Was Once a Hero

chapter Thirteen





On the planet, the landing force made flight preparations, shifting the wounded into the shuttles and drawing in their perimeter.

Fenaday returned to the Pooka to find an exhausted Telisan and Belwin Duna.

“Captain,” Duna began, “please forgive me. If I hadn’t argued against you...”

“Ancient history, Mr. Duna,” Fenaday replied. “I’m in charge, whatever happens is my responsibility.”

“So many dead and hurt,” Duna mourned.

“Telisan, what’s our situation?” Fenaday asked. Painful-looking flash burns marred Telisan’s leathery face and his usual optimism seemed absent. He stared hard-eyed at the battlefield. It was nothing new to Telisan, Fenaday thought.

“Twenty dead,” Telisan answered. “Fifteen badly wounded, two of those are critical. Almost everyone bears some small wound. Half our ammunition is gone, as well as a quarter of our robots. The big problem lies with the shuttles. Farriq is a total loss. Banshee took the worst hit, but she is flyable, as is Pooka, though both are holed by shrapnel. We couldn’t take them into the high atmosphere, much less space. I think if we can find a machine shop, we might repair Pooka. I suspect it will take a shipyard and some live shipwrights to repair Banshee. The pressure door is blown in, and I have no idea how to fix that.”

“We cannot even retreat to space,” Duna murmured, “and I have killed you all.”

“Belwin,” Telisan said gently, “you forget. We can bring the ship down.”

Fenaday nodded. “I didn’t want to if I could avoid it, but we have no choice now.”

Li walked over to them with some coffee. Steam rose out of plas-steel cups. Fenaday reached for a cup gratefully. “Good man.”

“Well,” Li said, “if you ain’t dead, you need coffee, and maybe even then.”

The gallows humor drew grins, save from Shasti, who sat a few feet off and declined the coffee with a shake of her head.

“Telisan,” Fenaday asked, “are you sure Banshee is airworthy?”

Telisan nodded wearily, his bright yellow eyes on the horizon. “The blast went mostly upwards. Banshee sat partly hull down behind that little rise of ground, so the debris hit her mid and upper hull. The thrusters, drive units, and controls run through the armored floor. It was simply bad luck that a large piece of Farriq hit both the pressure door and the turret. Otherwise, she would be in better shape than Pooka.”

“Damn Nusam,” Fenaday said.

“Are thee so immune from fear?” Telisan snapped.

Fenaday started to reply, but Telisan, his leathery face suddenly turning pale, stood up and bowed.

“Forgive me, please,” Telisan asked, “I forgot myself.”

“It’s all right,” Fenaday said, putting a hand on the tall alien’s shoulder.

“Okay,” Fenaday continued, “so far these things don’t seem to show any sign of regenerating. We don’t know if they do. We bugged out of the library too fast to see if that one came back. We know that when we killed the self-aware one last night, it had some effect. Maybe it was some sort of subcontroller.”

“Certainly the attack fell apart after it did,” Duna added.

“I don’t want to be here at nightfall to find out. We will pick a landing site and bring the Sidhe in. Then, it’s back to orbit and maybe just home. We appear to be overmatched.

“Meanwhile, Telisan, go get those burns attended to.”

The Denlenn looked as if he might protest; but Fenaday cut him off with a raised hand. “No argument, Mr. Telisan. I need reliable people around me.”

He regretted saying it instantly. He hadn’t aimed the comment at Shasti, but she could only think she was the target of it. Well, he decided, it might not be the worst thing.

“Mr. Duna,” Fenaday said, “stay close to Telisan, please. We will call the ship from Pooka.” He started off, half expecting he would be alone, but Shasti trailed alongside him. He searched for something to say, could not come up with anything and damned himself for it.

As they passed two of the Landing Force troops, Shasti stepped aside to speak to them for a second. They hurried off in the direction of Banshee. She caught up to Fenaday effortlessly, her long legs covering the ground quickly.

