GeneStorm: City in the Sky (25 page)

“Swordsmanship is not a thing of science. It comes from art, passion and
élan
.”

“Tactical excellence springs from intellectual technique, not from mystique.” The man flicked a side glance at Snapper. “On foot a straight blade is unbeatable.”

Snapper was a creature of long hair and swinging plaits – of dashing pelisse and piercing green eyes. She looked at Kenda – erect and filled with an air of superiority. Cool and calculating, where Snapper was full of ease and dash. The shark watched the man carefully, noting the way he kept his hand near his sword.

“Do you fight blade to blade a lot, Kenda?”

“I never liked ranged weapons.” The man moved back to his pile of equipment. “They never seem to be a way to measure the real worth of a man.”

“Perhaps we’ll fence some time.”

“Perhaps.”

Kenda moved off and laid out his bed.

“I will take midnight watch.”

“I’ll take pre-dawn.” Snapper preferred to be up and ready at the time most predators and enemies were trying to be clever. She frowned at Kenda’s sword for a moment more, then helped herself to more tea by the fire.

“Good night, Kenda.”

“Good night.”

Kitterpokkie spent a rather comfortable night. Her travel gear was self designed, tried and tested, with her pneumatic mattress being the glory of the age! She slept in pillowed comfort, snug and happy with plasma rifle, grenades and smoke bombs at her side. She awoke wonderfully refreshed, stretching and popping all six limbs with pleasure.

A twinge in her bottom reminded her of the rigours of the coming day. This time, she would decidedly place a bunny blanket atop her saddle. And perhaps a massage might be in order – though Throckmorton might be a better choice to perform the honours than Beau? She thought upon the matter, and decided to broach the whole idea in the quiet before breakfast.

But first things first! Kitt decided to freshen up and greet the day.

Snapper was on guard, sitting up on the tallest wall and half hidden by a tree, scanning the view off across the plains. Kitterpokkie waved hello, then took a towel and a bar of soap towards the creek. She disrobed and stood for a while in the tingling dawn, and set about having a rather cold, refreshing morning bath.

Onan plunged in to bathe beside her. Kitterpokkie scooped water and washed the big bird’s back, then rubbed his big warm neck beneath his feathers. The bird rolled his eyes in ecstasy, clucking his leathery tongue, then shook himself dry in a wild cascade of water, drenching everything for a dozen metres around. The bird came trotting up out of the creek, exceedingly pleased with himself, then set to plotting ways of gaining salty crackers from the day.

Kitterpokkie dressed then decided to take a look at the route ahead. She climbed up out of the creek bed, and up, up onto the grassy field beyond. She stood surrounded by waving grass, gazing off towards a far northern horizon.

A substantial, tubby tree stood a hundred metres to the north. The tree spread an umbrella of great sturdy branches. Kitterpokkie thought it would prove an excellent vantage point to spy out the land. She was curious as to whether the tribal hill lands could be seen – or even the notorious cliffs! And so the mantis went walking happily off towards the tree, whistling tunelessly between her mandibles. She slung her bag across her back and flexed her many limbs, ready to dazzle the world with her climbing expertise.

“Kitt! Stop!”

Snapper’s cry froze Kitterpokkie in place. The mantis stood with one foot still lifted. Snapper called out very, very carefully from far behind her.

“Move this way – slowly. Reverse. Just no sudden movement…”

Kitt lowered her dangling foot. Somewhere in front of her something
shivered
. The world seemed to freeze. Kitt licked her lips, and tried to ease slowly backwards, keeping her entire body poised and still – trying to look left and right and see what the hell was going on. She edged backwards, carefully, carefully… and suddenly something up above flashed into life.

“Run!”

The tree stabbed downwards with one claw-tipped branch, narrowly missing Kitterpokkie as she leapt frantically away. The immense branch stabbed down a second time, and then a third, plunging deep into the ground. Kitterpokkie fell and scrabbled, trying to roll away. The huge tree moved forward, shifting on its sprawling roots, lumbering straight towards her.

Another of the huge branches whipped downwards like a spear. The tip formed a titanic hollow needle, primed to suck the juices from its prey. Kitterpokkie dove forward and away, and the branch tip slammed into the dirt behind her. Suddenly Snapper hacked into the branch tip with her sword. The tree made a horrible squeal. The severed branch tip sprayed blood as the huge tree thrashed and struck. But Snapper was already up and moving. She seized Kitterpokkie by the belt, and fled with her to slam against the pulsing, rubbery trunk.

The huge creature tried to stab inwards with its massive branches again and again and again, but each time fell short by a metre or two, unable to reach the two people sheltering against its trunk. Great rubbery roots thrashed as the tree bucked about in great, ponderous heaves, trying to shake Kitt and Snapper from their shelter.

