Was Once a Hero (19 page)

Rigg
and Mmok walked up to Fenaday and Shasti.
 
“Orders?” Rigg asked.

Fenaday
gestured with his head toward Shasti.

“The
tarmac won’t allow us to dig in,” she said.
 
“I want a portable fence barrier constructed.
 
Set the electrical current at lethal levels
for Conchirri.
 
Make sure the scientists
know the monofilament wire will cut skin at a touch and is difficult to see.”

“We
could leave the light source in the wires on active,” Rigg said.
 
“You can see it even in daylight.”

“Agreed.

“Mmok,”
she continued, “put your crab robots on the perimeter.
 
I’ll keep gunners constantly manning the top
turrets in the shuttles.
 
You and your
HCRs can escort the scientific party as soon as they unpack the motorized mules
from the shuttles.”

Rigg
saluted and left.
 
Mmok grunted and
followed him.

The
sky clouded, but the rain held off as the science teams investigated
Gigor.
 
Duna and Mourner sampled and
analyzed, visiting the destroyed ships and barracks buildings as engineers
tried to revive some of the port’s computers.
 
Despite their efforts they learned little.
 
A concentrated force had struck the ships and
shuttles at the center of the base, though it appeared not to have been in a form
of an energy beam.
 
Gigor showed evidence
of seismic shock in some areas and none in others.
 
Often, they encountered what they began
calling “the stirred effect.”

As
night fell, so did the weather.
 
A
furious lightning storm broke over the field.
 
Everyone retreated to the shuttles, save for Landing Force Troops on
guard duty.
 
They sat in the mules, which
were grounded by their tires, putting up the plastic tops that gave only an
illusion of shelter.
 
Guards in ponchos
cursed their commanders for not simply relying on Mmok.
 
The robots were capable of grounding
themselves and stood indifferent to the storm.
 
The torrent blew out quickly, as if it had spent its strength.
 
Half an hour after it began, the stars came
out.

Fenaday
ordered everyone not on guard back into the shuttles.
 
It was tight but manageable with mules and
other equipment off-loaded.
 
Beyond Duna,
no one felt much like sleeping out under the stars.
 
Enshar’s animal life, especially the birds,
manifested itself more with the setting of the sun.
 
The robots and the gunners loaded infra-red
prints of the native life in their weapon computers.
 
It was probably the only way anybody would
get any sleep.
 
Nervous snipers, he did
not need.

Fenaday
sat with Shasti and Telisan in the left side hatchway of the shuttle
Pooka
, each too keyed up from the day’s
events to sleep yet.
 
They kept their
weapons with them, but nothing seemed threatening.
 
The light element in the barrier wire made a
delicate tracery of white light around their perimeter.
 
It would make a perfect beacon had someone
tried to range on them with a mortar, but as yet there had been no sign of any
conventional enemy on Enshar.

“I
didn’t think I would be looking at stars tonight,” Fenaday said quietly.

“We
are okay so far,” Shasti replied, “though no closer to finding any answer as to
what happened and why.
 
The scientists
have been unable to find a computer with any useful information in it.
 
They’re shorted electrically, damaged by
electromagnetic pulse, deteriorated due to lack of care, or simply show nothing
useful.”

“Still,”
Telisan said, optimistic as ever, “we are alive and nothing has menaced us
other than the weather.”

Fenaday
shook his head.
 
“Until we know what
happened and why, no one dares bring the few remaining Enshari or anyone else
back here.
 
Our contract with you says we
stay till Duna finds the answer or gives up.
 
Who is to say what will happen tomorrow?”

“You
are,” Shasti answered.
 
“What does happen
tomorrow?”

“The
science team recommends we check out the
Earhart
shuttles,” he replied.
 
“After that, Duna wants to stop at his home.
 
Beyond that, I don’t know.”

“Well,
since I have the early morning watch,” Telisan said, “I am going to get some
sleep.
 
Wake me if the world decides to
end first.”

