Starship Tomahawk (The Hive Invasion Book 2) (7 page)

Now settle back and enjoy a modern masterpiece. This is the Trash Can Trio with Back Alley Jam.

Ariadne had a period of rotation of less than eighteen hours, which made for a very short day. The floor of the crater was in shadow, indirectly lit by a blaze of sunlight reflected from the east wall of the crater, when Nicholson heard music coming from somewhere down the road.

He and Gillett took to the ditch on the left, while Hudson and Parrish moved to the opposite ditch. They advanced slowly, staying close to the trunks of the trees that continued to line the road on either side, climbing a gentle slope. They slowed even more as they neared the crest, scanning the ground ahead before slipping from the bole of one tree to another.

At the top of a low ridge they stopped. Gillett stood behind a tree while Nicholson knelt in a patch of brush. As he peered through the branches he saw small red berries decorating the bush in front of him, and he wondered idly if they were edible. There was something marvellous about the idea of eating wild food. Sure, he understood on an intellectual level that people had done such things for millennia before the rise of modern civilization. He'd just never encountered it in person.

Tilting his head to one side let him see past the bush and into a broad pocket of land surrounded by hills to the front and right, and rising ridges of stone on the left that went up and up, growing steeper until they merged with the vertical east wall of the crater.

The trees that had lined the road for the past several kilometers ended just below the crest of the ridge. The road ended too, fading into a pair of ruts in a waving expanse of grass. In the middle of the grassy pocket, almost a kilometer from Nicholson and his team, stood a cubical structure maybe five meters on a side. It was made of metal, covered in ducts and pipes and tubes, and it made Nicholson think of electrical substations. A revolving light on the top of the cube flashed and blinked. He had no idea what it signified.

A light breeze ruffled the hair on the back of Nicholson's neck, and sent waves rippling through the grass. The music faded away, then came back as the wind changed direction. It sounded like a dance tune, highly synthesized, the kind of thing teens loved and their parents hated. It seemed to be coming from the cubical structure.

He took out his binoc and zoomed in on the cube. The image wobbled and shook, and he lowered the binoc, shuffling over until his shoulder was against the trunk of a tree. He braced an elbow on his knee and lifted the binoc again.

With his arms stabilized the image finally became clear. The structure was human-made. He could read safety warnings stenciled on the side. He scanned the structure carefully. A large pipe near the base had a logo painted on it, and he could make out some text. It said, "Ariadne Water Services".

"I think it's for pumping fresh water," he said, and handed the binoc up to Gillett. "Have a look."

She stared for a long time, then lowered the binoc. She didn't speak.

"Well?" he said at last. "What do you think?"

"I think it's
Soul of Love
. Not the original, though. Somebody did a crap electro-pop remix."

Nicholson turned to stare up at her.

"Why do people do that?" she said plaintively. "The song is a classic. We don't need a horrible new version."

The distant music faded. Someone spoke for thirty seconds or so, the words an indistinct mumble. Then a sprightly jazz tune started.

"That's better," said Gillett.

"You know, you're really no help at all." She gave him a hurt look, which he ignored. He reclaimed the binoc and scanned the horizon. The only movement was the waving grass. He stood. "Let's go check it out."

The four of them walked to the end of the road, spreading out to make a poorer target. It was a pointless precaution, Nicholson was sure. This side of the crater was abandoned.

He passed the last tree and took a step onto the grass. Red light flashed in a copse of trees on the far side of the bowl, the side of his face felt briefly warm, and wood crackled behind him. He hit the ground, not sure why but obeying his instincts. The others copied him.

He looked back, and felt a chill run down his spine. A large branch just above head height on the closest tree was broken close to the trunk. The branch hung straight down now, and he saw a wisp of smoke rising from a blackened area on the stump of the branch. It took a moment for his brain to catch up.

"Laser fire," he said. "Take cover."

The four of them rose together, scrambling behind the closest tree trunks, then darting over the crest of the slope. Nicholson threw himself down on his stomach in the middle of the road. Gillett hit the ground in one ditch, Hudson and Parrish in the other.

"Gillett. Inform the
Achilles
." He twisted his head the other way. "Hudson. Crawl forward and take a look. For pity's sake keep your head down."

Hudson nodded and wriggled forward.

For a moment Nicholson just laid there, listening to the urgent thump of his heart. He could smell dust from the road, and his own sweat. There was also a vague greenish smell, the smell of rich soil and living things on all sides. The evening air was cool, and he found himself savoring the moment.
Nature. Fresh air. Open spaces. I never knew I was missing it …

Finally, gritting his teeth, he started worming his way down the middle of the road. He timed it so he reached the top of the crest at the same time as Hudson. The two of them lay still, gazing across the bowl, waiting for the distant laser to strike again.

