The Planetsider Trilogy Page 7

  Summer raised her head and met his eyes. “Okay,” she said with quiet determination. “Let’s get it done.” She moved away from Ethan and they stood side-by-side, the cool wind calmly blowing across them, oblivious to the violence that had taken place only moments earlier.

  “And then what?” said Ethan, realizing he had lost his firmness of purpose, and no longer knew what to do. He thought that he would probably do whatever Summer asked, no matter what it was.

  She looked at him, her expression plain, her composure regained. “Then we find whoever came here in this thing,” she said severely, “we find out why they came, and we shake some answers from them. We do it for Dorman, agreed?”

  Ethan looked into her eyes and his doubt disappeared. “Agreed,” he said.

  Chapter 9

  The door was buried behind a jungle of weeds and plants the like of which Maria Salus and Chris Kurren had never seen before. Their base on the moon was home to a very limited variety of plant life and it was all very neatly kept inside the huge arboretum.

  It had taken them just over two hours to reach the spaceport on the outskirts of the city, and their journey had been uneventful, to their great relief. Even so, they were very cautious while pulling back the undergrowth covering the service door that led inside the spaceport. After ten minutes of solid de-weeding, the door was exposed enough to gain access to the main control panel.

  “You’re up,” said Maria, slapping her palms together to shake off the dirt.

  Kurren approached the door and snapped open the hatch to the service panel. The screen was blank, but the ports inside looked clear, despite some tarnishing of the metal components. He pulled out the jacking cable from his PVSM and attached it to the port in the service panel. The display flickered into life, and diagnostic text scrolled down the screen.

  “It looks okay,” Kurren said, squinting to read the fast-scrolling text dancing across the panel’s screen. “The air inside is pretty stale, but not toxic. It looks like the internal air conditioner failed long ago, but the emergency vents opened.”

  “That means some of those things could have gotten inside,” Maria commented, gravely.

  Kurren looked over at her, wearing an unusually serious expression. “Possibly, yes,” he agreed matter-of-factly, before returning his eyes to the panel. “The generators still appear functional, but they have no fuel,” Kurren continued.

  “Ironic,” Maria quipped.

  “The fuel cell backups are intact,” Kurren went on, “and remarkably it looks like some still have a bit of juice in them. Probably enough for what we need.” He stepped back and drew his sidearm. “Ready?”

  Maria also drew her sidearm, and then nodded. Kurren tapped a square on the panel and the door hissed open. They were both hit with a blast of cool, stale-tasting air. Without speaking, they switched on the flashlight attachments on their weapons. Kurren went in first, Maria behind, and they advanced down the corridor, carrying out a well-rehearsed dance of advance and cover, advance and cover, ensuring that if anything did surprise them, at least one of them would be in a position to fire. About a hundred meters in to the underground facility, they reached another service doorway. Kurren again attached the jacking cable to the panel and indicated to Maria that he was ready to open the door. Maria raised her weapon and stood behind the door, poised. She nodded to Kurren, without taking her eyes off the door, and Kurren pressed the button. The doors hissed open, as before, and Maria advanced inside, quickly checking the corners, before moving to cover. Kurren entered and swiftly moved to cover on the opposite side to Maria. The maneuver was slick and professional, and went exactly according to their training.

  They were now in the main circular viewing gallery, which overlooked the central deck area, from which passengers would transfer into the eight launch bays that led off from the concourse like the spokes of a wheel. It was dark, but there was some light filtering through the open emergency vents in the roof, and it was enough to see by, if somewhat dimly. The roof itself was closed, and roots dangled down from it like entrails. What light there was from above created shadows that danced and flickered along the walls and decking. Both of them switched off their flashlights and stood quietly surveying the landing platform.

  “This place looks in bad shape,” Maria whispered over to Kurren. “Do you really think we’ll find a ship here that can get us back into orbit?”

