Quest For Earth (37 page)

The burning felt like live currents drilling into her skull and lasted several seconds until the bonding was complete.

Still, the protection afforded by the armour was worth the momentary discomfort.

She looked up as Maaka entered the cave.

The man that stood before her was all warrior. Clad only in trousers, with his impressive chest protected by a breastplate of tikka feathers, Maaka was a formidable sight; one that took her breath away. From his wide leather belt hung his sword, axe and a plitza gun. A long narrow sheath which contained his bone-handled knives was strapped round the top of each of his thighs.

‘You are resolved on this?'

‘Yes.' Sherise crossed to his side, laid an armoured hand on his arm and looked up into his face. ‘Is all ready?'

‘Yes. Making armour from the tikka feathers was an excellent idea. Thank you.'

‘It won't stop uron blast nor nix strikes, but I believe the metal will ward off any plitza guns.'

‘We have tested it against sword and spear and it deflects both these weapons. This will give us an advantage over our enemy.'

Sherise stroked her hand over the metallic feathers welded into a plate that covered Maaka's torso and emphasised his wide shoulders, fighting the sick feeling in her stomach. Soon, the armour would be tested in a real life situation. She remembered her vision and felt as if her heart was full of roid stones, heavy and cold.

Maaka sucked in a deep breath and she saw the planes of his face sharpen. ‘Stay by my side at all times, Sherise.'

The lustre of his eyes was dulled by shadows and Sherise knew it came from whatever he kept hidden from her. She had hoped to have the time to speak with him, to lie once more within his arms, but with the fate of others hovering close by like restless spirits it was selfish to delay any longer. Plus, Maaka had deemed it sound strategy to set a trap now, when his enemy believed the Freebers were still recovering from the last attack and had insufficient manpower to offer any kind of threat.

‘I have prayed to the goddess Cercis to keep you safe from harm,' she said. Beneath her armour and skin suit, even her heart trembled.

He shrugged. ‘If it is my fate to die, then so be it.' He traced the outline of her face and mouth. ‘But I have no intention of falling this day. Our sons will need their father.'

‘You are forgetting our daughters.' Sherise smiled.

‘Who will be as fierce and brave as their mother.' He swooped down and kissed her. The tender way his lips moved over hers made her fling her arms around his neck and cling, never wanting to let him go. She drew deep of the taste of his mouth, committing it to memory. His musky scent was rich in her lungs and even through the barriers of their armour she could feel the strength of his hard body. Words of pleading, of remonstration, of desperation churned in her throat, but she would not utter them. She would not burden him with her fear. Let him keep his mind clear and focused on what lay before him.

And she would watch his back.

When he raised his head, she stepped out of his embrace, and kept her eyes steady as she looked at him.

He passed both hands over his head then dropped them to his sides. ‘It is time.' The gravity in his face threatened her composure, but she nodded and walked off to check, for the last time, the contents of her satchel.

Good. All accounted for.

She slung the straps over her shoulder and fastened them to her chest. She straightened the bed of dark furs, casting one last look around the cave which held such special memories. Her gaze lingered on the crystal depths of the pool and she turned to smile at her mate, allowing her faith and trust to flow from her heart to his. ‘I am ready, Maaka.'

‘You will obey my every command,' he said, not for the first time.

‘Of course.'
Within reason.
She placed her hand in his outstretched one, and his firm grip enclosed hers.

In silence they walked along the many passages and stairs until they emerged into the cavern. Lines of armed soldiers stood waiting, tense and battle ready, before the shuttles. Sherise's chest swelled as she stared at them; Lycaneans, Freebers and Relics, both men and women, their faces grim like effigies carved out of stone. Kondo stood, arms folded and head high, in front of a stack of small metal boxes which she recognised as uron charges.

The Freeber leader, Liu, hurried forward and grasped their joined hands in both of his.

‘We will pray for a speedy end to the conflict and a safe return for all.' Liu's gentle eyes glistened with moisture.

‘Remember to keep the perimeter secure, Liu. I want sentries manning all points of entrance every minute of the day and night,' said Maaka.

The smaller man nodded and released their hands.

