Cluster Command: Crisis of Empire II Page 9

  “Why thank you, Sir,” Moskone replied happily. “I’d like that.” He stood to attention and snapped off a smart salute. “By your leave, Sir.”

  Oriana returned the salute with a casual wave. “Carry on.”

  As soon as Moskone was gone, Oriana opened the case and withdrew the document. It was short and to the point. Someone had made an attempt on Windsor’s life, all hell was about to break loose on a mining planet called Teller, and Merikur wanted another thousand marines to deal with it.

  The admiral shook his head sadly. Merikur meant well, but he was obviously caught up in forces beyond his understanding.

  Oriana heard the door open behind him. “He’s gone. You can come out now. You’ll want to see this.”

  Oriana turned his chair slightly and handed Merikur’s report to Nola Rankoo.

  Chapter 7

  Three days after landing on Teller, Merikur did something generals shouldn’t do. With Nugumbe’s help and Treeling’s acquiescence, he had gained control of Port City and the surrounding area. He’d also established a strong base just outside town. The rebels had attacked it twice, though not in strength, and were driven off both times. In spite of that, they still controlled most of the countryside while his own forces were forted up.

  Mining Station 458 was a case in point.

  Weeks before, the Cernian rebels had used their knowledge of mining to tunnel their way into the compound. Deciding the eight-person Haiken Maru security team was unworthy of their efforts, the rebels waited for an even better target and got one when Merikur sent twelve marines to reinforce the station. The rebels attacked it that night and wiped it out.

  The attack had come around dusk. By prearranged signal, the workers left the compound through holes cut in the fence. Seconds after the last one left, a computer-controlled mortar barrage marched across the compound. Both the security personnel and the marines were behind their weapons waiting for the attack. Unfortunately, they were looking in the wrong direction. The rebels came boiling up out of the ground behind them.

  Merikur could imagine their terror as enemy troops appeared out of nowhere. The screams as the butchery began. He could still hear the calm voice of Staff Sergeant Higgins on the radio. “Blue dog to base. We have fifty, repeat fifty, hostiles inside our perimeter. Entry made via existing tunnels. Repeat, entry made via existing tunnels. Request air strike on our position. Repeat, request air strike on our position. And base, after you kill these bastards, be sure to have a beer for us. Blue dog out.”

  His throat tight with emotion, Merikur ordered an air strike on Mining Station 458. Twelve minutes and thirty-eight seconds later, two LCSs screamed out of the sunset and slagged the entire area.

  Everything died. Cernians, humans, the six-legged lizards which infested the compound, everything.

  And now, Merikur felt a need to see it. To try and pull some kind of meaning from it. He could have, and should have called for Sergeant Knox and his troop carrier. But he was tired of bodyguards, tired of sixteen-hour days, and tired of being a general. He slipped out and fired up the aircar Treeling had placed at his disposal.

  It was a fancy model and came to life with a pleasing hum. Merikur closed the canopy over his head, settled back into the comfort of the genuine Nek-hide seats, and lifted off.

  As the ground dropped away, he saw a tiny figure run out of the command center and look up. He thought it might be Major Fouts, but he couldn’t be sure. Whoever it was ran towards the parking area where his troop carrier waited. Merikur grinned sourly.

  Banking right, he headed out over virgin jungle. By the time the troop carrier lifted, he’d be long gone. Station 458 was about a hundred miles away. At two hundred miles an hour, he’d be there in no time at all.

  “Time to earn your keep,” Merikur told his AID. “Give this heap the coordinates for Mining Station 458.”

  There was a momentary pause before the AID answered. “The coordinates have been transmitted and checked. Should we be traveling alone?”

  Merikur groaned. “Not you too. Aren’t you getting just a little paranoid for a fancy computer?”

  “I’m not a computer, fancy or otherwise,” the device replied resentfully. “However, there is some truth in what you say. Lately, I have been oddly concerned with my own continuance.”

  “Terrific,” Merikur replied. “Well, do me a favor and worry quietly.”

