The IX (23 page)

“Take a knee,” he whispered. “Eyes on. Ten and two o’clock high.”

As he waited for the rest of his team to consider the anomalies ahead, Mac tried to define what he was seeing. He zoomed in.
Yup, it’s them all right. At rest and in an almost catatonic condition. Ayria said they adopted this kind of state when they went inactive, but this is the first time I’ve really had a chance to study them asleep.

The rippling curtains had no defined parameters, and seemed content to etch the darkness in shivers. A baffling amalgam of substance and texture, the proximity of each specimen couldn’t be clearly defined. Yet every so often, one of them released a pulse of electric-blue desire which skittered off through their collective consciousness. As it did so, rumbles of protest and outbursts of lurid scarlet energy split the air, distinguishing an alarming array of horns, talons, and fangs, all packed tightly together.

There must be hundreds of them.

“No second-guesses required then?” Sam said as another plasma ribbon crackled through the right-hand mass. Arching across the subway, the discharge danced through the sleeping essences lining the opposite catwalk, almost rousing them from slumber.

Waiting patiently for the disturbance to subside, Sam offered his opinion. “Boss, they’re obviously in some form of suspended animation or sleep-like condition. Most probably to conserve strength while there’s nothing about to feast on. But look at them. From the way they’re acting, it appears to me as if some of them are dreaming.”

“What makes you say that?”

“Remember our last op, where some of the Horde tried to ambush us? They’d hidden themselves under the ground and reduced their auras so they were practically indistinguishable from their surroundings.”

“Much like what we have here.”

“Yes,
but we didn’t see any of these static flares. They were awake, they were lucid, and in control. They were making a deliberate attempt to increase the element of surprise. This is something different. They’re not expecting any action whatsoever. In fact, they’re so chilled, they’ve flaked out. And what happens when a cognitive mind falls asleep?”

Realization sent a thrill along Mac’s spine.
It dreams! What the hell would monsters fantasize about? Hang on! But that would mean these sneaky buggers are . . .
“Jesus, we’ve got to make sure this intel gets back. Guys, take things nice and steady. There’s more to these spooks than we think. Don’t do anything that might wake them up. Once we exit the tunnel, I’m going to relay a message back to Commander Cameron. Some egghead ought to be able to make sense of all this.”

Glancing ahead, Mac could see where some of the Horde had spilled over the railings on both sides of the subway, only to lie inert on the tarmac.

Fortunately for us the road is so wide.

Tightening formation, they crept forward again. Mac advised, “Use your cold lights to mark the edge of the mass. Err on the side of caution. Give the driver at least a yard’s grace on either side.”

One by one, each team member removed a number of small plastic tubes from a special pocket on the side of his belt. The sticks looked inconspicuous until they were bent into an inverted
V
shape and shaken roughly. That procedure broke a small chamber in the middle of the rod that allowed two inert chemicals to mix together. Once combined, the liquid glowed with a soft, red phosphorus radiance. Designed to last close to twenty minutes, they would provide a safe channel for the skidder to navigate without having to resort to lights.

Slowly, arduously, the team picked their way through the slumber party from hell. Leaving their beacons every five yards or so, it took them just over ten minutes to emerge into the cool dusk air.

Adopting a defensive arc, each soldier scanned the vicinity. The dwindling light cast a spectral shroud over the scene. To one side, for almost as far as the eye could see, the silhouettes of a multitude of spacecraft in all shapes and sizes haunted the launch and standby zones. Further along, closer to the terminus, mystery hulks peeped out from the ranks of pens and hangars edging the field, hinting at further mysteries within. Witnessing the number of liners now lying abandoned chilled Mac to the bone. He recalled Saul’s words from the briefing of only a few weeks previously. “How about that,” he murmured. “
Marie Celeste
doesn’t do it justice. It’s a ships’ graveyard.”

“Yeah, except that these skeletons will probably still work when you crank them up,” Sam ventured. “If they’re powered by aqua-cells as the commander hinted, we could have an alternate escape route off this rock, right there in front of us.”

