MECH EBOOK (34 page)

The man’s kind demeanor didn’t fool Drick. He was clearly just trying to get him into trouble with his Auntie. Drick was having none of it.

“You’ve got no authority with me, no matter what the identity computers say,” said Drick, waving his empty flask at the image. He swung the flask at Droad, wacking the air where the holo shimmered. He stabbed the cut-off button and stood up. He almost fell again, but managed to keep up, pinwheeling his arms and staggering. He worked his way across his office, then pitched headlong over something in the doorway. His teeth cut into his lips and blood ran down his chin. He felt about, more than half-blinded, discovering that he was lying on the smashed door. He lay there for a considerable time trying to gather his wits. Behind him the intercom beeped incessantly.

 Then there was a crash down the hall, followed by the heavy thump of running feet. He tried to raise his head, gave up, set it back down again.

A dark shape ran by. Several more followed it. There was an odd stink in the air. Then there was another presence, coming up behind him. He struggled to turn his head. He felt the light touch of something rubbery and wet, probing against his back. He managed to turn his head to face it.

There was a shrade sitting on his back, staring at him. A quivering set of mandibles tasted his blood. A dozen sets of stubby legs suddenly stiffened, became sharp, stabbed into his flesh. Fiery pain raced through his dulled nervous system. The constriction began and his ribs crackled. Breathing became impossible. He struggled in silent, vague horror, unable to believe until the very end that what was happening to him was real.

* * *

“They’re all aliens? You’re sure?” asked Droad. He continued to stir his hot caf and blow into it, but it had long since grown cold.

“Absolutely. Not one of those flitters or escorting gunships is manned. They’re all heading right in on the spaceport, dropping the troops and heading back to the forests for more. The radio emissions system I rigged up to detect the enemy is lit up like a star cluster,” said Jarmo, his eyes never leaving his graphic projections. “We can’t let any more of them get to the
Gladius
, sir. I believe the orbital station is already compromised.”

Droad glanced at him and nodded. He looked out of Fort Zimmerman’s north tower window toward the spaceport. Shooting up into the cloud layer was the ever-present shaft of shimmering metal that represented so much effort on the part of the colonists. Halfway up to the clouds, a large flock of air-swimmers serenely floated around it in a spiral pattern.

The elevator was Garm’s greatest link to space, to the Nexus, and to the rest of humanity. By itself, it represented a great achievement of human technology, and was doubtless the most significant positive thing the people of Garm had ever created.

“Have we secured all the flitters capable of reaching orbit?”

“Yes sir, they have all been moved from the spaceport into the Fort compound. Others exist, however, around the colony.”

“Tell Dorman to hit the elevator with his Stormbringers, but not to overdo it. He must at least break the shaft up until it is unserviceable,” said Droad in a dull voice. He was uncharacteristically glum. His eyes were dark with fatigue and his face white and drawn. His first governorship was fast turning into one of the greatest disasters in human history. Even if the enemy could be stopped, the damage to the colony would take more than his lifetime to repair.

Jarmo relayed the orders and the two watched as the Stormbringers streaked to the attack. The planes themselves were invisible due to their great speed, of course, but the atmospheric conditions were right for contrails today, and so their progress could be tracked by the eye. Enemy aircraft rose up like angry wasps to meet them, but the shaft was really an indefensible target. Crimson explosions blossomed about the base of the shaft. The spaceport was quickly reduced to burning ruins.

“Now, we must decide our next move,” said Droad. He tasted his hot caf, found it to be cold caf, and poured himself a fresh cup. He reflected that the sole thing he had enjoyed about this post so far was the excellent beverages that the tropical climate of Garm produced.

Jarmo sat back. “I would estimate that a fairly large number of the enemy has gotten aboard the
Gladius
. Mai Lee led the remains of her personal army up there as well, but I believe she will be sorely outnumbered.”

“Even with the security forces on the ship?”

Jarmo made a wry face. “According to the mech Lieutenant’s report, they are less than adequate to fight the aliens.”

“So you recommend that we go to the aid of the
Gladius
? Or are you suggesting that we get aboard that ship and save our skins?”

Jarmo frowned, leaned forward. His serious eyes engaged the Governor. “Sir, I think it’s time we faced certain realities. We are losing this war. It is clear that the aliens reproduce new warriors at a rate that we can’t counter. We had the upper hand at first—”

Here Governor Droad interrupted with a snort. It did not seem to him that they had ever had the upper hand.

“—due to our superior numbers and firepower. However, the enemy have continued to grow in strength, coming back after each battle with greater forces. This is not just our experience, but from all the reports I have monitored around the planet.”

“And while they grow stronger and use equipment captured from us, we have no more troops once we are fully mobilized.”

“Yes, exactly. You see, if their numbers were to stop increasing right now, we could probably handle them. But of course, they will not. My calculations indicate that their numbers will double again in the next six days, even accounting for casualties.”

“But if we can just get to the source of their reproduction, to their queens, we could stop them,” argued Droad.

Jarmo nodded his huge head, but the frown didn’t leave his face. “This is exactly what Mai Lee was attempting, and a good strategy it was. But according to the data I have gathered about the enemy movements, it’s almost pointless. The alien numbers are now growing at several points around the planet, indicating they have many queens, and that they are breeding more even now.”

The Governor put his hands behind his head and leaned back in his chair. He placed his heavy boots on the holo-plate and crossed his legs. Tipping his hat over his eyes, he thought hard. He always found thinking easier in a relaxed position.

“And there is another thing,” Jarmo said.

“What?”

“Our supplies of ordinance and equipment are already dwindling.”

Droad tipped the brim of his hat up to eye him.

