg retreated, sucking in cleaner air, searching frantically for her next move. The outer wall had a window, a webbed crack running from edge to edge, probably from the impact of the tree falling during the night. She grabbed a chair from the small desk wedged into the corner of the room, and pounded on the glass.

Three times she slammed the chair into the reinforced portal. On the fourth attempt, her arms losing strength as the room filled with smoke, the glass gave way, shattering outward in all directions. Climbing onto the chair, Meg dropped her pack outside and then attempted to crawl out the window. Branches from the fallen tree blocked her path. Desperate, she shimmied through a space between the branches and fell hard. Dazed for a moment, coughing, she realized she was lying in a nest of wet foliage, between several more branches. She was sure she had cuts, but there was no time to do anything but keep moving. Grabbing the straps of the backpack, she slung it on her shoulders. Trying to control her trembling limbs, she crawled through a seemingly endless maze of broken wood and slimy leaves, heading away from the building.

At least the dampness of the fallen tree might keep it from catching fire.

Behind her, she heard an explosion as the ranger station fell in on itself, she assumed. Ahead, she could see the edge of the branches and she froze. Where she was, in the midst of tree debris, she hoped she was impossible to see with the naked eye. Would whoever had attacked them think to search with more sensitive technology? Would the enemy even know she was alive?

She backtracked a few feet, nestling under a particularly dense area of the branches, and curled up, trying not to cry. For a few moments, Meg had to work hard to quell the terror. Controlling her breathing and forcing herself to recall the recipe for the most complicated mixed feelgood drink she’d learned at school helped. Anything to get her whirling thoughts under control. She kept seeing Red’s face as he’d called out to her across the barrier of flames. Had he escaped?
 

Better not to think about him right now.

Blood was mixed with the rain on her hand, providing a trail the enemy could easily follow. Carefully, she worked the backpack off and opened the flap, digging for the small medkit. As best she could, she bandaged the worst scrapes and cuts, and then made herself swallow a small container of energy drink. Her stomach rebelled, but Meg breathed deep and concentrated until the nausea had passed. The thick liquid coated her throat, soothing her cough as well.

She decided the first priority was to get away from the ranger station and take refuge in the forest itself. Then she could figure out her next steps. Cautiously, moving a few inches at a time, keeping the huge trunk between herself and the ranger station, she worked her way to the edge of the fallen tree’s canopy. She’d have to cross ten feet of clear space stretching between her and the beginning of the forest. Turning her head in all directions, she blinked and froze at the terrifying reality of three alien craft sitting on the landing pad. She’d no idea what species of sentients owned the ships, but she’d never seen anything like them at any Sector’s port.

Something cold rasped across her leg and Med stifled a scream as one of the large tree serpents undulated its endless coils over her, on its way somewhere else and apparently not hungry, thankfully. She’d have to be more careful. The aliens weren’t the only menace out here. But watching the snake slither toward the trees and then coil itself around the nearest trunk, ascending impossibly fast in a blur of color, gave her an idea.
 

“You’re going to run to the next tree and you’re going to climb like hell, and you’re going to make it, Meg Antille,” she said to herself. “If Red, or anyone else is still alive, you’re their only hope right now.”

She crouched under the leafy branches, trying to be as sure as possible no one was close by. Taking deep breaths, she remembered her father’s advice to her brothers and her, on more than one hunting expedition, that rapid movement attracts attention. He wouldn’t approve of her current plan. But there was absolutely no cover between her and the forest, and she didn’t think she had the nerve to creep to safety inches at a time right now. With a whispered, “Sorry, Dad,” she counted to three under her breath, and burst out of hiding, sprinting into the shelter of the forest. As soon as she passed the tree line, all the time expecting to be shot in the back, she leaped to grab a low hanging limb and climbed from branch to branch as fast as she could. She didn’t allow herself to stop until she was high above the ground, deep into the overlapping branches of the forest. Then she sank against the tree trunk, leaning on its reassuring bulk, and considered her next move.

With a start, she realized she’d nodded off or passed out. Vertigo assailed her as she glanced down. Trying to orient herself, she realized the network of huge branches, four to eight feet wide in places, would provide her a highway in the sky, if she moved carefully. It might not occur to aliens to search the foliage above them for a human, but she needed to be quiet and stay as hidden as she could. No overconfident moves.

