Animus Intercept Read online

  Mallory tried to shake her off, but Zzuull held her grip. "Get the fuck off me or I'll put a fist through your squishy bug-brain!"

  Zzuullzhrun released him and moved in a blur to the gondola door. Before anyone could speak she popped the door and leaped into the air, buzzing up out of view along the curve of the balloon. They had no more than a few seconds to speculate what might be happening before Zzuull reappeared, racing toward the gondola door like a bat – wasp – out of hell. A swarm of five or six yellow jackets buzzed into view in her wake, long tubes coming up in their hands. Zane flung the door open.

  "Get down!" he shouted.

  Zzull blew into the gondola, flattening herself with the others as Zane and Mallory moved to the open door. The forward window burst. The walls sprouted fist-sized holes. A heavy projectile impacted Zane's chest, blasting air from his lungs. He caught his breath and shuffled forward to the blown window, raising his rifle while Mallory was already taking aim from the door.

  Mallory's rifle cracked first. The forward-leading yellow jacket dropped away clutching its chest, wings weakly fluttering. Zane fired – and another yellow jacket spun in the air, falling after its fellow. The remaining three rocketed up beyond range.

  Zane turned back to the others. "Anyone hurt?"

  The people inspected themselves and each other.

  "Doesn't look like it – "

  Horace was cut short by more projectiles bursting through the roof, showering them with sawdust and wood slivers. A couple of the crewmembers gasped in pain.

  "Get under the seats!" Zane snarled.

  They crawled to the wooden seats projecting from both walls, dragging the two wounded people with them, trailing blood.

  "We need to get up top, Zane," said Mallory. "We're sitting ducks in here."

  "Let's do it."

  They slung their rifles. Mallory took the lead, edging out through the open door. He sprang up from the door ledge, snapping it in the process. Zane heard his hands slap down on the Gondola's roof. Zane reached out under one of Mallory's dangling boots and gave him a boost up. A couple of kinetic rifle cracks followed.

  "You like that, motherfuckers?" Zane heard him shout. "I got plenty more!"

  Then a rifle barrel extended downward past the top of the door.

  "Grab hold, Cap! I'll pull you up."

  Zane leaned out as far as he dared and gripped the barrel with one hand. When Mallory started to pull, Zane kicked off with one leg. Mallory caught his other hand and hauled him onto the roof.

  The yellow jackets opened fire at them from the top of the blimp. A hit to the head made Zane go woozy. Two others smacked him in the shoulders, dropping him to his knees. Mallory cursed as multiple projectiles bounced off his body. He stumbled backwards onto his back, but somehow got his rifle up and fired a shot. Zane glanced up in time to see one of the yellow-speckled aliens fall forward, somersaulting down the side of the blimp straight toward them.

  The falling body had company: three yellow jackets with their wings half-tucked against their bodies, diving in a v-formation, riding their fallen fellow's slipstream right down to them.

  All Zane could think to do was roll out of the body's path, but its bouncing, sprawling trajectory wasn't easy to guess. The body slammed into the roof within arm's reach – close enough for one of its wings to slap him upside the head.

  One of the uninjured yellow jackets landed flush on him. Something sharp jammed into his left shoulder as the full mass of the creature – in near-free fall for thirty or forty feet – crushed him downward. His PA suit cinched up along his spine, preventing its collapse, even as it shored up the area being jabbed in his shoulder and dissipated the shock over his body.

  His assailant rolled off him, writhing, blood streaming down its split-off stinger, clearly the worse from the collision. Zane scrambled woozily to his feet. One of the two yellow jackets who had Mallory pinned and were hacking away at him with knives and claws spun, firing a tubular gun into him at point blank range. It was like a karate punch to the throat. For a few seconds he couldn't breathe and stars swam in his vision. He dimly registered a small rock-sized blob of metal bouncing near his feet and thought big fucking bullet. The NDs kicked in, working to clear his airway and repair his throat and shore up his blood pressure. Then the alien jerked a lever on his gun as if chambering a round.

