A Hole in the Sky (30 page)

The side hatch was in the process of closing as the bolt of energy passed through the opening and struck somewhere inside. After a flash of light came the partially muffled sound of an explosion. A gout of plasma shot out through the hatch. The ship shook wildly and blew up.

Capelli was flat on his stomach by that time. The shock wave rolled over him, sent small stones skittering east, and flattened a clutch of young trees. Capelli lay there for a moment, stunned by the violence of what had taken place, and gratified to be alive. Then he did a push-up and was in a kneeling position when Bo arrived to pull him up all the way.

“That’ll teach the bastards,” the Osage said grimly. “We sent at least two dozen of them to hell.”

As Capelli looked at the still-smoldering wreckage of the ship and the bodies that lay helter-skelter all around, he saw that Bo was correct. But it wasn’t over yet. There were millions more.

“Come on,” he said soberly. “Let’s get to work.”

Captain Marvin Kawecki had been lying on the same spot for more than ten hours. He was cold and needed to pee. But he couldn’t stand up. Not until complete darkness had fallen. Because if he did, one of Judge Ramsey’s carefully hidden sentries would spot the movement and kill him. The well-camouflaged hide had been constructed the night before. Now, as Kawecki lay there, he continued to study the area through his binoculars.

Other than the hump-shaped hill through which the railroad tunnel had been bored, the surrounding area was mostly flat and open. A railroad siding was located to the east of his position, complete with an elevated water tank, and a low-lying brick building. And the sentry Kawecki feared most was located high on the walkway that circled the metal tank.

But there were other sentries, too, hidden in clumps of bare-branched trees, in carefully screened weapons pits, and behind the rocks on the hillside in front of him. All of which had been carefully mapped into the notebook that lay to his right. He figured that at least some of the outposts were serviced by underground passageways that led back to the main tunnel. And that was something of an enigma. However, he knew it was there thanks to a pair of rusty tracks that disappeared into a rockslide.

There was no way to know how thick the blockage was, whether it had been caused by a Chimeran attack or was the result of a human effort to create a place to hide. Although Kawecki would have been willing to put some serious money on the second possibility. Ramsey might be a ruthless bastard, but it appeared as if he was equipped with a good deal of foresight, and had been smart enough to make preparations back when such a thing was still possible.

All of which was interesting but less critical than the
need to pee. Slowly, careful not to disturb any of the leafless branches around his hiding spot, Kawecki rolled over to face what he thought was the downhill side of his position. Except that the ground was very nearly flat. So he wasn’t absolutely sure that he had it right. And, when the moment came, it was clear that he didn’t. Rather than trickle away as Kawecki had hoped, the urine pooled right next to him. The liquid was absorbed, but the odor remained. And like it or not, he had to roll back onto the damp ground. It took what seemed like a long time for the sun to go down.

Finally, once it was dark, Kawecki had the opportunity to emerge from his hide. Then, having turned south, he elbowed his way forward, where he hit a number of obstacles. He had to crawl around them, pausing every now and then to listen for signs of pursuit before continuing on his way.

Eventually, Kawecki decided it was safe to stand and make occasional use of his flashlight. That was how he found his way back into the ravine that led him south.

“Who goes there?” a voice whispered out of the darkness.

“Bob Hope,” Kawecki answered, as a dimly seen sentry materialized out of the gloom.

“Welcome back, sir. I’ll get Sergeant Pasco.”

Fifteen minutes later, Kawecki was busy wolfing down some hot rations as Pasco and those who weren’t standing guard listened to his report. “We don’t have enough men to force our way inside, much less root Ramsey out,” Kawecki observed. “These people have good security, they’re well disciplined, and they’re dug in.”

“So what are we going to do?” Pasco wanted to know. “Head back to base?”

Kawecki took a swig of hot coffee. “Hell, no. The President gave us a mission and we’re going to accomplish it.”

“Okay,” Pasco replied. “How are we going to do that?”

