Genellan: Planetfall Part 11

"With utmost respect, Great Leader," interjected another court official, a slighter figure robed in brilliant, black-trimmed white. It was the delicate, golden-skinned n.o.blekone, Et Kala.s.s, Minister of Internal Affairs, standing easily to his hinds. "I must agree with our courageous commanding general," he said, his voice soothing and calm. "The aliens, regardless of intent, have been repulsed. Let us focus on the all too familiar problems of government."

The minister signaled with a languid wave. Moth felt a slight tug on his cloak and then a sharper one. The scientist turned to see an attendant of the chamber motioning for him to follow, which he gladly did, crawling on all fours, as even the exalted general had finally done. Clear of the chambers, the blue-liveried attendant turned and addressed Moth with condescension. "Minister Et Kala.s.s is interested. You will be contacted on the morrow."

Moth watched the attendant lumber away, his gravity-distended belly dusting the floor. The scientist was awestruck to be in the imperial palace, but he was even more anxious to return to his normal milieu. A crawling lackey provided escort down the crystal hall and through the low-domed, thickly columned rotunda,where a pantheon of prior emperor-generals, many removed from power in small pieces, stared down with malevolent glares from gilded frames. A bronze of Jook I stood atop a pedestal in the center of the sunburst emblazoned chamber floor.

They pa.s.sed security positions, weaving through magnetic field detectors, chemical sniffers, and ultra-sonic inspection cages, where heavily armed guards monitored information consoles. Once through the rotunda his escort departed, and Moth continued on all fours through the heavily b.u.t.tressed entryway and down the parade ramp. He crossed Imperial Square, circ.u.mventing the gardens, and trundled out the intensely guarded front gate, joining the murmuring crowds of crawling kones moving thickly along the cracked sidewalks of the wide avenue. Work s.h.i.+fts were changing, and the faces of the milling workers and laborers-trods-ranged from sullen to stoic. Moth was relieved to be out of the tense environment, even if it meant having to mingle with mobs of tight-jawed proles.

It was an unusual day, cloudless, the air clearer than usual. Even the smooth hills r.i.m.m.i.n.g the capital to the south and west were visible-if just barely-adding vertical dimension to the squat skyline of the capital. An adobe-colored ocean to the northeast disappeared into thick smog, revealing no horizons. Overhead a haze ring encircled the low mid-day sun, the sky a peaceful cream color with tints of yellow and rust. Victory Tower, five times higher than any other munic.i.p.al structure, jutted dimly into the sky, a vague stiletto pointing at the bright bull's-eye of the sun.

Very pretty, thought Moth, ambling along at an uneasy canter, jostled frequently by the pa.s.sing mult.i.tudes. He made a direct path to the transit tube and stood in line at the identification gates. It took only fifteen minutes to get onto the boarding platforms-over half the gates were working. It took twice that long to catch a car; the first two trains to pa.s.s were appropriated by the Public Safety Militia and did not stop, their long cars whisking through the station, helmets and weapons discernible in the blurring movement.

An hour later he debarked at an outpost where the station master recognized him and called for transportation. Minutes later Director Moth trotted through the main entrance of the Imperial Astronomical Inst.i.tute and was once again an important kone.

"I hope it went well, Director," said Scientist Doworn.o.bb, his prodigious and brilliant young a.s.sistant, an astrophysicist as well as an accomplished astronomer. Together they crawled toward the administrative offices, pa.s.sing the commodious operations center. Director Moth noted with satisfaction the programmers gawking as he went by. Some of the females were so brazen as to lift their eyes. He would have to crack down on such behavior, but for now he enjoyed the rare fame a.s.sociated with being called before the Supreme Leader-and living to tell about it.

"Quite well," Moth replied arrogantly. "Have you finished the trajectory mapping? I am told we may have to provide additional information as soon as tomorrow." The director crawled into his suite of offices, going to the terminal to read his mail. Doworn.o.bb followed, making silly faces.

"The mapping is finished, Director, but the results are indeterminate," Doworn.o.bb answered, recoiling in mock antic.i.p.ation of his master's anger.

"Indeterminate? Indeterminate!" Moth shouted, glaring at the clowning a.s.sistant. "Why indeterminate? Pay attention. Say something!"

"Yes, Director," Doworn.o.bb raised downcast eyes and irreverently looked skyward. "The largest alien s.h.i.+ps just, eh...disappeared. Gone. Magic. Indeterminate. Poof! There is no evidence that any were destroyed or even damaged, though our interceptors engaged within lethal range. They just vanished-the large contacts, that is." Doworn.o.bb moved to a terminal. Doworn.o.bb was a genius. His lack of manners and insensitivity to decorum were usually overlooked.

