M'tak Ka'fek (The T'aafhal Inheritance) (37 page)

“Girl, what is it with you and those butterfly things?”

“I don't know, Betty. Ever since the first battle they have been following me around. I think they just tried to warn me about the raptors jumping over the sled.”

“Tried hell!” exclaimed Matt. “Did you notice how they flashed red and yellow as they swooped by? If I hadn't seen them, the killer chicken I shot would have landed square on my back.”

“I think you have yourself a flying fan club, Mizuki,” Betty said, eying the gayly orbiting swarm above the other woman's head. As she watched, the butterflies once again turned shades of red and yellow. Seconds later Stevie yelled, “Here they come again!”

* * * * *

The hilly country around the embattled expedition was littered with dead raptors. Two more of the Trader's retinue had been killed, a bodyguard disemboweled by a raptor's kick and one of the unarmed hangers on struck in the back by a plasma bolt.

The Captain was standing over the station Trader, his dark eyes boring into the merchant's melon like orange oculars. “I have about had enough of this game, Trader. We have come the distance you indicated and there seems to be an endless supply of new enemies to fight—each new batch more dangerous than the last.”

“I, I told you there were a number of hostile tribes between us and our goal, Captain,” the Kieshnar-rak-kat-tra said in a stuttering hiss. He never expected danger to come so close to his person. 

“Yes, you called them primitives. I know of few tribes of primitives that use plasma blasters.”

“I did say 'mostly', and I assure you, Captain, if I had known the raptors were that dangerous I would have warned you.” Like most good liars the station Trader worked best under pressure. “Besides, our only losses were among my people, two guards and a grand nephew—I will have to explain his death to his mother and grandmother when we return.”

“It has been 90 kilometers, as the surveillance drone flies. Where is the antimatter repository?” The Captain's tone carried an implied threat that his suit computer managed to convey to the Trader even in translation.

“It is only seven more kilometers away, just over that rise.” The station Trader indicated a low, obviously artificial ridge about a kilometer away.

Jack looked at the ridge and back down at the Trader. Before he could speak the Trader headed for the feature in question, yelling over his shoulder: “Come, come! You'll see!”

The other Kieshnar-rak-kat-tra followed the Trader and the Earthlings followed them. Up the gently sloping terrain they trooped. As they reached the crest of the ridge its unnaturally flat top revealed itself as one edge of a square opening in the ground. An opening over 200 meters on a side, the mouth of a shaft extending down into the station's interior. Peering over the edge, Jack could see landings and staircases disappearing into the shadows. He glanced sideways at the Trader and said, “let me guess.”

“Yes. We are now a kilometer closer to the prize you seek. It is just six more kilometers... straight down.”

At the Bottom of the Well

The hike down the open well took more than four hours, with the Kieshnar-rak-kat-tra complaining amongst themselves the entire way. From his position behind the pack of furry traders, Jacobs noticed that Ooshnar-tar-rak-ra had sidled up to Threshnar-rak-ak-ran during the trip down. They separated just as the party arrived at the bottommost level.

The expedition members spread out along the side of the open square, sheltered by the overhanging landing above. The landing was part of an encircling balcony supported by widely spaced columns, though the column spacing was far too great and the columns themselves far too thin to look trustworthy to Earthly eyes.

In the open courtyard nothing moved, nor had they seen any sign of life during their descent. On the far side of the courtyard was a blank wall, and in that wall was a large, circular door that would have done a bank vault proud.

“I take it that's our destination,” Bear said to the others.

“So it would seem,” Jack replied, “how big do you make that door?”

“The hinge beside it looks about six meters tall, the door itself about four in diameter,” JT answered. “I don't know how thick it is or what it's made of, but it must weigh as much as a main battle tank.”

“If it's secured by a multi-bolt system like a bank vault, we are not carrying enough stuff to blast it open,” added Chief Morgan, the head SEAL.

“Let's see if our employer has a less drastic solution to opening the door, Chief.” Jack turned on his external speakers. “So, Trader, I take it that our goal lies beyond that sizable door.”

“Just so, Captain,” the station Trader answered, still winded from the arduous descent. “I am sure you are wondering how to gain access to the vault.”

