Where the Ships Die (37 page)

Rollo struggled to stay upright and spoke into a Dromo-sized headset. "Torx? What's going on?"

The Treeth tapped an answer into his belt pad. Each contact created a corresponding vibration against the Dromo's skin. "A batde of some sort," the Treeth answered calmly. "Right at the center of town."

"Order them to put us down," Rollo said firmly, "and I mean now."

"Your wish is my command, oh lawful one," the Treeth replied. It took some gesturing to communicate with the pilot, but he got the idea eventually, and switched the landing lights on. They carved paths through the night.

Orr bellowed his triumph as the workers wavered, broke, and fell back. Ari was there, shouting something into his ear, but he refused to hear. Not while faces filled with fear, flesh gave beneath the force of his weapons, and blood roared in his ears. The industrialist waved his bloodstained truncheon and urged the troops onward. Ari followed for a ways, stopped, and let the mob go. The street was only fifteen feet wide, and the end was near. She was standing there, watching the insanity, when Sandro, who had come to his senses, and stumbled down the street, cut her down.

Dorn turned on his pursuers. He was angry now ... too angry to run. Five or six lassos settled over the remaining exoskeleton and pulled it over. A cheer went up, and the troops looked confused. Dorn waved a fist at them. "Come on, you bastards! Fight!"

A hand grabbed Dorn's belt and jerked him backwards. He swore, stumbled, and fell. The barricade opened. There were five surviving members of the bait patrol. Four staggered to safety, and Dorn, alone except for the goons, remained where he was. The attackers turned in his direction and were about to finish him off, when the sifters slid their spears through holes provided for that purpose and skewered those within reach. Orr's mercenaries, and Sharma's men panicked, ran toward the mansion, and were blocked by a company of angry wreckers.

Sharma, along with a number of his security people drew handguns, and were about to use them, when beams of white light pinned them in place. The Traa ship rumbled ominously as it circled above. The repellors hummed and debris flew into the air and whirled through the lights. A voice came from above. ' 'Remain where you are ... do not move. Confederate marshals are on the ground ... do as they say."

Rollo, happy to be off the damnable ship, pushed his way through the workers. Torx, armed with a submachine gun, rode his neck. The muzzle commanded the crowd. Natalie followed behind. The Dromo spoke into his headset. "Make way, make way, Confederate marshals coming through." Mouths dropped open and faces registered surprise as the law enforcement officers pushed toward the center of the trap.

Natalie, eager to see, moved to the left. She recognized Dorn the moment she saw him. He was bigger now, much bigger, and covered with blood. The bar code looked like a sun-faded tattoo. He stood alone, until a man she recognized as Carnaby Orr stepped into view. He took two steps forward and raised his pistol. Time seemed to slow. "Dorn Voss?" he asked.

Natalie's blood ran cold as she heard her brother answer, "Yes, I'm Dorn Voss."

Orr looked curious. "Did you find them? The coordinates?"

Dorn felt strangely calm as he stared down the pistol barrel. Would he see anything as the bullet emerged? His voice came from a thousand miles away. "Yes, I found the coordinates."

Orr nodded as if satisfied. "I was right, then. Well, say good-bye to your friends, son, because you and I..."

Later it would seem strange that the person who took Carnaby Orr's life had never heard of him before. His name was Jorge Petras, and he had survived the camp for twelve long years. Though not especially smart, he was resourceful and extremely resilient. Petras lived while others died. Still, the years took their toll, and finally, after what seemed like an eternity of suffering, he could take no more. He had to strike back. Orr made an obvious target.

The spear was a homemade affair, taken from a woman who had fallen. The point, fashioned from a piece of hull metal, gleamed with reflected light. The yell came from deep within, from ancient ancestors long dead, and shattered the silence. Petras charged. He sensed bodies moving to intercept him, heard someone shout, and saw Orr turn. The pistol winked red.

