GeneStorm: City in the Sky (7 page)

Tammin looked aghast at his load of cotton cloth.

“That’s two thousand chips worth of dyed cotton!”

“A tad hard to cash it in post mortem!” The mantis was already in action. “Right! Plan B! Get the acid!”

Beau blinked, bewildered. “There’s a plan B?”

“Well it was sort of my personal plan A, but I relegated it to the back burner just in case things went well.” Kitterpokkie already had six other passengers conscripted into a chain, passing her the acid jugs. “Get the other wagons moving! Far as you can!”

Snapper winced – then half felt something still scraping at her senses. “We’re making a bomb?”

“Oh – we’re making a five ton bomb!” The mantis was already pouring acid all over the cotton. “Nitrocellulose. Keep out of the fumes!”

“Oh crap.” Snapper climbed straight up from Onan and onto the wagon. “Beau! Ride a few dozen metres upstream and keep guard. Kenda?” The human had gone, but another rider was near. “You there! Stay part way between us and Beau. Anything eats Beau, you have to come back and warn us!”

Beau – quite set upon being heroic - suddenly reigned in his bird. “Wait – eat me?”

“Just get down there” Snapper was far stronger than the mantis, emptying three jugs of acid for each one managed by Kitterpokkie. “Go! Go!”

Shark and mantis worked side by side, with Kitterpokkie turning the cotton fluff with a pole. The fumes were utterly lethal, stinging at Snapper’s eyes. Acid dripped through to the wood of the wagon beneath, steaming on the boards. The shark coughed, trying to protect her face.

“Doesn’t it have to dry?”

“Not really! You just wash it and dry the stuff to make it stable.” Kitterpokkie turned the cotton and soaked it through. “There we are! The cotton core’s changing. We’re getting excess acid crystallising.”

“Is that good?”

“Well, it means it’s going to be unstable.”

The shark coughed. “Unstable like what? Nitro-glycerine?”

“Oh no no no no no!” The mantis gave an easy wave. “
Far
less stable than nitro-glycerine.”

Snapper froze. “Unstable how?”

“Ooh, well, hypersensitive to shock, change of temperature, strong light… Could detonate under its own weight…”

“Oh sweet Godfish!” The shark emptied out the last acid jug and scrabbled clear. “So do we need a fuse?”

“Not when we have a plasma rifle.” Kitterpokkie surveyed the mass of seething cotton, then leapt from the wagon. “It will go off. But we need ten minutes for it all to settle.”

“Ten.” Snapper rinsed her hands in the creek, then unshipped her carbine and checked the cylinder. “What’s minimum safety distance?”

“Ah, well ideally we need to be around a corner and about three hundred metres away.”

“Three hundred. Gotcha!”

“Or possibly five hundred.”

“Oh great…” The shark turned and yelled back towards the passengers and guards. “Rifles! We need to hold the line for ten minutes!”

The rearmost wagon had been turned to block as much of the creek bed as possible, and the dray beasts driven away. A dozen men of all manner of species, armed with a mix of breech loaders and muskets, came splashing up to the scene. They took cover about the wagon – all save Snapper, who mounted Onan and rode behind the line. Twenty metres behind them, the acid wagon dripped and seethed, its contents converting into a bomb of truly epic proportions – nothing like it had been seen since the GeneStorm wars. Snapper flicked a glance at the thing and saw a white crust slowly discolouring the wagon wood.

“Nobody smoke!”

“Yes, that would be unwise!” The mantis banged on the side of her plasma rifle, which immediately spat blue sparks. “Ah, there we go! Water may have splashed the contacts.”

“Oh Godfish…”

A chorus of horrifying screams came echoing from far upstream. The distant noise drifted, ebbing and fading. Men checked flints on their muskets, or opened ammunition pouches. Snapper rode Onan behind the line, keeping an eye upon the creek upstream.

“Wait for the order! No one fire – we have scouts out there upstream!” She rode slowly back behind the rifle line. “We’re going to stop the Screamers right here for ten minutes, then back behind the acid wagons to the next bend!” Snapper set her helmet straight. The sound of screams were coming closer. “Hold your fire! Hold your fire…!”

