Battle for Earth (42 page)

“Oi, be careful,” said Johnny. “Use your automatic targeting systems.”

No one responded. The fighter circled around. It was returning for another pass, clearly intent on finishing him off.

“Johnny Mackintosh to Blue Squadron spaceship. Hold your fire.”

The target-lock warning chimed through his cockpit. Outside he saw a streak of orange death. His Starfighter remained intact, but the attacking ship had vanished, engulfed in a fireball. Whoever was inside stood no chance. Another Atlantean fighter, this one with circular gold markings, flew across the sky.

“Johnny?” It was Louise.

Bentley barked in his ear.

“You're alive,” said Johnny. “What's going on? They were firing at me.”

“Johnny … listen.” It sounded hard for Louise to speak, as though every word was a struggle. “She's … in my head … all our heads … insects got inside our ships … made us shoot each other … You … you have to stop her … please.”

The awful truth was becoming clear. “Listen—I'm on it. But you have to fight her. Focus. Build a wall with your thoughts. Concentrate on something human … that matters to you.”

“I'll try,” she replied, sounding a little stronger.

“You hold on,” said Johnny. “I'm going in.”

The Queen's ship loomed larger through the cockpit window. He circled, looking for some means to dock. At first it appeared impenetrable, but on a second pass he spied a slit in the black-studded exterior, slowly widening. He willed his damaged ship toward it, desperate to avoid any defensive Krun fire with his shields down to twenty percent. They would take around ten
minutes to repair themselves, but he couldn't afford to wait. His wristcom, flashing nine minutes, told him Earth didn't have that long. At least the aliens were also focused on the beautiful blue planet beneath and Johnny entered the giant Queen's vessel unopposed.

Inside, he was dumbfounded to see vast numbers of empty Atlantean Starfighters and Battlecruisers filling the shuttle bay. This was where the ships had disappeared to—it was practically the whole fleet. Some were damaged and might simply have been captured, but others appeared unharmed. He landed beside a couple from Blue Squadron, grabbed a gun, opened the cockpit and was instantly engulfed by the smell of rotting cabbages. Holding his breath, he crawled out onto the wing and slid shakily to the uneven floor. Bentley followed, growling, as green blaster fire from a point in the distance shaved them.

“Run, Bents,” Johnny shouted, sprinting for a narrow exit leading into the main ship, hoping the sheepdog would follow. With Krun soldiers not far behind, he pushed through a mucous membrane, ignoring the gunk over his face, and sped on. The next chamber was large, with a vaulted roof that curved all the way down to a floor covered with the smaller pods Johnny had seen earlier. Arranged neatly in rows, close up they were larger than he'd realized. A steady background rumble was coming from behind a wall on one side, drowning out Bentley's barks, meaning the lone visible Krun, standing in front of one of the round ships, couldn't have heard them coming. Johnny thought they might surprise it, but the hive knew full well they were aboard. The alien found time to pick up a blaster with one of its four elongated arms, but Bentley was there and leapt, jaws clamping around the limb, the sound of crunching bone mingling with high-pitched scream as the weapon fell to the ground, splattered in black Krun blood.

“Professor Bond—where are you?” said Johnny into the wristcom, seeing there were less than eight minutes left. As he spoke he ran further into the chamber to hide behind the rows of spacecraft. He had to find the Australian soon or Earth would be at the Krun's mercy.

“Strewth—you made it.”

Hearing the voice in his ear, Johnny's heart leapt. There was still a chance.

“We're holding out on the level below you,” said the professor. “Look to your right—there's an opening in the corner. Once through, there's a way down from the next chamber. Hurry.”

“On my way,” said Johnny. If he aligned himself just right, he could see past the black spheres to a patch of light coming through the wall, exactly where the Australian had described. It too was covered by a curtain of gunk. He took a deep breath, preparing to run for it, but when he looked around Bentley was bounding down the row in almost the opposite direction. “Bents, come back. We don't have time for this.”

