A Hole in the Sky (29 page)

The Osage had better mounts and sat atop them with the easy confidence of men who rode every day. They were twelve warriors in all, varying in age from about sixteen to sixty, and were armed with everything from powerful longbows to Chimeran Augers. All of them
were dressed warmly, and some wore elaborate necklaces made out of stink fangs. Except for some red plaid here and there, they looked much as their ancestors had a hundred years earlier.

The Osage leader was notable not only for his skillfully made buckskin clothing, but a powerful physique and a shock of prematurely white hair. He sat with one leg crossed over his horse’s neck. His boots were handmade and came almost to the knee. “Stick Walker sent a message. You wish to cross our land.”

Capelli knew that the Osage called the banker “Stick Walker” because of his cane. Back before the stinks came, Potter had been willing to loan the tribe money when other people wouldn’t, and the native Americans hadn’t forgotten. “Yes,” he said. “That’s true. Thank you for agreeing to meet with us. My name is Joseph Capelli.”

“I have three names,” the other man replied. “I am called Pahusca, my council name is Papuisea, and my war name is Cahagatongo. But,” the Osage added with a friendly grin, “my friends call me Bo.”

Capelli smiled. “And my friends call me Joe.”

“Good. So, Joe, what’s on your mind?”

“Two things. First, the town of Haven would like to enter into an alliance with your people—and second, we would like your assistance in locating what might be a large shipment of arms.”

A horse snickered and the river gurgled as Bo eyed Capelli from a dozen feet away. “An alliance against whom? And for what purpose?”

Susan took over the negotiations at that point, spending the next ten minutes describing Judge Ramsey’s plans and laying out the reasons why the Osage should oppose him.

Eventually Bo nodded. “You make a convincing case. I will raise the matter with our council. In the meantime
there is the arms shipment to consider. Let’s suppose that it exists and that we manage to find it. What then?”

The possible split had been the subject of a good deal of discussion prior to leaving Haven. Some, like Mel Tilson, felt it should be 90–10, 80–20, or 70–30, all in Haven’s favor. But Potter, Locke, and a majority of council members agreed that anything other than 50–50 was unrealistic. Not to mention the fact that an even split would not only help bring about an alliance with the Osage but serve to strengthen the native American community as well. So Susan made the offer.

Bo raised an eyebrow. “Now that we know the shipment is on our land, perhaps we should keep all of it.”

“You can try,” Susan admitted, as her horse took a step sideways and she pulled up on the reins. “But you haven’t happened across it yet. And what if the stinks or Ramsey’s regulators find it first?”

Bo was silent for a moment. Then he uncrossed his leg and nodded. “You have a deal. Let’s ride.”

It took a day of hard riding to reach the area where the
Suzy Q
had gone down. Capelli had qualms about traveling in broad daylight, and was in considerable pain after hours on horseback, but there was no stopping Bo and his war party. They all maintained that the Chimera were afraid to enter the reservation because of the large number of casualties they had suffered during past incursions.

While respectful of the Osage nation’s fighting prowess, and inclined to believe many of their boasts, Capelli was more than a little cynical regarding the theory that the stinks were afraid to enter the area. The Chimera didn’t have emotions so far as he knew. But the hive-mind had a limited number of forms available to do its bidding. So perhaps the sparsely populated reservation had been spared so the aliens could focus their energies elsewhere.

In any case there was no denying the fact that Bo and his warriors were very skilled at using whatever cover was available, hiding their tracks in streams, and avoiding open areas where the stinks could spot them from above. Which was one of the reasons why the party was able to reach the half-frozen floodplain called Broken Waters without incident.

The name stemmed from the way Hominy Creek split into a half-dozen competing channels before coming back together a few miles farther on. The water level was low at the moment, but Capelli could see where the creek had been pushed out of its bed by seasonal floods, and had stripped most of the surrounding soil away. Beyond that a white-capped bluff could be seen, with a line of bare-branched trees at the bottom, just back of the high-water mark.

Judging from Lieutenant Larson’s coordinates and Susan’s much-folded map, the
Suzy Q
was nearby. But
where
? The light had begun to fade, so there wasn’t enough time to look around.

