WARP world (6 page)

“It dropped at 70 kilometers to recharge. Give it twelve minutes and it’ll be back up again.”

“We have a developing mountain range here.”

“So? Mountains mean a tough trail.” Kerbin wiped her forehead; they were all sporting glistening skin, unused to air so moist.

Seg watched as the display scrolled. “Primitive Outers tend to place value on mountains and caves. Our radio frequency signals are coming from northeast, 20 kilometers out and increasing. We move this way, examine the base of the range for artifact sites, then cut back to follow the river track. It’s not just the Outers we’re here for.” He slipped into a lecturing tone, “We’re here to scout out their vita sources, and following the primitives along the river won’t take us there.”

He could feel her glare on his back as he turned away and reviewed the feeds from the visual monitoring.

Another self-referential was emerging from the collected comm data:
Shasir
. Fascinating.

The squad was only an hour into the hike up the mountain when a trooper’s scream violated the air.

“Damp that!” Kerbin ordered.

Manatu rushed forward and clamped a hand over the man’s mouth. The trooper flailed wildly as the rest of the squad moved up and grabbed his arms to help restrain him. Even Manatu’s bulk could not contain the trooper’s frenzy.

Herma, his name is Herma,
Seg thought as he pulled his pack down and reached in for his auto-med. On Kerbin’s nod, he wrapped the sleeve around Herma’s forearm. Herma struggled to pull his arm loose but the other troopers held him firm as Seg initiated the auto-med by pressing a large green button. It was a simple machine, designed for ease of use under trying circumstances–a design Seg could now appreciate in more than theory. The cuff clamped down as the machine gathered vital information.

Kerbin snatched the control box from Seg’s hand to study the readings. Her grim expression betrayed the trooper’s prognosis as she jabbed the touch-sensitive screen and chose the option the machine gave her.

“Poison,” she said. “Likely vector was at the calf. Possibly insect-based. Clear back and let him go.”

Herma was already going slack, the drugs pumping into his system relaxing him. That or the poison was finishing him off, only Kerbin knew at this point. She stepped back, eyes flickering between the victim and the auto-med. Herma shuddered, all color drained from his face.

“Get out there and set the perimeter,” she ordered the troopers. “And don’t let any kargin’ bugs get on you.”

The troopers dispersed, moving into position. It would be a perimeter smaller by one man now, Seg noted silently. He gestured at Herma. “Is he…?”

Kerbin nodded, her face harder than he had seen it before. “Yeah, he’s done for. The machine’s already got antivenom formulated, but the venom got into his heart tissue. Too late for him,” she said, as she jabbed another button, “but we’ll be protected.”

He couldn’t help noticing she didn’t seem comforted by that fact. Seg crouched down next to Herma, stared at him a moment, then grasped his shoulder. “Sleep,” he said quietly, as Herma’s eyes fluttered.

Kerbin swore softly behind him. Seg glanced back and addressed her in a low tone, “Anything can kill when you’re extrans.”

“I know that damn well better than you do,” she said. “I’m not the first-timer.”

“We need to keep moving. Let’s get him cleared and buried.” He reached for Herma’s pack and began pulling it off.

“You could wait until he’s dead!”

Seg looked back at her, briefly, then resumed his work. “He can’t feel it now anyway.”

The sunlight filtering in through the trees was coming in at an angle now, but even after four hours it had lost none of its intensity.

“We need a Shasir,” Seg said to Kerbin, as they waited for two of the squad to cut a path through a wall of fallen trees and thick brush. “That seems to be a position of some importance to the Welf primitives. We must acquire a Shasir or someone closely connected to them.”

“Better to grab assistants,” she said. “When the big figures go missing, there’s usually a stir.” She swatted a flying insect away from her face.

“We don’t know how big a figure the Shasir represents just yet. If they’re a broad-spectrum religious caste, then losing a minor functionary is less likely to draw attention.”

Kerbin cleared her throat, “That sounds dangerously close to an assumption, Theorist.”

“Missions turn on inference,” he answered. Leaning closer, he looked her in the eye, “Risk is factored into the mission.”

“You don’t have to remind me about that,” she said, pointing to the men clearing a section of woodland debris from their path. “We’re already off the safest path. Listen, this is your first extrans. It’s my thirteenth, for recon alone.”

“But only your second as squad leader,” he pointed out. “You’ve lost one of your troopers. You’re showing signs of shying.”

Kerbin’s dark eyes narrowed but she didn’t reply.

“This is my mission,” he said. “The choice of path was mine and the responsibility mine.”

“You’re going to push for catching one of these Shasir regardless of protocol. Unortho.”

He leaned back, wiping the sweat from his face with the sleeve of his uniform. The same word always came up for him.
Unortho
. The label had pursued him throughout his training, and of course it would arise on his mission. “Protocol is a guideline, not a control graft. We will continue to assess the situation, and if taking a Shasir, which appears to constitute the best information source, presents itself as an opportunity, we’ll move on it. It will entail risk. We accepted risk when we walked through the warp gate.”

Kerbin was irking him more and more with every exchange. He didn’t need to put up with balking now that they were out in the field.

“Perimeter clear, lead,” a trooper reported, his chest heaving from the strain of the work.

