Shades of Gray, page 23
Kaid smiled briefly and touched her cheek. “Now you know what to expect if it has to treat you.” See you medicate Jo, he sent to Rezac.
Will do.
“You’re being cheerful!”
“Hey, Carrie,” T’Chebbi called out to her from her position two pods up as she started checking the people nearby. “See you at the bar …”
“Or in L’Shoh’s Hell,” chorused the other Sholans there amid laughter.
“You’re on,” Carrie shouted back, trying to keep her voice steady.
“Your suit’ll medicate you even if you get too anxious,” he said. “It isn’t designed to act only if you’re injured. Time to get into your pod. Helmet on, please.”
She stood looking at him, the helmet dangling in her hands, for all the world like a cub about to go to the dentist.
He picked up the long braid that still hung outside her suit, tucking it in down her back. Don’t look at me like that, Dzinae, he sent. We’ll both be fine. Everyone will keep an eye out for you.
They shouldn’t have to, she replied. I know I’ll be fine. She looked away and lifted up her helmet, lowering it over her head and twisting it so that the seal locked.
It took Kaid only a moment to check her out, and then he was helping her into her pod.
It was snug, there was no other way to describe it, Carrie thought as she backed carefully into it, first stepping over the lip.
Go right back, Kaid sent. Lean against the back wall—there’s a small perch you can rest on.
Leaning back, she found it—it fitted snugly under the seat of her suit, touching the back of her upper thighs.
You’ll not be alone, Kaid sent as he moved away to see T’Chebbi into her pod. Either Dzaka or I will stay in mental touch with you all the way down.
Understood, she replied, trying to relax a little, but the tightness in the pit of her stomach wouldn’t go away.
They’ll be closing the pods in a minute or two, sent Dzaka. Kezule controls them from this flight deck. You’ll feel a rumbling beneath you, then a series of jerks as each one advances along the line …
She tried to keep her attention on what he was saying, but as soon as her pod closed and she was alone in the darkness, feeling the pod’s interior press against her suit, cushioning her, she began to panic. It was too like the old nightmares she’d had as a child in cryo when leaving Earth—when she’d sensed her mother dying and been unable to wake up and sound the alarm.
Carrie! Kaid’s thought was insistent, demanding her attention. Turn on your helmet light. Sorry, I should have suggested that earlier.
She tilted her head inside the helmet, knocking the control with her chin. Instantly everything was bathed in a white glow. Not that there was anything but the cushioned interior of the unit pressing against her faceplate to see, she thought wryly.
When the pod opens, sent Kaid as a rumbling under her feet began, remember the drill. Count to ten and trigger your parachute. It’ll break your fall and lower you closer to the ground, where you can fire your suit’s jets.
Carrie—
Kusac? she sent, taken completely by surprise. What’s wrong? Are you all right?
I’m fine. Just slow your breathing, cub. Take long, slow breaths, Kusac sent. You’ll be fine with Kaid.
I know, she replied, barely noticing her pod lurching forward. Where are you? What’s happening?
Nothing. We’re still in the tunnel. It’s flooded in places and slowing us down a little. Did Kaid tell you to watch the elevation countdown on your HUD and turn off the jets at ten feet?
Just about to, Kusac. Kaid’s mental tone was slightly dry. Good to hear you again.
Take care, and good hunting to you both, sent Kusac.
Suddenly a great force seemed to grasp the pod, thrusting it out from the N’zishok into space.
Tunnels
“Our junction’s ahead,” said J’korrash. “We turn right at it.”
Kusac grunted and glanced again at the time display on his HUD. Nearly half their allotted time was gone. They still had to reach the entrance to the Control Room, break through, and overpower the guards there. The ’bots were doing their job well—two more traps had been found, both quickly disabled. It was the flooding and earth cave-ins that were delaying them.
“Another fall-in ahead,” said Khadui. “Not as bad as the last one, from the looks of it.”
“On my way,” he said, increasing his pace to catch up with the older male. Stopping beside him, he surveyed the pile of rocks and mud partially blocking their access to the junction.