Throckmorton came thrashing in overhead from upstream The plant fired a crossbow down at something out of sight around the next bend, reloading with an efficient thrash of tentacles. The oncoming shrieks of the Screamers rose into a baying howl, and pistol shots could be heard down the creek.

Beau and his fellow outrider came flying around the bend, birds stretched out in the gallop. Their mounts climbed the creek walls as they ran, taking a bend at high speed. They flashed past the firing line, and then the first Screamer came thrashing into view.

It was a long, narrow beast with patches of leprous fur. Behind it came a heavier monster – far larger and covered with chitinous plates. Muskets opened fire, but the bullets cracked into the armour plate and ricocheted away. Kitterpokkie clambered onto an earth bank and yelled out above the crash and bang of musket fire.

“Never fear! I’ll get him!”

The plasma gun opened fire, bucking wildly in the mantis’s slim hands. A wild scorch of blinding light hit the creek bed, exploding water into steam. The crackling bolt sawed across the larger Screamer, blasting it aside. The creature flew apart. The plasma gun ceased fire, leaving everyone blinking with aftershock. The mantis panted, quite breathless with fright and excitement, picking herself up from the mud.

“There we go! Told you it worked.” She patted the gun. “A bit of tech, eh? That startled ‘em!”

With a deafening scream, a dozen more monsters came thundering around the creek bend and launched into the attack. The creatures raged forward, to be met by a blast of musket and rifle fire. Rifle bullets struck with massive force – spent cartridges spun out of breeches and clattered ringing to the rocks. Wounded Screamers never faltered, but kept right on coming, hurtling themselves at the wagon. Some died mid-leap: others smashed into the wagon and clawed up over the sides. Musketeers fought frantically with hatchets and musket butts as jaws and tentacles tore the wagon sides apart. Snapper blasted two Screamers back from the top of the wagon, the revolver carbine firing hard and fast. She dropped out the empty cylinder and fired again, catching a monster as it clambered past the wagon poles. A lizard man and a rat from amongst the passengers clubbed wildly at Screamers, but were pulled down beneath scything jaws.

Beau rode up, trying to control his terrified mount. The fox-bird fired his pistols, catching a Screamer as it leapt towards Snapper. He reloaded clumsily, the budgerigar running madly aside as another wave of monsters came charging straight towards the wagon.

The plasma rifle fired again from underneath the wagon wheels. Bowling Screamers aside, the blast of exploding steam sent water and mud showering through the air. The mantis scrabbled back out from beneath the wheels, yelping as a Screamer narrowly missed her with its claw. Beside her, a Screamer’s head blasted through the wagon’s wooden side. It lashed at the mantis, only to be struck by a crossbow bolt fired from above. Throckmorton whirred low overhead, trying to drag the mantis back towards the acid wagon.

More screams were coming down the gorge – far more monsters were on the way. Snapper gunned down one as it clawed at a fallen wagoneer, then drew her sword and crashed into another that was ramming past the wagon. Onan bit into the monster’s flank. Snapper struck the beast a massive blow and Onan leaped back, shaking gore from his beak.

“Back! Hurry!”
Beau and Kenda were already leading the retreat, speeding off downstream. Snapper whirled Onan about and seized the mantis by one of her four arms, swinging her up behind Onan’s saddle.
“Is the bomb ready?”

“It might be!”

The numbing sound of the next wave of Screamers was almost deafening. Snapper jabbed Onan with her heels, and the bird sped off down the creek.
“Time to go! Run run run run!”

Musketeers blasted a volley and fled back in panic past the acid wagon. Snapper, Kitt and Throckmorton came last, speeding down the gorge and flashing past the bomb wagon. The men ahead were fleeing wildly away, some hurtling aside their guns in panic.

Two hundred metres back, Beau’s budgerigar had chosen this exact moment to buck and whirl around and around like a mad thing. The man held on in terror, squawking as he desperately tried to get the beast under control.

More Screamers came thundering about the creek bed – a dense mass that screeched in deafening, maddened rage. Two hundred metres behind the acid cart, Snapper turned Onan about and lunged behind a rock. The Screamers were a black mass of claws, tentacles and shrieking death ripping their way past the acid wagon.

