The Mothership (49 page)

Outside, Slab and his companions raced down
the dark, unpowered corridor toward a glimmer of light far ahead. The hiss of
cutting tools and the clang of metal echoed toward them, growing louder as they
ran. Behind them, the surviving med drones surged out of the hospital ward like
a swarm of angry, oversized bees. Cracker produced his last stick of dynamite,
and fitted the timer as they ran.

Bill looked at the primed explosive in
Cracker’s hand, and remembered what the med drones had tried to do to Slab in
the dissection lab. “Save it for us.”

Slab glanced back at the dark shapes
speeding after them, silhouetted by the light from the hospital ward behind
them. “He’s right. There’s too many to fight! You won’t get them all.”

Cracker saw the grim looks on their faces,
rammed the timer home, then pocketed the stick. “OK, it’s unanimous, they won’t
take us alive.”

“It’s not bloody unanimous!” Wal shouted
alarmed.

They reached an intersection of corridors.
The sounds of feverish repair activity drifted to them from the left, while
daylight flooded down the corridor from the right.

Wal sniffed in surprise, eyes widening.
“Fresh air!”

They charged down the right passageway into
a jagged cavity gouged horizontally through the side of the ship by a nova
weapon. Behind them, the med drones closed the distance faster than they could
run. Wal sprinted ahead, readying himself to jump out and race for the trees.
As he neared the hull breach, he realized something was wrong. All he could see
was sky! When he stopped at the edge of a precipice, he found the ground was
hundreds of meters below. Even the tops of the nearby ridges were but distant
contours against a charred landscape. The others pulled up beside him, seeing
there was no escape. Behind them the swarm of med drones flew toward them,
needles raised, ready to spear them.

Slab caught Cracker’s eye. “OK mate, light
your cigar.”

Wal’s eyes widened in desperation. He
glanced at the drones racing toward them, at the dynamite in Cracker’s hand,
then over the vertical wall of the ship’s outer hull. “We need rope.”

Slab gave him a brutal look. “Brilliant!”

Cracker set the timer for instant
detonation then motioned for the others to gather around. He took hold of the
detonator, about to trigger it.

“Wait!” Dan yelled, pointing at the hull
breach behind them. “Look!”

A length of rope had suddenly appeared
hanging a meter outside the mothership’s hull. A moment later, a second rope
fell down beside the first.

Wal looked surprised and grinned. “Ask, and
you shall receive!”

* * * *

Beckman edged
forward past a massive particle cannon mounted in a rectangular recess in the
ship’s outer hull, and clipped his repelling belt to one of the two ropes
they’d just secured to the gun.  A meter away, the ship’s outer hull dropped
away like a sheer cliff towards a charred ridge below. Behind the gun
emplacement, the rest of the team waited in the open access passage which ran
back through the hull. Sometime after the landing, the crawlway had been opened
to ventilate the ship and allow repair drones access the ship’s exterior. Now
it was being used by Beckman’s team to reach the outer hull, so they could
descend to the ship’s nerve center.

Beckman leaned out over
the edge to survey the massive wall of gray armor that reached down more than a
kilometer to the ground, and ran off for half a dozen kilometers on either side.
Thin air tugged at his clothes and whistled through the gun emplacement as he
stepped back, fighting vertigo.  He
pulled on his rope, testing it was securely lashed around the cannon’s
circular mount, then lined up with his back to the edge. Far below, solitary
birds of prey circled above a blackened landscape of slag rock and charred tree
stumps.

“You’re sure about this?” Beckman said into
his radio uncertainly.

“It’s the fastest way in,” Dr McInness
replied from the log room. The ship’s schematic floated before the scientist.
It was zoomed in to a twenty deck section surrounding a spherical structure at
its center. “Access point from our location are locked down, or blocked, but
the log is not being updated, so I might have missed something.”