"We were able to track one small contact after the disappearance of the primary units." Absorbed in his data, Doworn.o.bb dropped all deference to Director Moth. "The aliens apparently left one functioning s.h.i.+p behind. This corresponds to the military debriefs." He stared at a report, all but ignoring the director.

"And...?" Moth asked impatiently. "And?"

"Huh.. .oh," Doworn.o.bb looked up. "All engagements have outcomes, but one."

"And...?" Moth struggled to contain himself. His theories, such as they were, came from Doworn.o.bb's a.n.a.lysis. Moth was dependent upon his a.s.sistant, particularly now that the emperor was interested.

"Some of our s.h.i.+ps never came back..." Doworn.o.bb started.

"I know that! Many were never intended to return. They were ordered to intercept quickly, beyond operational ranges at peak intercept speeds. We knew some would run out of fuel. They blew themselves up rather than be captured." Moth was not supposed to reveal that.

"Oh!" Doworn.o.bb said, in quiet shock. "That explains much...."

"Yes, kone! On with it!" Moth insisted.

"Well," the a.s.sistant continued. "Our s.h.i.+ps all sent back successful reports, claiming to have eliminated the enemy. But trajectory a.n.a.lysis does not bear that out. One alien s.h.i.+p, I am certain, was still moving after our interceptors were recalled or destroyed. Er, perhaps destroyed destroyed is not the correct term." is not the correct term."

"What? Are you sure? Where did it go?" Moth blurted in a most undignified manner. "It has been days. They will ask why it has taken so long for us to report this."

Doworn.o.bb smiled his irritating little smile. "Well, there really is no good excuse, of course, but you could explain it by telling our ill.u.s.trious leaders the ancient data processors they make us use are just too slow. Our telemetry links are serialized and the trajectory data file is quite large. Now, if we had the hardware those Public Safety vultures have to keep track of the dissidents, we could-"

"Stop, Scientist Doworn.o.bb!" Moth exclaimed, panic in his voice; he looked about with darting glances. "I will not tolerate seditious talk. You have demonstrated your technical competence, but please do not test my loyalty."

"Genellan," Doworn.o.bb said matter-of-factly.

"What? Genellan?" Moth asked.

"It went into orbit around Genellan," Doworn.o.bb soberly replied. "A very low orbit, barely resolvable. It has disappeared since."

Chapter 13.

The Test.

Brappa paddled languorously underwater, fis.h.i.+ng patiently. The food chain was well served in the warm waters near the spring, where the cliff dweller stalked a cl.u.s.ter of fat fish swimming near the sandy bottom. Expelling air, the hunter struck with blurring speed. Teeth-lined jaws seized an unsuspecting member of the school.

As the hunter smoothly surfaced, fish in his teeth, he simultaneously glimpsed the raft and heard Craag's warning whistle. The raft of the long-legs was between him and the island. Brappa slipped silently beneath the surface, the fish preventing him from taking a deep breath. Submerged, he kicked frantically for the rocky mainland and the protection of its boulders. He waded ash.o.r.e and peeked across the lake in time to see the raft slide onto the beach.

Inconvenient, but at least it was a change. The weather had kept the long-legs in their cave. With the cessation of rain and the arrival of morning skies swept clear by strong north winds, the morning had been busy. Descending from their camp in noisy groups, the long-legs had washed themselves at the sh.o.r.e, splas.h.i.+ng and paddling. They were raucous and incautious beasts. And now they were out on the lake in raft.

Brappa moved bravely up on sh.o.r.e among the rocks to eat the fish; the hunter's fear had lost its edge. His appet.i.te on the other hand was quite sharp.

"The water's much warmer!" Goldberg exclaimed, cupping her hand in the lake. "The hot spring must be coming from the island."

Tatum pulled easily as Goldberg dragged her fingers in the lake.

"Sandy, row us over to the island," Dawson directed.

Tatum complied with strong, full strokes. Goldberg sat in the stern and flirted with the lanky Marine, watching his powerful shoulders and arms move the unwieldy craft. Tatum smiled at her and winked. Goldberg turned her head. When the raft lurched onto the sandy beach, Dawson jumped into the water. She grunted and huffed, hauling on the steel ring in the raft's nose.

"Wait a second, Nance," Tatum said. "You ain't hauling this boat with me sitting in it."

"The water's so warm," Dawson shouted. "Pepper, you have to feel it!"

Goldberg moved from the stern, leaning against Tatum as she slid slowly around him. She jumped to the beach, splas.h.i.+ng water with a conspiratorial squeal while Tatum hauled the raft up on the beach. The women removed their boots and thermal leggings, rolled up their jumpsuits, and waded into the water. Both were soon falling and splas.h.i.+ng, their jumpsuits drenched. Tatum briefly watched their antics but then started looking around.