“Let’s move,” Kerbin answered, swatting the air around her face again. “At this pace, all we’ll have to send back through the next warp is bugs anyway.”

Challenging had turned out to be a gross understatement to describe the terrain. Once again, years of training proved to be a pale imitation of the real thing. Layers of decomposing vegetation made the ground wet and soft. Walking on it was like walking through a field of wet sponge. It also hid possible hazards, a fact that made all the troopers skittish, especially on the heels of Herma’s death.

Seg knew of trees from his studies but he had never conceived they could function so perfectly as obstacles. The thick, green canopy overhead let in only the thinnest beams of natural light, the trunks and branches limited the field of vision, roots hid beneath foliage to trip unwary feet and the trees size and spacing often dictated sweeping detours. Formidable, these structures.

Between the constant buzz of insects, the slow travel and the humidity, Seg was beginning to question his decision to move inland until a voice in his ear announced that the lead trooper had spotted a target.

“There’s a lot of ’em,” the lead trooper called out, as the rest of the squad halted. “Visual and scan puts it at over five hundred.”

Everyone waited while the information came through. Kerbin glanced back at Seg, who nodded. She cued her transmitter.

“Observation positions and coverage everyone. The Theorist and I will go into primary observation position.”

At the words, the troopers fanned out, and Kerbin led Seg up to a small outcropping on the side of the mountain. In the distance, in a wide valley, hundreds of dots moved like a slow whirlpool. When Seg lowered his visor, and tapped his wrist controls to zoom in, the dots became flesh. Another few taps and he could make out individual features–leather and rough fiber clothing, dark hair and eyes, the lean, protruding muscles of a working class, females wide at the hips with generous breasts, indicating healthy breeding stock.

“Trooper,” Seg said to the man hovering behind him, “bring me a recharge cell.”

The man nodded once and hurried away.

“We have names, you know,” Kerbin said to him.

“I’m well aware. I know them all. I know your service histories, familial affiliations, service sectors, and full backgrounds. Probably better than you do,” Seg said, observing the unfolding scene.

“Really,” she said. Seg couldn’t see her face, but her tone was one of disbelief and, if he was not mistaken, tinged with fear.

“Really,” he answered, not moving his gaze from the spectacle below. “Tell me, what do you know of me?”

“You’re a Theorist and an obnoxious, self-congratulatory prick, and you’ll be even worse now that you’ve actually gone and found something. But we need you on this, and hey, you know what? You need us too.”

He considered that as he watched the solemn procession chanting and droning. It wasn’t a particularly colorful display, given the nature of the environment. He would have expected more primary colors, more body paint. The Welf were entreating the Shasir, from what he could gather of the rough translations.

“You’re correct, Kerbin, I do need you and your troops,” he said, focusing on the primitive gathering. “Somebody has to carry the equipment.”

She snorted at that and he felt her face move closer to his. “Y’know, Theorists aren’t soft—the Guild trains you hard—but most of ’em I’ve had to shepherd on jobs like this, they wouldn’t have looked to march straight into the weeds like you did. They’re usually fine with taking the easier path. You didn’t cry about it, just grabbed your gear and moved. Much as I hate to admit it, I’m impressed.” She stared into his eyes, her own dilating as she waited for his response.

Kerbin’s proximity and tone of voice were unwelcome. He had been prepared for this eventuality; extrans missions often inspired sentimental notions of bonding, which escalated with stress and danger. “I’m not interested in you,” he said.

He watched the features of her face widen in disbelief, then narrow in anger. A predictable reaction.

“Go play with yourself, you self-absorbed little shit,” she said, pulling away.

Seg resumed his observation, satisfied that the relationship was back in proper working order.

“I think things are about to get interesting,” he said, pointing. Kerbin’s eyes followed his finger to the airship in the distance. Now that,
that
had some color going. It was a crude thing, by the standards of his World, but functional. The ship drifted along sedately as the chanting picked up.

As the airship neared the gathering, a burst of brilliant light exploded from the bottom, showering down in streams. The mass of Outers leapt into a frenzy, raising their hands skyward and cheering.

“Loud noises and bright lights are primal human triggers,” Seg said. “The more advanced the society, the more ostentatious the displays tend to be. And we can assume, from the pyrotechnics display, these Shasir have familiarity with black powder and weapons of that nature.”

Kerbin rocked onto one elbow, “Primitive weapons.”

“As squad leader, you should know better than to underestimate the damage such weapons are capable of,” Seg said. Kerbin was silent but he could feel her resentment. “How long until warp window?” he asked, after a moment. Once they had acquired a prisoner for proper interrogation, they would have to hold the Outer until such time as they could send it back to the World. All the while evading contact and pursuit.

“Seventeen hours,” Kerbin answered.

“If I’m correct, one or more of the Shasir will be aboard that airship.”

“You’re still set on getting one?” she shook her head.

“At least one.” He tapped a button on his wrist to switch his visor to photo-capture mode. A few more taps and he could make out a young Outer woman, swaying to the chanting, winding her way up a set of stairs toward a large tent erected beside what was obviously the landing pad for the airship. Tapping another button, he captured the image and transmitted it over to Kerbin.

“There, that structure. That’s where your troops will find a Shasir.”

“You want the girl too? Ever had one? This could be your first?” Kerbin asked, one corner of her mouth tugging upward.