Nothing moved, and no weapon fired.

"I think I see something," Hudson murmured. "Bottom of that hill on the left."

Nicholson was reaching for the binoc when the damaged branch fell from the laser-scorched tree. He flinched, barely managing to suppress an undignified shriek. When his breathing was under control he brought the binoc to his eyes.

A vehicle came rolling around the base of the hill. It was an electric Rover, and he could see two people in the front, perfectly ordinary human beings. One of them was actually steering, something you hardly ever saw on Earth these days. The Rover took a meandering course, zigging and zagging across the grass, making it challenging for him to zoom in.

He managed it, though, and found himself staring at the magnified face of a young woman. She had a scab on her cheek surrounded by a dark bruise. She wore a light jacket, and he saw her smile as she spoke to the person beside her. Then the Rover swerved and she disappeared.

Nicholson lowered the binoc in time to see Hudson bringing up his rifle. "Stand down," he said. "It's a couple of colonists."

Hudson gave him a dubious look. "They're coming right at us. What if they're collaborators?"

He thought of the woman's smile. "They're a little too relaxed to have murder on their minds."

Hudson nodded. He kept a hand on the rifle, though.

Nicholson rose to one knee when the Rover was almost to the end of the road. The front of his armor was covered with dust, and he gave it a couple of ineffectual pats before turning his attention to the Rover.

The vehicle slowed as it moved onto the end of the road, and he heard gravel crunch under the tires. The others stood up as the Rover rolled to a stop. The woman was at the controls. A lean middle-aged man sat beside her, grinning as he looked at each of the sailors in turn.

"Sorry about the shot," the woman said, gesturing behind her at the fallen branch. "It was the quickest way to stop you." She jerked a thumb over her shoulder. "The whole area is full of booby-traps."

Nicholson stood. "In that case, I guess you're forgiven. I'm Lieutenant Nicholson." He indicated the others. "This is Gillett, Hudson, and Parrish."

"I'm Tanya," the woman. "This is Ron. Welcome to the Naxos resistance."

"Quiet! I think it's finally working."

Nicholson broke off a quiet conversation with Gillett and crawled over to join Ron at the edge of the trees. There were eight colonists with the four navy personnel at the ambush site, and six more at a secondary firing position in the rocks along the crater wall. Ron was the only one Nicholson could actually see. Two of Ariadne's moons were in the night sky, but they did little to dispel the darkness.

The water pumping station was a kilometer distant, still blasting music from its speakers. The revolving light continued to spin but was mostly drowned out by a bonfire that blazed beside the big metal cube. The idea was to draw in the aliens. The resistance had been manning the ambush site for two days, doing everything they could think of to draw the attention of the aliens. Now, it seemed they had finally succeeded.

A flying machine swooped in, hovering low over the pumping station. It was an ugly craft, covered in lumps and protrusions, so unfamiliar in construction – so
alien
– that Nicholson couldn't get any sense of size until it was quite close to the cube. The ship was three or four meters long and about half as wide. A white beam like a spotlight shone down on the cube and the fire, then swept around in a lazy circle.

Nicholson murmured, "Shoot now, while it's not moving."

Ron shook his head. "Sometimes there's ground troops. I'm waiting for one of them to step on a mine."

"Look," someone said, and Nicholson saw movement at the edge of the fire's glow. A line of creatures came into view, ugly, insect-like things with four curving needle-like legs, a strange hinged torso, and a couple of needle-like arms. They were roughly human-sized, but built nothing like a human. The first creature probed at the ground ahead, then advanced a couple of steps. The rest followed carefully, directly behind him.

"Dammit," Ron said, "the buggers are learning." He made an urgent gesture with his arm, and a pale glow appeared as the control panels lit up on a couple of bulky machines on tripods. "They can't learn not to panic, though. Everybody got a target?"

A couple of colonists murmured assent.

"Fire when ready."

Ariadne had no weapons. There was no military outpost, and there were no animals to hunt. The local police force had carried stunners. There were, however, some industrial lasers used for cutting rock to level the crater floor or cut brick for construction. Some talented engineers among the colonists had removed several lasers from their bulky mounts and attached tripods and portable power packs. They fell far short of military lasers, but they packed a remarkable punch.

The first laser fired. The air had enough dust to make the beam visible, a crimson flash that lashed past the nose of the alien ship. The second laser fired an instant later, and Nicholson saw the point of impact in the ground a dozen meters from the line of enemy foot soldiers. He quickly realized these were ranging shots. There was no easy way to aim the bulky lasers in the dark.