  A flash of black and blue buzzed over Zane's head, and the yellow jacket was driven to the ground with Zzuullzhrun on top. The blue wasp maneuvered, her stinger glistening, and then plunged it into the thrashing yellow jacket's body again and again in a bloody semblance of a sex act that was surely far more lethal.

  The third yellow jacket pulled free from Mallory's weakly groping hands as Zane, still woozy, stooped to retrieve his rifle. He got it about halfway up when the alien warrior crashed into him. They flew backwards, but the anticipated landing on the hard roof never happened. Instead, Zane watched over the yellow jacket's shoulder as the air ship retreated into the sky.

  A few seconds till impact. Now the alien was struggling to free itself from him, its wings beating furiously. Instinctively, he resisted, wrapping his legs and arms around the creature's body. Its wings were slowing their fall, but the wind whistling on his back suggested not enough. Adrenaline reinforced by potent stimulants released by the NDs finally cleared his mind. They were both going to hit the ground. It seemed a good idea to make the yellow jacket hit first.

  Zane released his rifle in the alien's hands and ducked his head under one of its arms, bending back one set of wings as he acquired a side mount. One more twist of his body and he gained the yellow jacket's back.

  The ground rushing toward them looked hard and rocky, near the side of a cliff face. This was going to hurt.

  Paratrooper training cut in and at the last second Zane stood up on the yellow jacket's back and locked his boots together, coiling his body. The alien's wings, now free of his embrace, exploded into a beating frenzy, but it was too little too late.

  They hit the ground. Even at a fraction of terminal velocity, and with the yellow jacket's body and his own PA suit absorbing part of the impact, Zane felt the shock to his bones. He fell sideways and rolled a few times, rocks smacking his head and ribs. He lay there for a few moments in a cloud of dust, taking inventory. No injuries suggested themselves. That had been one hell of a trip.

  "Boooyah," he murmured.

  Zane sat up. The yellow jacket was making feeble motions to rise, despite a jagged rock impaling its chest. If they were anything like their smaller cousins – that could fly away from swats, smacks, and even stomps – they would be tough sons of bitches.

  In the sky, the air ship appeared to be sinking into a forest a few miles distant. Was it really sinking, or was that an illusion? It made sense that the yellow jackets would've punched some holes in the blimp.

  Zane pulled his BADD telemeter from his equipment belt. Or what remained of it: an alien "pellet gun" slug was flattened across its slim face. His touch summoned a few flashes of flickering light and then it went dark. No communications or telemetry then. He stuffed it back in his belt.

  Zane spotted his rifle a few meters away, its grey stock half-buried in gravel of matching color. He walked past his opponent, who had worked itself up to its knees, and retrieved the weapon. The yellow jacket watched him with eyes shining a pale shade of red as Zane approached and pointed the rifle's barrel at its head. The alien warrior ceased moving, appearing to relax in resignation, its multifaceted eyes never leaving Zane.

  Zane's right finger curled on the trigger but didn't squeeze. An alternative formed sluggishly in his mind. The appearance of the Peacemaker's crew must've been a bit of a shock to the system, but the "bugs" had treated their wounds and fed them. The habitat and the capture of the Neanderthals might be about scientific study. Ethically questionable, but it wasn't as if the human race didn't do a few ethically dubious things. Then he, Mallory, and Patricia showed up and blew out a chunk of their building, killing a
n unknown number of aliens. You could hardly blame them for sending in the troops. Maybe it was all just a tragic misunderstanding? That was known to happen when dealing with both human and alien beings.

  Zane stooped down and placed his hand gently on the yellow jacket's chest wound. The alien soldier pulled away at first, but then seemed to understand Zane meant no harm and held still. Focusing on his hand, Zane mentally commanded, with visuals and repeated words, his stock of 250,000 medical emergency NDs (MENDs) to exit his skin and enter the wound. He wasn't sure if the slight tingling in his fingers was from the NDs or his own imagination – he'd been told it was theoretically possible but difficult to sense both an entry and an exit of large numbers of nanites – but the sudden brightness in the yellow jacket's eyes suggested he was feeling it, too.

