Battle for Earth (12 page)

Clara had crawled alongside Johnny. As long as she was lying down with no chance of falling, she seemed capable of peering over the edge.

“Then tell her it will not be long now,” said Stevens as he whipped the chained translator. “I have narrowed the search to a very few sites.”

“See to it that it is not,” replied the Krun. “The Queen is satisfied. You may transform—we will report directly to her.”

Stevens didn't need telling twice. He practically ran to the cubicle. The other Krun gathered in the middle of the room, linking arms, and the section of floor beneath them began to descend into the pyramid. Once out of sight a replacement piece of flooring slid across. Meanwhile, the globe portraying the slowly rotating Earth vanished.

“Quickly,” said Johnny, jumping to his feet. “We have to follow them.” He began running around the elevated walkway that bounded the chamber, toward some steps that led down one wall. Clara remained rooted to the spot. “Come on—they're getting away.” She tried to stand, but was shaking too much to manage it. In reality, it was such a short distance from the walkway down to the floor that Johnny supposed it wouldn't do too much harm. “OK—just this once, fold yourself down,” he said.

Clara shook her head. “You don't understand. It might be the end if I did, but I can't anyway—not even if I wanted to. I could never do it when there's a drop. It's stupid, but it's the vertigo.”

If it weren't so serious, Johnny would have laughed. He ran back, took his sister's hand and said, “Close your eyes and I'll guide you. Quickly … Bugface will be out soon.”

Clara nodded, but the process of leading her around the walls and down the stone staircase was far from quick. Finally on the solid floor, they ran over toward the spot where the Krun had exited. Clara stopped beneath the floating Hundra. “We have to do something.”

White bubbles still filled the cubicle in the corner as Stevens
immersed himself in his original DNA. The process wouldn't take long. Johnny tried to find exactly where the Krun had been standing to take their elevator, but the join in the floor was invisible. It had to be there somewhere. Trying to remain calm, he closed his eyes, hoping to sense some special flow of electricity beneath his feet. The room was alive with different currents, but there was one that stood out above all the others, shining like a searchlight inside his skull. The pyramid contained an orichalcum core, the special mineral of the Atlanteans, and Johnny was standing directly above it. Lining a circular shaft, it marked the exact center of the pyramid. He'd found it. He saw how to work it. With his mind he summoned the elevator before turning to his sister. Across the room, foam was beginning to drain from the shower cubicle. Over by the Hundra Clara had pulled the chains, drawing it down to near floor level—the poor creature was badly hurt, the scars in its hide looking deep and raw. For most inhabitants of the galaxy, to touch one of these ancient translators meant instant, painful death, but Johnny had long ago discovered it was otherwise for him. Now, equally impervious to harm, his sister was tenderly stroking the rough hide of the bruised creature while she began unbuckling its harness.

“We have to hurry,” said Johnny as he ran over to help free the tethered alien. A motor whirred beneath the floor in the center of the room—the elevator was coming. Johnny wondered what he'd do if it proved full of Krun. The safety net of having Clara fold them to escape any situation had gone.

Clara was struggling to undo the final buckle, buried within a deep gash in the Hundra's side. The DNA shower in the far corner emptied—out stepped Stevens in his true form.

“You!” said the Krun, running into the center of the room to block their escape.

Finally the Hundra was released and, despite the danger
they were facing, Johnny felt he could cry with happiness as the tiny piece of another being's soul within him exploded with joy. Stevens made a horrid, chirruping sound as he reached for a blaster. The Hundra lifted into the air and flew toward the Krun.

“Come on,” said Johnny, seeing their chance of escape. He knew the elevator had arrived and, with Clara running beside him, followed after the flying creature as it dive-bombed Stevens. The Krun was forced to flee. Johnny pulled Clara onto the right spot and willed the elevator to descend. Stevens was running around the room screaming, pursued by the Hundra. Agonizingly slowly, the floor began to sink as they started their journey down the pyramid. Above their heads the shaft sealed itself shut. They'd escaped for now, but with Stevens linked to the collective, every other Krun on the planet would know Johnny and Clara were on Mars. It was definitely time to leave.