Fenaday
smiled at the retreating Denlenn.
 
Shasti
nodded pleasantly.
 
She appeared to
accept Telisan as a companion now, but Fenaday couldn’t help but wonder if
Mandela was right about her being capable of sabotaging a shuttle with Telisan
and Duna aboard.
 

“That’s
probably a good idea,” she said.
 
“Why
don’t you do the same?
 
I’ll take the
first watch.
 
I want to get something
else to eat any way.”

“That
reminds me,” he said, with a smile.
 
Reaching into the pocket of his flight suit, Fenaday pulled out a large
chocolate bar.
 
“It’s broken, I’m
afraid.”

“Ah,”
she said, snatching it out of his hands, “it will taste just as good.
 
I thought you were sure we would be dead
after we landed?”

“Well,
I wasn’t sure what scared me more, Enshar, or being down on Enshar with you,
without chocolate.”

“Is
there more?” she asked suspiciously.

“We’ll
see,” he replied. “Good night.”
 
Fenaday’s bunk was just inside the hatchway.
 
He fell asleep the instant his head hit the
pillow.

Chapter Ten

Morning is surprisingly chilly for this time
of the year,
thought Fenaday.
 
He
clutched his leather jacket a little closer and looked over his coffee cup at
the lightening eastern sky.
 
The sunlight
of the big star made for quite a predawn show.
 
He’d slept hard and deep, waking early, alert and energetic.
 
Maybe
it’s just joy at still being alive,
he thought.
 
Fenaday stuck his nose in the plas-steel cup
and breathed the coffee scent deep into his lungs.
 

“It
is definitely not a good day to die,” he whispered to himself.

“There
are no good days for that,” Shasti said from behind him.

He
turned and smiled.
 
“Good ears, Ms.
Rainhell.”

She
arched an eyebrow at him.
 
“The better to
hear bad, ugly things sneaking up on you, Captain.”

“Good.
 
Listen very carefully,” he said.
 
“This could be a long day.”

“If we
are lucky,” she replied.
 

The
exploratory team broke camp after field showers and a hastily cooked breakfast which
were their only luxuries.
 
The camp’s
defenders packed up the barrier wire and trooped into the big
Dakota
shuttles, which lifted off, covering
each other.

Fenaday
led the way in
Pooka
, though he left
the actual flying to Angelica Fury.
 
 
Banshee
trailed with Karass at the
controls, followed by
Farriq-Dar
.
 
They maintained a combat-ready formation as
they headed for the outskirts of Gigor base.
 
The first Enshar expedition had landed twenty-one kilometers from the
base.
 
Earhart’s
captain had intended to do a long-range ground recon
before moving into Gigor but the Confed force was overwhelmed at their landing
site.

Tension
grew as they neared the site of the first landing.
 
Pooka
slowed and the other two shuttles climbed for altitude.

“There
they are,” announced Telisan.
 
His sharp
eyes spied the camouflaged shuttles, set down in what was once a farmer’s
field.
 
The Denlenn’s face became grim
and his eyes glittered.
 
Fenaday
remembered Telisan had friends in those shuttles.
 
He certainly had them among the fighters
wrecked in the area.
 
Mercifully, none of
the
Earhart’s
crashed fighters lay
near the shuttles.

Foliage
partially covered
Earhart’s
shuttles.
 
The three large
Wolverine
class assault-shuttles, many
times more dangerous than Fenaday’s old
Dakotas
,
sat in a landing triangle.
 
Each ship faced outward in the textbook deployment pattern.
 
Their standard gray-green camouflage, dulled
by years of sun and dirt, blended well with the local equivalent of wheat or
corn.
 
Vegetation covered the clear
plas-steel gun turrets.
 
Nothing could be
seen of their interiors from the hovering
Pooka.

Fenaday
looked over Telisan’s shoulders.
 
“I
don’t fancy dropping into head-high ground cover.
 
We won’t be able to see a damn thing.”