  MENDs were designed for emergency brute-force healing: stop bleeding, repair torn tissue, and neutralize toxins. If your heart stopped, they could jumpstart it. They could destroy parasites or a large cancerous growth. They weren't designed for subtle nuances like balancing electrolytes or sophisticated projects such as re-growing organs. No way of knowing if they would work with a non-human – maybe they'd misidentify some organ as cancerous and incinerate it – but Zane thought it was the alien soldier's best chance.

  The tingling stopped, and Zane withdrew his hand. The yellow jacket settled back in the gravel, the brightness in its eyes fading to a muted red-golden glow. It was either dying or resting. He'd done what he could.

  A sound like a small prop plane drew Zane's eyes upward. A shiny blue dot in the sky swiftly grew into a recognizable form – Zzuullzhrun. Predictably, she made a "bee line" for him. Zane smiled, wondering if the multiple blows to his head were affecting his wits. His crew had obviously sent her back for him.

  The yellow jacket stirred to life as Zzuull fluttered down. Her first move was to extrude her stinger and spring for the downed soldier. Zane had to jump to catch her arm before she impaled him. She emitted a saw-tooth cry that sounded seriously pissed and tried to shake off his grip. Zane held on, edging her back from the yellow jacket, who'd managed to push itself up on one knee. He released her, shaking his head and sharply motioning denial. The hair around her throat and shoulders stood out like a thousand needle points, her stinger and claws still extruded. Zane had to remind himself that she'd probably saved their butts on the gondola roof. She looked on the verge of ripping him a new one now.

  Zane decided to try changing the subject. He pointed in the direction he'd last seen the air ship. After a few moments her hair or fur or whatever the hell it was on her shrank to normal size and she turned away stiffly, jabbing a finger toward the horizon.

  "Are they coming back for me?" Zane made a circling motion that ended with him patting his chest.

  Zzuull waved away that suggestion and bent down to touch the gravel.

  "It went down," said Zane, angling his hand and dropping it to the ground. Zzuull rapped the gravel again in apparent confirmation.

  The yellow jacket had regained its feet. Even considering the NDs and its obviously rugged construction, Zane was impressed. They stood facing each other. The soldier was no doubt just as puzzled about him and his alliance with Zzuullzhrun as Zane was about it and its culture. He hoped his act of goodwill would carry the right message. Zane raised his hand, resisting an urge to make the Vulcan "live long and prosper" sign. The yellow jacket regarded him for another long moment before turning away and launching itself into a sputtering flight.

  When Zane turned back to Zzuull she was staring at him with an exaggerated stillness that he assumed meant disapproval if not contempt. Who knew with these creatures? They were obviously intelligent, but their ideas and culture had to be vastly different from his, maybe even incomprehensible in some ways. She probably had no clue why he he'd protected the yellow jacket.

  "We should go," he said.

  Chapter 9

  THEY HIKED FOR SEVERAL kilometers without too much excitement. A pack of Smilodon stalking a herd of elk on the far side of a field spotted them, but when a pair of the massive cats headed in their direction, a brief buzzing of Zzullzhrun's wings stopped them in their tracks.

  "I guess they know who you are," said Zane.

  “Know?”

  He thought for a moment. Sign language and inter-species communication was more Patricia’s forte. He pointed at his eyes and at the saber-tooth tigers and then at her, followed by grinding a fist in the palm of his hand.

  “Yes,” she hummed.

  She took to flight after indicating that she was checking in on the downed air ship and that he should continue in the same direction. He watched her disappear over the trees, chiding himself for a small sense of unease at being left on his own. He was deadlier than her, after all – probably the deadliest predator on this world, excluding Mallory and Patricia. But maybe it was more about her not returning. Would he be able to find the dirigible without her? Eventually, he thought, but he didn't like the idea of eventually. Every hour – every minute – they remained here could, and probably would, bring new danger. Zane wasn't ashamed to admit that his entire focus now was just getting his people to his ship and hightailing it back to Earth. Animus would not be budged from its appointed path.

  Zane emerged from a patch of forest, facing out on another large clearing. He spotted a flash of blue in the trees on the far side. Zzuull. He noted that rather than approaching him directly she followed a line of trees circling toward him, flying close to the ground. As if she’s trying to avoid detection from the air.