Maaka raised a clenched fist into the air, swept his gaze over the lines of men as they imitated him. A mighty roar filled the cave. While the cheering continued, Sherise followed Maaka onto the first shuttle and into the cockpit.

A few minutes later, the shuttle vibrated beneath her feet as the power source fired up. The pilot coded in the take-off sequence and the shuttle shot across the plateau and lifted into the sky. Sherise closed her eyes and willed herself to relax as the forces of gravity pinned her to her seat. In a few hours' time, she'd learn what fate awaited them on the plains before the Fallen City.

***

Despite the temperature-controlled warmth provided by the nano suit, a chill pervaded Sherise's body and stiffened the tiny hairs on her arms. She went over the battle plan.

A group of Lycaneans dressed as Freebers were to toil in the field where the gammas grew, with three others acting as guards. The remainder of the army would lie in wait, hidden behind a low ridge eight hundred metres away.

There, they would wait until their enemy attacked and they would make their move. A simple three-pronged attack, with Maaka taking the strike up the centre, Junta in charge of the west side and Kondo attacking from the east. Two shuttles would be used to lay down covering fire; the remaining one, with the precious medie tubes, would be sent back to the Freebers' settlement.

No need to fight the Half-dead on their own turf, Maaka had assured her. The creatures would throw caution to the winds at an opportunity to slaughter more of their enemy and would be complacent after their last success. A fight on the open ground would give the Lycaneans and their allies the advantage.

She peered over the rise in the land. The Lycaneans pretending to be Freebers dug in the dirt and walked back and forth, adding to a small pile of orange vegetables. The guards patrolled in a narrow perimeter. The trap was set.

No breeze stirred the knee-high grass or gave any relief from the early heat of the day. In the east, green-grey clouds formed and rolled in over the sky. A prickle of sweat tickled her scalp. She wished she could remove her helmet and lift her heavy braid from the back of her neck. But there was no time, for on the horizon a heaving, dark mass surged towards them.

It is like my vision.

The shrieking of the Half-dead and the scratching of their clawed feet as they raced across the cracked, hard earth made her shudder and played havoc with her shaky nerves. She knew she had told Maaka she was no stranger to battle. That was true enough. She had fought off draptiles, space pirates and bounty hunters. But this was the first time she would be involved in a battle against an army.

Data spooled before her eyes. The enemy was gaining ground.

A few clicks of her fingers and the display disappeared. She ducked her head back down and flexed her thigh muscles, so tight with tension they felt as if they were locked in her crouching position. She sensed the intensity of Maaka's gaze and looked down at where he stood at the base of the ridge, his strong legs braced apart, his arms hanging loose at his sides. Their eyes met.

They will be upon our men soon.
His words stole into her mind and panic rose, beating against the walls inside her head, desperate to flee the oncoming madness.
You have my heart.

As if it had never been, her fear vanished.

This is where I'm meant to be, Maaka, standing by your side. No matter how this day ends, never forget I have been truly blessed to have found the love of my heart.

Eyes twinkling, he grinned, kissed his fingertips and blew on them. The next instant, she was staring at his back. He released his plitza gun from its holster, gripping his sword in his other hand. The metal of the compu she had given him, encircling his left wrist, flashed in the bright sunlight as he lifted his sword.

Somehow the sight of the weapon with its row of jagged teeth on one side of the blade, the other honed to lethal sharpness, brought home the magnitude of their goal. Destroy the enemy, find and release the prisoners, secure peace with the Corporation, repair the
Quinnie
… but for Sherise, everything faded to a single resolve.

Protect him.

Sweat trickled under her armpits.

The clang of metal against metal told her the forward squad of the Half-dead had reached the farming plot and had engaged the Lycaneans in fight.

When not moving, remember to stand side on to the enemy
, ordered Maaka.

Sherise flipped open her holster, the plitza gun sliding into her hand as she imitated Maaka's stance. Side on, legs spread apart with her weight balanced evenly, arms loose by her side, her fingers tight around the butt of her gun. She counted her heartbeats, concentrating on keeping her breathing even.

Ready for the charge.

