"Nevertheless," he said, "we have to proceed on the assumption that he's gone. Unless we go to full power, there's nothing further we can do to find him. And if we go to full power, we're dead. Now, I can promise you we are going to go to full power, as our final effort to locate Beta Six. But the time for that has not yet arrived. First, we have a mission to accomplish. And we can't do that if we're dead."
We pondered that without comment. One was right—what else could we do? Chances were high that Six was dead. And if we stayed in the neighborhood much longer, we would be, too.
"We have to move out," One concluded, "as rapidly as possible. This is an extremely dangerous area. I consider it a miracle that we're still alive. Our antis fell right here. This was our primary target. Now, I've been getting fragments of info on the command channel, but it's so thoroughly shot by deceptors that I can't tell exactly what's happening. One thing I can tell, though—the assault is still underway. There are Legion units fighting their way through the Omni base, and that means they are inside the base, and under the lava. That's where we should be. Ten, report."
"Right," Redhawk responded. "The aircar station is located about sixty mikes below us. There are two personnel elevators and a freight elevator that should get us there. All still functional. Air and pressure full normal as well." His wild eyes flickered over the readings, shaggy red hair hanging over one eye. "There are two aircars on-site, but neither is in ready status."
"Why not?" Snow Leopard asked.
"Don't know," Redhawk replied. "I can probably get a status report if you give me a little more time."
"There's only two aircars?"
"The other bays are all empty."
Aircars! My blood stirred; we could all feel it. Priestess put down her drink. Psycho raised his head and blinked expressionless eyes.
"Can you get us a visual?"
"Affirmative."
"Not yet! Is this aircar garage a part of the starport?"
"That's a twelve. The launching ports open in the side of the caldera, right into the air, slightly above the level of the lake. The actual starport—or what's left of it—is below the lake, and launches of major spacecraft are probably made through a central launch tube that breaks surface when necessary. Landings would be the same routine. That's my conjecture." He scratched at his scruffy beard.
"And the starport—you can get me an internal visual of that, as well?"
"Ten high, Beta. Sure looks like it."
That one would knock us on our asses, I knew. An internal visual, on an Omni starport! The aircar control center was a Systie installation, but nobody—nobody—had ever seen the inside of an O starport, and lived to tell about it. My adrenalin was going again. I picked up a cold juice, and tried to get it to my lips without spilling any. It felt as if my muscles were just barely connected.
The datapak was on the console before me. My eyes strayed to the next entry.
1444/03/11 SS—We are doomed. We share it with no one, but we know it. Death stares us in the face, every morning. Our rotation times have come and gone, and still STRATCOM is on the screen making promises. The others believe. They have to believe, for the sake of sanity. But we no longer believe. Show your faces here, STRATCOM, and we'll believe you.
"Soldiers of Peace. We are slaves. We saw the V only once, and that was enough. Our whole body stopped functioning. At first we thought they were trying to kill us, but later we decided they were just saying hello. We will never recover.
Chapter 5:
Under Strange Stars
Every once in awhile, I get so much adrenalin in my system that I just kind of freeze up and have a lot of difficulty moving my body. This was one of those times.
"You girls ready?" Snow Leopard asked.
"Oh, yeah." Psycho and I were both dangling in a darkened elevator shaft like a couple of black robot spiders, rapelling silently down our lifelines to the aircar hanger far below. Snow Leopard did not want to risk using the elevator until we knew the hanger was secure. We needed the elevator because Redhawk could not walk.
"Race ya," Psycho said, dropping like a stone.
"Scut! Slow down!" I triggered the catch and the cable sang through the mounts. I dropped, slowing gently, boots glancing off the walls. The shaft was dark and cold and full of thick oily cables. My A-suit whispered to me, and green readouts glowed on my faceplate.
"Negative life. Proceed."
I hissed past Psycho, and he was a deadly camfax shadow, just another shadow, all the power of the Legion, coiled like a snake. We were nearing the entrance to the hanger. I slowed and stopped.
"All right, Psycho—go. Deadman!" I was breathing heavily, leaning off the wall, my E at the ready.
"Come on, Thinker, admit it—you love it, don't you?" Psycho giggled, and I could see him coming at me from above, an obscene black beast armored for war. My E was set on flame. Psycho flashed past me, dropping, his cable whistling eerily.
We had seen the hanger on the screen, cold and still, undamaged, fully lighted, two aircars in the repair bays. Not a sign of life. Then we tried the internal view of the Omni starport, but the screen was dead. Perhaps the starport was crushed flat, popped open by our antis, then torn apart by the lake of molten lava. I wondered how many O's had died in the disaster. It made me feel good, thinking about all those dead O's, knowing that we had contributed.
"I'm just above the elevator door," Psycho reported.
"Coming," I responded. I was there in fracs. I slid down a bit further. I could see the door activator. I eased my way down until it was between my legs. "I'm at the activator."
"Can you see the emergency lever?" Redhawk spoke from the aircar control center.
"I've got it." I looked up at Psycho. "You ready?"
"Mother's on barbecue," he replied. "Do it."
I pulled down on the control and pushed away from the wall, still dangling from the line. The double doors to the elevator shaft slid open smoothly. Psycho went hurtling in with a sharp crack, his Manlink suddenly spitting raw flame.
I followed him, swinging in like a great alien ape, firing my E on flame. A brilliant, dazzling ball of flame exploded violently before us where our streams met, a dull boom, the world erupting, white-hot streaks shooting past us, hissing and spitting. Anyone waiting for us was going to have a very hot welcome. We landed in the center of the holocaust and dropped to our knees in the heart of our own hell, weapons at the ready, sheets of eerie blue and yellow and white-hot gas dancing all over my A-suit, Psycho right beside me. We kneeled there as the flames slowly died.
"Negative life," Sweety assured me. The hanger was full of black smoke. Flames licked all over the floor.
Negative life. My armor glowed. My heart was thumping. "Scut," I observed.
"You love it, Thinker. You don't fool me." Psycho was high, snapping his head around in his helmet, looking for something to cook with his Manlink.
###
The elevator hissed open, and Snow Leopard and Priestess dragged Redhawk in on a camfax poncho. Psycho and I were standing by with weapons balanced on our hips. It was a large, well-stocked aircar hanger. There were only two aircars left, still in the repair bays. The launching bays were all sealed and empty. Green lights glowed everywhere—the installation was intact and functioning, but completely deserted.
"Let me at 'em," Redhawk said throatily. He was fighting off the pain. Priestess helped him to his feet.
"Which is the one you wanted?" Priestess asked.
"Bay Three—right over there. Get me in the cockpit."