Hellworld (Deathstalker Prelude) (6 page)

Hunter turned his attention back to the forest. It seemed quiet, almost peaceful. Maybe it was. It didn’t make any difference in the long run. He had a job to do, and he was going to do it come what may. Wolf IV was his chance to redeem himself, in his own eyes if not those of the Empire. He’d failed as Captain of a starship because he was weak, allowing his fear to get the better of him. This time he’d do it right, by the book and by the numbers. This time, he wasn’t going to fail. Whatever it cost. He moved slowly forward into the forest gloom, and the Squad followed him.

They moved cautiously through the oppressive silence, watching and listening, but there was only the dim light and the soft, muffled sounds of their boots on the forest floor. Hunter looked at Krystel, striding unconcernedly at his shoulder. Did she ever worry about the things normal people worried about? Like failing, making mistakes, being less than the best at what you did? Hunter almost smiled. Krystel was an Investigator, an instrument of death and destruction that just happened to look like a human being. Hunter’s brief glow of amusement faded quickly away as he considered the implications of that thought. If the Squad was to survive on Wolf IV, they were going to have to learn to work together, as a team. He wasn’t sure if that was possible with Krystel. Or with the esper, for that matter.

Hunter smiled slightly. The Squad was his responsibility; he’d just have to make it possible. He moved a little closer to Krystel so that they could talk quietly without the others hearing.

“Tell me, Investigator. How much actual experience do you have with alien cultures?”

Krystel glanced at him briefly, and then looked back at the forest. “Just the two, Captain. Once on Loki, and then on Grendel.”

She didn’t say any more. She didn’t have to. The aliens on Grendel had turned out to be non-indigenous. They were a genetically engineered killing force, left in suspended animation by their long-departed creators. Whatever they’d been created to fight was also long gone, but when the archeologists woke them up, they woke up mad and they woke up fighting. Their weapons had been interred with them; high tech implants that were the equal of any Empire weapon. They were monsters and they were unstoppable. They slaughtered everything sent against them. Luckily, the aliens had no starships of their own. They were trapped on Grendel. In the end the Imperial Fleet moved in and systematically burned off the whole planet from orbit.

And Krystel had been the Investigator assigned to work with the archeologists. The one who’d missed the first signs of danger. No wonder she’d ended up in a Hell Squad.

Hunter was more disturbed by that than he wanted to admit. It stood to reason that any Investigator in a Hell Squad would have to be second-rate, but he’d assumed it would at least be someone who knew their business…. He frowned as he realised how much he’d been unconsciously relying on Krystel’s knowledge and expertise to help him through the early days on Wolf IV. Now it seemed the burden was going to fall on him alone.

Krystel watched the Captain’s face out of the corner of her eye. She could all but read his thoughts in his face. Let him worry; she’d prove him wrong. Prove them all wrong. Anyone would have missed the signs on Grendel. No Investigator had ever encountered such a thing, before or since. It wasn’t her fault, no matter what the Empire had said afterwards. She kept a careful watch on the forest around her, but she was more occupied with thoughts of the alien city. She could feel a familiar excitement growing within her. The challenge of the unknown; the chance to take on an alien culture and prove herself superior to it in the only way that mattered: by gun and sword. Krystel smiled inwardly. Do a good enough job on the alien city, and the Empire might even reinstate her. Stranger things had happened.

Megan DeChance walked through the forest with downcast eyes. There was nothing to see, but still she knew that they were not alone. She could feel watching eyes all around them, like a pressure on her skin. She kept her mind firmly closed lest the pressure grow too strong and roll over her like a wave and drown her. She forced herself to lift her head and look about her, but there was only the forest. Tall, twisted trees loomed all around her, dark and glistening in the twilight of an alien sun. Seen up close, the foliage was an unpleasant yellow, like rancid butter. The black bark was knotted and bumpy, and she could have seen strange faces in the shapes if she’d chosen. The trees stood closely together, but drew apart here and there to form the narrow path they were following. DeChance swallowed hard. A path implied that someone or something passed through the forest on a regular basis. Or had done so. It might even lead straight to the city.