He looked over at her. In the morning light, her face seemed colorless, except for the lustrous jade green eyes. “Anything I should know?” he asked.

“It is going to occur to people,” she replied tonelessly, “that wherever Duna is, the things strike hardest. The monsters will clearly not stop with him, since no outworlders survived on Enshar; but we have many frightened people here. Someone may figure it increases their own odds of survival if the last Enshari on the planet is dead.”

“Very sensible,” he said. It sounded stilted even to him. She did not reply. It struck him with a sudden clarity. She looked and sounded the way she did when they met in the shuttle bay, years ago. His anger at her actions in the wood had ebbed, replaced by the memories of all the times she’d saved his life. Years wiped out, he thought, me and my damn mouth. Still, he could not bring himself to approach her. The familiarity they had shared was shattered, and he above all others knew how lethal Shasti could be when provoked. For now it seemed best to walk on the eggshells and let matters settle.

They reached Pooka. A weary Angelica Fury looked up from under a panel as they entered. She held a micro torch and battle patches of malleable ceramic. Fury was smart enough not to bother him with questions. He walked over to the communications console, passing one of Rigg’s people in the top turret. Susan Bernard, one arm in a sling and looking like death warmed over, set up the call to Sidhe without his asking.

“Fenaday to Perez.”

After a brief delay a response came back. The screen did not light up with an image. Fenaday assumed it was due to damage to the shuttle’s com system.

“This is Micetich on the bridge.”

“We’ve had a bad night down here, Micetich. I assume you received a situation report.”

“Affirmative.”

“We can’t come up, so we are going to bring Sidhe in for a water landing. Give me an ETA for a planetary landing at my location. If you can’t make it before nightfall, we will be relocating.”

“Please hold, ground base.”

“Micetich,” Fenaday snapped, “you’re supposed to have that figure at your fingertips at all times.”

Silence greeted him. He repeated the call several times. He could see dismay on Bernard’s face. “They are receiving you,” she whispered.

“I know they are,” he said. He turned to Shasti. “Get Telisan, Duna and Mmok. We have trouble.”

Shasti vanished out the door. She’d long ago mastered the art of covering ground without looking as if she was in a hurry. Fury, Bernard and the gunner stared at him, something like panic in their eyes. “Do your jobs and keep your mouths closed,” he ordered. They returned to work, but Fenaday knew they would listen to every word.

He heard boots on the deck ramp as Shasti returned with the others. Telisan arrived first, looking a question at him. Fenaday shook his head. Mmok was plainly furious. At that moment, the speaker crackled.

“This is Sidhe,” came Micetich’s voice, it sounded shaky.

“Put Mr. Perez on.”

“Captain, Mr. Perez is unavailable,” Micetich answered. “It’s this way, sir. We will do everything we can to get you off the planet, but the ship isn’t coming down. We don’t want to be added to the body count on Enshar.”

A coldness spread though Fenaday’s belly. “Micetich,” he said, “get Mr. Perez to the screen before you do something you may not live to regret.”

“Forget it, Captain,” came a new voice. “We are not going to take any chances. You’ve been down there seventy-two hours and you’ve gotten a quarter of your command wiped out. If we come in, it will be just like the Flamme. Anybody who doesn’t agree with us is under lock and key.”

“Naks,” Mmok exploded. He started swearing.

Fenaday’s shoulders sagged. Naks commanded shipboard security. He was an ASAT and part of Mandela’s team. They’d thought him reliable.

“Shut up,” Fenaday ordered Mmok.

Fenaday considered, rubbing his hand over his face. He had no leverage in the present situation. If he pushed too hard, he might even lose the slender thread of the help she’d offered. “Micetich, if you attempt to break orbit, the ship’s engines and power will go off-line.”

“Yes sir, very clever. Mr. Perez explained quite thoroughly that we can’t leave orbit for four weeks due to the safeguards you rigged. We can wait.”