“Need to clear them both,” said Khadui, raising his rifle.
Kusac swung his around on its sling and lifted it up to bear on the right-hand side. Holding the trigger down continuously caused the bolts of energy to form an almost continuous stream that on hitting the barrier began disintegrating it in a cloud of mud and dust. The delays were beginning to irritate him. In an effort to dissipate it, he became so focused on what he was doing that he almost missed Khadui’s exclamation of shock.
He didn’t miss the raucous shriek of rage, or the flash of a long dun-colored body hurtling out from the rubble toward Khadui.
He swung his rifle around, ready to shoot, but by then the beast had toppled Khadui to the ground with its sheer weight. There was no chance for a clean shot. Swinging his gun back, he pulled out the knife fixed to his belt.
“Get Zsurtul to the rear!” he ordered, advancing.
He recognized it when he got closer. It was the same beast as the melted metal carving nestling in one of his pouches. A norrta, M’kou had called it.
The violently lashing tail swept toward his feet, forcing him to jump out of the way as the beast, fastening its jaws on Khadui’s arm, began to worry it, snarling and hissing as it tried to drag him back to its lair.
Khadui, struggling to reach for his own knife, let out a sharp yowl of pain.
Anger surged through Kusac, and without thinking, he lashed out with the only weapon that would reach—his mind. As the beast froze, he threw his knife.
Passing within a hair’s breadth of Khadui’s visor, the Brotherhood blade struck the norrta straight between the eyes, penetrating almost to the quillons. Seconds later it collapsed, blood pouring from its nose and mouth, dead.
Eager hands pulled the large reptile’s carcass off Khadui and helped him to his feet. M’kou went to retrieve the knife.
“Once again you’re to be complimented on your throwing skills,” said the young Prime, handing it back to him. “And your mental ones,” he added quietly. “I think it was dead before your knife hit it.”
“Quite possibly,” Kusac said, taking the knife from him and checking that it was clean before putting it away.
“You don’t seem surprised.”
Before he had to answer, Zsurtul was pushing forward. “Are you all right?” he demanded of Khadui. “Let me see. Norrtas have corrosive saliva. We have to clean the wound.”
“The suit should see to it,” said Kusac, leaving M’kou to join them. “Let me see, Khadui.”
“I’ll do,” said his Second, his voice sounding decidedly unsteady. “The suit’s already medicated me.”
Kusac took hold of his arm and examined the damage to the suit. A large half circle of ragged punctures had penetrated the armor around Khadui’s left wrist where the glove attached to the arm. More worrisome, in the center was a fused, burned area through which sealant foam was slowly oozing before coagulating.
“Patch it, M’kou,” he said, turning his attention to the control panel on Khadui’s other arm. “Suit’s lost its integrity. How bad is the wound?” he asked as he checked the telemetry.
“Hurt like hell at the time,” said Khadui. “Fine now. What’s it say?”
“Four punctures, each with some saliva damage that’s been neutralized. Damn thing secretes an acid!”
“I said it did,” said Zsurtul. “We need to take the head off so the teeth can be pulled. Lend me your sword, please, Captain.”
Kusac frowned at him as he released Khadui. “What the hell for? So it can drool more acid over whoever is carrying it?”
“We must have the teeth,” Zsurtul insisted. “It’s traditional. My father told me that in the far past, in their rites of passage, young males had to kill a norrta single-handedly. The teeth are made into a necklace. Khadui and you must have your trophy to show you survived the attack and killed the beast.”
He looked over at the creature lying only a few feet away. It was large, at least twice his height in length.
“We can come back for it later,” he said turning away. “I can’t spare anyone to haul that beast’s head around.”
“It might come in useful, Captain,” said M’kou. “After all, wasn’t it an omen you found a carving of it on the Orbital?”
“Since when did you become superstitious?” he demanded of the young lieutenant. “Do what you damned well want, so long as it doesn’t delay us any longer! I’ve one person injured already, and we’re getting too close to our deadline!”