“We’ll make camp,” Bo announced authoritatively. “Then, when the sun comes up, the hunt will begin.”

It was a good plan and, truth be told, the only one that was likely to work since stumbling around in the dark would almost certainly be fruitless. As those who weren’t on guard duty sat around the communal campfire and tried to stay warm, Susan took advantage of the opportunity to lobby Bo regarding the possibility of an alliance.

And while Tilson peppered the mostly taciturn Osage warriors with questions about where they lived, and how large the tribe was, Capelli took the opportunity to clean his weapons.

Then it was time for Capelli and Susan to take a short walk before slipping into their sleeping bags. A flat rock sat next to one of the channels. Capelli swept a layer of
snow off it before allowing Susan to sit down. With an arm around her shoulders, Susan snuggled in. “Joseph?”

Capelli took note. Whenever Susan switched from “Joe” to “Joseph,” it generally meant that something serious was at hand. “Yes?” he answered cautiously.

“There’s something I need to tell you. Something important.”

“Okay, what is it?”

Susan looked up at him. “I—that is to say, we—are going to have a baby.”

Capelli was stunned. There had been so much going on, so much to do, that the possibility of a child hadn’t occurred to him.

“Well?” Susan demanded. “Aren’t you going to say something?”

“That’s wonderful news,” Capelli said warmly, and was pleased to discover that he meant it.

Then something else occurred to him. “Wait a minute! You knew you were pregnant and you came on this trip anyway? You’ve been riding a horse!” he said accusingly. “What about the baby?”

“I knew you’d go all Capelli on me,” she said affectionately. “That’s why I didn’t tell you. Besides, these are early days. There isn’t anything to worry about yet.”

“So I’m going to be a father,” Capelli said, as the realization continued to sink in.

“Yes,” Susan replied, softly. “And a good one.”

Capelli felt his wife’s lips melt under his, and for that brief moment in time, they knew what true happiness was.

The night passed without incident. Once the sun was up, breakfast was over, and nearly all traces of the encampment had been erased, it was time to go looking for the VTOL. By using a grid search, the humans were able to locate the downed aircraft in less than an hour.

The ice-encrusted fuselage was a hundred yards east of the floodplain, where it was hidden in a narrow ravine that the forces of wind, water, and time had cut into the bluff over the centuries. Judging from the dozens of holes in the fuselage, the
Suzy Q
had been badly shot up as Larson tried to bring the transport in. Capelli figured it had been dark. He could imagine the stomach-wrenching moment when both of the ship’s stubby wings were torn off. But damaging though the blow was, it had slowed the VTOL down, and preserved the hull. It was wedged between two rock walls about fifty feet off the ground.

Capelli was ecstatic. And it wasn’t long before he and a half-dozen other people had scrambled up to the point where they could enter the
Suzy Q
through an open hatch. Capelli had a flashlight, and as the beam played across the crates that were still strapped to the deck, he saw that the VTOL was loaded with everything from carbines to individually boxed MP-47 Pulse cannons
that were sitting on top of the load. It was an extremely rich find, and he was still in the process of inventorying the newly acquired arsenal when something unexpected happened.

The interior lights came on. It took him a moment to process the development. Then he shouted, “Turn the power off!” As the lights went off, he followed the downward-sloping deck to the cockpit, where Tilson was seated next to a raggedy skeleton busily flipping switches.

“You fool!” Capelli said, as he jerked the businessman out of the pilot’s seat. “The moment you drew power from the battery the plane’s nav system came on, and the odds are pretty good that a light appeared on a stink control panel somewhere. If so, they know where we are and you can bet a shitload of the bastards will arrive soon.”

“I’m sorry,” Tilson said lamely. “I didn’t know.”

“Get Bo,” Capelli ordered tersely. “And tell him to hurry.”

The Chimeran drop ship came in from the west. It was all angles. Artificial lightning stabbed the ground as onboard sensors detected heat sources and weapons fired on them. Deer, wild horses, and rabbits died. Pressor beams crushed the water flat as the ominous-looking vessel drifted across the creek. Loose snow billowed into the air, icy pebbles sleeted sideways, and a wave of heat rolled over the land. And it was then, as the ship hovered, and a cloud of steam rose, that Capelli fired the Pulse cannon. He was hidden behind a cluster of snowcapped boulders that fronted the open area west of the crash site.