At least Perez is still loyal, thought Fenaday. Still, he was glad he had not given him the access codes.

“

A Confederate Naval Court will stretch your neck and that of anyone with you,” Fenaday stated. “Mutiny and marooning are death penalty offenses.”

“We doubt it, sir. We were brought into this under false pretenses. Nobody told us about Enshar. We are only contesting your illegal order to land. Otherwise, we will still take your orders. In any event, we’d rather be judged by twelve than carried by six, not that we would even get that on Enshar.”

“Very well, Micetich. You mentioned help. What do you have in mind? We can’t climb out of this gravity well in the shuttles. I’ve got critically wounded here. How do I get them out?”

“Can you reach the spaceport at Barjan?” she asked. “There may be ships there.”

“Try harder, Micetich. Those ships haven’t been maintained in years, even if they are undamaged. Add to that, most will be Enshari and unfamiliar. It could take weeks to get one flyable. There are people here you are going to kill in twelve hours if we can’t get them to better facilities. So add murder to your list of accomplishments.”

There was the sound of a scuffle and some unintelligible shouting over the speaker.

“Stand by, Captain,” Micetich said and clicked off.

“She is very polite,” Shasti said, leaning against the bulkhead, her green eyes chill with promise. “When we retake the ship, I want her. I’ll be sure to apologize as I slowly strangle her.”

Fenaday shook his head. “Hold that thought. She may not be wrong about a board of inquiry finding them not to be mutineers. The government won’t want the public to know we launched our little expedition without telling everyone where we were going.

“Also, she didn’t have to even return our hail. Once they knew what happened to the shuttles, all they needed to do was sit tight for a few weeks and then leave. They could then make up their own story. Probably most of the crew doesn’t know for sure what’s going on.

“If it weren’t for the presence of Duna and Telisan here, she might have opted for it. No one gives a rat’s ass for the rest of us. We’re all expendable, but Telisan’s a war hero and Duna’s a Nobel Laureate.”

Fenaday leaned back in his seat. “She’s walking a thin line. She has to help us or face the probability of prison for life—or life on the run. I think we can rely on her in anything that doesn’t bring Sidhe into atmosphere.”

“Fenaday,” came the speaker voice. It was Micetich again, sounding out of breath. “Do you have any suggestions as to how we can aid you?”

“I do,” he replied coldly. “Let’s start with the preliminaries. First, you and your fellow mutineers are under arrest. I will reserve the decision to proffer charges, at this point—that will depend on your cooperation.”

“Fenaday,” Micetich said, “we will want your assurances, on the record, that if we get you off-world, my people go to the Confed Navy, alive. I’m sure Death’s Angel has already been making plans for me. We just want to live. Some of us have followed you into a lot of tight places, and we won’t abandon you here—”

“For four weeks,” Mmok muttered. Fenaday glared him into silence.

“—if we can avoid it,” Micetich finished. “What do you have in mind?”

“I need evac on my wounded, fast. I want both Wildcat fighters sent down. You will find two stretcher pods in Stores Bay Five. I want full reloads sent down in the fighters, along with every land mine and all the barrier wire there is. Also, three days rations. Send the wire and ammunition first. We have enough food and medical for a few days. Dr. Mourner will give you a list. Telisan will give you a list of spares we need for equipment. I want that drop ASAP, Micetich. What’s the orbital window?”

“By the time we get this together,” she responded, “daybreak tomorrow. Even if I just send the fighters with what can be scraped together fast, the earliest window is for nineteen hundred standard.”

“Damn,” Fenaday said. “We are not going to weather another night here. We are moving to an island closer to the mainland. Fury, get the coordinates of the first one we flew over coming out here. Micetich, schedule your arrival at the coordinates she gives you.”

“Wait one, Fenaday,” Micetich replied. Two long minutes passed. “O.K. ground base,” she responded. “I have volunteers, one of yours and one of ours. Only one fighter will land at a time. The one flown by your guy will be unarmed.