He turned away from M’kou and began walking toward the right-hand tunnel entrance. “We have forty minutes left not only to reach the Control Room but to break in and take over the Palace and its defenses.” The clock in his head was ticking down at an alarming rate now.
“There is only another 350 feet of tunnel, Captain,” said M’kou, accepting Khadui’s sword. “Ten minutes at most.”
“I didn’t expect to meet that down here,” said Kusac, as he watched the ’bots scuttle ahead. “This is the second rockfall we’ve seen; there could be more ahead as we pass farther under the Palace.”
He waited for them, his suit picking up the almost inaudible hum as the vibro blade was activated. One slice and the head would be severed.
“Seal it with a blaster,” he ordered. “I’m not having it leave a trail and possibly attract more of them, or stink the tunnel out ahead so the Primes smell it as soon as we break in.” The germ of a plan was beginning to form in his mind.
They were on their way again, the head of the beast stowed in a backpack, Zsurtul and Valden talking about it in excited low voices, with the occasional dry comment from Zhalmo. Up ahead, he could already make out what looked like another partial blockage.
Calling up the map on his HUD, he checked the area out. “J’korrash, there’s a dip in the tunnel ahead and a rock pile that doesn’t look natural. Check out the map.” He stopped just before the ’bots would reach it.
She was at his elbow a moment later. “You’re right,” she said. “It’s not ours, Captain. Ours were mainly trip wires to alarms, and the ’bots found them all so far. This is K’hedduk’s work.”
“I’ll send the ’bots on ahead,” he said, pulling the remote for them off his belt. “We should all back off another five feet or so.”
Increasing their range, he watched the faint telltales on his HUD as the ’bots scuttled past the partial barricade and down into the dip.
“They’ve not stopped, and we can’t see what’s beyond it until we’re actually there.” He looked up at J’korrash, seeing only the faint image of her face through the special Prime coating on both their helmets. “I need you and Q’almo to go ahead and scout it out. Be careful, it’s likely to be a trap.”
“Understood, Captain,” she said quietly, turning away to call for Q’almo.
Guns held ready, the two advanced slowly to the barrier, skirting around it then disappearing from sight.
“There’s nothing obvious to see, Captain,” she said a few moments later. “It’s a small cavern, and apart from the barricade, it looks the same as we left it.”
“Stop when you get to the center,” he said.
“Aye, sir. Approaching there now. Still seems normal. No, wait.”
The channel fell silent.
“J’korrash, report,” he snapped after a minute’s prolonged silence.
“Sorry, sir. Seems to be another blockage, this time filling most of both tunnels where our route splits up ahead. We can’t see from here whether it’s natural or not.”
“The ’bots are just ahead of you. What’re they doing?”
“Nothing,” said Q’almo. “They can’t go any farther. They don’t seem to have found anything, though.”
“It could be mined,” he muttered to himself as he mentally ran through all Kaid’s knowledge of dirty tricks, searching for an answer, and coming up blank. If there were explosives, the ’bots would surely sniff them out—unless they were buried deep in the fake fall-in. “Stay where you are,” he ordered. “We’re coming in. Zhalmo, take Valden and Zsurtul to the rear and keep them there.”
They advanced slowly toward the barricade, edging carefully past it until they were inside the small cavern. Even with all his senses straining to find anything unnatural in the area, he could sense nothing that was out of the ordinary.
Ahead, the floor of the cavern was uneven, with several large boulders strewn haphazardly about where the long gone river’s flow had left them. Just beyond the center, some twenty feet away, J’korrash and Q’almo waited for them.
“Single file. Stay close to the walls,” he said, leading by example. “If anything happens, it should be safer there. J’korrash, Q’almo, head for the other side. Work your way closer to the rockfall.”
Time was wasting again, but they couldn’t afford to be careless this close to their goal.
He held up his hand, signaling those behind to stop just before he got to the halfway mark. J’korrash and Q’almo were approaching the second barrier now.