The bolt of concentrated energy hit the Chimeran vessel a fraction of a second before Bo fired the second cannon.
The combination of two nearly simultaneous blasts caused the drop ship’s bow to tilt alarmingly. It hit the ground at a steep angle and plowed a deep furrow into the rocky soil. A grinding crash was heard as the hull lost forward momentum and pancaked in. That was when Capelli swore. The plan had been to destroy the ship, not just damage it. He fired again and saw a flash of light as the bolt hit the hull. But it took a moment for the cannon to recharge, and that was long enough for half a dozen Hybrids to open a hatch and come charging out.

The humans had one thing going for them, however, and that was the element of surprise. As the stinks trotted forward, three Osage warriors rose from their various hiding places to release carefully aimed arrows.

Capelli saw a feathered shaft penetrate a Hybrid’s neck as another arrow took a stink in the thigh. It stumbled and fell. At that point the humans opened up with a wide variety of conventional weapons. The battle might have ended then and there except for the Ravagers who lumbered out of the ship’s hold with more Hybrids right behind them. And because of the powerful energy shields that the eleven-foot-tall monsters carried, they could protect both themselves and the ’brids to the rear.

The humans had two hand-held radios and Capelli spoke into his. “Sixkiller! Get around behind them if you can. We’ll divide their fire.”

The stinks were only yards away by then, and all Capelli could do was trade the Pulse cannon for a Rossmore in hopes of taking as many of the Chimera with him as he could. But Capelli had a guardian angel—and her name was Susan. She was positioned on a rocky ledge above the
Suzy Q
, firing over the shimmery energy shields. So as a Ravager arrived in front of Capelli he saw
the stink’s head jerk spastically. That was followed by an explosion of blood as the bullet blew a hole through the back of the Chimera’s skull.

When the Ravager went down, it left the Hybrids sheltering behind exposed. Capelli was only a dozen feet away. The shotgun had a devastating effect. Projectiles pinged all around him as he fired again and again. A blood mist fogged the air and turned the snow pink as a succession of stinks fell. Some had the misfortune to be hit by both a hail of buckshot
and
a succession of skillfully aimed bullets from Susan.

As this took place, the warrior Sixkiller and three Osage braves thundered onto the scene. They controlled their mounts with their knees. That left their hands free to fire a variety of weapons. When the second Ravager and its escorts turned to confront the new threat, the humans were free to attack. There was a risk, however, which was why Capelli shouted at them, “Aimed fire only! We have friendlies out there.”

Now, having been caught in crossfire, the aliens were going down one after another. The battle was far from one-sided, however, as a Hybrid jumped an Osage who had paused to reload. The stink left the ground with powerful arms spread wide, wrapped them around the warrior, and was in the process of ripping the human’s throat out when they hit the ground together.

There was blood all over the ’brid’s face as it bounded to its feet and ran straight at Sixkiller. The warrior released his bow to grab the cut-down Winchester Model 37 shotgun slung across his back. He pulled the weapon free, brought it to bear just in time, and jerked the trigger. The charge blew half of the stink’s face away. Sixkiller’s Pinto jerked his head wildly as the coppery smell of blood flooded the horse’s nostrils.
What was that, anyway?
the warrior asked himself.
Number nine
or ten?
Maybe a name change was in order. Tenkiller had a ring to it.

The voice came from the radio lying on the ground next to Capelli’s right foot. It belonged to Bo. He was a hundred feet away, half concealed in a dry channel. “The ship! It’s taking off.”

As Capelli turned his attention back to the shuttle, he saw that the Osage was correct. He put the Rossmore down and brought the Pulse cannon up onto his right shoulder. The drop ship was a couple of feet off the ground by that time. Steam rose all around it. Once it was high enough, say fifty feet or so, the vessel would be able to fire down on the humans with impunity. So as Capelli pulled the trigger he was conscious of how high the stakes were.