“That question had crossed my mind. Have you a suggestion?”

“Of course, Captain. I have given your partner, Ooshnar-tar-rak-ra, instructions for opening the door. I suggest we approach the entrance by moving around the perimeter of the courtyard—no sense tempting fate after coming this far, eh?”

“I am a cautious man myself,” the Captain replied, then to his people more privately, “The head weasel suggests we sneak up on the place, making me think that there is danger afoot. Move around the perimeter to the right, Bear and Sanchez take point. And someone keep an eye on Ooshnar, evidently he has the combination.”

The expedition edged cautiously around the edge of the open courtyard, keeping under cover of the overhanging balcony that bordered the open space on three sides. A number of dark passageways led off from the yard, attracting nervous attention from the Marines and SEALs. Eventually they were all stacked along the wall at the junction with the face of the vault.

“This looks like the moment of truth,” Jack said. “Bring our pet traders and let's go knock on the door.” Bear, Sanchez, Samuels and Feldman led off, followed by the Captain and the traders. White and Ogawa assumed weasel herding duties. JT hung back with the sleds and the other half of the force. All were mostly ignoring the station Trader and his entourage.

Quietly, the native traders slipped away down the nearest darkened hallway. Hitch, perched on his hover sled, noticed the exodus first. “Hey, Lieutenant! The locals are making a break for it!”

“What?” JT spun around and saw the last cinnamon furred shape disappear into the gloom. “Chief, you and the boys hunt them down.”

“Aye aye, Sir,” responded CPO Morgan. The three SEALs disappeared down the hallway in pursuit.

“Captain, our native bearers have flown the coop. I sent the SEALs after them.”

“Roger that. The rest of you come to my position. We can use the sleds for cover and we may need some of the equipment they carry.”

On suit-to-suit, Rosey said, “anybody else think we have just stepped in it?”

“Nothing I like better than an exposed position with my back against the wall,” answered Ronnie, breaking into a jog. “In this case literally.” 

Pursuit and Betrayal

A little over a hundred meters into the passageway, the SEALs came to an intersection with side passages leading off in either direction. They had been using infrared trackers to follow the faint footprints of the fleeing natives.

“Damn it, the tracks go all three directions,” said Phil Kowalski.

“Which way, Chief?” asked Bud Jones.

“These passageways could go on for ever,” said the Chief. “We go back.”

“I got movement,” said Kowalski, crouching down, railgun at the ready, “left passageway.”

“Is it one of the weasels?”

“No, heat signature is all wrong.”

“Let's back out slowly.”

Phil stepped back from the intersection a fraction of a second before a brilliant orange flash lit the hallway. All three SEALs flattened themselves against the walls.

“Plasma bolt,” said Phil.

“Ya think?” said Bud.

“Bigger than the ones the killer chickens used,” said the Chief. “It's time for the better part of valor.”

As they started to move back toward the entrance a light appeared deeper within main passageway. It hurtled toward them like a demented freight train careening down a tunnel.

“Cover!” the Chief yelled. He and Phil pressed themselves against the right-hand side of the hallway, Bud sucked floor. The plasma bolt made a glancing strike on the left-hand wall, showering the SEALS with sparks and leaving a glowing red streak that slowly faded as it cooled.

All three returned fire, sending a torrent of green tracers down the hallway. Bud and Phil turned and shagged ass down the hallway, leaving the Chief firing extended bursts of 5mm in the direction of the enemy, with an occasional 20mm round thrown in for good measure.

“Peel left,” called Phil, halting ten meters back.

The Chief turned and ran down the right side of the hall in a crouch while Phil provided suppressing fire. As he passed Phil, Bud called “peel right,” from ten meters farther down the hall. Both the Chief and Phil ran down the left side of the hallway while Bud covered. They continued with the three man Australian Peel until they burst into the courtyard and flattened themselves against the wall on either side of the passageway entrance.

The Chief keyed his comm: “Captain, we got company.”

* * * * *

Upon arriving in front of the cyclopean vault door, Ooshnar-tar-rak-ra retrieved a piece of paper from his belt pouch and unfolded it. While mumbling and staring at the squiggles inscribed on the sheet, the trader punched a series of symbols on a control panel next to the door. He finished entering symbols and looked up expectantly. A loud mechanical clank sounded and the door swung smoothly open.