"Sandy! Come on," Goldberg called out. "You need a bath. You stink!"

Tatum walked to the sh.o.r.e, hands on narrow hips.

"My clothes are finally dry. I ain't getting them wet, and you ain't prepared to see me without," he lectured. "Sarge said I wasn't to let you ladies get scared."

They hooted, and Dawson splashed water. Tatum moved out of range.

"Hold it down. I'm going to look this island over." He disappeared into the bushes.

Brappa watched and listened to the activity. The long-legs with the sand-colored clothing were playing in the water. They did not look dangerous. The tall, wide-shouldered one with the green covering looked powerful-a giant. His strides were large and quick, and he was alert. Brappa became concerned for Craag, but the giant eventually reappeared, looking over his shoulder.

Brappa heard a rumbling sound. Deep within the ground, a fault slipped and a clutch of tremors jolted the ground. The rigid plateau jiggled; shock waves rippled the granite as a quake rolled across the land, moving rock laterally and displacing lake water. The disturbed, pulsing fluid bunched at the margin of the lake, gathered energy, and rebounded from the southern sh.o.r.e, accelerating and amplifying as it approached the channels between the islands at the northern end. The lake erupted with tall, choppy waves that swept across islands and northern beaches, propelling the long-legs' raft onto the island, over the tops of small thickets, striking the base of the granite hillock.

Brappa was less fortunate. Quakes were common, and the hunter knew what was happening but could do nothing about it. Waves struck Brappa full force, casting his small body violently onto the rocks, knocking him unconscious and breaking his forearm. The waters receded noisily from the stony sh.o.r.e and within minutes the lake stood calm, stirred only by the breeze.

"Wow! Tidal wave!" Fenstermacher yelled.

Buccari heard the boatswain shouting as she ran down the hill. Fenstermacher and Gordon stumbled among the wet fir needles collecting their fis.h.i.+ng gear. A nearby patch of moaning glories began hooting with increased frequency, as if shaking off the wetness of the lake's surge.

"You guys okay?" Buccari asked.

"Yeah," Fenstermacher said. "No problem. It was kinda fun." Shannon was right behind her. "Where's Tatum?" he asked. "Where's the raft?"

A hailing came from across the lake. Tatum, Dawson, and Goldberg stood on the beach, the partially deflated raft just visible, high on the rocks.

"There!" Buccari shouted, pointing toward the island. "Everyone all right, Sergeant?" Quinn asked, joining the cl.u.s.ter.

"What're they doing over there?" Buccari asked.

"Tatum asked to use the raft to check out the hot springs, Lieutenant. I said it was okay," Shannon replied. "O'Toole, Gordon! Swim over to the island and help Tatum salvage the raft." The two Marines stripped to their long underwear and waded in. Dawson and Goldberg were already swimming back. Presently the women, heavy in sodden jumpsuits, slogged from the lake and excitedly described the hot springs. Buccari watched the raft recovery and half listened to their narrative. The growing crowd buzzed with excitement. To add to their enticement the raft was dragged out of the lake at their feet, and Tatum and his helpers all enthusiastically echoed how hot the water was out by the island. Everyone was about to break ranks and go swimming.

"Sarge," Tatum said, "we should check out the island."

"What did you see, Sandy?" Shannon asked, holding up his hand.

"Nothing I could put my finger on," Tatum answered. "It just looks like, well, it's been used. Might be some paths, and I thought I heard some, eh...whistling."

"Whistling?" Quinn said dully.

"Okay, Sandy," Shannon snapped. "Scout the island. Take three men and check it out. Float weapons over on a pack sh.e.l.l." Shannon turned from Tatum and looked around at the a.s.sembled group. "No swimming until the raft is repaired," he ordered bluntly. The crowd grumbled their disappointment. Shannon's face reddened.

"Shut up and listen to me! This ain't no G.o.dd.a.m.n, son-of-ab.i.t.c.hing beach resort," Shannon shouted. "There will be no-I repeat-no daylight swimming. a.s.suming the island's clear, we'll organize swim parties, but only when the sun is down." Shannon glanced at Quinn but continued. daylight swimming. a.s.suming the island's clear, we'll organize swim parties, but only when the sun is down." Shannon glanced at Quinn but continued.

"All swim parties will have an armed sentry on watch. I'll say this again, and I want everyone to remember-we're strangers here. We don't know what's out there. We were shot down by hostile fire, and we're in their territory. We will stay hidden. Does everybody understand?"