“Understand this, Captain,” she continued, “we don’t want a fight. Don’t load the stretchers with anybody who isn’t wounded. It won’t work. We will get you all off, but you and Rainhell come up last and the HCRs do not come at all. We will surrender once you’re on board, provided we get your recorded assurance you will turn everyone over to Confed Navy. I want it witnessed by Duna and Telisan.”

“Affirmative. Fenaday, out.” He sat back in the flight chair, resisting the urge to begin swearing.

“She planned it well,” Duna said quietly, “poor frightened child.”

Mmok made a sound of disgust and turned his back to them.

“The Shellycoats,” Telisan began, “are becoming smarter and more numerous. Something on this world is waking up and becoming more aware of us. Not all at once. It seems to be working in fits and starts, else we would all be dead. It is, however, waking. It will take weeks of landings to evacuate this way. We will not last that long.”

“We won’t make it,” Shasti added without any evident concern, “even with resupply and better tactics.”

“Unless,” Duna said, “we carry the fight to the enemy. Our only chance is to go to Barjan and destroy it.”

“Destroy what?” Mmok snapped, turning to face them. “We don’t know what it is, or where it is. Whatever force is operating here destroyed an entire planetary defense establishment and part of a fleet. We have a crew of cutthroats, screw-ups and a few pros. We are f*cked.”

“I have a theory about our opponent,” Duna said raising a hand. “I will not know much more till we get to the Barjan Deep excavation where poor Creda died. What I know is what I see. Our enemy is stupid and aimless. We were only unlucky last night. But for the poor fool in the shuttle, we would have stood off the attack, powerful as it was, with little loss.”

“There was the aware one at the end,” Fenaday said, as if reluctant to even remember the image.

“Yes,” Duna replied. “I believe the force that released itself from the Barjan Deep and spread over the world did not do so instantly, but over the space of a few hours. For all we know, the Shellycoats, as you call them, were moving for days, unseen and unfelt.

“Then it struck with near simultaneity over the globe. I think it reserved its greatest powers for the space stations and the military bases. Later, it struck against the fleet. These attacks were well planned and coordinated.”

“What explains our survival here?” Shasti asked. “Why aren’t Shellycoats manifesting themselves inside our perimeter? Why not inside this shuttle?”

Everyone but Duna and Shasti looked around the shuttle’s interior nervously.

“That may be what happened on the Wolverine shuttles,” Duna replied. “The same fate has not overcome us because, as Telisan suspects, the central guiding intelligence that assaulted the planet is not active. Perhaps it no longer exists, or is damaged. Or it may be that the central directing authority is not as yet aware of us. We are facing lesser parts of it, lesser forces perhaps.

“I believe we are presently below the level of intelligent awareness of our enemy. His automatic systems, or outposts if you will, attack us when we encounter them. The longer we are here, the more of them we provoke. As we provoke more reaction, higher levels of the enemy become aware and attack us more effectively. As they fail, they call on higher levels still. Eventually, the guiding intelligence that directed the original strike, if it still exists, will be awakened. We will be destroyed almost immediately afterward, I fear.

“These Shellycoats are only one manifestation of their powers. A massive electromagnetic pulse was used on the planet and later against Telisan’s fleet. We have seen evidence of its ability to influence storms, perhaps to direct lightning. Some such weapon was used on the ships of Gigor base. I have no doubt that the efficiency with which it works goes up many hundreds of times if the directing mind comes on line.”

“So,” asked Telisan, “how long do we have till the Thunder God wakes up?”

“I do not know, youngling,” replied Duna. “Days, weeks, never? I have speculation based on ancient legends and incomplete observation of our circumstances.”

“Days, I think,” said Fenaday. “Just a feeling I have,” he added, as the others looked at him, “maybe from being in physical contact with the thing. It’s also the only prudent option for planning.”

“We can’t get off-world in days,” Mmok growled.

“Maybe if we get to Barjan spaceport—” Telisan began.