Snapper jammed her bowie knife into the trunk to serve as a hand hold. She looked quickly back to Kitterpokkie.

“Have you got any whiskey?”

Toby’s gift was still in her bag. Kitterpokkie clawed the bottle out and handed it to Snapper. The shark poured whiskey all over the trunk – splashing as high as she could – then pulled out her flint and tinder. She stripped her steel across the flint, showering sparks into the whiskey, which instantly caught fire.

Ghostly blue flames began to run across the tree trunk. For a long moment, the tree continued trying to impale its foes, but then suddenly the creature bucked and writhed. As the monstrous tree flailed madly, Snapper grabbed Kitterpokkie by one hand.

“OK, go!”

They ran streaking out from under the tree. The huge monster stabbed a branch down, but missed as it blundered forward through the grass.

“Ladies!”

Beau raced forward, hurtling a jug of lamp oil at the tree trunk. The bottle shattered and yellow oil fire replaced the blue, spreading to burn into the tree’s trunk and roots. The creature thrashed and blundered slowly away across the grass, burning and squealing in rage.

Beau ran forward after the tree, stamping out a grass fire before it could spread. He ran back to Snapper and Kitterpokkie, who were leaning against an old dandy apple tree beside the creek.

Kitt looked up at Snapper in shock and fright.

“Thank you. For – for the warning.” The mantis fought to catch her breath. “How did you know?”

“Kitt – there was no tree there yesterday!” Snapper looked at the mantis girl, then pointed at the grass. “Plus, you know, creepy hypodermic branches!”

“Ah yes. Well, we live and learn.”

The mantis felt a tad unsteady on her feet. Snapper sat down with her on a fallen log while Beau kept careful pace with the fleeing monster until the flames died down, making sure no grass fires broke out.

Kenda and Throckmorton came to the tree line, watching the monster lurching painfully away. Kenda slowly fingered his sword.

“Shall we kill it?” The man watched the tree in absolute distaste. “The mantis’ plasma weapon might well have an effect.”

“It’s gone. It won’t try that again.” Snapper waved a hand off towards the tree. “All’s well that ends well.”

Kenda still watched the tree.

“It attempted to kill you.”

“Well it sure learned that
that
never works out well.”

Snapper stood and wiped off her hands. She whistled loudly between her jagged teeth, summoning Beau back to camp.

“Come on, let’s have our first breakfast in the wild.” She patted Kitterpokkie upon the shoulder. “We’ve got stuff to make porridge – full cream cocoplod milk. Or pancakes? I’ll bake a bread loaf we can all eat for lunch on the trail.”

“That sounds good.” Kitt was still watching the distant monster tree. “Extraordinary creature. Part tree, part assassin bug?”

“I guess. These things are sent to try us.” The shark led the way back into camp.

“Come on; pancakes with jam first, then we can saddle up. Let’s see if we can get another good fifty k’s under our belt again today.”

Chapter 10

For five more days, they rode through the grasslands – past tall ridges crested with red boulders, where catbirds circled lazily through the air. Past families of scarlet-spiked herd beasts, their spines making fantastic peaks high above the grass. Other creatures roamed in groups, beetle-roos bounding away spectacularly, the sunlight glittering from their armour plates.

In the evenings, the explorers camped near billabongs or water holes, or beside ancient piles of bricks and brambles. Glow-balls rose up out of their burrows beneath the grass – fat little floating hamster creatures glimmering with bio lights. They drifted about the grass and trees at night whirring softly, while high overhead giga-moths cruised about their strange affairs.

Dawn on the sixth day found them riding towards hill country, enjoying the breeze blowing from the west. The ocean of grass washed and rippled all around them, and the hills rose mauve and purple far beyond.

The terrain became folded, with more and more stands of trees and plant-animal bushes – more boulders and rugged tumbles of rock. There were also fragments left over from the ancient world – broad paths of crumbled black-topped road, split and grown through with grass, and occasional clusters of old bricks or concrete walls. Kitterpokkie, who was slowly coming to terms with riding, although she might never quite embrace it with joy, came jouncing up beside Snapper, and looked towards the latest ruin pile with interest. She pointed at the rubble pile with one slender pink claw.

“What were these, do you think? Way stops along the roads? Farms or small settlements?”

“Along here? Charging stations for electric ground cars, rest stops, little shops and houses.” Snapper pointed to a broad area of cracked and shattered paving slabs. “This one here? Probably provided the scrap that made the Dancing Dugite’s fridge! There was some good stuff here and there.”

“Have you searched through these?”

“These ones? Usually Toby, Samuels and their old team, or the guys who taught
them
how to prospect.” The shark pointed to five rocks that formed a small cairn on the ground beside the ruins. “That’s the little sign we leave. Means it’s been dug over.”

Kitterpokkie rode her bird forward to take a closer look.

“Might there still be finds here?”