The first laser tracked to the right and traced a red line across the hull of the enemy ship. The second laser burned a ragged line through the grass and sliced an alien in half.

Pandemonium erupted among the foot soldiers. They fled in every direction, and Nicholson saw a flash of light, followed momentarily by a thunderclap of sound. Soil erupted into the air, and he thought he saw a chunk of an enemy soldier tumbling to the ground near the bonfire.

The ship jerked away and rose, momentarily evading the laser. More red light flashed from the far side of the bowl of grass as the other group of colonists opened fire. They put several shots into the troops on the ground, then switched their fire to the rising ship.

The rest of the ground troops fled into darkness. With no more visible targets on the ground, all three lasers focused on the alien ship. Points of red appeared on the hull, then vanished as the ship jerked and twisted. Someone on the alien ship finally thought to turn off the spotlight, but Nicholson could still see a red glow where something on the ship burned. Higher and higher it rose, until he was sure it must be out of range. Laser beams would go practically forever in the vacuum of space, but they dissipated quickly in atmosphere.

Just when he thought the ship would escape, it started to fall. Faster and faster it plunged, until it slammed into the ground halfway between the pumping station and the end of the road.

A cheer went up from the colonists. A flash of light came from the middle of the bowl as another alien stumbled into a booby-trap. The sound of the explosion echoed around them, and the colonists cheered again.

"They always come up with good plans," Ron said. "Better each time, in fact. But they have no discipline. Next time we'll-"

A voice cried out, a wordless scream of alarm. Nicholson felt heat, and he threw himself flat, dragging Ron down with him. The trees around him erupted into flame, and someone else screamed, a ragged shriek of agony.

Nicholson heard a staccato clicking sound, like metal hitting wood, and he rose to his knees with his rifle in his hands. A shape came at him through the flames, a nightmare spider made of steel, and he sprayed it with blast shots. Sparks erupted from the steel casing that protected the creature's limbs, but several shots got through and slammed into the body behind. The thing flew back, thrashing, and Nicholson turned as more aliens swarmed out of the darkness. He fired until the magazine was empty, and reloaded without thinking, letting his training take over.

Flickers of light on either side told him two other rifles were firing.
I must have lost someone.
He was much too busy to pursue the thought. A pair of aliens converged on him, and he fired at the one on the left. He wounded it, saw the front limbs digs spasmodically into the dirt, and swung the rifle to the right. This alien was practically on top of him, and he blasted away, screaming as he fired.

A steel-clad limb swept the barrel of the rifle sideways, then slammed into Nicholson's chest. He felt a burst of pain and fell backward. It reared over him, a couple of steel spikes lifted high, and then Ron lunged in from the side, burying the blade of a spear in the creature's side.

Nicholson wasted a moment staring up in disbelief.
Did I really just see someone use a spear on an alien? What next? Bows and arrows?
Then he sat up, wincing as pain lashed through his chest, tucked the stock of the rifle under his arm, and opened fire.

The alien reached for Ron, but the spear had been designed with some care. The shaft was quite long, long enough that Ron was out of reach of those terrible arms. An arm slashed sideways, shattering the spear, and the creature lunged at the colonist. By that time, though, Nicholson was pouring shot after shot into the creature's unprotected body. It fell, one steel leg thrashed sideways and knocked Nicholson sprawling, and he saw his last shot plow into the dirt a handspan from Ron's foot.

A moment later, the alien on the left, the one Nicholson had injured but not killed, rose up behind Ron. Ron was smiling triumphantly at Nicholson, oblivious. His eyes widened when Nicholson took aim on the center of his chest. Ron was blocking Nicholson's shot, and both of them flinched at the sudden crack of a blast gun firing.

It was Gillett, putting four careful rounds into the creature's torso. She turned to scan the rest of the ambush site, and Nicholson let himself sag. A flashing red light on his rifle told him it was empty, and he changed magazines automatically. The pain in his chest was spreading, until even his fingers hurt as he slid the fresh magazine home. The attack seemed to be over, so he laid his rifle on the ground, stretched out beside it, folded his hands over his chest, and stared up at the sky.

The light of the burning trees around him drowned out the stars. He could see one of the moons, and he gazed up at it, enjoying the quiet tranquility of the image. He was having more and more trouble seeing it, though. Was the fire spreading? He turned his head, and found he couldn't see the flames, either.
That's odd.
He tried to say Gillett's name, but he couldn’t figure out if his lips were moving or not.

Everything was dark now, and he was cold. It puzzled him, and he tried to look around. Moving his head seemed like an impossible effort, though, so he shrugged to himself and let the darkness carry him away.