  Kurren walked carefully around the circular viewing gallery, straining his eyes to survey as much of the deck as possible. A port like this, with only eight launch bays, was fairly exclusive, and would typically be used by private contractors and the very wealthy. As such, Kurren had surmised it to be the best place to find a suitable orbit-capable vessel that could have survived these long years. The larger, public spaceports were easy to survey from the base, and intel had suggested these had all been destroyed or very heavily damaged, making this small port their best bet. Kurren’s reasoning was that the port authorities would have been unlikely, or simply unable, to requisition a private UEC shuttle for use in any attempted evacuation, simply because they would not have had security authorization to access it. As he studied the deck, he saw that six of the eight security doors leading to the launch bays were open, so he knew there was a chance.

  Maria half watched Kurren and half watched the shadows flickering around the walls, each one making her gut churn with the fear that it could be one of those things. Wind howled through gaps in the roof and water dripped from the dangling root ends, like blood oozing from an open wound. The place gave Maria the chills, and she was not one to be squeamish. It was why she had been chosen, alongside Kurren, whose bluster was equaled only by his ability to deal calmly with a crisis.

  “Well, this is a cheery place,” said Kurren, sarcastically, after a couple of minutes had passed, and it became clear they were safe, at least for the moment.

  “It reminds me of your quarters,” Maria shot back instantly with a crooked smile.

  Kurren laughed and shook his head gently. “If only your flying was as sharp as your tongue.” Then he stopped and straightened up, military training kicking back in. “There,” he said, pointing towards the far corner of the deck. “Outside door seven, there’s a UEC emblem on that flight case.”

  Maria squinted, looking over to where Kurren had indicated. “Are you sure? I can’t see it.”

  “Great, a short-sighted pilot, no wonder we crashed.”

  “Landed!”

  “Whatever...” teased Kurren, smiling.

  Maria scowled and pushed past him, making sure to stand on his foot, and headed towards the emergency stairwell that lead down to the deck.

  “Ow! Hey, where are you going?” said Kurren.

  “To get a closer look,” Maria replied.

  “Hold up, Sal,” warned Kurren, sternly. “Take it slow; there could be more of those things in here.” He joined Maria and raised his weapon, aiming towards the foot of the stairwell that lead down to the main deck. They both went down together, side-by-side.

  “To be honest,” said Maria, still smarting from Kurren’s earlier comments, “after several days of your stimulating conversation, one of the mindless savages might make for better company.”

  Kurren snorted. “Good luck with that, even these things couldn’t handle your levels of crazy.”

  Maria laughed and looked back at Kurren warmly. It was at that moment, as Maria faced away from the corridor at the bottom of the stairs, that it came through an open doorway, arm raised, a jagged splinter of metal in its hand.

  “Down!” Kurren shouted, and Maria Salus, without hesitation, dropped to the floor, reacting instantly to the command. She was showered with debris and dust as the metal shard swung over her, cutting ugly chunks out of the wall next to where her head had been only seconds ago. Two shots rang out and the figure was hit in the chest and neck. It careered backwards, dropping the weapon onto the hard floor with a clinical, metallic chime, even more piercing than the sound of the gun
shots.

  Maria recovered and jumped to her feet, weapon at her side. She backed up next to Kurren, and between them they swept the angles, and checked the doorway. Inside, the room was now empty save for some old containers. Neither spoke. They stood, perfectly still, Maria desperately trying to calm her breathing. Then a sound, scuffing on the ground, perhaps something being moved, perhaps something shuffling closer.

  “Footsteps?” Maria whispered to Kurren. Her heart was racing, and adrenalin was making her legs shake.

  Kurren listened. The sound came again, clearer, closer, and more frequent. “Footsteps,” he confirmed.

  Maria looked at him, panic starting to swell inside her. But Kurren was calm and unshaken. His reputation for coolness under pressure was well-earned, and seeing his strength helped Maria to regain her own.

  “We’re exposed out here,” said Kurren, looking around. “We need to get to hangar bay seven, and seal the door behind us. The bays are self-contained, nothing could get in.”

