Authors: Eric Brown
“Touch
it!” the alien barked at her. “Now tell me, where are Ehrin and Kahran?”
She
touched the plate with trembling fingers and said, “In the Church penitentiary,
the western tower.”
“Do
you know where it is from here? Can you direct me?”
She
wanted to laugh and try at the same time, and tell the creature that it would
not get a dozen yards along the ice canal before some citizen alerted the
authorities. “You can’t possibly go by foot!”
“I
said, can you direct me?”
She
nodded. “Yes, yes, of course. It’s—”
“Not
now,” the alien said. “Show me, okay?”
She
felt something lurch in her stomach. It wanted her to accompany it into the
centre of the city...
“We
can’t go by foot. We’d be arrested—”
The
creature gave a loud grunt and flung itself into the opposite couch. It
strapped itself in with one hand, and with the other reached up and tapped
something above its head.
Sereth
screamed. The ship was moving, rising from the floor of the freighter’s cargo
hold and turning slowly on its axis. Sereth raised her head, peered along the
length of her body to a long, narrow viewscreen beyond her feet. She saw the
inside of the hold swing dizzily. The golden ship was approaching the doors,
hovering a matter of yards above the floor. As she watched, it came to the
doors, nudged them open and passed through.
The
alien grunted, pulled a black frame from the ceiling and entwined its arms
about it. “Put your head down, girl. Hold on tight.”
The
ship lurched. Sereth screamed. Despite his command, she raised her head and
stared through the viewscreen. They were approaching the wall of the hangar at
speed. “No!”
The
nose of the ship hit the wall and it crumbled outwards, falling bricks striking
its carapace with deafening blows. Seconds later the ship passed through the
foundry wall and hovered a yard above the ice canal amid a cloud of settling
dust, its sudden emergence creating panic along the ice canal. Sereth saw
people scatter in fright, and spooked zeer rear up and bolt away down the
canal.
“Now,”
said the alien, “which way?”
Sereth
pointed south, and instantly she was thrust back on the couch. She screamed in
fear as the ship accelerated and shot up and over the rooftops of the city with
impossible speed.
Kaluchek stared in
amazement as Carrelli stepped forward, gripped the bars and spoke to the rats.
She
had always thought that there was something different about the Italian medic.
Carrelli had seemed to stand apart from the rest of the group, coolly observing
without comment; she’d known things in certain situations that she had no right
to know. Kaluchek had put it down to the fact that she was the only survivor of
the original maintenance team, and had received extra training, but that didn’t
account for her intuitive assumptions that had always proved correct... and now
this. This changed things, though Kaluchek couldn’t work out quite how things
were different, now.
It
was an odd and unsettling experience, watching the Italian-speaking rat. She
had always spoken a quiet, attractively accented form of English, never raising
her voice. Now, as if forced by the language itself, she leaned forward and
almost retched up a series of strangulated barks, high pitched and imperative.
Kaluchek
looked quickly at Joe, who was open-mouthed in amazement at the Italian’s
performance. Across the cell, Olembe was pop-eyed with surprise.
The
rats appeared equally taken aback. The small alien in the colourful tunic
dropped into a crouch, staring at Carrelli with large eyes, snout open to
reveal a set of white, needle-sharp fangs. Behind it, the red-robed alien
stepped back into the doorway.
Carrelli
ceased her linguistic contortions and paused, as if awaiting a reply. Cautiously
the small alien took a step forward and snapped out a quick yelp.
Carrelli
replied in kind, and the rat launched into a volley of yips and barks.
It
was interrupted by the robed alien, who yelped at the smaller rat, and then
turned and addressed the astonished guards. The latter sprang forward and
clutched the small rat by its short arms, almost lifting it off the ground.
The
robed rat stepped forward, dropping into a crouch and sidling into the
corridor, appraising Carrelli slantwise from massive, dark eyes.
It
barked, and Carrelli replied.
The
small alien, gripped by the guards, screwed itself round to face the robed rat,
and spat a series of high-pitched barks.
Carrelli
turned to her fellow captives and smiled. “I’ve made it clear that we come in
peace, and are no threat to them or their way of life. But I get the impression
that our very presence here, the fact of our existence, has upset things in
some way.”
“How
the hell—?” Olembe began.
“Not
now,” Carrelli said. “I think our arrival has stirred up some kind of social
unrest. Jacob here seems open to the fact of our arrival, while Red Robe is
violently opposed.”
Joe
said, “It’s called Jacob?”
Carrelli
smiled. “That’s what I call it. The coat it’s wearing,” she explained.
Before
she could go on, the small alien—Jacob, Kaluchek thought—barked at Carrelli,
who nodded and replied at length.
Whatever
she said had the effect of incensing Red Robe, who sprang forward and almost
lashed out at her through the bars in rage, literally spitting in anger.
Without
turning, Carrelli said, “It’s calling us... devils, phantoms... at any rate,
evil creatures that do not exist—”
Olembe
cut in, “What matters, Carrelli, is who’s running the show here? Natty dresser
or red riding hood?”
“Who
do you think, Friday?”
“Christ,
I knew it. You’ve really landed us in the shit now, Carrelli.”
She
turned and stared at him. “There was absolutely nothing I could have done to
appease those in power, Friday, okay?”
He
just shook his head. “So what do they do with devils on this ice ball?” he
sneered. “Burn them at the stake?”
Kaluchek
pressed herself closer to Joe and clutched his hand, fear turning her stomach.
She wished Olembe would just shut it, let Carrelli do the talking.
Carrelli
turned to Red Robe and barked.
The
rat stepped forward, inserting its dripping muzzle through the bars, and
snarled at her. Its obvious anger gave Kaluchek the creeps.