The Old English sheepdog ignored him. Johnny stopped, shouted again, but it made no difference. The background noise was so loud here, he doubted he could be heard anyway. Bentley was soon at the far wall, crouching in front of another opening in the curved surface, baring his teeth as though ready to attack. Exasperated, Johnny started after him, but green blaster fire barred his path. He scurried back, taking cover behind one of the pods near the center of the large room. He crouched on the floor, which was rough and plant-like, covered in black spreading lines, like veins. The stench was almost overpowering. The very first time he'd been taken from Earth was on a Krun freighter. That had stunk too. The soldiers were coming closer. He didn't want this to be his final time in space—for it to end like it had begun, on one of their stinking ships. He could see the route Professor Bond had told him to
go was still clear, but he wasn't about to leave Bentley behind again.

Peering around the side of the little sphere he was sheltering behind, Johnny identified the furthest of the black pods he could see, back in the direction he'd come from. He pointed the Imperial blaster and fired a steady pulse, holding the trigger down despite the weapon becoming hot in his hands. In the far corner of the room, his target was glowing red. Spikes burst out of its sides and then it exploded, sparks shooting upward, lighting up the Krun soldiers who were running toward it.

Johnny seized his chance and ran in the other direction, toward Bentley, who was still crouching tensed outside a mucous membrane covering a gap in the wall. The rumbling was much louder, like a raging torrent, reminding Johnny of Mars. He grabbed Bentley by the collar, to pull the Old English sheepdog away and back to where Professor Bond had said to go, but Bentley shook himself free and barked loudly, jumping up and passing through the thick, sticky curtain. Johnny was forced to follow. He'd been right about the noise. It might have looked like a waterfall but, despite the strange lighting inside the Krun vessel, he knew the liquid gushing down the narrow channel was red. It disappeared through a narrow gap at the foot of the wall, plummeting over a precipice. Like the weir on Mars, he now realized it must be a way to oxygenate the blood for the Queen—she'd want it to taste as fresh as possible. It was a dreadful thought.

What made him feel even more sick was that a pair of Krun workers in overalls were opening huge seed-like structures, like giant vacuum-packed Venus flytraps, out of which fell rigid human cocoons. A third Krun then placed the bodies, one at a time, into the fast-flowing torrent, where they shot over the edge away to who knew where. Although they would not have heard Johnny and Bentley enter over the din, the three Krun
turned, as one, to face them. Bentley leapt like a torpedo, his gray-and-white head striking one of the aliens in the midriff, knocking it off balance into the rivulet. The sheepdog followed. For a horrible moment Johnny thought Bentley would be swept over the edge, but the body of the Krun, larger than a man and lying across the gulley, had contrived to block the flow.

Johnny raised the Imperial blaster and, for the first time in his life, deliberately aimed at a fellow living, breathing creature. He fired. The force sent one of the aliens staggering backward, toppling dead into the channel, adding to the blockage. But Johnny felt pain too, a burning in his own chest as if his insides were shriveling up and turning black. He dropped the weapon, incapable of targeting the other Krun, who was on him in a flash. Johnny punched and kicked, but made no impact on the Krun's thick rubbery hide. The creature engulfed him, wrapping its limbs around his body and locking them tight. They fell together, the giant insect smothering him, squeezing the air out of his lungs. Next, the Krun's snout was in Johnny's face, spraying some sort of pus into his eyes—it stung like crazy. He cried out and, as he did so, more of the spray slid down his throat, tasting like poison. Johnny was pinned to the floor and knew this was a fight he had no way of winning. Then, by a miracle, the Krun's body went limp, crumpling on top of him. Johnny pushed the alien onto the ground beside him, where its arms and legs curled inward, like a dead spider.

Standing behind it was Bentley, coat dripping with human blood, but black Krun bile oozing from his jaws. Johnny wiped his stinging eyes and smiled. “Good boy, good boy,” he said, hugging his friend before standing. Though it felt foreign to him, he collected the blaster.

“Johnny, what's going on? Where are you?”

“Sorry, professor,” he said into the wristcom. “I'm coming.”
There were five and a half minutes left on the countdown.

“Hurry,” said the Australian. “We're surrounded.”

“Look, I'm doing my best, but if you can destroy the ship I think you should do it now. I know there are people on board, but it's almost reached Earth—we can't let it land. I'm sorry.” Johnny added the apology, knowing the enormity of what he was asking.

