Chronicles of Isambard Smith 05 - End of Empires (19 page)

* * *

Smith lay in his tent, watching the shadows of insects on the roof. Even at night, the forest was noisy with croaks and birdcalls. Something barked in the darkness: it sounded like a fox. Rhianna lay beside and partially on top of him, almost asleep.

Tents, he thought, were always a disappointment. They smelt funny, for one thing, and the excitement of having her pressed against him was turning into the realisation that she was actually quite heavy. Also, he had almost knocked the thing over while putting his pyjamas on.

From somewhere to the right, something cried ‘Wahoo!’

Rhianna raised her head and blinked. ‘What was that?’

‘I’m not sure,’ Smith replied. ‘A wild bird. A mating cry, perhaps. Or maybe just Carveth. Poor old Dreckitt’s got some catching up to do. I hope they keep the noise down, though,’ he added. ‘I don’t want everyone having to stand to just because she’s here.’

Rhianna moved her hand. ‘You’re standing to as it is,’ she said.

‘That’s because
you’re
here.’

‘Gather round!’ Wainscott said. He had pinned a map against a tree with a couple of knives. Evidently, given the doily-like perforations around the edge of the map, he had done so many times before. ‘I have good news and bad news. Today we are going to hit a major enemy base. On the other hand… we’re going home.’

They stood round the tree in a rough semi-circle: humans, Sey, M’Lak, even the beetle people who carried the extra gear. Rhianna stood beside Smith. Suruk loitered at the back of the group. Carveth held Dreckitt’s hand. He looked as if he had spent the night strapped to a chair in a wind tunnel.

Wainscott tapped the map. ‘This is the local area.’

Smith peered at the swirl of contours, which made it look like raspberry ripple ice cream. ‘What are these?’ he asked, pointing to a number of pencil crosses.

‘Hot contacts,’ Susan replied.

‘Places where we blew stuff up,’ Wainscott said. ‘To begin with, that was reason in itself to be here. But afterwards, I began to suspect that there was more to it than that.

‘The Yull have a reputation for being buggers on the attack, but they’re sods in defence as well. Your lemming man, being a rodent, has a natural aptitude for burrowing. Any heavy lemming fortification will be honeycombed with storerooms, guardposts, concealed gun emplacements and so on. It’s a pity they don’t seem to have any toilets. The Yull have been choosing specific places to burrow: not obvious fortifications, or places where they could expect enough of us to be passing through to make it worthwhile digging in. In other words, they’ve been digging bases for no clear purpose.’

Smith said, ‘Well, they are mad.’

‘They’re looking for something. Gold, minerals, an unusually large cache of sunflower seeds – I don’t know, but there’s something on this world that they want even more than to run at us shouting
Yullai
.’

‘Maybe they’re going to hibernate,’ Carveth said.

The major nodded. ‘Good point, Polly Pilot. The Yull don’t have much in the way of landmines, but they do leave behind suicide troops. The buggers shut themselves down, then wake up behind our lines when summer comes. But this is larger-scale. I’m talking about excavations.’ Wainscott tapped the map. ‘This is it. The chaps have been scouting out: the Yull have sunk boreholes, dug tunnels, the whole lot. I want to hit it.’

Susan coughed.

‘Oh, yes. And in return for you helping me,’ Wainscott added, ‘I suppose I’ll go back to base camp with you. How about that?’

Smith frowned. ‘Very well. But you’ve got to stick to your word.’

‘Of course I will. It’s my word, isn’t it? Now, I don’t want anyone with children on this mission.’

‘Dangerous, is it?’

‘Oh no. I just can’t stand them going on about their kids. What do I care if little Jimmy’s got his swimming badge? I’m a bloody commando, for Heaven’s sake.’

* * *

They almost set out at 10.00 precisely but ended up departing four minutes behind schedule because Carveth needed a wee. The going was tough. There was no path except for the plants beaten down by earlier boots and Smith was reluctant to hack at the fronds with his sword.

‘Good for you, Isambard,’ Rhianna said beside him. ‘It’s a very delicate ecosystem.’

‘Frankly, I worried that if I start hitting the plants, they’ll hit me back,’ he replied, holding a branch back so she could slip by.

Dreckitt had no such qualms. He chopped his way forwards, followed by Carveth, who seemed to find him very entertaining to watch. At one point, Dreckitt overtook Smith and Rhianna and Carveth looked back to whisper, ‘Very manly!’ at them, before pinching Dreckitt’s backside.