Quinn nodded. "Well said, Sergeant. Let's get back to our watches. Now that we have found the hot spring we'll figure out a way to use it. Break it up."

The group dutifully made their way along the sh.o.r.e back to camp. Buccari drifted away, listening to the flowers moan, feeling apart from the chain of command. Hudson joined her.

"That was quite an earthquake," Buccari said.

"You mean an R-K Three quake," Hudson replied.

"Yeah," Buccari said, "That's what I meant to say. An R-K Three quake. Real poetic!" Buccari walked to the water's edge while Hudson wandered down the sh.o.r.eline.

"Look, a dead fis.h.!.+" Hudson shouted, jumping onto the rocks where the sandy beach ended. "The wave must've washed it ash.o.r.e. If it's fresh, we can take it back for food." Hudson worked his way over the rocks to the fish and gingerly picked it up by the tail, hoisting it to eye level. "Hey, look!" he said suddenly, bending down, his new crop of blonde hair flas.h.i.+ng in the bright morning sun.

"Jeepers! Sharl, come look!" he whispered. "First cla.s.s ugly!" Hudson drew his pistol.

Alarmed, Buccari stepped across the rocks to where Hudson was stooping. Something was slumped deep in the rocky puddles. A leather membrane had unfurled and lay partially spread, and a leg equipped with ominous talons pointed into the air. Dark red blood oozed from where its ear should have been. Its mouth lay agape and a gleaming line of serrated teeth glinted in the bright sun. It was obscenely ugly. Buccari stared in disgust. Suddenly the animal's torso moved, the lung cavity slowly expanded and contracted-it breathed.

"It's alive!" she shouted, taking a stumbling step backwards. The animal remained unconscious. Buccari looked at Hudson, wondering what they should do. She moved closer, knelt down, and tentatively touched the extended membrane.

"It's covered with fur-soft fur," she said, examining it. "Look at those talons! Maybe we should shoot it and put it out of its misery. Wing looks broken. Huh! That's...not just a wing. It's an arm and a hand! This must be like the big bat that Dawson saw."

"What'll we do, Sharl?" Hudson asked, tentatively touching the wing.

"Don't know," she answered. "I don't know how badly it's hurt. If we just leave it, it may come to enough to crawl away and die in pain. Let's take it back to the cave and see if Lee can do anything." She jumped down and gently lifted the animal's head.

"How do you propose we do that?" Hudson asked.

"Take off your b.u.t.t bag," she directed.

"What?"

She smiled sweetly. "That's an order, Ensign."

"Pulling rank. What if I didn't have on any underwear?" he asked, shedding his flight suit.

"You think I care? Hurry!"

Hudson did as he was told. "B-r-r-r! It's chilly," he said, looking undignified in green s.p.a.ce thermals and boots.

Buccari spread the flight suit on the sand, and they gingerly lifted the limp animal from the rocky puddles. The creature was surprisingly light. Grasping the ropy sinews of its legs and arms, they positioned the animal's limbs within the suit and zipped it up. Buccari wrapped the arms and legs tightly, forming a strait jacket.

"That should hold it," she said. "If it starts thras.h.i.+ng, set it down. Watch out for the mouth."

Braan, returning from the cliffs, circled overhead, observing the events unfolding on the ground. He watched helplessly as the long-legs carried away the limp form. Craag' s "all-clear" lifted into the air, and the hunters recklessly descended. Craag stoically related the tragic events to Braan. Upon completion of his report, the warrior demanded to be blamed for Brappa' s capture, demonstrating abject sorrow to his leader. The sentries were embarra.s.sed for the esteemed hunter.

"Craag, son-of-Veera," Braan said, the loss of his only surviving son weighing heavily on his soul. "Craag, my comrade in battle and life, despair not. The quake put the sentry Brappa down. It was not in thy power to control. The rocks trembled; the G.o.ds exhaled. To accept blame for such power is a conceit, my brave and faithful stalwart. Thou were but doing thy duty. That is all a leader can expect."

The sentries nodded approval, but Craag's despair was immense.

"Yep, same beast," Dawson said. "Only the one I saw was carrying a bow and wearing leather."

"Sure, Dawson!" Fenstermacher needled. "An Indian with a little bow and arrow. We'll call him Tonto."

"Get off my back, midget," Dawson snarled, "before I pop you."

"You haven't popped anything since you were twelve!" Fenstermacher replied, wisely moving out of arm's reach. "Enough!" snapped Buccari. "Sarge, move 'em out of here."

"Okay, you heard the lieutenant," Shannon said, physically pus.h.i.+ng people from the cave. "Everybody back to the tents. We'll open the zoo later. Lee needs s.p.a.ce to work."