Virus stood beside the scientist in the log
room, nodding. His partial understanding of the alien language had enabled him
to translate some of the symbols displayed on the schematic. It was partly why Beckman
had ordered him to stay behind with Timer and Vamp, and partly because he was
too weak to make the descent. Bandaka had also stayed behind, because the
hunter lacked the training to repel down the outside of the hull.

Markus crept forward in the gun emplacement
and clipped onto the other rope. He glanced apprehensively over the edge.
“We’re going to be sitting ducks out there.”

“Only if they see us,” Beckman conceded,
knowing from the log room records that most of the ship’s hull sensors were
inoperable.

He adjusted the straps on his harness, then
checked that his karabiner was securely attached to the rope one last time. The
others watched in silence as they crept forward into the cramped spaces either
side of the big gun, while Tucker took up position between the two ropes with
his machine gun, ready to provide covering fire.

Beckman turned to Markus. “Ready?”

Markus glanced unhappily over the
precipice. “Do I look ready?”

Beckman backed out over the edge while
Markus matched him step for step. When they’d found their footing on the hull,
they kicked lightly out and slid down the rope, pushing gently off the dull
gray armor each time they swung in. As soon as they were gone, Nuke and Xeno
moved up into position and clipped onto the ropes. Xeno looked anxious.

“It’s just a cliff,” Tucker said causally.

“It’s not the descent that worries me. It’s
what’s waiting for us down there.”

He scanned the sky, then thumbed his mike.
“Still clear.”

Tucker watched Beckman and Markus repel
down the hull toward the end of the first rope segment. They stopped only long
enough to work the join through their karabiners, then continued down the
second set of ropes.

“Go!” Tucker said.

Nuke and Xeno backed over onto the hull and
started down. Tucker, left alone in the gun emplacement, watched them glide
toward the first join. Further below, Beckman and Markus were already through
the second join. He clipped himself onto the rope face-first, the reverse of
how the others had repelled, then waited until Xeno and Nuke had passed the first
join. Going down head-first, he could cover them from above if needed.

“Geronimo,” he growled to himself and leapt
off the edge.

* * * *

Wal grabbed the
dynamite out of Cracker’s hand before he could trigger the detonator, then the
swarm of med drones was upon them. The men dived onto the deck as the machines
sped over their heads and streamed out through the hull breach into the sky.
The swarm curved up into a vertical climb and vanished above. The men exchanged
confused looks, then curiously approached the precipice. Outside, the swarm
climbed alongside the ropes toward Beckman and Markus, who were now only thirty
meters above them.

“Jeez!” Slab exclaimed, “There’s a couple
of maniacs abseiling down the side of the ship!”

“They’re commandos!” Cracker said.

“About bloody time!” Bill declared.

The med drones swarmed up the ropes aiming
their tranquilizer needles at the two men like tiny spears. Beckman and Markus
saw them coming at the same time, knowing a sensor had detected them. Beckman
drew his M9 Berretta, holding the rope one-handed, and began firing at the
approaching drones as he repelled down the hull toward them. Beside him, Markus
slid his MP-5 out of its chest harness. Beckman kicked sideways, away from
Markus, and squeezed off several carefully aimed shots. He struck the lead
machine without slowing it, while Markus put a short burst into the med drone
nearest him. There was an electric flash from his target, then the crippled
drone crashed down onto the machine rising beneath it. They began to fall
together, arms entangled as they bounced against the hull and spun off into the
void.

The drone Beckman fired at rose rapidly,
drifting out from the hull before it reached him. When it drew level with his
chest, it drove its needle toward his stomach. He jumped sideways, dodging the
point, which clanged harmlessly into the hull, then he kicked it with the heel
of his boot. He fired as it spun away, punching a hole through its central
disk, then it fell end over end, striking several other drones rising from
below. Other med drones circled out away from the hull, to avoid being hit,
then lunged at them quickly before darting away again to avoid being shot.
Markus fired several short bursts at the drones swarming around him, hitting
several, but crippling only one, while Beckman fired sparingly to conserve his
ammo.