  Reaching down, he flipped a series of switches and pushed a button. An indicator light went from red to blue as the autopilot kicked in and Merikur removed his hands from the controls.

  Leaning back in his seat, he watched the jungle canopy flash below as the aircar chased its own shadow across the land. Every now and then, he’d pass over a dark canyon and catch the glint of water twinkling far below. To either side, vast flocks of green biwinged birds rose to circle above the jungle. As one flock took to the air, another settled into the treetops. Were they taking turns eating insects Merikur couldn’t see? Or just having fun? There was no way to tell.

  For a time, his anger and guilt abated as Merikur lost himself in the warmth of the sun and the almost-hypnotic beauty of the jungle below. “Hey, Your generalship, according to my calculations the remains of Station 458 are a few miles ahead and this crate hasn’t slowed down. I suggest you check the autopilot.” His AID was getting paranoid again.

  He reached down, flicked three switches to “off”, and hit a button. The indicator light stayed blue. Now he was concerned.

  Merikur ran through the sequence again. Still no result. The autopilot was locked on. The aircar would fly until it ran out of fuel and crashed into whatever happened to be below. He glanced at the fuel gauge. Three quarters full. The aircar would travel another two thousand miles before going down.

  A rock began to grow in his gut. A hundred miles of jungle was one thing, a long walk but possible. Two thousand miles was damned unlikely. He ran through the switches one more time. Still no reaction. He turned the radio on. Dead. No static, no indicator light. His lips made a straight line. This was no accident. Someone had sabotaged the car. He pulled his sidearm. “Can you reach base from here?”

  “Affirmative,” his AID replied. “But are you sure you want me to? Whoever sabotaged the aircar is waiting for you to crash. If I send a signal to base, they’ll know you’re alive and send someone to finish the job.”

  The AID was right. Although the part about being alive was subject to change during the crash.

  “Good point. Well here goes nothing.”

  Merikur climbed into the back seat, strapped himself in, and aimed his handgun at the control panel. He fired three times. Exploding glass beads chewed their way through the panel and the wiring behind.

  The engine died, the nose dropped, and the aircar screamed towards the ground. In the next few seconds, he thought about Beth and wondered how she’d feel if he died. Would she care? Or would she rejoice in her new-found freedom? She was up there somewhere, beyond the blue sky, safe in orbit. God, she was beautiful.

  And then he hit.

  Strangely enough, it was the jungle which saved him. Any other surface would have flattened the aircar and him with it. But the triple-canopy jungle had just enough give, just enough resiliency, to cushion the crash.

  However, that didn’t make it a pleasant experience.

  The aircar hit the treetops and bounced like a flat stone skipping on a pond. It fell again and this time, crashed down through the trees to hit the second layer of jungle growth.

  Merikur was smashed back and forth against his restraints as the world outside the canopy whirled and skidded. Then the bottom of his stomach dropped out as the aircar fell another thirty feet into the lowest layer of vegetation.

  A tree trunk was waiting a fraction of a second later. He blacked out.

  “Wake up, your generalship. I can read your vital signs, so I know you aren’t dead. You’re just screwing off. Laying down on the job when you should be up and at it. Come on, dumb shit, you just made a hug
e hole in the jungle. In a few minutes, everything for miles around is going to come looking for you. Animals, rebels—you name it.”

  “Dumb shit?” Merikur sat up, or tried to. The restraints held him down. “Who the hell are you calling a dumb shit?”

  “Ooops. Sorry. I got carried away. But you should get the hell out of here nonetheless.”

  “Roger.” Merikur hit the quick release on his harness and felt it fall away. He moved and the car moved with him. He paused and looked out through the shattered canopy. No wonder the car swayed. It was fifty or sixty feet off the ground, resting in a cradle of vines and branches.

  Moving with great care, he managed to crawl forward. Opening the console which separated the two front seats, he gave a sigh of relief. The standard survival kit was still there. Either they hadn’t expected him to survive the crash, or they hadn’t thought to remove it. Either way, it improved his chances.