The descent was taking an age, but at least this central shaft was enclosed and free from the Krun crud. Its orichalcum-clad walls hummed with power, and the murals they passed depicted scenes from Atlantis of blue-robed priests, the building of a great tower and even the erection of a huge arch. The images felt like they went on forever, as if they were traveling a very long way down.

They exited into a wide tunnel, irregular patches of light shining dimly from behind the walls and roof. A constant background rumble told Johnny they were near water and, as his eyes adjusted to the gloom, he saw a steep-sided narrow channel running along the center, carrying a fast-flowing underground river. Johnny knew there used to be surface water on Mars, so he supposed he shouldn't be surprised to see this beneath it. What he didn't like were the spherical black pods lining the far bank. They opened in unison, lights from inside each one silhouetting a single Krun soldier.

Green blaster fire from one of the nearest grazed Johnny's shoulder, burning off a piece of his spacesuit and drawing blood. He ducked, gritting his teeth against the pain and pulling his sister down with him. They took cover behind some sort of hard, resin-covered object on the floor, one of a series of rough cylinders either side of the deep gulley, each a couple of meters long. It didn't feel like it would protect them for long. Behind, the elevator rose up and away, leaving them stranded. He looked to Clara to take them out of there, but she shook her head. It was as if the image of his sister trapped within the Klein fold was reflected back at him in her eyes.

The Krun soldiers on the far bank stepped forward, guns blazing. As they reached the edge of the gulley they kicked the objects lining the bank so they rolled down into the river channel. Each shot downstream at high speed. Cowering behind their flimsy defense, Johnny couldn't see any way out. They were pinned down, horribly exposed, and under the barrage of blaster fire their flimsy cover was disintegrating around them. He pointed along the tunnel and crawled, keeping as low as possible until reaching the shelter of the next of the rough cylinders. This one was still intact. Clara tried to follow, but was driven back. Then, as one, the soldiers ceased firing and she scuttled across. Behind, the elevator had returned, allowing another Krun to step out on their side of the bank and waddle slowly toward them. Pressed to the ground beside his sister, Johnny looked up at the ugly, six-limbed creature he thought he recognized.

“I can't think of a better way for you to go,” said Stevens. “She wants live ones—I'll give her live ones.” The Krun cracked a whip into the ground right in front of them, sending sparks flying into the air. Clara tried to back away, causing whatever they'd taken cover behind to start rolling down the steep bank.

“Jump,” shouted Johnny, but Clara was one step ahead. They
landed in the center of the torrent, grabbing hold of the big float just before it caught the current and shot like a cork out of a bottle, zooming downstream toward a distant point of light.

It was all Johnny could do to hold on. He wasn't sure what they were heading toward, but anything that led away from Stevens and the Krun soldiers had to be good. A constant rumble in the distance was becoming louder all the time, like the cascading of a waterfall. The terrible image of Niagara Falls came into his mind—he had to believe such a thing couldn't exist—not underground—not in this place. He fought to keep his head above the water. Solid objects carried along below the surface kept brushing his legs while, up above, long flaps, like pieces of skin, hung from the tunnel roof and slid over his face.

“
Live ones … feed me live ones
.”

Their float was heading toward the same deep voice Johnny had heard earlier. They were also nearing the end of the tunnel. They burst into the light as the cave opened out and the roaring of the river lessened. For the first time Johnny could see that, whatever was carrying them along, it wasn't water. A bright red liquid frothed and bubbled around them, the same color as at the base of the pyramid.

The float flew into the air as the red torrent gave way beneath them. Johnny thought they were done for, but the drop was quite small—it was only a weir. Even so he couldn't hold on and was dragged below the surface. Eyes closed, tumbling in the strong current, he thrashed out in panic, but a surprisingly strong arm clamped itself around his neck and pulled his face up into the air. Clara kicked out strongly, dragging Johnny backward into the calmer flow beside the bank. Now he could see the solid objects being carried in the swill. He retched—there were fingers and toes and even half a skull, its eyes part detached but held on by nerve strands. They rounded a bend and passed under several more of the skin-like flaps. Clara
grabbed one to stop them being carried further downstream and Johnny followed suit. Taking a handful of the hanging folds he used them to climb up and onto the bank, from where he helped his sister out.