  Maria nodded, the plan seemed sound. Her heart was pounding, and her hands shaking despite the effort of all of her will to stop them. “But, what if they are already in there?” said Maria, trying to work out all the angles.

  “One way or another, we have to fight,” said Kurren, stoically. “This is our best shot, Sal.” The sounds were getting louder, and more distinct. Kurren looked around, and saw a corridor off to the right. “There!” he said. “That passage will lead onto the deck near to seven.” He ran past Maria, slapping her on the shoulder as he passed. “Go!” he shouted.

  The slap shook Maria into action, and she took a deep breath and ran after him. The footsteps were getting close now. Lots of footsteps; fast, disorganized, frantic. Kurren reached the end of the passage first and was confronted by a door. Without pause, he shot out the lock and then kicked it open. Seamlessly, he moved through, checking the area beyond. He could see hanger pod seven now, tantalizingly close. Maria caught up with him, and swung around to cover their rear. Kurren checked ahead.

  “Clear! Let’s move, move, move!” he shouted.

  Maria went first this time, running as fast as she could. She could hear the heavy clump of Kurren’s boots just behind her as they approached the hangar door. “Cover me!” shouted Kurren, as he flipped open the access panel and got to work.

  Maria moved up behind some crates, stacked a few meters in front of the door, and dropped to one knee, weapon raised. She flicked the barrel of the weapon from corner to corner, doorway to doorway, watching, waiting. And then she saw them. Fifteen, twenty, maybe more. She couldn’t be sure, as she couldn’t quite make them out clearly, but they looked different to the thing they had encountered in the dilapidated house where they had sheltered. More human, but still not human. Their clothes were tattered and filthy, and some were clearly badly maimed from the way they moved, yet despite their handicaps they came forward at a horrifying pace.

  Maria aimed and fired repeatedly, focusing on the ones closest to her, and those moving the fastest. Several dropped to the floor, but there were simply too many. “Hurry!” she shouted.

  Behind her, she heard the door start to wind open. When it was wide enough for them to get through, Kurren unplugged the jacking cable, which whipped back inside his PVSM, slipped underneath and quickly attached it to the panel on the reverse side.

  “Maria, get in here!” he shouted through the opening, but Maria did not hear it over the crack of gunfire. She fired again and again, watching body after body fall, but still they came. No more than ten meters now. Kurren ducked down under the door opening. “Maria, get in here now!” came the shout again, at the top of his lungs.

  This time Maria heard it, but still she squeezed the trigger. But now, instead of the crack of a round being fired, she heard a click. Empty. Pushing off hard against the crates she was using for cover to gain some initial momentum, Maria turned and ran for the door, ducking underneath at a frantic pace that was fueled by both adrenalin and fear, but several meters inside the hangar she lost her balance and collided heavily with something solid and metallic.

  As soon as Kurren saw Maria clear the threshold, he hit the button and the door began to close. It moved painfully slowly. “Come on!” Kurren shouted.

  He dropped to a prone position and fired indiscriminately at the horde of advancing creatures, hitting several in the legs, but it was not enough. The door reverberated with the sound of bodies slamming into it at full running speed. Kurren could hear bone crunching, such was the ferocity. He scrambled away, watching as hands appeared under the lip, trying to pull the door open, but it would have taken a hundred of them to even slow it down. Eventually the door closed, thudding powerfully into the locks, and Kurren lay back, exhausted, heart racing and breathless.

  Maria tried to stand, but dizziness overcame her and she crumpled to her knees. There was a searing pain in her head and she clasped a hand over it, pressing her eyes shut in an effort to squeeze away the agony. She heard banging, the sound of flesh hitting metal, a pounding almost as savage as the pain inside her skull. The noises became more distant and she thought she heard Kurren shout her name, but he sounded like he was at the other end of a long tunnel. She fell forward and felt the cold sting of the metal decking pushing back against her face. She opened her eyes and the last thing she saw was Kurren, fuzzy and indistinct, rushing towards her.