“Captain,” she said clearly, “I think we should stop a moment.”

Hunter raised his hand, and the Squad came to a halt. He looked back at DeChance. “What is it, esper?”

“The path we’re following is too regular to be natural, Captain. And I keep getting the feeling we’re being watched.”

Hunter nodded slowly. “Listen to the forest, esper. Tell me what you hear.”

DeChance nodded reluctantly, and her eyes went blank. Her breathing became slow and regular, and all the personality went out of her face as the muscles slackened. Hunter looked away. It wasn’t the first time he’d seen an esper in deep trance, but it never failed to disturb him. It was like looking at a death mask. DeChance opened her eyes, and her face took on shape and meaning again, as a glove does when a hand fills it.

“There’s something there, Captain, but nothing I can get a hold on. Whatever it is, it’s awake and aware and in pain. Terrible, maddening pain. I thought at first it might be dreaming; it was a lot like watching a nightmare from the outside. But the pain’s too real for that.”

“Be more specific,” said Hunter. “Are you talking about a single creature? That’s all there is in the forest?”

“I don’t know. Possibly. It’s unlike anything I’ve ever encountered.” DeChance paused for a moment, and then fixed Hunter with her unsettling pale eyes. “I can’t find a trace of any other life in the forest, Captain. No animals, no birds, no insects. There’s a chance that what I’m picking up is the forest itself; a single living organism.”

Hunter turned to the Investigator. “Is that possible?”

Krystel shrugged. “Group minds have been a popular theory for years, but no one’s ever found one.”

“If this is a group mind, could it be dangerous?” said Hunter impatiently.

Krystel smiled. “Anything alien is dangerous, Captain.”

And that puts the decision back in my hands,
thought Hunter.
Go on, go round, go back.
He looked around him again. The packed ranks of brooding trees threw back his gaze with cold indifference. Hunter hesitated, uncertain what to do for the best. He could still turn around and go back, but as yet they hadn’t come across anything actually threatening. On the other hand, the esper was right; there should have been some kind of life in the forest. Instead, it was as quiet as the grave. But they were still safer in the forest than they would be out on the plain at night. Probably … He looked back at his people.

“Investigator, you and I will take the point. DeChance, you and Williams stay close behind us, but don’t crowd us. Yell out if you sense anything threatening. Corbie, Lindholm, you bring up the rear. Guns at the ready, people; if in doubt, shoot first and ask questions later. I don’t want anyone or anything getting closer to us than ten feet. Got it?”

Everyone nodded. Williams raised a tentative hand. “Yes, Doctor. What is it?”

“Shouldn’t we activate our force shields, Captain? Just in case?”

“It’s up to you, but bear in mind they’ll drain their energy crystals dry after only a few hours’ continuous use. You might prefer to save your shield for when you really need it.”

Williams flushed, and nodded quickly. Hunter moved off into the gloom, and the others followed.

The smell grew worse. A damp, acrid smell of drifting smoke and crushed leaves. The ground underfoot became broken and uneven, rising here and there in crooked ridges as tree roots rose up against the surface. The gloom pressed close about the narrow trail. The Squad’s footsteps sounded loud and clear on the quiet, but the tightly packed trees soaked up the echoes almost before they started.

Corbie clutched his gun so tightly his fingers ached. He was scared again, and had to fight to keep it out of his face. He had enough pride left for that at least. He and Lindholm were supposed to be the Squad’s fighters, their defenders and protectors. The others depended on them. Corbie almost managed a smile at that, but it wasn’t much of a smile. It had been a long time since he’d been able to protect anyone, including himself. There had been a time when drink had given him the courage he needed to get through each day, but for some months now even that hadn’t been enough. Everyday problems and difficulties had become increasingly difficult to deal with. Anything beyond the routine had become suspect and even terrifying. He was tense all the time, and his muscles ached. He didn’t sleep much, and when he did, he had bad dreams.