They stopped for a little while, while scouts brought back information on the way ahead. Rhianna moved up the column to talk to Arik the Huntress. Smith checked his weapons and mopped sweat from his neck. He wondered how long you’d have to be out here before your guns began to rust.

Suruk stopped beside him. ‘Are you well, Mazuran?’

A large branch dropped from one of the damp trees to the right. Smith glanced around: he watched for several seconds, making sure that it wasn’t a lemming in disguise.

‘It is nothing,’ Suruk said. ‘Come on.’ Smith continued beside him. ‘On walks like this,’ Suruk observed, ‘one must keep the mind alert. I have been composing a saga; an epic song to tell of my deeds.’

‘Really?’

‘Indeed. It goes as follows:

My name is Suruk, I live in the room next door

I have a mighty spear, I like skulls and war.

If you hear something, late at night,

You think it’s trouble, perhaps a fight,

Then you’re very probably right
.’

He stopped and waited for applause.

Smith said, ‘Is that it?’

‘I am still working on the second verse. We have only been walking for four hours, after all.’ Suruk frowned. ‘It is important that a record of my deeds remains.’

‘Hey, Suruk,’ Carveth said from behind. ‘All these great deeds of yours: have you ever considered that sometimes you might be, I don’t know, a bit vain?’

The alien glared at her. ‘The Slayer? Vain? Vanity is not a vice I possess.’

‘Rubbish. You’re so vain –’

‘Shush!’ Suruk raised a hand, and for a moment they were silent. He shrugged. ‘I thought I heard the Yull. I bet they were talking about me.’

Further up, Wainscott was talking to Susan. She had tucked her plaits into the strap of the beam gun, out of the way. Together, they looked like a pair of Ancient Britons planning to do something nasty to Julius Caesar.

‘Sometimes,’ Suruk said, ‘I think you should marry Susan. She is good with weapons.’

‘She’s not my sort,’ Smith replied. ‘Besides, I’m not entirely sure which team she plays for, if you see what I mean.’

‘Ah, indeed.’ Suruk tapped the place where the side of his nose would have been, had he possessed one. ‘You think she is Homo Sapiens?’

‘I think you might be a bit confused there. We’re all Homo Sapiens.’

‘Really? All of you? How does that work?’ Suruk shook his head. ‘Humans.’

The ground sloped upward, and the air became hot and damp. Smith wondered whether the stuff on his face was sweat or condensation. He looked right, into the trees, and saw half a dozen creatures like spindly-legged, six-eyed wolves watching them. No doubt they were looking for stragglers, and he instinctively checked on Carveth.

She was fine, surprisingly perky now that she was reunited with Dreckitt. She said something and he burst out laughing and put his Panama hat on her head.

Smith glared at them. ‘Shush!’ he hissed. ‘Remember, the Yull could be anywhere. They’re vicious lunatics. They don’t think like normal people, like...’ he looked at Wainscott further up the trail, then back over his shoulder, ‘... like everyone back home.’

Up ahead, Nelson, the unit’s tech, looked back and made a quick, chopping gesture. Smith froze. Nelson walked back, slipping neatly though the trees. ‘We’ve reached the place,’ he said. The boss wants you to have a look.’

Smith led his men up the line. Wainscott’s troops really were a hard crew, he thought, as he passed men and aliens, all heavily armed. The humans and M’Lak tended to carry Ensign laser rifles, single-pulse guns ideal for burning a hole through charging Yull, while the Sey, whose necks were too long to allow them to aim down rifle-sights, favoured automatic weapons and beam guns.

Seventy-five yards up, Nelson said, ‘Quiet now.’

They crept forward. Wainscott beckoned. Smith scurried up to meet the major.

Wainscott grinned: his teeth were about the only bit of him not striped in dirt. He reached out into the bushes, and pulled back a sheet of leaves.

They were at the edge of a river, looking across the flat expanse of the valley. The river had dried up and only a thin stream ran down the centre of the wide bed. The bank was steep, but negotiable: a man could scramble down it.

Smith took out his binoculars.

Figures moved on the waterside, and there was no mistaking them. The bulky bodies and stubby legs, the long snouts and waxed, drooping whiskers. The Yull looked like something that had once been cute, and then possessed by devils. Most carried guns: the standard-issue Mark Four Assault Weapon, which could be used as a bayonet, torture implement, can opener and, in truly desperate moments, a firearm. A fair proportion, perhaps a tenth, were armed with battleaxes and revolvers: officers. Of those, a few wore breastplates and full helmets with ornamental ears. They were knights, Smith realised: Yullian noblemen, the most high-ranking and brutal of the whole nasty bunch.