Petras felt the bullet tear his body, staggered, and kept his feet. The spear was heavy now ... it took all his strength to hold it up. Petras knew he would die and looked forward to it. He took two additional bullets before the spear entered Orr's belly. Freedom felt good.

Orr was surprised when the spear point went in. Surprised that a scarecrow could take so many bullets and live, surprised that anything like this could happen to him, and surprised that it hurt so much. Where was Ari? Damn the bitch anyway. He grabbed the shaft, tried to pull it out, and felt the ground slam against his back. He was conscious, which seemed like an advantage. But it wasn't.

The industrialist felt something stir deep inside his belly. He wasn't sure what it was at first. Then he knew. The symbiote! It had assessed the damage and written him off. Orr screamed as the organism enlarged the hole in his belly, ripped connectors free from his nervous system, and worked its way to the surface.

Dorn stared in open-mouthed amazement as loops of intestine slithered out of Orr's abdomen and onto the ground. Something, he wasn't sure what, separated itself from the mess and humped its way toward one of the wounded. It was halfway there when a huge, plate-sized foot landed on it. The symbiote made a popping noise and ceased to exist. Orr died a moment later.

"The party's over," Rollo announced calmly. "Surrender your weapons."

Sharma ordered his men to obey, and a wide assortment of clubs, spears, and wrecking bars clattered to the ground as Natalie approached her brother. "Dorn? It's Nat."

Dorn grinned. "Hi, Nat. You sure as hell took your time."

Natalie laughed and gave him a hug. His body was covered with blood. She wondered how much was his. "Dorn... Mom and Dad..."

Dorn hugged his sister and realized she was shorter than he was. "Yeah, I know. We have lots of catching up to do."

"Dorn? Are you all right?" The voice came from behind. Dorn turned to see Myra hurrying toward him. She held Dee Dee by the hand, and La-So brought up the rear. Truth was, his wound hurt again but he ignored it. "I'm fine, just fine. Myra, Dee Dee, and La-So, this is my sister Natalie."

Myra looked self-conscious, Dee Dee peppered Natalie with questions, and La-So turned his attention to one of the wounded. The lights reappeared, chased each other around the ground for a moment, and centered on Dorn. The assault craft hovered to one side. Rollo recognized the voice as belonging to the commercial being known as Sa-Lo. "Surrender the coordinates or die. The choice is yours."

Dorn blinked in surprise. What the hell was going on? Everyone seemed to know about the coordinates. He pushed the others away. "Then kill me! You can't have them!"

La-So got to his feet and wiped the blood off his paws. The voice, a Traa voice, sounded familiar, very familiar, and he shaded his eyes against glare. His voice was loud and carried well. "Sa-Lo? Is that you? Stop this nonsense immediately. You should be ashamed of yourself."

Silence reigned. A light found La-So and bathed him in brilliance. Then, unable to trust what his eyes were seeing and his ears were hearing, Ka-Di emerged from the shadows. He approached, stopped, and exposed the back of his neck. "Greetings, Uncle La-So. Many years have passed."

"They have treated you well," La-So said ritually. "Have you followed the one true path?"

"Yes ... no ... I'm not sure," Ka-Di replied soberly. "The Mountain of the Moons exploded. Most of the Philosopher Sept was killed. La-Ma was there and we miss her counsel."

Sadness filled La-So's eyes. "I am sorry, Ka-Di. Come, let us leave these beings in peace. You will tell me all that transpired and we will make things right."

The warrior nodded obediently and followed where La-So led. The ship, still hovering above, did likewise. Natalie watched them go, then turned to her brother. "So, Dorn, where
are
the coordinates?"

Dee Dee giggled and held the data ball up to the light. It gleamed, and somewhere in the deep blackness of space, a wormhole waited.

All rights reserved, including without limitation the right to reproduce this ebook or any portion thereof in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of the publisher.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, events, and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Copyright © 1996 by William C. Dietz

ISBN: 978-1-4976-0667-8

This edition published in 2014 by Open Road Integrated Media, Inc.
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