“I figure Ramsey has neighbors,” Kawecki replied thoughtfully. “And, given the way he operates, at least some of them have got to be pissed. So they have a reason to help us. And there’s another thing, too …”

The fire lit Pasco’s face from below. “Which is?”

“We represent the U.S. government, god damn it! So we’re in charge.”

Pasco nodded. “Sir, yes sir.” But his voice was flat, his face was blank, and it was clear he didn’t believe it. Kawecki wasn’t surprised, because truth be told, he didn’t believe it either.

The team traveled north. It wasn’t long before the difficulty with Kawecki’s plan became painfully apparent. If there were communities other than Tunnel-Through in the vicinity, they were well concealed and, being strangers to the area, the soldiers didn’t know where they were or how to approach them.

So rather than simply blunder around, and possibly wind up in an unnecessary fight, Kawecki decided it would be best to gather intel from the kind of people who knew the area and might be willing to talk. Namely itinerant merchants of the sort they had run into during the trip up from Freedom Base Two.

Of course that took some planning, because the traveling gunsmiths, preachers, and medicine men were a wary lot who went to great lengths to avoid being seen. Still, almost everyone succumbed to the temptation to use established roads at least part of the time. And Kawecki knew many of them liked to travel during the early morning or evening, when there was enough light to see by but less chance of running into trouble. With that in mind, he set up an ambush of sorts next to a long straightaway and resolved to wait until the right sort of individual came along.

A patrol made up of six slouching Hybrids walked past early on. Their lean frames were barely visible through a driving snow. Kawecki let them go rather than run the risk of attracting more. But the better part of a day passed before three humans, all mounted on horses, and leading a string of mules, appeared. A lookout located half a mile to the south had alerted him, so Kawecki shed his gear, with the exception of the Magnum revolver. That went down the back of his pants. He was standing on the badly faded white line with hands clasped behind his neck when the first rider clopped out of the quickly gathering darkness and stopped.

The woman was middle-aged and dressed in a Stetson, a duster, and a pair of cowboy boots. The businesslike M5A2 carbine that was resting sideways across her saddle quickly came to bear. “Who the hell are you?” she demanded suspiciously. It wasn’t snowing anymore, but her words were accompanied by jets of lung-warmed air.

Meanwhile, her companions were spread out to divide incoming fire and sat with weapons at the ready.

“Captain Marvin Kawecki, United States Army,” came the reply.

“There
is
one?” the woman inquired incredulously. “Yes, ma’am. And a President. He sent us here. And I need your help.”

“Us?”

One by one, the soldiers rose from their various hiding places in the scrub next to the road. The woman’s eyebrows rose incrementally. “Okay, Captain! My name is Meg Bowers. That’s Sam Henry to my left—and Parcel Brown on the right. What sort of help are you looking for?”

Kawecki told her and she nodded. “You came to the right people, Captain. We’re salt merchants, and we sell to everyone except the stinks.”

“Including Judge Ramsey?”

“Yup, but that doesn’t mean we like the bastard. It’s getting dark. Let’s camp. I’ll tell you what I can—and you tell me about this government of yours. If it’s for real, then there are plenty of people who are ready and willing to help.”

The combined groups made camp near an abandoned farmhouse, and by the time most of them went to bed, Kawecki knew all about the community of Haven, and Bowers had a verbal contract to distribute Hale vaccine on behalf of the U.S. government. It was, as she jokingly put it, “a marriage made in hell.”

Now that the Haven group had found the
Suzy Q
, and won the battle with the Chimera, the race was on to unload the VTOL and clear the area before more stinks arrived. So a frantic effort ensued as mules were moved into position and crate after crate was lowered to the ground using ropes.

Then came the ticklish task of loading the often recalcitrant animals properly as even more boxes were sent down from above. After persuading Susan to function as a lookout, Capelli worked shoulder-to-shoulder with the others to get the pack train ready. It was difficult to keep his eyes off the sky, knowing it wasn’t a question of whether stink reinforcements would arrive but
when
.