Beckman loosened his grip on the rope to
drop through the machines. When Markus saw the maneuver, he immediately copied
it. Some of the med drones dived after them, while others climbed toward Nuke
and Xeno who were descending rapidly into the swarm. Beckman and Markus fired
up at the drones diving after them, unaware of the men watching from below.
When they cleared the top of the hull breach, they were startled when helping
hands caught them. Beckman whipped his gun around toward them in a reflex
action.

“Easy mate!” Cracker yelled as he stared
down the M9’s barrel.

Beckman suppressed his surprise, shedding
his backpack and dropping to one knee, firing two-handed at the med drones
swooping toward them. Markus unclipped himself from the rope and began firing
short, well aimed bursts at a controlled pace. Several drones flashed with
sparks. One crashed in front of them, another hit the hull below the breach and
a third plummeted out of control towards the ridge below. A fourth drone flew
in over their heads, turned sharply and came at Beckman from behind. It raised
its needle, aiming for his spine, then Slab slammed the butt of the rifle into
it, smashing into the tunnel wall.

Above, Nuke and Xeno dropped into the
swarm. One drone tried to stab Nuke, but he turned his backpack toward it,
deflecting the attack. Xeno kicked the needle arm of one machine away, but
another shot in behind her and drove its needle into her neck. She groaned,
then turned to Nuke with a surprised look on her face. She opened her mouth to
speak, blinked twice, then her head fell forward. Nuke kicked off the hull
toward her, but she rolled unconsciously to the side and released the rope,
which started whipping through her repelling gear as she fell. Four machines
rose toward him from below, forcing him to dart back across the hull as needles
jabbed after him. Now that Xeno was unconscious, they focused all their
attention on Nuke.

The familiar burp of Tucker’s machine gun sounded
above. The drone nearest Nuke shattered, then another. Nuke glanced up to see
Tucker free falling face-first, the machine gun in one hand, the rope in the
other. Tucker raked the two remaining drones, cutting one in half, exploding
the other. He continued past Nuke like he was performing a HALO jump, his eyes
locked on Xeno’s limp body as she bounced against the side of the ship. The
rope kept snagging in her harness, slowing her fall as she dropped past the
hull breach before anyone standing there could reach her. A moment later,
Tucker swept past like a hawk diving on its prey. He threw the machine gun
away, sending it off on its own course to the valley floor, freeing his right
hand as he neared Xeno.

Her helmet crashed sickeningly against the
hull, the impact whipping her around, causing her legs to strike the gray armor
and snag the rope across her chest. The rope shredded her jacket down to her
Kevlar body armor, slowing her descent with a jarring impact, then Tucker
grabbed her backpack’s shoulder strap, and spun mid air, throwing his hip hard
against the rope. Wisps of smoke licked from his gloves as he dragged the rope
across onto his leather belt, using it to brake one-handed.

They slowed as the end of the rope whipped
through Xeno’s karabiner, and Tucker’s grip was all that saved her from
falling. He arched his back, straining with all his strength to drag the rope
harder against his belt, almost stopping them, then the end of the rope slid
through his hand and whipped against his karabiner. He grabbed the rope above
the karabiner and squeezed hard, bringing them to a stop before the rope ran
out.

Nuke abseiled into the hull breach on the
other line, then helped Beckman and Markus blast the med drones circling
nearby. One drone avoided their fire and dived toward Tucker, its needle aimed
at his straining neck muscles. He locked his eyes onto the machine as he
struggled to hold the rope with one hand and Xeno’s unconscious form with the
other. Conan hung in its sling by his side, but he’d have to drop Xeno to reach
it. The machine’s arm retracted slightly, preparing to plunge the needle into
his neck, then a solitary crack rang out from above. The drone shuddered and
rolled sideways, revealing a single large caliber hole in its side and tumbled
away into the void. Tucker looked up to see Slab standing on the edge of the
hull breach, sighting expertly along the Browning A-bolt’s barrel, its last
cartridge expended.