“Link your HUDs together,” Mac directed, “capture everything you can. The guys back at base need as much live-time information as possible for an accurate review once we’ve wrapped things up here.”
That reminds me.

Mac’s com-set was strapped to the inside of his left forearm. Using the keypad, he compressed the data into a condensed file, and prepared to send it back to Rhomane. Had he been on Earth, Mac would only have needed to enter the command ‘send’ and a satellite link would have completed the rest of the task. Here, he would have to transmit the information via the skidder parked out at the entrance.

He hailed the driver of that craft. “Nick? Can you hear me?”

“Yes, I’m here,” an anxious voice replied. “Do you . . . do you want me to come on through now?”

“In a moment. I’m sending you an important document for the operations room. Relay it on to them immediately. Once they’ve confirmed its receipt, you can join us.”

“Okay. You . . . you’re sending it now, yes?”

“It’s on the way,” Mac replied, as he pressed the button.

“Got it.” There was a slight pause as Nick transferred the information on as requested. “All done,” he confirmed. “S . . . so I can drive the skidder through now?”

Mac could hear how nervous Nick was.
They’re not used to this kind of pressure. I’d better get them busy and take their minds off things.
Aloud, he replied, “That’s right Nick. If you would be so kind as to take charge of your crew? Make sure they have their weapons ready, just in case, but leave the safety catches on for now. Fingers are to remain alongside the guard unless you know you need to fire. That’s not going to happen, though. The only Horde we’ve passed are all dormant within the confines of the subway, up on the gantries. A few have spilled out into the road, so travel slow, and keep between the flares.”

“Will do. I’m on my way.”

Mac had an idea. “I’m sending Jumper and Stu back down the tunnel to meet you. Their stealth armor will be active, but we’ll get them to trigger a green-colored glow-rod to mark their positions. They’ll walk you through the rest of the way.”

“Thanks, Mac. Much appreciated.”

Mac nodded toward his comrades, and they scuttled back into the underpass. Once they had disappeared from sight, Mac spoke quietly with Sam Pell. He indicated the second building along the eastern quarter. “That’s our target. The way looks relatively clear, so I don’t want to go snooping about in there until we have to. We’ve got a few minutes, how about we check out the nearest ship?”

“What, go off mission?”

“Not exactly. After all, we
are
here to gain intelligence as well.” Mac set his sights on a small shuttled-sized vehicle parked only fifty yards away. The front side hatch was open and a short platform had been lowered to the ground, presumably by its previous occupants. Directing Sam’s attention toward it, he continued, “It’s close. It’s open, and we only need take a look. If we can record the state of the interior and what controls it employs, someone back at base might know how to power it up and fly it. Just think of the tactical advantage it would give us. We’ll be in and out before Nick and the rest rejoin us.”

“What the hell,” Sam replied, “let’s do it.”

Scampering forward, the two men quickly closed on the abandoned craft. When they were ten yards from it, Mac made a looping gesture with the index fingers of both hands. They split up. Advancing in opposite directions, they commenced a slow circle of the ship.

Spinning constantly, Mac surveyed the area about him. The silence was otherworldly, and he had to fight down the feeling that something was going to jump out on him at any moment. The sensation increased as he met up with Sam below the open door.
So where the hell are they?
“Anything?”

“Not a squeak, Boss. For a place that’s supposed to be overrun with Horde, it’s a bit of an anticlimax.”

“Unless they’re taking shelter? Like back in the tunnel?”

“There’s only one way to find out for sure.”

“I’ll leave my camera on the rotating bandwidth,” Mac cautioned. “You switch yours to lowlight. Take in everything you can.”

Side by side, the specialists crept their way up the tiered ramp. Entering through the hatch, they emerged inside what appeared to be a reception area. A swift check determined the front compartment housed a spacious flight deck, while the first rearward section contained the crew’s quarters. A heavily armored archway led through to the back hold.

After ensuring to record anything that might be of value, Mac decided it was time to check out the cargo area. “C’mon, let’s get this finished and meet up with the others.”

Stepping forward, they discovered the huge doors were automatic. As he passed through, Mac staggered, overcome by sudden vertigo. Next to him, Sam also stumbled. Urging his colleague into a kneeling position, Mac whispered, “Check your radiation monitor. Something’s not right here.”