So Capelli felt a tremendous sense of relief when the final box was roped into place and Bo led the group away from the bluff and into the creek. It was impossible for the heavily laden mules to travel at anything more than a walk. And the relatively slow pace set Capelli’s teeth on edge as the pack train followed the creek bed north before turning into a half-frozen stream. It led them in under the branches of trees that grew along both banks.
They offered a little bit of cover as a pair of sonic booms rolled across the land. Capelli couldn’t see the Chimeran aircraft, but figured they were fighters, sent to scope out the situation before the shuttles arrived.

Bo led the pack train up out of the streambed into a covered sluiceway. The sound of hooves echoed back and forth between concrete walls as the group continued up a gentle incline to a point where the dry sluiceway ended and a metal roof hid them from above. Capelli saw the words “Osage Cement” on the huge processors all around and realized they were in what had been a tribally owned manufacturing facility. That was when Bo came to speak with him. “I suggest that we hole up here, split the load, and go our separate ways once it’s dark.”

Capelli was about to respond when Tilson took it upon himself to speak for the entire group. He had a noticeable tendency to show up whenever decisions were being made. “That will be fine.”

A slow grin appeared on Bo’s face as he made eye contact with Capelli. “I’m glad to hear it. But first we’d better check the plant for pods and post guards. I’ll work with Joe here to take care of that.”

Tilson nodded importantly and said, “Good. I’ll wait here.”

It was nearly dawn by the time Capelli, Susan, and the rest of the team arrived in the town square, where the entire town turned out to greet them. And with lots of people to help, the effort to unload the shipment of arms and get it underground went quickly.

Once that task was over, Capelli and Susan were happy to let others take care of the mounts as they descended
into the tunnel complex and began to make their way home. That was when Mr. Potter intercepted them.

“There you are!” he said cheerfully. “Welcome back, and please allow me to thank you on behalf of the council. I know you’re tired, but we have some very special visitors, and it would be nice if you could say hi.”

Capelli would have declined, but Susan responded by saying, “Sure, we’d be happy to.” That left him with no choice but to go along.

Potter led the way. As Capelli followed the banker and his wife into the meeting room, he was shocked to see uniforms.
Army
uniforms, all worn by men he had never seen before, with one very notable exception. And that was Captain Marvin Kawecki.

Kawecki saw the old man enter, followed by a pretty woman, and a male who looked familiar somehow. Then came the moment of realization and the resulting flood of anger. Kawecki pulled his Magnum and aimed it at the man’s head. “Joseph Capelli! You shot Hale. Now it’s your turn to die.”

The voice in Capelli’s head had been largely silent ever since his marriage to Susan. Suddenly it was back.
What goes around comes around, Capelli
.

With a loud click, Kawecki thumbed the hammer back. Capelli knew there wasn’t enough time to bring a weapon to bear. So he stood up straight and braced himself for the impact. It took all the willpower he had to stare into what looked like a railroad tunnel. The hammer fell.

Mr. Potter’s cane was already falling as Kawecki pulled the trigger. The wooden shaft hit the officer’s forearm with a thunderous boom and the Magnum went off.

Capelli felt the bullet nip the top of his right shoulder while the revolver clattered to the floor. He was surprised to be alive as the soldiers raised their weapons. But Susan’s Fareye was aimed at Kawecki by that time. “Hold your fire,” she said grimly, “or the captain dies.”

“That will be enough of that,” Potter said firmly, stepping into the space between the potential combatants. “All of you will lower your weapons and do so now.”

A long silence fell, during which Kawecki and Capelli glowered at each other. It ended when Kawecki said, “You heard the man. Lower your weapons.”

The soldiers obeyed, but with obvious reluctance.

“That goes for you, too,” Potter said, as he directed a look to Susan.

Susan brought the rifle’s barrel up and back so that it was pointed at the ceiling and rested on the front surface of her right shoulder. A position from which the weapon could be brought to bear very quickly.

“Good,” Potter said, as his eyes shifted from Capelli to Kawecki. “It appears that you two know each other.”

“You could say that,” Kawecki replied. “Capelli was
a soldier once. And a reasonably good one. Back before he chose to kill our commanding officer.”