Alien vs. Predator: Armageddon, page 9
Checking her sidearm, running a rapid diagnostic on her combat suit and finding all systems functioning, she started down.
Walking these corridors, it was the first time she’d been on her own in longer than she could recall. There were moments on the Pixie, but it was a small ship, and even in her sleeping bay she was never more than a couple of yards from another crew member sleeping or walking or floating past. Back at Charon Station she had been surrounded by thousands of other spacefarers—Colonial Marines, scientists, support crews, and the upper echelons of the Company and military.
Now, it truly felt like she was walking alone, unfollowed and unobserved. The deeper she descended into the asteroid base, the more she felt her mind settling. She and her crew had been dragged along by events, tumbled here, rolled there, and she’d hardly had time to gather herself. Even waiting for Palant to recuperate, Halley had felt pressure building all around her.
Now at last she had time to think.
She could never trust the Yautja. True, they’d helped them win the battle at LV-1657, and then actually handed over the android on the ruined Fiennes ship. Bringing them here with the android might have been a masterstroke, though. No doubt the base was shielded from any form of detection, and it seemed perfectly equipped for Palant to be able to extract all the information she could from the Rage general.
But Yautja were Yautja, implacable, unreliable. Always one of the Colonial Marines’ most feared enemies, because there was no hope of negotiation with them.
Until now.
Halley remained unsettled by Palant’s communication with the beasts, but she had to admit it was working to their benefit, so far.
There was more than that to concern her, however. Technically she and her crew had gone AWOL, killing McIlveen, the Company man, and then hiding away with the one thing that might help humanity fight the Rage. She had to believe it was all for the best, but her mind remained on edge—and she wanted that edge, because it meant she stayed sharp. She could see no good end for her and her crew, but this went way beyond personal considerations. They were doing what they genuinely thought best for the entire human race.
Still walking, she passed several arches in the walls that might have indicated doorways. She’d seen the walls fading and hardening again to allow them access to the lab, and she approached one of these arches to see if the same thing would happen.
It didn’t.
Maybe some doors only worked for Yautja. If that was the case, it was a perfect security device. They had been allowed access into a place the Yautja must have been keeping secret for decades, if not much longer. There was doubtless so much more they weren’t being permitted to see.
What might happen when the time came to leave?
The smells, the sounds, the sights, everything felt alien. She’d become used to the smell of Yautja—had experienced it in battle, and when Palant and Elder Kalakta had met to make peace. Here it was heavier, the warm spicy aroma seemingly a part of the atmosphere, imbued in the walls. There was a steady background grumble, almost sub-audible. It was probably life support systems and augmented gravity, but she couldn’t help imagining it coming from a Yautja throat, or perhaps a group of them.
She pictured a dozen of them, more, squatting motionless in a room and sending the hum vibrating through the asteroid.
Descending more large steps, Halley came to a junction of several passageways. She instructed her suit to compose a map of their route and went in a random direction.
The place felt deserted. It was evidently a large base, but didn’t seem to be heavily occupied. Then again, Yautja weren’t thought to be a particularly social species.
Twenty minutes after setting out, she heard human voices.
She paused, crouched, and drew her weapon. Consulting her suit, she made sure she hadn’t simply walked in a wide circle and returned to the area of the labs. But she didn’t recognize these voices. Whoever it was, they were talking with an urgency she did not like.
As she moved along the passage and closer to the source, she started to identify clicks and buzzes that indicated these were transmissions. The revelation relaxed her a little, but not the tone of the voices.
A few yards ahead of her stood an open archway in the wall. The voices came from within. She edged closer, sidearm held down by her side. When she reached the opening and peered inside, she holstered her weapon.
The room was empty. A bank of communication equipment lined one wall, objects she hardly recognized—hollow crystal globes, tubes throbbing with pulses of light, banks of a papery material stacked like layers of a bees’ nest. She couldn’t see precisely where the voices issued from. They faded in and out, and she only caught snippets.
Those were enough.
She stood in the middle of that strange room and listened.
…at least ten thousand, maybe more, and they’re landing…
…wiped out, just murdered, none of them taken prisoner…
…over two thousand dead, and that’s just in one village. The cities…
…Weaver’s World, but we won’t even reach orbit for another eight days…
…massacre. A massacre! I’ve never seen anything like it. It’s…
…horrible. Help us. Someone help us!
There was more. The gruesome picture grew more layered and detailed, and in her mind’s eye she saw terrible things.
“Weaver’s World,” Halley muttered. She had family there, cousins she hadn’t seen for decades. She was pretty sure Bestwick had a brother there, too. She’d been panicked when they heard about the sabotage at Swartwood Station 3, but he’d been down on the planet at the time. He probably still was.
There were nine million settlers on Weaver’s World.
Heart hammering, she looked around the communications room. It was an intelligence gathering center. She should have been concerned at that, because this was espionage on a grand scale. She also should have wondered just how the Yautja were receiving these communications from so far away.