“That thing has to be two meters thick,” said JT. “I bet it weighs a hundred tons.”

“In keeping with the scale of the station,” Jack agreed. “Dr. Ogawa, fetch your equipment from the sleds.”

“Yes, Captain.” Mizuki went to the sled driven by Steve Hitch and began rummaging around in the cargo it carried. Then came the warning from Chief Morgan: “Captain, we got company.”

The Captain and half the squad turned to see the SEALs flattened against the side wall. Before anyone could speak two orange plasma bolts flew from the passageway the SEALs had just emerged from. The SEALs were immediately in motion, headed for the knot of expedition members clustered around the still opening vault door. As the Chief passed in front of the passageway he threw something the size of a grapefruit into the opening.

“Those plasma bolts were much more powerful than the ones the raptors used,” commented JT as he scanned the surrounding balconies for movement. From the passageway came the muffled whomp of an explosion followed by the ejection of a fast moving object.

“I think we got spiders,” said Joey Sanchez. He, along with half the members of the expedition, had participated in the battle on the Space Mushroom. There they had been accosted by several forms of cybernetic creatures, the spiders being the most common.

“What makes you say that, Sanchez,” asked Bear, also scanning overhead for threats.

“That, LT,” Sanchez replied, pointing to the dented silver ball that skidded past in front of their position, shedding spindly legs as it began to bounce and roll.

Movement erupted everywhere—silver spheres, twice the size of basket balls, streamed from hallways around the courtyard and lined the balconies above. Each was suspended from six slender multi-jointed legs that emerged from the tops of their bodies. From the bottom of each sphere hung a weapon—a plasma blaster. From courtyard and balcony the alien host opened fire. 

“Spiders! Return fire,” yelled Jack as angry orange plasma bolts splattered the deck and the wall behind the Earthlings. “White, Ogawa, get inside the vault and find those AM eggs.”

“Where did the damn spiders come from?” asked Joey, firing into the mass of bobbing spherical bodies. 

“They were on the Moon and the Space Mushroom, why not here?” yelled Jon.

“That was 1,500 light-years away, Jon.”

“Who knows? Maybe you can just order them from DarkLord.com,” replied Ronnie. “Shut up and kill the damn things.”

Bear roared and swept the perimeter of the courtyard with a stream of 15mm explosive rounds, temporarily neutralizing the ground-level threat. The Marines directed their fire upwards, spraying the balconies with flechettes at maximum muzzle velocity. As the SEALs joined the knot of defenders in front of the vault, Feeshkar made a break for the sidewall exit. Bud spun and raised his railgun, but the fleeing weasel was struck by several plasma bolts before the SEAL could shoot. Having no armor, most of Feeshkar's body was vaporized and the rest reduced to charred chunks. 

As Betty was distracted by Feeshkar's fatal desertion, Ooshnar-tar-rak-ra and Poonta-ta-ka ran the other way, scurrying over the door's armored threshold and into the vault.

“Come on Mizuki!” Betty called, running after the trader. Mizuki, her arms loaded with antimatter detection gear, turned her back to the enemy and ran toward the open vault. Ahead of her, the flock of butterflies, showing nothing but bright scarlet, streamed through the opening.

Along the edges of the surrounding balconies hostile spiders began jumping off and floating to the courtyard floor. The Marines and SEALs picked them off almost as fast as they jumped, but the spiders were jumping to make room for a larger threat. Much bigger creatures appeared and began firing cannon sized plasma weapons at the defenders. 

“Screw the spiders,” yelled Sanchez, “we got crabs!” The larger creatures, dubbed crabs, also had six legs and a plasma weapon underneath, but they were the size of a small tank and almost as hard to kill. 

A bolt from a crab struck one of the sleds sending burning chunks of equipment and a spray of molten metal flying. The SEALs dove for cover, their lighter armor incapable of deflecting the more powerful blasts from the bigger aliens. Several more cannon blasts struck the wall above the defenders, sending showers of sparks raining down. A cannon bolt missed the Captain by less than a meter. A short strangled cry came over the comm.