“Maybe. Nothing conductive, though. And no power sources.” Snapper tapped at her snout. “A shark would have found them.”

“Ah – indeed! A must useful facility for one in your profession. A wonderful example of the positive evolutionary legacy of the GeneStorm.”

Kenda rode silently up beside them. He turned his mount about, looking back along their trail. He lifted up his long rifle – a weapon far too unwieldy to use properly while mounted – and stared at the grasslands.

Snapper seemed quite unconcerned.

“Yes – we’re being observed…”

Beau and Throckmorton towed their pack beasts over beside the others. The fox-bird raised an inquiring eyebrow, but Snapper indicated that they should all continue upon their way. She made no move whatsoever towards her weapons.

“Ride on, ride on.”

Beau ambled Pendleton along beside her. If Snapper was unconcerned, then Beau was determined to seem magnificently at ease. He offered the shark a flower that he had found growing by the ruins.

“Other riders?”

“Ferals. Probably youths. An arrow group.” The shark rode easily onward. “That’s usually three or four teenagers out for a hunt. Probably looking for spirit weed.” She mentally divided the hills into territories and zones. “Probably Striper tribe. The Black Pelts are way further west. They’d only come this far east if they were trying to raid for mounts or spirit masks.”

Kenda flicked a scathing glance at the grasslands behind him.

“Primitives.”

“Good archers, superb riders, and highly ferocious.” The shark scanned the area ahead. “Worthy of respect.”

The green human gave a shrug.

“Ferals. Rage makes them vulnerable to ruse.”

“But rather berserk if you do end up fighting face to face…” Snapper rode onwards. “The banner tribes – Stripers, the Black Pelts, the Star Watchers – all have honour codes. The true maniacs – the Skull Biters, the Blood Drinkers – attacked everything around them until they wiped themselves out. Evolution in action. The last of the GeneStorm…”

Kitterpokkie paused to take a photograph of Throckmorton posing by the ruins holding his crossbow and waving. She then came riding past Snapper, intrigued but somewhat concerned by the thought of other explorers out on the veldt.

“You are quite untroubled? You are sure that they won’t attack?”

“We’re in treaty lands – unclaimed territory. We’re allowed to travel, hunt and water, as long as we don’t molest any marker poles or sacred lands. Five prospectors aren’t a threat…” Snapper headed Onan towards the north. “Ladies and gentlemen, let’s just ride on.”

On they travelled, easily crossing the long, sunny kilometres. Several balloon-like plants drifted high above the grass, casting shadows upon the world below. The floating plants were home to a host of little flying creatures that tended them and nested in amongst the foliage. Throckmorton drifted upwards to inspect the passing plants, returning with the most delicious berries his companions had ever tasted. Once again, the seeds were kept – filed away so that they could be planted in the garden back in Spark Town.

The hills loomed broad and beautiful up ahead. The travellers detoured around a huge herd of swift, jerk-tailed rabbit cattle – a herd attended by a nigh-invisible family of Chomper. Snapper led the party down a vast, broad slope covered in restful tides of mauve-purple grass. On under the flawless sky, while kangaroo-beetles bounded away to every side, the sunlight glittering from their shells.

They camped that night on the lower slopes of a great curving hill, looking out over the plains. A grove of ancient trees grew here – olives crossed with something that stained the fruit and branches scarlet. As they settled down to plant their bed rolls and plan the evening fire, great wheeling flocks of little finch-flies came glittering in across the grass, settling down to nest in bushes at the bottom of the hill. Their cheerful twittering and buzzing echoed back and forth across the grass.

Kenda walked up to the edge of the trees and watched the kangaroo-beetles. Several young joeys were taking tentative steps out of their mother’s pouches, while the large males kept a watch across the nearby grass. Kenda pondered the creatures carefully, keeping a watch upon the plains.

“We could hunt. The kangaroo mutants might be edible.”

Snapper was standing beneath a nearby tree, looking south. Her attention was on the grass.

“There are enough plant animals here, if you have a taste for meat.” The shark gave an easy shrug. “There’s plenty of things to eat without doing harm.”

“You are squeamish, for a warrior.”

“A hussar faces each day with joy in their heart! I’m just a big bundle of love, keen on wooing the world.” The shark idly pointed to the hills all around them with a grass straw. “Hill country. You only hunt if forced by necessity. That was what we agreed with the tribes.”

“I see no primitives.”

“We gave our word, Mister Kenda. A hussar lives and dies by their honour.” The shark woman turned away. “I live out here. We will do nothing that irritates the neighbours. Last thing we need is another tribal war.”

