Outward Borne (28 page)

One-by-one the men had climbed
down through the narrow opening, knocking off bits of the cracked
and crumbled deck aggregate as they went. A rope ladder hung away
into the dark void. They slowly made their way into the ObLaDas’
habitat. The light was dim and they could see little. The place was
subtly different, the dimensions, odd things lying around. The men
gagged and choked on the foul air, as they hurried past. They were
fortunate, though they did not know it, that the smelly oils held
back the airborne allergens that would have quickly fouled their
lungs. Godomir was worried that they would not be able to move or
fight effectively in this stench and pleaded with LemTer to clear
the air. This he did, though he could smell nothing
amiss.

The fabrication floor was nearly
surrounded by buildings. Long single-story storage huts and closely
spaced working bays lined the left and right sides of the open
space, while the two-story buildings in front were separated by a
wide passages that led through the living quarters to the shuttles.
There were few openings into the area and most of those had been
blocked off. Tall, three-sided wedges had been set on end and lined
up leaving only narrow gaps between them, just enough for a single
Grack to squeeze through. The People had only one real advantage,
their superior numbers, but many of the men were without weapons.
Even so, there were sixty armed men in place by the time the Gracks
arrived. It should be enough to prevail against Durack and his
eleven soldiers.

Godomir had read about shield
walls and his ancient Saxon ancestors. Men, shoulder-to-shoulder,
shield-to-shield, who would work as one to push their enemy back
onto its own lines until they were immobilized by the crush those
behind. But it would be the Gracks, three times the size of his
biggest man, who would come wading forward and shove them against
the walls to be chopped apart. Maybe the barriers would prevent
this, if not, he had the three heavy bots, each with a hunk of door
panel tied across their front for protection. He hoped the bots
could push the Gracks apart and isolate one or two.

They were here now, dark shapes in
a dark room. The men strained to get glimpses of the Gracks as they
gathered along the far edge. Those who had weapons carried long
spears or axes. A few had shorter spears with UnaDar’s detachable
points. They divided themselves into squads of twenty, each with a
leader who was supposed to keep in contact with Godomir. Godomir
was sure they could kill some Gracks, but how many men would he
lose?

Durack brought all the Gracks into
the large open space where they spread out in a shallow arc in
front of the wide entryway and waited. He told Yacork to find
something that could be made into shields, tall ones, head to foot.
They needed to hold together long enough to force their way through
the gap between the wedges. When Yacork was ready, Durack had all
the Gracks move quickly to their right, toward the first wedge. The
two shield bearers went up to the narrow opening. Each shield was
large enough to completely block the passage. When all were in
place, the first shield pushed through the opening into the line of
human troops. Upok swung to the left, but did it too quickly. Her
side exposed, two spears slid into her leg before the second shield
could move into place. The two Gracks used their size and force to
push the men back, leaving room for more Gracks to pass through the
wedge. Suddenly, Durack had six warriors on each side of the
barriers. The Gracks began to move up the line into the swarm of
humans, pushing them back.

Godomir was stunned at how quickly
the Gracks had disrupted his strategy, but he quickly moved a mass
of men through the wedges to spread them out as much as possible.
The Gracks began to come forward in unison. Whatever organization
existed among the People was lost. The men shouted at the dark
aliens before them as they struggled back in confusion. When the
heavy brutes stepped forward, some more men charged, spears
lowered, into line of Gracks, but the effort did little damage as
the long spears proved ineffective. The Gracks were too quick. They
easily batted the spear shafts aside and stepped inside the points.
The short, heavy axes looked clumsy, but had more impact. Whenever
a blow could be landed it caused a serious wound, but to do so was
nearly suicidal. Well within reach of the Gracks powerful arms, the
men were easily clubbed down. Worse, the axes became prize
positions. The Gracks threw down their makeshift clubs and grabbed
the weapons from the dying men. They were smaller than they would
have liked, perhaps, but good enough to cut through these little
people.

There was shouting on the far left
of the line, almost cheers, and Godomir ran to see what had
happened. Two Gracks had been pulled away from the others and were
being taken down. UnaDar’s spears had proven to be more effective
than even he imagined. Ebert came upon a beast as it tried to pull
its axe out of the back of some poor fellow. He had gotten a strong
thrust into the side of the Grack, but he forgot that the spear had
a detachable tip and when he yanked it back to give another thrust,
the cable snapped tight against the point twisting it and pulling
the flesh within the wound. The Grack, near fainting from the
sudden pain, stumbled sideways, away from the protection of it
band.

The fight dragged on. Only three
Gracks had been brought down, but already he floor of the
fabrication room was littered with dead and was slippery with
blood. The Gracks had pulled together and were striding forward,
swaying to the right and then to the left as the stepped over the
bodies to push the remaining troops back ever farther. The men were
no longer getting in good blows with their axes. UnaDar’s spears
had been used up long ago.

Godomir pressed forward, closer to the
fighting to better see what was happening. He was worried, when
Ragnar pulled him aside. One of the heavy bots was moving forward,
slowly, but as fast as it could travel. The robot climbed over two
bodies and hit the Gracks’ line, pushing it back, knocking one
fighter down where it was hacked repeatedly, and another was caught
against the side of a wedge, helpless. It was speared through one
of the dark pits on its head and killed. The Gracks quickly grasped
what had happened, and when the next robot came forward, they
stepped to the side and flipped it over. The slaughter continued
into the second hour.

Lexax, the largest female in the
Grack line, had taken a cut on the arm and had dropped her club in
the struggle. She backed away from the ongoing fight and leaned
against a wall to bind up her wound. She was next to the to a dark
opening that went into the mass of buildings next to the
fabrication area. It was narrow alley, but it seemed to go a long
way. Lexax thought that it might be a way to get behind the
Peoples’ army.