  Slipping his arms through the straps, he heaved the small pack onto his back. Now he had to work his way out of the car. Slowly, planning each move before he made it, Merikur climbed up and out.

  Grabbing a thick vine, he heaved himself up and away. Looking back, he saw how crumpled the car was. He’d been very, very lucky.

  It took him a full half-hour to work his way to the ground via the network of trees, larger plants, and interlocking vines. Once a branch broke and dropped him into a network of vines and twice, he almost fell, but managed to catch himself.

  He descended through a land of perpetual twilight.

  Sunlight was a rare and precious commodity on the jungle floor, much sought after, and rarely found. Where it touched, there was life, and where it couldn’t reach, death held sway.

  But death was a transitional state. As plants died they quickly decomposed to feed the living and were therefore born again. Merikur felt a sense of awe as he looked upwards. The forest was so huge and so complicated that it dwarfed the races who fought over it. Humid warmth closed in around him and he wondered why Teller had no sentient species of its own, when other seemingly less hospitable planets did.

  “If it isn’t too much trouble, you might get your butt in gear,” the AID said sarcastically. “I have six, maybe seven unknowns headed our way. Body mass and infrared patterns are a ninety percent match with Cernian body type.”

  “How long?”

  “Five minutes max.”

  Merikur looked around for a place to hide. The trees were a natural, but he wasn’t agile enough to get up there and find a place to hide in the allotted time. There were probably some hidey-holes in and around the huge tree trunks, but once again, there wasn’t enough time.

  So, following the ancient military dictum that the best defense is a good offense, Merikur laid an ambush. Pulling his sidearm, he jumped into a hollow formed by two huge roots. He placed his weapon in his lap and reached out to pull a double armful of dead leaves over him. They smelled musty.

  He lay back and closed his fingers around the coolness of the pistol grip. As ambushes went, it wasn’t much—but it’d have to do.

  As the sounds of the jungle closed in around him, Merikur told himself it was no big deal. He’d faced worse odds in simulation and come out alive.

  Suddenly, he remembered his last run at Sector HQ and the burning pain between his shoulder blades. The APEs had fried him that time. He forced himself to lie perfectly still and listen.

  “One minute.”

  He knew no one else could hear, but it seemed as though the AID was shouting.

  He heard them. Feet scuffling through dry leaves, an unintelligible murmur of conversation, and the clink of metal on metal. For a moment, he considered remaining where he was. Maybe they’d miss him, walk right on by, and he’d be O.K.

  “And maybe they brought you a picnic lunch, too,” he thought as he sat up and opened fire.

  Mother Mista had been leading her family for a year now, and even though she was jungle wise, she’d never been ambushed before. The Haiken Maru security forces had no taste for the jungle and were too few in number to wage true counter-insurgency warfare. As a result, the Cernian rebels were used to one-sided situations in which they attacked convoys and mining stations but themselves only faced defensive fire. Jomu and the other leaders had tried to train them in every aspect of jungle combat, but without the leavening of personal experience, the training could only be partly effective.

  So as Mother Mista approached the crash site, her weapon was slung across her back, her eyes were on the crumpled shape of the aircar far above, and her mind was working out the problem of climbing up to it. She never saw the shape that came up out of the forest floor, or felt the small explosion which blew half her chest away, or understood why she died.

  The radio operator went next. Merikur had identified him by his long whip antenna and put him down before he could even think about calling for help. They’d been bunched up, the fools, so he had an accurate count. Two down, four to go.

  He caught the third rebel with two rounds in the abdomen and felt something whip by his head. Whap! Whap! Whap! Glass beads hit the tree trunk behind him, severing one of the tree’s major arteries. Green coolant gushed out to soak his right leg. High above, an entire section of leaves overheated in the direct sunlight and died.

  Back on the forest floor, number four screamed as her jaw disappeared. The screaming stopped when another bead went through her visor and finished exploding between her eyes.