‘Lot of brass, don’t you think?’ Wainscott whispered. ‘Did I ever tell you about the time I took a spear in the Shangooli uplands?’

A rash of scaffolding covered the opposite bank. As Smith watched, a pole rose through the scaffolding, hauled by a team of Yullian serfs. They heaved it up, end first, and let it drop. The pole hit the ground like a battering ram, and twisted in the mud.

‘Looks like a drill,’ Wainscott said. ‘Let’s kill ’em.’

Suruk opened his mandibles. ‘I concur.’

Smith lowered the binoculars. ‘Well, it’s your show, Wainscott, but if they’ve got a drill, they must be planning some kind of evil.’

Wainscott drew back. Susan waited a little way back, map in hand, the beam gun slung across her front. They conferred.

‘What’s happening?’ Carveth whispered, gripping her shotgun tightly.

‘We are bringing battle to the scum of Yull,’ Suruk replied.

‘Oh God. Do we have to?’

‘Really, Piglet,’ the M’Lak replied. ‘Does it not fill you with joy, the thought of taking their empty heads? What could be better than to run among the Yull and cleave whisker from craven snout?’

She frowned. ‘Sitting in the bath and drinking cheap wine.’

‘You know,’ Rhianna said, ‘I’m sensing some hostility right now.’

‘Indeed?’ Suruk said. ‘Then you will really feel something in five minutes’ time.’

Rhianna sighed. ‘It’s such a shame we can’t all be friends. If only the Yull weren’t hell-bent on genocide, they might be nice people.’

Smith checked his rifle. ‘The bastards think their empire is better than ours,’ he said. ‘That’s reason enough.’

The foliage rustled behind them and Dreckitt emerged. ‘Alright, people,’ he began, and Carveth grabbed him and kissed him fiercely. ‘Damn,’ he said. ‘Easy, tiger lady. Susan reckons we’re hitting in two groups. When the flare goes up, we run in and hand out some chin music. Until then, stay hush-hush like a gunsel on the lam. When we get to pull our rods, you throw lead. Got me?’

‘As much as ever,’ Smith replied. He leaned against a tree that looked neither toxic nor carnivorous and used a branch to support his rifle. ‘Stick with me, chaps,’ he said. ‘We’ve fought these buggers before. Just stay calm and –’ A ball of fire shot out of the foliage. It smashed into the scaffolding and exploded. ‘Bloody hell!’ Smith shouted.

Part of the scaffolding collapsed. Lemming men dashed from between the poles like wasps from a kicked nest. The boom of the explosion was still fading from Smith’s ears, but he could already hear their squeaky warcries.

A lemming man ran out, his left arm on fire. He plunged it into the muck at the edge of the river. Not a sporting shot, Smith thought. He lined his sights up with a snarling brute who had just lumbered out of the mess-hall, hefting a rifle. The gun kicked against Smith’s shoulder and the lemming man fell back into the shadows.

Gunfire crackled from the trees to the left. A pack of lemmings rushed down to the riverside, furious but confused, their long bayonets glistening. They began to shout and point.

Susan swung the beam gun and the Yull fell apart. The laser sliced them neatly, and they tumbled into bits. This is dirty work, Smith thought, and then: And what would they be doing with those bayonets if they had the chance?

Lights burst from behind the scaffolding. Five flares rose up, arced overhead and descended with almost painful slowness.

The forest exploded. Leaves blew apart; chunks of bark whizzed like shrapnel. Smith flinched away. Someone screamed.

‘It’s a –’ Carveth shouted, getting up. ‘They’ve got one of those things!’

‘A mortar?’ Rhianna suggested. She didn’t seem to have ducked at all.

‘Yes! Get down!’

Smith turned back to the fight, and was astonished. The Yull, whole gangs of them, were charging forwards through the shallows. The water was too low to stop the aliens; the mud slowed them a little, but not enough. The mortars hissed like steam and another batch of lights sailed into the sky, cruelly slow.

‘Down!’ Suruk barked. The forest burst around them. A log flew towards them like a tossed caber, hit another branch and whirled off into the undergrowth, smashing through bushes. The M’Lak stood up, heaving Carveth upright by her collar.

‘We can’t stay here!’ she squealed.

‘True,’ Suruk snarled. ‘Not while there are lemming men to kill. Mazuran, Piglet, Rhianna, now battle is joined. Look!’

The Yull were almost across the river now. Laser fire had killed many and several of those running forward were missing a few bits, but they were almost on the opposite bank. An officer reached the shore, screaming with fury and waving an ornate battleaxe over his head.