“Kitt – blow the wagon!”

The mantis took the best aim she could and pulled the trigger of her plasma gun. The weapon fizzed and sparked, burning Onan’s tail. Kitterpokkie hammered madly at the gun, cursing in a most unladly-like way.

“Sodding thing!” She shook the rifle and pulled hard at the trigger. “The power leads are wet!”

“Kitt! The wagon!”

“I’m trying!” The power lead abruptly fell out of the rifle butt. “Oh bugger!”

“Kitt!”

The creek bed was choked with monsters as fifty Screamers – each a mass of fangs and foaming rage – clambered over and around the acid wagon, clawing along the gorge walls. The first few had leapt past the wagon and were already charging downstream. Snapper hefted her carbine, but the cylinder was empty. She scrabbled for a spare, and almost dropped it as Onan slipped and slithered in the mud.

Trapped atop his panicked budgerigar, Beau had drawn his pistols. He fired in the air, trying to bring his mount to heel. The bird instantly stopped whirling around and took off at blinding speed – straight towards the monsters. The fox-pheasant jounced wildly on the bird’s back, his last pistol flailing back and forth. He sped past a Screamer as it lunged and missed – past another – then suddenly the pistol went off in his hand.

The bullet cracked into the acid crystals that now crusted the wagon’s sides.

The whole world seemed to take a breath.

The explosion lifted the entire bottom of the creek. The steep banks bowed – water flashed – and then the wagon, Screamers and surrounding creek blew apart. The shock was so swift that men blinked and almost missed it. Debris flew with shocking speed. The entire Screamer horde abruptly disappeared. Water, mud and rock channelled by the high banks flew in a shockwave down the creek, slamming into Onan, Snapper and Kitterpokkie, tumbling them over in the muck. Throckmorton tumbled through the skies, whirling end over end. The banks of the gorge collapsed, deluging everything with mud.

Ears ringing, Snapper struggled up out of the creek.

Beau still sat on his budgerigar, blinking. Mud completely sheathed him from head to foot – mud mingled with Screamer guts and gore. The plumage on the back of his head stood straight backwards, stiffened by the blast – an absolute picture of shock. His budgerigar slipped and fell. Beau ended up sitting in the filthy creek, still staring in silence toward the crater in the middle of the gorge.

From behind Snapper, Kitt and Onan, the wagoners crept about the corner of the gorge and staggered past, led by Tammin, the caravan master. Tammin leaned on Snapper and pointed in amazement at Beau, his eyes lighting up with joy.

“He’s saved the day! Captain Beau has saved the day!” Tammin waded up the creek, relieved passengers and wagon crew following in his wake.
“Three cheers for the captain! Hip hip!”

“Hooray!”

The passengers and crew of the caravan surged forward. Beau was hoisted up on their shoulders and borne in triumph back towards the wagons. The women of wagon number three ran forward, dancing about with stars in their eyes. Beau modesty tried to brush off their praise – no no, the merest stuff! Any red blooded fellow would have done it! They carried him off, while the last few fragments of dead Screamer plopped down out of the trees. Throckmorton descended dazedly from above, looking rather the worse for wear, with twigs and passion-gum fruit sticking to his wings. He settled beside Kitterpokkie, who stared at Beau in amazement as the procession disappeared.

“Well I never!”

Snapper sighed. This sort of thing seemed to be the hallmark of her world. She was dead tired, saddle sore and utterly smothered in mud. Beside her, Onan fluffed out his feathers, showering them all with yet more mud.

“Salty cracker?”

“Yeah. Salty cracker. And about twelve hours of sleep.” Snapper fought painfully up to her feet, then helped Kitterpokkie and Throckmorton up out of the mud.

“I just hope these people stand us some drinks once we hit town.”

The mantis looked wanly back towards the crater.

“Bugger. All my belongings were on the rear wagon.”

“Well, we can fix you up somewhere to stay. You seem a useful sort.” The shark patted her on the shoulder as the group wearily walked off toward the caravan. “Come on Throckmorton. I’ll shout you a beer, mate. I’ll shout you a beer.”