A mass of other solid objects had washed up nearby, including whole arms and legs, and some clothes. This time, Johnny really was sick. After vomiting uncontrollably, he turned to see Clara doing the same. Then he noticed something he was sure he recognized—a silly, jester's hat, just like the juggler had been wearing in Trafalgar Square. He didn't want to think about what had happened to bring it halfway across the solar system to here.

At last they stood together on the bank, spacesuits dripping red. The ground beneath their boots was squidgy and soft. The stench made Johnny want to be sick again.

“
Live ones
,” came the voice from all around, as if inside his head.

“Clara,” said Johnny desperately. “Are you sure you can't fold us out of here?”

“Please, Johnny. Don't say that. I mustn't,” she replied. “I can't do it.”

He knew she wasn't meant to be folding
all
the time, but this did seem an emergency. They walked together along the bank beside the frothing river of blood, searching for a way out until they finally came to a gap in the wall beside them. To enter, they had to push through another horrid sticky curtain of mucus. On the other side the space opened out and they stopped. It was hard to believe an underground cave could be so big—like a cathedral, with great bone-like struts lining the walls and ceiling and filled with row upon row of the birthing sacs they'd seen before. Even as they watched, more were appearing, deposited from organic, see-through tubes that moved across the roof before lowering them all the way down
to the floor and then planting whole new line after whole new line.

“I have a really bad feeling about this,” said Clara.

“You and me both,” he replied.

Despite the suit around him, Johnny suddenly felt cold. Then, before he could even begin to think what to do, he was hoisted into the air by one of the crane-like tubes. It held him, dangling upside down, his feet clamped by ugly black pincers as it swung him through the air over the rows of eggs. He saw Clara behind him—exactly the same thing had happened to her. Blood rushed to his head as he passed over thousands of the miniature blobs, some moving within their eggs, all destined to become more Krun. The thing carried him forward to the very end of the cavern until he was hovering above a vat filled with a thick milky batter.

It was instinct. He reached up a hand and pressed the button on his collar just as the tube released him. His bubble helmet encased him a fraction of a second before he hit the surface. He shouted into the microphone, “Helmet, Clara—use the helmet.”

His body stiffened. He battled to move his arms and legs, but it was like wading through thick mud and in no time at all they were stuck fast—he was being cocooned. The helmet too was almost totally covered, but he could still see through a couple of slivers. Something banged into him. “Clara, are you OK?” he shouted.

“I mustn't fold, Johnny. I'm sorry, I mustn't. You saw it too.” His sister sounded desperate, but at least they were both still alive.

Johnny was plucked from the vat and dropped into another river of blood flowing slowly but unstoppably forward toward a set of giant, salivating jaws.

“
Live ones
,” said the voice. “
Fresh meat at last
.”

He couldn't move—his body had set rigid. He was about
to become the Queen's next meal. “Clara!” he yelled from his cocoon. “It's the Queen—she's going to eat me.”

He reached the mouth … he was between the jaws … sticky saliva spattered the thin slivers through which he watched, terrified … then he found himself sitting, very awkwardly, in the pilot's seat of the
Bakerloo
. He heard Clara's sobs coming from the inside of his helmet but, set rigid, was unable to turn around. “I owe you big time,” Johnny said to her. His sister's ability to fold space had saved them before, but this had been a really close shave. He heard another voice scream with frustration and wondered where it came from. Though he couldn't move a millimeter, the shuttle shot skyward—it was a wonderful thing that it worked by thought control. He didn't care about the dispersion field—he trusted his little ship to get through it. He was desperate to reach home and the comfort of the
Spirit of London
. His own senses merged with the
Bakerloo
's and, as they crossed the boundary into the field, the pain became intense. He fought to shut it out.