“What
the hell is it saying, Carrelli?” Olembe asked.
Carrelli
just shook her head, but from Kaluchek’s position she could see the expression
of shock on the medic’s face.
Jacob
yelped something, a single exclamation, and began a series of bucking
contortions in a bid to free itself from the grip of the guards. They held on
tight, and Red Robe barked a command, at which the guards hauled the struggling
alien towards the outer door.
“What
did they say?” Olembe demanded.
Carrelli
turned to him. “Red Robe threatened us with death, torture on some kind of
frame...”
“Jesus!”
Olembe cried.
Kaluchek
felt suddenly sick. Joe gripped her hand and held on tight, then drew her to
him.
Seconds
later a muffled explosion rocked the very foundations of the jail. Kaluchek and
Joe, seated on the floor, fell suddenly to their left. Carrelli, standing
beside the bars, staggered like someone in an earthquake and fell to her knees.
The rats in the corridor tipped into a struggling heap, yelping and barking as
one.
Seconds
later Kaluchek heard a second blast, sharper though not as earth-shaking. Alien
cries came from beyond the corridor door, followed by a fusillade of what might
have been rifle shots, echoing deafeningly in the confines of the building. The
guards released Jacob and pulled weapons from their belts, short
antique-looking pistols. They slipped through the door, almost slinking like
the animals they resembled, and moments later Kaluchek heard screams as one rat
fell in a spume of dark blood. Jacob leapt at the bars and clung on while Red
Robe, cowering in the corner of the corridor, appeared to be gabbling prayers
to itself.
Then
the corridor wall disintegrated in a shower of pulverised stone and choking
dust. When the dust cleared, Kaluchek stared at what was revealed.
In
the settling silence, a tall creature—an alien unlike the others—appeared in
the gaping rent where the wall had been. Beside it, tiny by comparison, was
another rat-like being. As she watched, the rat sprang over the rubble and ran
towards Jacob; she thought at first it was attacking him, then realised her
mistake. The new alien was touching Jacob with solicitous paws, their snouts
meeting and rubbing with what might have been affection.
Then
the giant strode over the rubble in a single step, crouching to fit itself into
the confines of what had been the corridor, and yelped at Jacob. The small
alien looked up and replied.
Kaluchek
was surprised by the giant’s reaction: it bellowed, hitting out to strike the
bars with a balled fist. It addressed Jacob again.
Jacob
keened—that was the only word for it, Kaluchek thought. It flung back its head
and howled into the air.
The
giant barked, dragging Jacob from the bars and towards the rubble. Jacob cried
out, gesturing back towards the imprisoned humans. The giant stopped for a
second, looked back at the four in the cell and seemed to be considering.
Only
later did it come to Kaluchek that things could have been very different if the
giant had come to another decision.
The
giant stepped forward and barked something at Carrelli. She stepped back and
the alien aimed a weapon at the bars. It fired, and a bar ignited and melted
down its length like a candle. The gap was just wide enough for Carrelli to
squeeze through, followed by Olembe, who had more difficulty. Kaluchek helped
Joe to his feet, taking his weight and easing him across the cell and through
the bars.
The
giant, its duty to Jacob discharged, hurried from the corridor.
Ahead,
on the piled rubble, Jacob turned and gestured for the humans to follow. Then
it scrambled away, gripping the paw of its recently arrived friend.
Carrelli
led the way, stumbling over the rubble. The giant was ahead, firing its weapon
through the ruins of what had been the jail. The rats returned fire, Kaluchek
hearing the whining ping of ricocheting bullets striking off masonry. In the
distance she made out the bobbing heads of the militia as they appeared above
the debris and took aim.
The
giant grabbed Jacob again, shook it and yelped. By way of a reply, Jacob
pointed down a corridor still intact. The giant barged its way through the
opening, followed by the others. Seconds later it came to a cell, blasted open
the door and stooped to enter.
Kaluchek
and the others came up behind it, staring past the bulk of the giant. In the
tiny cell, a rat was bound to a chair. It was clearly dead, the victim of
torture. Its lungs had been pulled through the smashed ribs on either side of
its spine. Its muzzle gaped, frozen horribly in a silent scream.
Jacob
moaned and looked away. The giant alien touched the dead rat once, on the head,
with a gesture that, from a hand so massive, was at once touching and absurd.
Then
it turned and squeezed from the cell, beckoning the others to follow. Her heart
racing, Kaluchek gripped Joe by the hand and ran after the giant through the
tumbled ruins of the jail towards a source of grey light in the distance.
The
closer they came to the outer wall of the jail, the greater the opposition they
encountered. The giant had evidently blasted its way through numerous rooms and
corridors on its way to the cells; the ruins of the jail provided a network of
partially standing walls behind which the militia concealed themselves and
fired at will.
Kaluchek
ducked as bullets whined around her. The giant returned fire with its blaster
turning piles of debris to blazing slag and accounting for dozens of screaming
rats with each shot. To her right, Olembe dodged the bullets; Kaluchek found
herself willing him not to get hit, amazed that in the heat of the moment
thoughts of revenge were still uppermost.
Joe
staggered along beside her, breathing hard and struggling to keep up. She
slowed her pace, held him all the tighter.
The
spectacular escape was all very well, she thought, but she hoped that the alien
had thought through what they might do when they’d fled the jail. They would
still be in a hostile city, surrounded by aliens after their blood, and the
even greater barrier of the encircling mountains.
Seconds
later the giant staggered as a bullet ripped into its shoulder, a gobbet of
meat the size of a fist exploding from its back, narrowly missing Kaluchek.
Amazingly the giant continued running, firing its blaster with its free hand
while its left arm hung useless on tattered shreds of muscle.