A horn sounded.

Three short blasts.

Maaka bounded forward up the ridge and over the other side.

Sherise followed, her gaze fixed on his back. With each step, tiny shock waves vibrated up the backs of her legs and her shin bones, as she raced down the steep side, then ran over the unyielding hard-packed ground. The battle cries of their army as they poured forward combined with the thudding of feet. The shrill yells of the Half-dead consumed her head. Her lungs worked in manic unison and she sucked in air that, even through the filters of her suit, stunk of dust and sweat-soaked fear.

By a miracle of Cercis, she kept one pace behind Maaka as they surged straight and sure towards the line of approaching Half-deads. She would guard his back or die in the attempt.

They were so close; within firing distance, and still the order had yet to be given. She could see the horde now and leaped over a pile of concrete rubble partly hidden beneath a clump of weeds. The creatures' gaping mouths revealed rows of jagged teeth. Flesh hung raw and red from their torsos. Although hunched-back with spindly physiques, they were leanly muscled and carried a rage in their eyes that packed a powerful punch. Their claws gripped shields, swords and poleaxes. A few carried furlon blasters and plitza guns, firing in all directions, not caring if they cut down their fellow creatures.

Maaka roared, ‘Fire!'

In her ears, the clash of weapon against weapon and creature against man was like an explosion.

Her gun vibrated in her hand. Charged and ready. She fired. The green energy burnt a hole the size of her fist in a Half-dead's chest. It collapsed to the ground. She fired again and again and again, following in Maaka's footsteps as he slashed and hacked a path through the wall of death.

Another Half-dead fell to his sword, yet another to his gun. Sherise lengthened her stride and jumped over the still twitching carcass. She drilled a shot into its head.

Just to make certain.

She heard the hum of a shuttle's engine and glanced into the dust-filled sky. The shuttle flew into her field of vision, and she ducked when it skimmed mere centons over her head. Maintaining a forty-five degree angle, it laid down a stream of blue laser-fire cutting a swath through the Half-deads' ranks. Head down, firing as she ploughed past, she shouldered aside the shield of another creature. She hoped the other shuttle performed its part in decimating the rear.

The slam of furlon fire into her chest sent her reeling on her feet, but her armour protected her. She regained her balance and blasted the creature in her path. He went down amid an explosion of blood and bone where her fire cut through his gut.

The shrill sounds of incoming nix missiles pierced the turmoil of battle.

‘Maaka, get down!' she shouted. Her heartbeats echoed the rapid spat of plitza fire.

He whirled around. Blood dripped from his sword. The Half-deads broke through the front line, surged forward, hacking at anything that moved in a frenzy of blood-fuelled rage. They surrounded him.

Maaka, where is he? I cannot see him
! Time slowed. Panic swarmed in her mind like a million trapped tikka birds.
I must reach him
. With a whine her plitza gun died. She threw it at the nearest creature's head and wrestled the sword from its claws, ramming it deep into the Half-dead's chest. She choked down bile as it slid smoothly into flesh, and warm blood sprayed over her fingers. With shaking hands, she tried to prise the sword out, but it was stuck fast.

The sky was full of screaming missiles deafening her. Louder and louder.

Ours or theirs? Get another weapon, quick.
She spun round and tripped over a creature bleeding out on the ground. Flailed.

Metal glinted as something flashed towards her. Pain splintered her head and body.

And the world exploded into a brilliant flash of white light.

***

Maaka shook his head to clear his vision and heaved to his feet. He stood, swaying, knees shaking, ears ringing from the explosions, his weapons still firm in hands, slick with sweat and blood. Out of the smoke swirling around him leapt a Half-dead. Maaka fired the gun. Nothing happened. He snarled, dropped it, swung his sword in a diagonal arc and sliced the creature from ribs to shoulder. He stepped over the carcass and hefted his battle axe into his other hand.

He heard the drone of the shuttle overhead and the rapid fire of its guns. How anyone could see in this hell was a wonder. He spat a mouthful of blood from his split lip into the dirt and sank into a crouch. Crablike, he inched step by step, retracing ground his men had taken.