  Chapter 10

  Maria awoke with a start. Her vision was blurry and her head still pounded. Groggy and disorientated, it took her several more seconds to realize she was lying down, but when she tried to sit upright, pain shot through her right arm and she collapsed on to her back again.

  “Easy, Sal,” came a familiar, reassuring voice. “You hit your head pretty hard and your upper arm was cut up. I’ve tended to your arm, but I wanted you to be conscious before I pumped any more meds into you.” As he said this, he pressed an injector into Maria’s neck and squeezed the trigger.

  “Just returning the favor, you know?” said Kurren, before casually discarding the injector. It rattled across the metal floor and came to rest against the wall.

  “Should you be making so much noise?” asked Maria weakly, suddenly remembering the reason why they were in this predicament.

  “I haven’t heard anything for a few hours.”

  “So I take it that we’re still alive then?”

  Kurren stood up and patted the dust off his legs. “Just about, that was a seriously close one though,” he said, honestly.

  Maria’s vision had cleared enough that she could see the room and Kurren fairly clearly now. “Wait, you said you hadn’t heard anything for a few hours,” she said. “How long was I out?”

  “You’ve been out cold for a good twelve hours, I’d say,” said Kurren, “though some of that was probably due to the initial hit of meds I gave you. Those crazy bastards tried for two hours solid to get in here, bashing at the door with fists, rocks, bars and hell knows what else. Then it sounded as though they just started fighting amongst themselves, and a short while later it went quiet. I unlocked the door and took a peek a few hours back and there’s no sign of anyone.” He removed a sidearm from the waistband of his pants and held it up to Maria with the grip facing towards her. “Here, you’ll be needing this again.”

  Maria looked at the weapon and recognized it as hers. Kurren had flipped the safety back on, even though the clip and chamber were empty. Despite his outward bravado, Kurren was always cautious and professional. She took the weapon and placed it back in her holster. “Hopefully not,” she said with sincerity.

  Maria looked around the room. In the center of the hangar, which was a circle around twenty-five meters in diameter, was a mid-sized transport shuttle with UEC markings. “Is that what I think it is?” she asked.

  Kurren traced her gaze to the ship and said, “Yep, you were clever enough to discover that earlier on. With your head!”

  Maria laughed. “Well, I always was the brains of this operation.”

 
“You almost left your brains all over it,” Kurren replied candidly. “Luckily, you have a hard head to match your stubborn nature.”

  Maria rose to her feet, steadying herself against the wall with her good, left arm. “Does it work?” she asked. “I assume you’ve taken a look at it?”

  Kurren walked over to the side hatch, flipped a panel and hit a button. The side hatch door hissed and slid open, the lower section extending forward to form a ramp into the compartment. “It’s a bit dusty inside,” he said, wafting the dust away from his face, “but as far as I can tell, it’s in good working order.”

  “Finally, some luck!” said Maria, feeling more confident.

  “And it’s fueled too,” Kurren added. “It looks like some UEC execs were down here when it happened. Luckily, these UEC private transports were pretty well-made, so the reactor shielding has prevented any radiation leakage and kept the ore inert and stable.”

  Maria wandered over and leaned on the ship, peering inside. “Lucky for us those poor UEC suits didn’t make it here in time,” she said.

  Kurren looked over at her and then reached into his pocket and held out a folded plastic wallet. “What’s this?” asked Maria, taking the wallet and opening it. Inside was an ident and transport pass.

  Kurren looked down at his feet. “That’s one of your suits,” he said, in a low voice. “Shaun David Fields. Hotshot UEC lawyer, thirty-two years old. Trade negotiator.”

  “You knew of him?” Maria said, reading the details.

  “Nope, never heard of him,” Kurren answered. “Probably an asshole, looking at the self-satisfied smirk in his ident photo. It just makes you think, you know?”

  Maria handed the wallet back to Kurren. He took it, but Maria held on for a short while, causing Kurren to look up into her eyes. “It’s just another suit, Chris,” she said coldly. “Just one of billions, dead long before you were even born. Don’t get sentimental on me now, I need you. You’re supposed to be the grounded one, remember?”