All that mattered right then was what she heard.
Halley turned and ran from the room, sprinting back the way she had come.
* * *
Her crew were where she had left them. Sprenkel and Huyck had finished servicing and rearming their com-rifles, and Bestwick was eating. They presented a scene of faux relaxation, although Halley knew they were just as coiled as her.
“Weaver’s World is under attack,” she said.
“What?” Bestwick said. “How do you know?”
She told them about the room she’d found, the transmissions that were being intercepted.
“We have to go,” Bestwick said.
“Your brother’s there,” Halley said. “I know that makes it personal, but we need to plan.”
“Plan how? Plan what?”
“It’s a fucking long way,” Sprenkel said. He’d already accessed his suit computer, contacted the ship’s computer, Billy, and processed a travel plan. “Three drops, with travel time in between. And there’s no saying all three dropholes are still in human hands.”
“How much travel time?”
“Over forty days at Pixie’s top speed.”
“Maybe the Yautja have faster ships,” Huyck said.
Halley shook her head. She turned and paced to the door. When she’d returned and rushed back through the lab, Palant and the Yautja had been in the same position, android spread across the surface before them, leads and wires protruding. They had come here for this, to learn whatever they could from this Rage general.
“We can’t just leave,” she said.
“But there are millions of people on Weaver’s World.”
“Yes, and thousands of Marines probably heading there right now. One more ship and four more Marines won’t make much difference.”
“It’s our duty!” Sprenkel said.
“Your duty is to obey my orders!” Halley snapped, and immediately she was sorry. They knew that. None of them held it against her.
“The major’s right,” Huyck said, nodding past her. “That’s what matters. If anything the Yautja Woman finds out can help us, that’s more important now.”
Halley nodded, then headed across the lab. The others came with her. She felt a kinship with them that was deeper than family, stronger than simple friendship. They had killed and faced death together, and that gave them a bond no one else could understand.
Facing their android enemy as a team made them feel stronger than ever before.
They listened, and watched, and hoped that progress was being made. But Halley quickly found her hopes fading.
“What are your strengths?” Palant asked the android.
“Without limit.”
“Yet your ship was destroyed.”
“I allowed that.”
“Really? So what was that, a strategic decision?”
“Of course.” The mechanical’s voice was strange, strained, yet not without character. Halley could hear the humor underscoring every word.
“It seems a strange way to win a war.”
“It got me here, didn’t it?”
Palant glanced around at Yaquita. The Yautja on her wheeled platform was listening to the android’s translated words, and processing information on the large globe by her side. She didn’t seem startled or troubled.
They’re not stupid, Halley thought. They’d have never brought us and the android here if they thought it was a threat.
“Your self-destruct is disabled,” Halley said.
“Is it really?”
“The base is shielded. No transmissions in or out.”
“I seriously doubt that.” The android’s single eye turned wetly in its head and fixed upon Halley. Surprised, still she did not look away. She wouldn’t give it the satisfaction.
“A word,” Halley said.
Palant raised a hand to show that she’d heard, then continued questioning the android.
“You’re vulnerable,” she said. “You’re ruined.”
“My shell is ruined.”
“And your mind?”
The android gurgled something unintelligible. The Yautja spoke back. The android hissed, and a cloud of vapor rose from its mouth and lacerated face.
Palant consulted the datapad beside her, and smiled.
“That’s not a very nice thing to say.”
“It’s fucking with you,” Sprenkel said, and Palant looked back over her shoulder at them.
“Of course it is.” She stood, stretched, and paused beside Yaquita for a while. She leaned in close and looked at several screens on the globe. Palant pointed at one reading. Yaquita growled something in her strange language, and Palant glanced at her datapad. Again she smiled.
“I really need a word,” Halley said. “Preferably away from that thing.”
Palant nodded. She tossed a glance at Yaquita, the pale blue containment field faded, and she stepped through.
“I need to eat anyway,” she said. “What’s the food like here?”
No one replied.
“I take that to mean surprisingly good.”
“We’re not used to complimenting Yautja on their culinary expertise,” Halley said. “Come on… our room.”
Once Palant was standing at the food replicator waiting for her choice, Halley told her what she knew.
Palant’s face turned pale. She leaned against the counter.
“I was afraid of this,” she said. “All-out war.”
“It sounds like a massacre,” Halley said.
“It’s a distraction,” Palant said. “It has to be. What other reason to slaughter an entire planet?”
“So what I need to know is, how much have you found out from that bastard?”
“And can I fire a laser through its head yet?” Bestwick said.
“We’re discovering more with every moment,” Palant said. “Or rather, Yaquita is. The Yautja technology is… way ahead of ours. While I speak to Oscar and it teases me back, trying to tie me in knots, Yaquita is plumbing the depths of its damaged mind.”
“And it doesn’t know?” Halley asked.
“I’m sure it suspects, but it’s more hurt than it admits, and whatever defenses it might once have had against such interrogation have fallen. It’s hanging on by a thread, and it’s only the power we’re feeding it that’s keeping it alive.”