Kitterpokkie had been fetching water from a spring that welled up from the side of the hill. There was a most marvellous little rock pool, with some delightful snail-like organisms, and a sort of exceedingly grumpy frog with tusks. The mantis girl came walking up to Snapper carrying a full billy can in each of her two hands, and a bundle of sticks for the fire in each of her claws. She had listened to the exchange with Kenda, and calmly set her burdens down as Snapper joined her at the fireplace. Kitterpokkie swept her antennae back away from her eyes.

“A most enlightened exchange! You are quite restrained, given your carnivorous ancestry.”

“Why thank you.” The shark looked at the mantis across the top of her spectacles. “So are you.”

“Well I am a creature of science. Sweet reason incarnate.” Kitt set the water over the fire to boil. “So – what do we do about our little shadowers out there?”

“Well we’re officially in their territory now. I’ll leave a bag out on the rocks there tonight. Some salt, some candy, maybe a knife blade. Enough to say
‘Thanks – we’re friends just passing through.
” Snapper gave a yawn that was filled with razor teeth. “Mind you, they might be a bit puzzled about our direction of travel.”

“So we’re safe?”

“Pretty sure this is Striper territory. We’re safe unless we get a raiding party from another tribe. Then it’s on for young and old.”

“We should definitely take steps to avoid that eventuality.” Kitt stretched, flexing out all four of her arms. “Right, time for dinner. I believe I shall cook us one of my justly famous camp pies!”

The night was spent in comfort beneath a tree, listening to the sigh of the wind and watching little glow-balls bumble about the skies. Snapper arose for her turn on watch long before dawn, rising from bed and into the icy fresh night. Beau was on guard, rifle across his lap and a cup of tea in hand. He nodded thankfully as Snapper appeared, and made certain she had her own cup of milky tea before he turned in for another two hours of sleep.

Onan wandered over and snuggled down beside Snapper as she kept watch. They sat happily together, old old friends, warm and calm. After an age, the first grey tinge of dawn finally came to tint the eastern horizon over desert lands where the world seemed to end in salt and sand.

There was a faint rustle in the grass just below the camp, and a few small excited whispers. Snapper gave a wry smile, and sipped her tea.

Pendleton had been sleeping cuddled next to Beau. The huge moth had also heard the sounds. He grinned, shifting subtly forward, clearly hoping to creep silently down the hill and pounce. Snapper tapped her tin mug sharply with her pistol butt to bring the beast to heel.

“Pendleton!
No!”

The moth scowled and subsided, muttering to itself. Snapper shook her head and went back to keeping watch.

Dawn finally lit the horizon with bands of frosted gold. The outlines of the other campers now cast shadows. Snapper arose and looked off down the hill to the pile of rocks below the spring. Sure enough, her little gift package had been taken. But in its place, someone had left a bright red fuzzy feather weighted carefully down with a stone. Snapper walked forward and took the gift, waving out to the grass in acknowledgement. She removed her helmet and fitted the feather into place beside the streaming crest, where it looked very handsome indeed.

Not a bad night’s work!

The shark put on breakfast for her companions – porridge made from toffee oats, slices of fried meat melon, and sliced sugar bulbs that Onan had industriously dug up the night before. The delicious scent of sizzling meat melon summoned Kitterpokkie out of sleep, and she arose as if hypnotised to sit on a rock beside the little camp fire. She was ever a zombie before her first mug of tea in the morning. Snapper sat a brimming tea cup at her side, a salty dough stick in hand, and then sat back to poke and arrange the sizzling meat strips to their best possible advantage.

Dawn light glittered from the herd beasts out on the plains.

Snapper suddenly pointed at a patch of dark sky just to the west.

“Ah! There he goes!” She nodded to a great grey shape sliding through the sky towards the hills. “That giga-moth has been out here the last three nights. He might even nest in the barrier cliffs.”

Giga-moths were part moth, part fox or wolf; not big enough to really attack a grown person, but certainly worthy of keeping an eye on. They could swipe livestock or steal a pack of rations at night with sudden, ghost-like stealth. Kitterpokkie watched the creature rise up, then dive gracefully away and out of sight. She gave a rather yearning little sigh.

“Oh how I would love to fly.” She waved one of her long, elegant grasping claws towards the sky. “It seems a sad affair to have a set of wings, and yet never be able to use them.”

“Well, they’re definitely useful for expression.” Snapper looked at the pink-white wing cases on Kitterpokkie’s back. “I like them!”

“Thank you. And may I say, I find your dorsal fin to be extremely jaunty.”

“Oh!” Snapper shrugged her shoulders to waggle her fin. “Thank you very much.”

Breakfast over, the team cleared their campsite, filled water skins, then headed onwards through the hills towards the north. By mid morning, they crossed the crest of a rocky ridge. It was high enough to afford them a clear view of the great barrier far beyond.

From this distance, it was merely a line on the horizon – a distant yellow white shimmer. But by the afternoon, the line had become more definite: a great sweep of solid rock that stretched clear across the world.