“I have to know what’s happening to Red and the others,” she said under her breath.

She took a deliberate moment to organize her few possessions. Tucking the knife in her belt, she drew the blaster, checking the charge. About eighty percent, but better than nothing. Her sturdy work shoes gave her good purchase on the damp branches.
 

By the time she navigated to a spot where she could see the imploded, smoldering ranger station far below, no one was left there, not human or alien. Flashes of color and voices in an unknown language off to the east attracted her attention. Puzzled as to why the invaders would be going to the beach, she searched her memory, reassured by the mental picture of how the forest grew nearly to the edge of the sand.
 

I can get pretty close, see what’s going on. Check for the others.
She heard her father’s voice in her head, lecturing her brothers and herself to always evaluate all the options in a situation, not jump at the first one that came to mind.

Was there another option in this case? For a moment, she considered the research installation, three days’ hike away in the forest. If she left now, she could probably get there with no problem. Apparently, no one was searching for her. Even her companions must have assumed she was dead in the wreckage of the ranger station. But leaving aside her refusal to abandon Red if he was alive, not to mention any remaining passengers, what would she do at the other facility? She couldn’t even open the doors—
she
didn’t have any mysterious, all access code. Hence, no way to call for help from off planet. The only sensible choice was to continue what she was doing and try not to get caught.

Having decided, and not planning to revisit the other options, she walked along the tree branches, gaining confidence as she went, but slipping often enough to banish cockiness. When she came as close as she dared to go to the beach, she was astonished to find the entire space occupied by large aliens, apparently relishing a day of relaxation. Several hundred of them roamed along the lakeshore.

Her attention was caught by the sight of her fellow humans, standing in a line in front of what must be the alien leader. So few! She caught her breath as a nearly naked Red, identifiable from this distance by his hair, was dragged forward and examined at length by his captor. She wished for distance viewers, but the pack didn’t contain any. Heart pounding, clutching the blaster in one hand, she chewed her knuckle to keep from screaming as the aliens manhandled him. Frantic with worry, Meg relaxed a bit as Red was allowed to retreat, standing beside a shorter person who must be Callina.

At least the six survivors appeared unharmed so far.

Identifying Finchon by his red and white jacket, she took note of how he was singled out for some kind of special treatment, separated from the others. “Could be good, could be bad,” she whispered to herself.
 

She watched as Red and the remaining passengers were marched down the beach toward her. She shrank lower amongst the foliage, but none of the aliens glanced up. The humans were shoved into some kind of glowing cage and left with only one guard.

Frustration ate at Meg as the day wore on. So close and yet so far! She couldn’t develop any plan offering a chance of success. She’d no idea where the vulnerable points were on an alien’s naturally armored body. Pacing on the tree limb, she debated whether a blaster shot could even pierce the carapace? And if she did kill or disable the single guard, there were hundreds more aliens nearby. Squinting, she noted the Primary getting special treatment, even from the enemy, and his status made her angry. She’d pretty much decided to creep up on the cage from the rear if the humans remained on the beach after dark fell, and use the blaster to disrupt the energy field. At least a few people—Red for sure—might make it to the shelter of the forest and escape.

She stayed hydrated and forced herself to consume a sandwich, even though the food threatened to choke her in her current stressed condition. Guilt dampened her appetite, knowing the captives weren’t being given anything, not even water, but she had to stay strong for the rescue attempt. Her cuts and bruises ached and she had a first degree burn on her lower right leg. A headache started over her left eye and there was nothing in the meager first aid kit to help. Small insects seemed unable to resist her where she sat among flowering vines, but she needed the cover in case any of the enemy glanced her way.

The sun would be setting soon. She stood slowly on the broad branch and made sure her backpack was secure, the knife and blaster safely fastened to her belt. Then she descended the far side of the tree, away from the beach, getting ready for her rescue attempt.

As she crept around the base of the trunk a few moments later, the situation on the beach had changed for the worse. A cluster of aliens stood at the door to the cage and as she watched, soldiers dragged Harelly away. Transfixed for a moment, watching Red and the others digging frantically, she forced herself into motion, running forward, blaster aimed at the nearest corner of the energy cage. She’d no idea what the weapon’s effective distance was.