“So what have you found out?” Sprenkel asked.
“Lots of minor stuff,” Palant said. “Some history. Names, hierarchy. The aspect that seems of most interest to Yaquita is the Drukathi, who or whatever that is. But I think we’ve found something else. I think I know how to make it self-destruct.”
Halley blinked, then gasped as realization dawned.
“And all the others?” she asked. “All the other Rage generals?”
“Perhaps. There might be a way. But…”
“There’s always a but,” Bestwick said.
“But we need to get on board their main control ship,” Halley said. “Is that it?”
“Yeah. I think so.” Palant nodded. “It’s not just a case of transmitting a sub-space signal, and then all the generals go bang. There’s a deep link between them and their Xenomorph troops, and we haven’t even got close to understanding it with Oscar yet. There’s also a definite link between the android generals and who or whatever controls them. A link that’s beyond any technology I know about, or can understand.”
“A psychic link?” Halley said.
Palant nodded.
“So we need to find the central control hub.”
“We certainly need to start looking,” Palant said.
“And we don’t know anything about it.”
“Well…”
Halley raised an eyebrow.
“It’s called the Macbeth,” Palant said. “As for where it is, I still don’t know.”
“You have to find out.”
“I’m working on it, Major. Meanwhile, you need to work with the Yautja, and come up with a plan. Elder Kalakta wants to communicate with me soon, perhaps we’ll know more then. Once we know where the Macbeth is, that’ll be our one and only target.”
“But Weaver’s World?” Bestwick said.
“We can’t let that distract us,” Palant said. “We need to win the war, not join the battle.”
“What about the Drukathi?”
Palant shook her head. “Yaquita won’t say anything. I think she’s waiting for Elder Kalakta. Maybe he’ll tell me.”
“She said it changes everything,” Halley said.
“We’ll see.” Palant took a drink of her coffee and sighed. “Yeah. That’s not bad.”
9
BEATRIX MALONEY
Outer Rim
December 2692 AD
“Mistress Maloney,” Karath said, standing nervously just inside her cabin door. “Something’s happening.”
“To the drophole?”
“No. To the Faze.”
“What?”
“It’s… it’s coming apart.”
“Dying?”
“I don’t think so,” Kareth said. He was frowning, afraid, and Maloney felt something that might have been maternal concern. She had never had children, and had never regretted the fact. The Rage was her family now, and even when she was young enough to consider conceiving, when she had been with the Founders—a loyal disciple of Wordsworth—she had never thought of herself as a mother. The idea of something growing inside her had seemed alien, and repulsive.
Kareth and Dana were her children. Helpers and servants, they had also grown to fulfil other tasks never assigned to them. Neither of them had ever called her mother, but she saw the way they sometimes looked at her, with fear and love.
“Don’t worry,” she said, drifting across her cabin and nudging against Kareth at the door. “It’s never done anything to harm us.”
“I’ve never liked it,” he whispered. He looked down at the floor, as if having muttered a dark secret.
“I don’t think we were ever supposed to,” Maloney said. “Now guide me to a viewing portal, will you? My platform isn’t fully charged, and I like it when you or Dana push me.”
“Dana’s on her way,” he said, happily now. “She’s been to the welfare suites with Challar, preparing Macbeth for the drop.”
“The cryo-pods are still in working order?”
“I believe so. We don’t need as many as we believed. There are fewer shipborn than ever.”
Maloney knew the numbers. There were a dozen original Founders left, now the elders of the Rage. All of them were approaching three centuries old. As for those who had never seen or known Earth or the Human Sphere, there were only a hundred shipborn left alive. Genetic doctoring meant that interbreeding did not present any problems, although no new child had been born for a dozen years.
Maloney had put a hold on procreation once she knew that their journey back to the Sphere was well underway, their arrival due in a handful of years. She wanted no children to distract the crew from their tasks.
That was yet another reason why the loss of the Othello had come as such a shock.
But as well as the hundred humans and dozen elders, the Rage also had the generals and, under the androids’ direct command, tens of thousands of Xenomorph soldiers. The Macbeth was a powerful ship. The Faze had performed adaptations that made it and its constituent vessels almost perfect weapons of war.
They might be few, but they would be unstoppable.
Once the Macbeth dropped through into Sol System, the ship would break down into a dozen individual craft, each of them heavily armed and bearing an army the likes of which the Colonial Marines had never faced before. Challar and the other Rage elders would command a ship each, with the Xenomorphs under the android generals’ control. Maloney would command the largest, main vessel, still called Macbeth.
Everyone had their orders. Everything was ready.
The Faze doing something unexpected troubled Maloney, but she did her best not to display her concern.
* * *
Kareth pushed her through the ship’s passageways, past bulkheads adapted by the Faze, through chambers filled with new equipment that strange being had constructed. Eventually they arrived at a portal that presented the best view of the huge drophole.