“There
are a few ways to clear foliage,” replied Telisan.
 
“Daisycutter bombs, laser or chain gun fire,
none of which seems practical.”

“There’s
more than one way to skin a cat,” Mmok quoted, “and they’re all fun.”

Telisan
half turned in his seat, his eyes narrowing.
 
“Does thee have something to say?”
 
Clear warning sounded in the Denlenn’s voice.

Mmok’s
half grin faded slightly.
 
“The robots
can do it.
 
We hover at ten meters as
they jump in.
 
They use monofilament to
cut the grass and gather it up so we don’t start fires on landing.
 
The galaxy’s most expensive weed whackers.”

Telisan
looked at Fenaday, who nodded.

“Do
it,” commanded Telisan.

“Fury,
hover in the center of the landing triangle,” Mmok ordered.

The
HCRs jumped off the rear ramp of the shuttle
Pooka
as the crabs fell from their hookups under the shuttles.
 
Shasti and her trouble squad, wearing hearing
protection and secured to brackets at the hatchway, covered them.
 
The robots quickly deployed and strung monofilament
between pairs.
 
They cut a huge swath
through the area, uncovering each
Wolverine,
drawing no reaction.
 
HCRs easily cleared
the cut material.
 
Fenaday ordered
Pooka
to land.
 
As they came down, the robots stamped out any
small fires that broke out and then fell back on the
Pooka
.

Hatches
popped and nervous faces peered out over leveled weapons.
 
Fenaday and Telisan joined Mmok and Shasti on
the large rear ramp.
 
One of the
Wolverines
sat a scant forty meters
away.
 
Fury stayed at the controls, ready
to lift at the first sign of trouble.
 
After a minute, Fenaday gave her the sign to cut the engines and quiet
descended.

Fenaday
looked from face to face.
 
Only Shasti
and Mmok looked unconcerned

“The
robots report no animal life closer than four hundred meters, and those signals
are retreating rapidly,” Mmok reported.

Fenaday
nodded, then turned to the radiotech, Susan Bernard, “Call the other shuttles
down.
 
Have them land close to us.
 
We’re going over to
Wolverine Six
.”

He
hopped off the ramp, followed by Telisan, Shasti, Duna, Mmok and the trouble
team.
 
Everyone wore disposable
chemical-biological warfare suits.
 
The
Confed shuttles had lain sealed for over two years.
 
Their interiors would not be pleasant.

Sidhe’s
other shuttles grounded as
Fenaday’s party reached
Wolverine Six
.
 
Telisan looked up at the gray-green hull and
climbed onto its left thruster, reaching for the keypad.
 
Before keying the opening sequence, he looked
into the small battle porthole, shining a torch.

“Bodies,”
he said grimly, “lying around on the deck.
 
Debris everywhere.”
 
He backed
away and touched the keypad.
 
Nothing
happened.
 
“As I suspected,” said
Telisan.
 
“Power is out and the
electronics are fried.
 
I’m going to use
the emergency lever.”

Telisan
reached down to a panel surrounded by yellow and black stripes, marked
“Emer-Release.”
 
Everyone else covered
the door.
 
The hydraulics still worked
and door whooshed open slowly, outward and down, forming a ramp.
 
The smell that rolled out made them all seal
their masks.
 
Not the sickly sweet smell
of rotting meat but a musty odor of mold and decay.
 
Fenaday, Shasti, Telisan and Mourner entered.
 
Gunnar came as far as the door, looked in and
backed out cursing.
 
He seemed happy to stand
on the ramp.
 
Fifty bodies lay inside the
forty-five meter
Wolverine
.
 
Most were in the back, where they formed an
unpleasant mass on the floor.
 
The
bodies, sealed in the airtight shuttle, had not gone to bone or been devoured.
 
Natural fungus and the microbes carried by
all life had degraded them.
 
They’d
turned into mold gardens.
 
Mourner called
for Yamata and Vashti to get into suits and join her.