“Blockage seems to be mainly across the right-hand fork, Captain,” said J’korrash, her voice a soft whisper. “We’ll still have to dismantle some of it to get through, though.”
He did some rapid calculations, mostly involving the time they had left—twenty-six minutes and forty-five seconds.
“Back off fifteen feet, then hit the left-hand side with five thirty-second streams from the rifles,” he ordered. He had no option but to risk the lives of the two commandos. They had to get into the Control Room in time to turn off the force field and the gun turrets, or the area outside the Palace walls would become a killing ground. Nerves taut, he settled back against the wall, watching them, gun ready for anything that presented itself as a target.
Slowly the two soldiers backed off until they were at the distance Kusac had said. As one, they began to shoot at the rockfall, streams of energy leaping from the barrels of their rifles and splattering over the surface.
Far away, out by the Orbital, Kusac felt Carrie’s fear and reached out to her.
Just slow your breathing, cub. Take long, slow breaths, Kusac sent, keeping as much of his attention as he could on what J’korrash and Q’almo were doing.
Inside her helmet, she nodded, forcing herself to hold her breath a little longer before taking another gulp of air.
That’s right. Now let it out, Kusac sent, his tone gentle and patient.
With an effort, she began to release the breath as a great weight continued to press her deeper and deeper into the pod’s padding.
She heard a mental chuckle, and afterward she swore she felt the touch of Kusac’s fingers on her cheek.
Good, cub. You’ve been launched; that’s the worst part over. It’s plain sailing from now on. I have to go. I’ll see you in K’oish’ik.
Kusac? Kusac! she cried out. “Don’t go yet!” The break in their contact hurt so much.
He has to, Dzinae. He has his own people to look after, sent Kaid. I’m right behind you. Just breathe slowly like he said, and you’ll be fine.
Fighting down the panic, she began to gain control of her breathing and tried not to envisage how she was tumbling toward the planet’s surface at a speed that was already beginning to burn the outer ablative shell off the drop pod.
It’s designed to burn up a layer at a time, sent Dzaka, his mental tone steadying her and driving away the last of her panic. I’ll be here for you, Carrie. My father will contact you when he can, but he has to oversee the whole mission too.
I understand, she replied.
A murmur of conversation from behind him caught Kusac’s attention, drawing it back from Carrie to the scene in front of him. He turned around, catching sight of Valden stepping away from the wall to stare up at the cavern roof. Zsurtul was already reaching out for him, ready to draw him back.
“Valden!” he shouted.
At that precise moment, the barrier on both tunnels broke open with a roar that deafened them all.
Kusac barely had time to launch himself backward, not for Valden, but for the Prince; then the wall of water engulfed them all.
As the water hit him, it flung him forward into Zsurtul, allowing him to grab hold of the young Emperor and lock him tight against his body. He felt another body hit them both—Zhalmo—and cling onto Zsurtul from behind as the force of the water tossed them. Briefly, he wondered if Valden was safe; then he was slammed against a boulder, bent around it, and was swept away again.
All it needed was a crack in the visor, and any one of them would be dead. He tightened his grip on the Prince as the water surged between them, threatening to drag them apart as it sucked them backward, swirling them about until they were once again slammed into a solid surface.
This time, his head hit the back of his helmet with enough force to stun him. He felt his grip on Zsurtul begin to relax and gave a low moan of pain as nausea swept over him.
Someone was saying something, but the cries of fear and distress from the others were drowning it out.
Just as he was about to lose contact with the youth, he felt himself grasped firmly by the waist, and again by one arm. He heard a dull clunk as something hit his helmet, and he fought to focus beyond the blurry lights of his HUD.
“We’ve got you safe, Captain.” Now he could hear. The voice—Zsurtul’s—was reverberating inside his helmet.
He blinked several times until his vision began to clear. Yes, it was Zsurtul, with his helmet pressed up against Kusac’s.
Control was coming back to his limbs now, and reaching out, he grasped the youth by the arms, trying to ignore his pounding head. He sucked in a breath at the sting in his neck as the suit decided to medicate him.