“And trust ourselves to unmaintained and unfamiliar ships?” Shasti said. “It took a full dockyard of two hundred shipwrights, plus our full crew, working round the clock to get Sidhe ready for space in five days.”

“True,” Fenaday said, “but we are not talking about interstellar travel. We just need to hop far enough out of this gravity well for the ship to pick us up. Launch is the most dangerous part of the voyage to be sure, but if we could make a vessel space-worthy for an eight-hour flight, it would be enough. We might also find human-built ships at the port; that would make things easier.”

“What of the Confed shuttles?” Duna asked.

Telisan waved a dismissive hand. “The electronics were fried; nothing worked on them. They are of a much newer variety than these Dakotas; the equipment is incompatible.”

“Why would it be any different at the port?” Shasti said.

“Remember my computer,” Duna said. “It was off-line at the time of the EMP. It does not appear that the EMP blast hit all places on the planet or hit with equal strength. The EMP appears to have been directed—though how such a thing is possible, I do not know.

“We might find functioning equipment in Barjan. Remember the lights on the night side? They were reestablished by secondary systems after the mains were knocked out. Perhaps the various embassies, with their reserve power sources, would be a place to start. We need a vessel that either was not hit by EMP, or where the essential equipment was off-line at the time,” Duna concluded.

“Telisan,” Fenaday said, “get a download from the ship. See if there is power operating in Barjan.” The Denlenn nodded and headed for the communications panel.

“Back to defense,” Shasti said. “Do we take a force into Barjan, leaving the others in some more isolated location?”

“Would that help?” Fenaday said bitterly. “I thought we were isolated here.”

“There is an answer to that too,” Mmok said. “I sent my air scout out after the weather broke. It was too stormy last night to keep the thing in the air; they are rather fragile.

“Anyway, some sort of immense, ocean-going platform fetched up on the other side of the island. It wasn’t there when we came in. It doesn’t register any power. Those imbeciles on the Sidhe must have seen it drifting and didn’t regard it as a threat. More damn bad luck.”

Telisan returned. “There is some power showing in Barjan,” he reported, “mostly lights. I have satellite photos on their way, being printed in the computer. It will take a few seconds.”

Fenaday thought for a minute. He rubbed eyes he only belatedly realized were very sore. “I am not going to split the force,” he decided. “I want to pull out of here for the other island we overflew coming out. We will overnight there and come into Barjan in the early morning. Then we make for the port and establish a defended site. Search parties will look for a likely ship to get us out of here.”

He paused. “A small party using all of our robots will accompany me as we attempt to locate our enemy’s headquarters, point of origin, whatever, and blow it to hell.” There was quiet at the table as he finished. Outside, the rain started again, lightly. Fenaday felt very alone.

“How will we attack it once we find it?” Telisan asked. There was a slight heartwarming stress on the ‘we.’

“Yes,” Shasti said. “We will likely have only one chance. It must be carefully planned.” She didn’t look directly at him.

“I’m going to order Sidhe to soft-land a nuclear warhead from a Mark Nine missile on Barjan field tonight,” Fenaday said. “They can use an escape capsule with a homing beacon. We’ll pick it up when we go in.”

“Why not fire on the target from orbit?” Fury asked from the pilot’s chair.

Fenaday frowned at her for speaking, but answered anyway. “It is the Barjan Deep, Lieutenant. Enshar dig their cities in. The best protection in the universe is a couple hundred meters of earth and rock. Even a mass drive has trouble with hardened underground targets through atmosphere. Besides, what would I use for a target?”

“Barjan is a huge city,” Duna added. “It has been occupied for many millennia. It is wide, and by our standards, somewhat shallow because of the taboo on digging in the Deep itself. Still, it is more than deep enough to be considered a hardened site. A mass driver would destroy the fragile ships at the port long before it got anything far underground. I am afraid the Captain is right.”

“A hunting we shall go,” Fenaday said.

“Tally-f*cking-ho,” Mmok added.