After the war against the Ghost Warriors, something had broken inside him and never mended. It was getting harder and harder for him to hide the fact, but for the moment at least he still had his pride, and he wouldn’t give that up. It was all he had left. Besides, he couldn’t show his shame in front of Lindholm. The man was a legend in the Arenas; took on all comers for three years and never once looked like losing. There were rumours he’d killed a Wampyr with his bare hands in a private match. Corbie smiled sourly. Maybe that was why he stayed so close to Lindholm, hoping some of the courage would rub off.

He didn’t like the forest. The shadows were too dark, and the quiet had the texture of something only rarely disturbed. Corbie glared about him and licked his dry lips compulsively. Something felt wrong. He couldn’t see or hear anything specific that he could blame for his unease, but his instincts were yelling so loudly his stomach was cramping in sympathy. At first he’d dismissed it as just more of his nerves at work, but he was still too much the professional to believe that for long. The esper was right. The Squad was being watched. A shadow moved at the corner of his vision, and Corbie had to use all his self-control to stop his head from turning to follow it. He stared straight ahead, but kept a careful watch. The movement came again.

“Captain,” he said quietly. “Movement. Four o’clock.”

Hunter looked casually in that direction, and then away again. “I don’t see anything, Corbie.”

“I did. Twice. I think it’s moving along with us.”

“Damn.” Hunter stopped and lifted his hand. The others came to a halt. “All right, people, form a circle. Stay close, but leave yourselves enough room to use your swords. Don’t use your guns unless you have to. Remember; a lot can happen in the two minutes it takes your disrupter to recharge between shots.”

The Squad started to move, and the forest fell apart. A tree directly before them slumped forward like a melting candle. Leaves dripped from its branches and splashed on the ground. The gnarled trunk lost its definition and collapsed into a pool of frothing liquid that spilled sluggishly across the trail. There was a swift rasp of steel on leather as the Squad drew their swords. DeChance cried out in disgust as something soft and clinging fell onto her shoulders from above. It only took her a few seconds to realise it was just a fallen branch, and she’d just started to relax when it whipped around her throat and tightened. She clawed at it with her free hand and the branch collapsed under the pressure of her hold. It oozed between her fingers as she pulled it free and threw it away.

“Back to back!” yelled Lindholm. “Everyone back to back. And watch your neighbours as well as yourself!”

All around them the forest was melting and deforming. Shapes could not hold, and tree trunks stretched and oozed into each other. Leaves fell like rain, lying on the ground in heaps, curling and uncurling like dying moths. Branches enlongated like boiling taffy, flailing at the Squad from all sides with blind ferocity. They defended themselves with their swords, the cold steel slicing through the waving branches with hardly any effort. Claws and barbed spikes erupted suddenly from the branches, and fanged mouths yawned in the ground. Unblinking eyes stared from bubbling tree trunks. They weren’t human eyes.

Corbie raised his gun and fired at the nearest tree. It exploded, sending hundreds of writhing particles flying through the forest, but even as they landed they were still pulsing, still moving, still alive. The ground began to shake underfoot. Deep in the forest, something howled wordlessly.

“Head back down the trail!” yelled Hunter. “Force shields on! Make for the boundary!”

The Squad’s hands went to their bracelets, and force shields blinked into existence on their arms. The glowing oblongs of pure energy shimmered brightly in the gloom, proof against any weapon known to man. The Squad moved quickly back down the trail. Barbed roots thrust up out of the earth and stabbed at them. A tree spotted with dark, cancerous growths leaned out over the trail. Hunter raised his gun, and the tree suddenly lost all shape and form and surged towards him like a wave of dark, boiling water. He raised his shield before him, and his arm shook as the full weight of the melting tree slammed against the glowing shield and fell past its edges in bubbling streams. Corbie and Lindholm moved quickly in beside him and took some of the weight on their shields.

All around the Squad the forest was collapsing and falling apart, yet still somehow clinging to awful forms of life. The Squad edged back down the trail, a few feet at a time, force shields spitting and crackling, edge to edge, as they formed a defensive barrier round the group. The forest had become unrecognisable. Vague shapes stirred in the frothing carpet that boiled around the Squad, fountaining up into blurred forms with teeth and claws and staring eyes. The remaining trees were slumping against each other, losing definition and meaning as they mixed and merged. The living rain continued, and the shadows became subtly darker.