  Zane only had a few seconds to mull over the unpleasant implications before she landed at his side and promptly pushed him into the shadows of the nearest tree. She pointed upward.

  What appeared to be a giant flock of geese interspersed with small airplanes dotted the cloudless blue sky to the west. Zane raised his rifle and zoomed in with his virtual scope. The geese resolved into flying yellow jackets; the planes into...well, planes...or maybe gliders since he neither saw nor heard engines. Hundreds if not thousands of yellow jackets amidst several dozen planes – all streaming in the direction of their destination. Zane didn't think it much of a stretch that this war party either knew or had a good guess about the air ship’s location.

  Zane performed some quick calculations: he had 135 standard rounds and 19 SHE rounds. Patricia and Mallory would have about the same. They could in theory kill hundreds of the attacking army. He could start a massacre right now. But when Patricia and Mallory joined in, would it be enough? Against such overwhelming firepower would the creatures break off the attack – or would it guarantee all their deaths?

  Zane glanced at his companion. It would be nice to have her feedback. He tapped his rifle and pointed to the fleet. She hesitated before giving a slow shake of her head. But then she probably didn't have a good idea of the DAH's firepower. She might believe he was going to take a few potshots with a glorified version of their pellet guns.

  The alien fleet started to descend. He raised his rifle and zeroed in one of the lead gliders/planes. 3.56 kilometers. A makeable shot for this weapon. Do or die.

  The very plane Zane had been targeting exploded. An shockwave bristling with wood splinters and plane parts blew across the sky. SHE round. Either Mallory or Patricia had beaten him to the punch. Probably Mallory. He watched a dozen or more yellow jackets drop from the sky.

  Zane’s decision had been made. Mallory and Patricia had opted for a war. War it would be.

  Zane targeted a ship in the middle of the fleet. Crack! The SHE round was en route. Zane didn't wait for it to impact; instead, he selected another plane. On his fourth selection, about five seconds later, his first targeted plane blew. Then the others followed. He kept on painting the planes and firing. Almost all of them were hits. Patricia and Mallory were taking an even greater toll on the forward ranks of the airborne army. Their casualties had to be staggering.

  The aerial force split apart and dove along with the remaining aircraft to the ground.
With a sinking feeling, Zane estimated one hundred or more uninjured soldiers. The stubborn hornet bastards were continuing their attack.

  Then he spotted yellow jackets moving swiftly along the far edge of the clearing before them – half-flying, half sprinting, hugging the trees. They’ve spotted us! Suddenly, Zane's weapons didn't feel so superior. All they had to do was stay low, split up, and attack from various directions to neutralize his rifle. He – and his crew – would soon be forced into close-up combat against overwhelming numbers of exceptionally tough beings. Not a winning situation.

  Zzuullzhrun made an urgent circular motion toward the approaching yellow jackets followed by an emphatic gesture for them to flee. Zane couldn't see a good counterargument.

  He took off in great, leaping bounds, following Zzuull, who was flying only a couple of meters from the ground. He wasn't sure what her plan was. He couldn't see himself, even at 30 MPH with his PA suit, outrunning the yellow jackets. Zzuull might have a chance of that, but not if she stuck with him. He couldn't see why she would stick with him.

  They arrived at the edge of a cliff. The perfect movie cliché, Zane thought – being chased into a corner where the only escape was jumping off the cliff fifty or a hundred meters into a river or pool of water. Except now sand and rocks, not water, awaited him an estimated half-kilometer below.

  Zzuullzhrun pointed to what appeared to be a small cave entrance in the side of another rock face near the base of the cliff. Rustling in the woods behind them announced they were just about out of time. Zane would either have to find cover and take a stand or take the leap of faith. Depending on the number, he might be able to defeat them, but considering how he and Mallory had struggled with just five yellow jackets, he didn't like his chances.

  A group of yellow jackets burst from the woods, rifles leveled. Zzuullzhrun launched herself into the air and descended straight for the opening near the base of the cliff. Multiple thwumps presaged a hard smack in Zane’s back that propelled him into a stumbling run over the edge of the cliff. At the last instant he thought to push off hard to clear the rocks at the base of the cliff and reach the softer sand. Or so he hoped.