“I can't do it alone,” came the reply in his ear. “We need your help. Get down here.”

“OK,” said Johnny, but the transmission had already been terminated. He looked around the chamber. The blood in the channel had begun to force its way around the Krun bodies and a little was flowing through the gap at the bottom of the wall. Johnny wasn't about to allow that—the Queen had drunk enough human blood. He dragged one of the discarded, empty seed husks across the floor and dropped it into the gulley. There was a sound like someone sucking through a straw and, as he watched in amazement, the strange container adjusted itself to form a blood-tight seal. At once, the liquid began to spill over the sides around Johnny's feet.

“Come on, Bents,” he said, making for the curtain they'd entered through. The Old English sheepdog stood his ground and whimpered, sniffing at one of the human cocoons lying stiff in the middle of the chamber. “We can't help them,” said Johnny. “There's no time. Professor Bond needs me.” Bentley barked, but Johnny grabbed the dog's collar and this time didn't let go, dragging his blood-covered friend toward, then through, the mucous membrane and back into the vaulted room.

As soon as they reentered the space, green bolts of energy struck the walls around them. Johnny let go of Bentley and ran, but his legs were leaden and a stitch stabbed at his side. The opening in the far corner of the room looked far away, but
the sheepdog was alongside barking encouragement. Johnny had to trust in the cover of the small black ships and couldn't believe his luck as the blaster fire kept striking just behind. Finally he brushed through the curtain, which stuck fast to his face, wrapping around him like a vile blindfold. He kept going as he clawed at the sticky gunk.

“That's right, Johnny—you're almost there,” said the voice in his earpiece.

“How do you know all this?” asked Johnny. He slowed, catching his breath and pulling a thick strand of the horrid mucus out of his eyes. Finally he could see again, but a large part of him wished he couldn't. He and Bentley were surrounded by Krun soldiers who were slowly advancing, arms outstretched, reminiscent of the cannibals on Novolis. The Old English sheepdog growled and crouched low, ready to spring forward. Johnny knew to attack so many Krun meant certain death. “Easy, Bents,” he said, bending down to take hold of the dog's collar.

The circle was closing, the two of them penned in as it became smaller and smaller. Johnny edged backward into the very center of the chamber, pivoting around, waving the gun in warning, but faced by hundreds of weapons pointing back. He wondered why the aliens didn't shoot. As they crowded in within touching distance, one of them reached out a long arm and plucked Johnny's blaster from his grasp. He didn't resist.

The voice in his earpiece, Professor Bond's voice, said, “I think that should do it—just there.” A flap in the living, organic floor opened, like a trapdoor, and Johnny and Bentley fell slowly through, as if the gravity had been deliberately turned down low. Johnny found himself in the middle of a great cloud of the furry, telepathic moths and clamped his mouth tight shut. The creatures buzzed around his head
but he swatted them away and then, once through, the view cleared, revealing an enormous cathedral-like chamber. This wasn't the escape he'd been hoping for. The scene was more crowded than when Johnny had last visited here, beneath the great pyramid on Mars, but he recognized it all too well.

Along the floor, channels of blood flowed into each other, gushing down the Queen's mouth with occasional lightly cocooned bodies carried on the torrent. Johnny could still make out the spacesuits of some of Earth's pilots. Unable to contain her excitement as Johnny and Bentley landed in front of her, she rasped, “
Live ones …
”

On the other side, shaking with laughter, was Stevens in his human form. There was no sign of the Australian anywhere. Lined up behind Bugface himself stood row upon row of newly hatched Krun soldiers and, all the while, new eggs were being pushed out as the clear corrugated overhead tubes expanded and contracted. Stevens brought his arm up to his mouth and spoke into the device on his wrist. “Strewth—look what just dropped in.” The accent was a perfect impersonation of Professor Bond's. The truth dawned on Johnny: he had never been speaking with the Australian.

Seeing Bentley was about to lunge, he grabbed the sheepdog around the middle and picked him up, cradling his blood-soaked friend in his arms.

“Very wise,” said Stevens, now speaking in his normal voice. “After all, you know our Queen prefers live ones. I'd hate to have to feed her dead dog.”