Yubek had been bitten by one of
the hounds the day before and the badly festering wound had drained
his stamina. He needed to rest repeatedly to stay in the fight, and
now he had suffered another cut. Lexax treated his wound while
telling of her plan. Yubek was reluctant to leave the yard, but
agreed to a quick look into the passage to see where it led. The
alley was very dark, Lexax and Yubek climbed over some debris and
moved slowly, feeling their way in the darkness. They were led on
by sounds of the battle that seemed to come from some distance
ahead. Lexax was right, the passage led to the last remaining exit
the humans had in their control. If they could get there, come from
behind, and block their escape route, they would make quick work of
the remaining men. The Gracks could have their much-needed decisive
victory.

Lexax was about to run forward
anticipating a triumph when a very bright light snapped on, a
blinding bright. She tried to fend it off and bent forward just as
two arrows flew by. A dog was barking. Where was it? Lexax stood
shoulder-to-shoulder with Yubek to keep the things from getting
behind them. Something was screaming. She wanted to lash out at the
sound. Two spear points slammed into her side. She could do little
but swing her ax back and forth to keep the things away.

Clovic was almost as surprised as
the Gracks by the sudden encounter. He had heard a scraping sound
in the corridor ahead. Heneric heard it as well and switched on the
lights and there they were. Two of them, so large the entire alley
seemed to be blocked. It all happened very fast, one of the beasts
ducked as an arrow hit the top of its body. It let out a scream,
its toothless mouth gaping open. He would never forget the sight.
The beast seemed enraged and threw its ax at them, missing Clovic
but striking Achaea in the chest, buried deep. The Gracks started
to back away. Sighard lost his discipline and pushed his way ahead,
silhouetted by the light, his head was smashed away before he could
raise his arm to protect himself. Clovic pushed forward pressing
the Gracks back into the fabrication room, but stopped there. He
desperately wanted get near enough to use his own ax and avenge
Achaea’s death, but it would be suicide to move into the open area.
He started to back away into the dark, when wham, the whole floor
shook.

The end came quickly. Cwen, who
considered herself to be Clovic’s cousin because he looked so much
like her, had been watching the fighting, and was appalled by the
blood and carnage. She was five years older than Clovic, Achaea’s
age, and had never seen another person receive an injury, much less
watch rows of men being cut to pieces. The experience overwhelmed
her as she looked on without a rational thought. The moving bots
finally got through to her. Perhaps there was another way to end
this fighting, something she could do. Cwen found the control box,
and with UnFel’s help, worked out how to maneuver the overhead
cranes. One held a large steel dolly; the flat wagon was heavy
enough to support the most massive equipment. Far above, unnoticed,
the crane moved toward the Gracks and when Cwen thought it was in
the right place, the dolly fell.

Two Gracks were killed instantly,
and the balance of force had suddenly changed. Durack had now lost
six of his eleven fighters, with several others badly injured. He
could see more cranes above and other things that could be dropped
from the heights. Forcibly, Durack pulled his fighters away, and
pushed them toward the conduit, while carrying one of the injured
females. Lexax and Yubek stumbled away from the alley. There was a
human there. Lexax turned and looked at the feeble thing, pressing
it back by the force of hatred emanating from her pit-covered lump.
Only two Gracks were uninjured.

It was a sad day. True, the Gracks had been
driven back, but there were forty-eight dead lying across the
floor. They were people who Godomir had known all of his life.
Several others were injured, close friends. It would be hard and
painful task to move the wounded up to their habitat. Godomir could
think of little beyond the devastation of the morning’s
battle.

LemTer, however relieved, had
rapidly renewed fears that the Gracks would attack the Control
Facility. Some had gotten away, but they had gone no farther than
the conduit and the nearby spaces. He had hoped that they would
retreat to their habitat, but it looked as though they were
regrouping and would continue to fight.

There was only one construction
bot on the Control Deck. It had bottled up some of the Das in the
control stations, and was moving to block off the entryway into the
conduit when it broke. It just stopped moving, LemTer was told.
What was wrong with it? Could it be fixed? UnaDar was the only one
who might know and LemTer was afraid to count on the eccentric old
guy, but he had no choice.

It was easy enough to find out
what was wrong. UnaDar had nothing but contempt for those control
room wizards. What did they think diagnostics were for? The
operations panel had fried. Everything on the bot worked, but it
was just not getting any instructions. He would need to replace it
and he poked around to find a suitable unit. The bot was an old
thing, so a bit out of date. UnaDar could sympathize, which he did
increasingly often with machines.

UnaDar gathered the parts that he thought
necessary, and his tools, but he would need help if the thing was
to be wired up in time. It was not likely that any of the other
ObLaDas would be able to help him; they were all more than busy
with their own crises. That left him with one choice, those humans.
There were nimble enough, if they would do as he told them to
do.

Clovic, Heneric and Elbert were
sitting, exhausted, in a small room not far from UnaDar’s corner.
They had taken the bodies of Achaea and Sighard to the ward where
they were laid out, two small bodies in a long row. The survivors
wanted to get away from the chaos of the battle. They had enough
death and hurt to deal with. They had done well, something
important, everyone said so, but was it worth the loss of two
friends? They had no way to tell.

UnaDar was satisfied, however, he had watched
Clovic and his troops move through the back alleys and confront the
two Gracks. He admired the foresight needed to anticipate that
threat and the ingenuity to use what little they had to defeat it.
These humans were young and able, but how would they react to
seeing and working with an ObLaDa? As far as UnaDar knew, it had
never been done. They would need to accept him, even though he was
not as good looking as in his younger years. But could he cope with
the skinny, hairy things? Well, one does what one has to
do.