Glancing at his own patch, Mac could see the indicator was still showing green.
Strange?
Peering forward, he noticed the interior of the storeroom was masked by a large container. Squeezing Sam by the shoulder, he said, “You go left, I’ll go right. Complete a figure-of-eight sweep of what’s on the other side and then we’ll get out of here, just in case we’re being dosed with something that doesn’t show up on our monitors. Agreed?”

“Yes, yes.”

With infinite care, the two men shuffled forward.

Mac skirted the edge of the barrier and felt a tingling sensation in the air. He flicked his weapon’s safety to the
off
position. Discerning that nothing else was moving within the compartment, he lingered for a moment to take stock before pressing on. As Mac maneuvered past the crate, he was presented with a confusing spectacle.

A gray void hung in midair. An asperity, rent through the specifics of reality. Mac backtracked and hissed, “Sam, retreat now. Get out, get out.”

He’d only managed to take a few steps when the gyre flared, and a wave of dizzying proportions radiated from the anomaly. A sudden vacuum sucked the air from his lungs, and he was crushed to the floor. Forced to crawl, Mac scrambled into a corner and raised his machine gun into a firing position.

What the fu . .  . ?

He froze as a shadow cast by an alternate dimension canted his senses like a ship in a storm. A twelve foot high apparition appeared. Sheathed in purple-blue radiance, and with a dancing coronet of violet and crimson flames above its head, it took a moment to gain its bearings before stomping toward Mac like an auger of doom.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Lessons

Marcus Brutus strode through the entrance portico, marveling again at the handiwork of the artisans who had fashioned the building directly from the fabric of the wall. Although completely unadorned, the grace and finesse of the joints and seam work was unlike anything he had ever seen.

Since his arrival, Marcus had done his best to accustom both himself and his men to their new surroundings. Their responsibility now was the defense of this city, and as such, he had insisted everyone avail themselves of the vast storehouse of knowledge contained within Rhomane’s Great Library. Especially where it appertained to lydium and its uses.

As he climbed the stairs, Marcus ran his fingers along the impossibly smooth texture of the edifice before him.

It’s without blemish. Not one nick or scar mars its perfection.

Created from super-dense, super-cooled, fermionic bombardment, lydium was impossible to manipulate once it was fashioned into its preferred form, and warmed above absolute zero. In the case of the Utility Archive he now found himself in, the matrix had been encouraged to flow out from the bulk of the wall to form the frame of the building itself. A procedure adopted at a number of important structures around the outer rim.

Arriving at the level he desired, Marcus paused and removed his sword from its scabbard. Adjusting his grip, he slammed the pommel against the structure as hard as he could. A dull, metallic peal chimed along the hallways, causing a few men to pause in their work and look up. Ignoring them, Marcus peered closely at the area he had just struck.

Not a scratch. Fire doesn’t warm it. Bullets don’t shake a single fleck loose. Even acid has no sting against such obstinacy.

He stepped onto a raised gantry positioned between two towers.

The only exception is this one small area, here. The site of the impact.

Marcus placed his hand against the unyielding stone. Apart from an almost indiscernible difference in temperature, the wall looked and felt exactly the same as everywhere else. Both overwhelming and oblique.

I can’t even begin to imagine the power that would be needed to break something so solid. So permanent. But the majesty of the Horde’s focus is terrifying. Such strength and savagery. I daren’t leave anything to chance.

His fingers came away wet, stained in ochre.

Ah, the oxidized mix hasn’t dried here yet. I wonder if that has anything to do with the anomaly?

Turning, Marcus was caught in the rays of the setting sun, reflected from the citadel. Bathed in fire, he couldn’t resist closing his eyes and reveling in memories of better times. Of Gaul and Rome, and family and friends, sorely missed.

A shout from outside intruded on his solitude. Gripping the rail, Marcus strained to listen in on the exchange. He recognized the bark of one of his centurions, Decimus Martinas. Decimus’s voice was as deep as a bullfrog’s in heat, and three times as loud. Whoever was arguing with him was fighting a losing battle.