  Merikur threw himself to the right. A stream of glass ripped past into the tree, blasting away huge chunks of the soft porous wood and cutting through its digestive system. White sap spurted out to soak the jungle floor. Just below the surface, dormant seeds sensed the presence of food and opened themselves to take it in.

  The last two had made it to cover and had plenty of time to get their weapons ready.

  Merikur rolled over a plant with a single white blossom and came up running. He screamed. A Cernian fell for it; when she stuck her head up, he blew it off.

  Then searing pain ripped across the front of his right thigh. As he fell, the open wound came into contact with his coolant-soaked pant leg and laced his body with agony.

  ###

  He awoke to a sharp pain that verged on agony shooting up his right leg. There was also a deep throbbing background of general pain, but it was the leg which demanded his attention.

  So did his AID, which, he now realized, had been maintaining a steady drum beat of “wake up, wake up, wake up . . .” Realizing that Merikur was again awake, it continued, “Well, it’s about time. I suggest you get up before the jungle recycles your ass.”

  Startled at the effort required, Merikur opened his eyes. Only the tiniest bit of sunlight filtered down through the array of foliage. Night was coming. He had to get moving, find shelter, and fix food, before the murk was transformed to utter blackness. The necessities of survival spurred him into a sitting position.

  Looking down at his major source of pain, he froze in horror. His AID had been speaking literally. A long brown tendril had snaked its way up through the jungle floor to plant its head in the open wound. The vine jerked spasmodically.

  It was eating him!

  He saw the swaying tips of other tendrils all around, twitching as they pushed their way a little closer to a meal. Reaching down, Merikur found the handle of his combat knife. He slashed through the first tendril and saw the rest quiver in sympathy. A single organism then.

  Favoring his right leg, he stood and limped out of the feeding circle. Then he saw the five mounds. The surviving Cernian had scraped out shallow graves for his comrades. All were encased in networks of pulsating vines as their bodies were broken down and consumed by the voracious jungle.

  “He buried them and left,” his AID said. “You looked dead, so he assumed that you were. Luckily, you didn’t rate a burial.”

  Merikur looked around. “My handgun?”

  “Beats me,” the AID replied, “but chances are, he took it with him.”

&
nbsp; “Terrific.”

  “Things could be worse,” the AID commented cheerfully. “You still have me.”

  “Great,” Merikur replied. “If I see a rebel, I’ll throw you at him.”

  He knew of course that the AID was worth far more than his weapon. Before he had boarded for the passage from Augustine, the AID had downloaded every recorded datum about Teller, its ecosystems and geography. On top of which its sensors consistently warned him of trouble long before trouble arrived.

  Merikur looked around but saw no sign of either his weapon or those carried by the rebels. Well, at least he still had the survival kit on his back and the combat knife in his hand. They’d have to do.

  Limping, he set out through the trees to put some distance between himself and the crash site. As soon as the surviving rebel reached camp and reported to someone with a triple-digit I.Q., they’d come looking for him in a big way.

  As day faded into night, Merikur limped east away from Port City. With luck, they’d concentrate the search in the wrong direction. Soon he was tripping over tree roots and falling into hollows. The third time it happened, he decided to hell with it. He’d gone as far as he could. It was time to rest and make repairs.

  Merikur shrugged out of the survival kit and opened it. It contained a little bit of everything. After some fumbling, he found a small flash and turned it on. Holding it with his teeth, he used his hands to pull his pant leg away from the wound. Where he expected to see an open wound there was a greenish scab. “What the hell?”

  “Problems?” the AID asked. While the AID had a variety of sensors, it had nothing equivalent to direct sight and couldn’t see Merikur’s leg.

  Merikur described the scab to his mechanical sidekick. “Don’t worry about it,” the AID told him. “The coolant from that particular tree has an astringent effect. The Haiken Maru even harvest some of the stuff and sell it off planet. Not much of a market, but every credit counts. Even though it hurt, it did you a world of good.”