“The main way we are keeping the aliens from overrunning us now is with greater firepower. But Garm has never planned for a long term conflict. The armories are well-stocked, but once the missiles are gone for the Stormbringers, for instance, there will be no more. Once we are down to hand-to-hand conditions, there can be no doubt which side will win.”

Droad seemed to deflate somewhat. “You are telling me that we are doomed. That we can’t win.”

Jarmo made no answer.

“Let’s examine the options. Nuclear weapons?”

“Very few available. Even with the NCC proscription against them, there are a few on the planet, but all of tactical-level yield. Those that do exist are mostly hidden somewhere out of our reach on the Slipape County estates.”

“Evacuation?”

“The
Gladius
is the only ship capable of carrying a large percentage of the colonists. Unfortunately, evacuation will take time, weeks at least, and I doubt the aliens will allow us that.”

“All right, so what are they going to do?”

“I believe they will make an all out effort to take the
Gladius
. I believe they will leave the system at the first opportunity and carry their seeds to the rest of the Nexus.”

Droad snapped up out of his chair. It fell back behind him with a clatter. He and Jarmo locked stares. The system operators around them, having listened in, watched them both intently.

“You’re right,” said Droad. He hadn’t thought of the possible stakes involved. It was crystal clear to him now. These things were a threat to the entire Nexus, not just to Garm. “We have to move now.”

Jarmo gave him a questioning look.

“We must take all our forces up to the
Gladius
.”

As they turned to leave the observation room a messenger approached. It was the Hofstetten militia captain, the same one that had confronted Ari Steinbach and Major Drick Lee just before the assault at the spaceport. His red beard was frosty with flecks of melting snow.

“There’s someone here to see you, Governor. She just flew a flitter into the compound and landed right in the courtyard. We almost blasted her out of the air.”

“What does she want?” asked Droad hurriedly, pulling on his parka and donning a weapons harness. Jarmo busied himself with his plasma cannon, which he had stowed under the desk.

“She says she’s been inside the alien nest, and she has important information about the enemy.”

Droad waved for him to follow and Jarmo fell into step behind them. Jarmo watched the militia captain closely.

“She’ll have to talk to me on the way up. She can ride up on my flitter. Get your men ready for an assault Captain. We leave in thirty minutes.”

* * *

Jarmo and Droad rode in the forward cabin. Through the observation ports was a scene filled with gray clouds, as the nose was pointed upward at a steep angle. To their left was the silvery shaft of the space elevator, reaching up into the heavens like Jack’s beanstalk.

Droad stopped talking strategy and turned to meet the tall, dark-haired woman who entered the cabin. He noted right away that she was an attractive woman, despite the fact that her face was streaked with scratches and her hair was a tangled maze. Her jumpersuit was fresh and clean, however, taken from Fort Zimmerman’s ample supply rooms. Her eyes caught his full attention, they were quite shapely, but also haunted with dark visions which he could only guess at. Immediately, he believed her story of having escaped the alien nest.

“Come in and strap yourself into a crash-seat,” he invited.

Behind her, two more figures came into the cabin. Everyone braced themselves against the acceleration of the flitter. At Droad’s urging, all three of them sank gratefully into the crash-seats. Droad was surprised to see one of the others was a boy of perhaps twelve and the other was a skald. The absence of a left arm on the boy was his most noticeable feature, in addition to the fact that he was clearly related to the woman. They both had the same dark eyes and hair.

The skald was a different matter entirely. Droad had read about them, but had yet to encounter a member of their sect, which was the oddest religion on Garm. They were really a cult, a very mysterious one. According to his readings they were thought to focus their lives on achieving inner peace through meditation and wandering pilgrimages, but little hard data had ever been collected on them. It was known that they valued artwork, music and solitude. Sculptures created by the skalds of Garm were known and sought after throughout the Nexus, being one of the planet’s more successful exports.

In appearance the skald differed noticeably from the rest of them. He was tall and thin with long blond hair, so blond it was almost white. His sharp features and vacant, staring eyes made Droad wonder if he was the product of in-breeding or some other, more mysterious influence.

As they strapped themselves into their crash seats, Droad nodded to each of the visitors, as did Jarmo. The skald didn’t respond, didn’t even look at them. He merely stared out the observation reports at the metal shaft that led up into space.

“Hello, let me introduce myself,” began Droad, smiling with real warmth. This was the first time he had the opportunity to meet some of the people of Garm who were neither military nor trying to kill him. “I’m Lucas Droad and this is my chief of staff, Jarmo Niska.”

Sarah responded politely, eyeing the giant with unease. Pleasantries lasted only a few seconds, however, before the skald interrupted.

“Parent.” he began. Everyone looked startled to hear him speak. He stared at Droad now with manic intensity. White flecks of spittle speckled his chin. His lips squirmed in an unnatural fashion, as if unaccustomed to speech. He stopped talking after this single word and appeared to have some kind of fit. He began thrashing violently in his seat, straining against the straps he himself had fastened over his thin pale body.

Droad pushed his hat back upon his head and watched the display with interest. Jarmo produced a pistol with a long black barrel from somewhere and directed it casually at the skald.

“What’s with him?” asked Droad conversationally.

Bili answered him, speaking for the first time. “He’s nutso. He’s seen too many of the alien feasts.”

“Feasts?” questioned Droad. He leaned forward and scrutinized the three. What could it have been like to be captured by aliens?

Sarah explained. By the time she had finished, the skald had lapsed into his previous, somnolent state.

“As far as we know, your experiences are unique, Sarah. We have had no other reports from anyone in close contact with the aliens, other than in battle. Your information could be useful, but you’ll have to give it to me fast,” said Droad. He turned to Jarmo, whose pistol had disappeared to wherever it had come from. “How long until we hit the docking portals?”