“Sir,” Kitteket said with a gasp. “Are those… ?”
“Indowy.”
Orostan folded his arms and lowered his crest, the better to keep from frightening the little green one. Tulo’stenaloor had already had one Kessentai killed who had permitted the death of one of the “engineers”; the little creatures had been purchased and transported at great expense and they were a very finite resource. But dealing with them was very difficult.
He pointed to where the bridge had been. “There was a bridge,” he said in a hash of Posleen and Galactic. “There must be a new one. If there is a new one, everything will be well. If there is not, your clan will be reduced.”
The Indowy sidled around him and went over to the demolished bridge. The supports of both spans had been blown down and the metal girders had been blown in several places. What was left was a tangled mass of pulverized concrete and steel. He examined it for a moment then looked around at the materials in view. Last, he sidled back over to the Posleen commander.
“I will need hands, more hands than we have,” the Indowy said diffidently. “Fortunately, there is a source of materials right here. We will not try to reconstruct the bridge, but will make new ones nearer the water level. This will be quicker. It still will take until morning. We cannot work miracles.”
“You will have all the oolt’os you need,” Orostan said. He gestured to forestall the question. “They will be controlled by their Kessentai, I will pick the ones to work with you. You may order them in these tasks as you will; there will be no damage to you.”
“It will take time,” the Indowy pointed out.
“It must go as swiftly as possible,” Orostan warned. “No delay.”
“We shall start immediately.”
“Son of a bitch,” Ryan said, getting out his notebook computer.
“What, sir?” Kitteket asked. “They’re… doing something.”
“They’re replacing the bridge,” Ryan said. “This is going to get interesting.”
“So what are we doing?” she asked. “And there are Posleen moving around down in Brendleston.”
“Brendletown,” he corrected pedantically. “We’re getting the hell out of here; I’ve seen everything I need to see.”
“Where to?” she asked.
“I was going to blast the face by Rocky Top,” he said, examining the map. “But that would be easy for them to clear. So I think we’ll find something a little tougher. Unfortunately, we’re a bit cut off.”
“What!?” Kitteket yelled.
“Oh, nothing we can’t handle,” the major replied. “But the drive out of here is going to be… interesting. On the other hand, it will give us time to think of new ways to amuse our visitors.”
“Is it bad?” Shari asked as Wendy came through the door.
“Yep,” Wendy answered. “Load the kids up. You have the emergency packs?”
Shari just shook her head and went to the back, calling for the children to get in line. She pulled out backpacks that were new to the children and passed them out. Each child got one and she put a warm jacket in it along with small packs of food. She admonished them not to go diving in, that the food might have to last a long time. She checked their shoes and in one case changed them out for some better footwear, then had them all line up to go to the bathroom.
Wendy, in the meantime, filled larger daypacks with food and water. She left room for some ammunition, but she hoped that Elgars would be able to bring combat harnesses; they had integral ammunition bags. She considered changing clothes, but the pair of leather pants she had picked up had sort of stretched out to fit and would probably wear as well as anything she had.
By the time she was finished Shari had lined up the kids and thrown Amber into a papoose on her back. Without another word they headed for the door. Looking both ways, Wendy led them out with the kids following in line and Shari at the rear.
Elgars palmed open her door and then strode across to her wall locker, peeling off her clothes as she went. The door popped open as if it had been waiting for her and she started putting on the gear. First was the uniform and boots, then body armor, helmet and combat harness. She considered all the weapons in the locker and frowned. She wanted the Barrett like a junkie wants a fix, but she finally decided that it was the wrong weapon for the situation. Finally she pulled out two pistols, the Steyr that Wendy had picked up, the MP-5 and the AIW. She grabbed three combat harnesses and loaded them down with magazines then pulled the sheet off her bed and filled it with ammunition for all five weapons. Fortunately the Steyr and the AIW both used the same type of bullets and the MP-5 used the same as one of the pistols.
Finally she felt that she was set. She was as loaded down as a camel, but once she joined up with the other women the stuff would get distributed.
Without looking back or closing up she strode back out of the room, headed for G sector.
Cally pried up another section of bunker and stopped, dropping down on her heels; in the broken moonlight she could see a still pale hand. She reached out to it and wiped at the thick hairs on the back. One of the fingers was bent back and the skin was gray and cold.
She squatted in the moonlight, quietly rocking back and forth on her heels for what seemed to be half the night. Then she piled rocks back over the hand, picked up her rifle and headed back up the hills without looking back.
After she had left, the Himmit wormed its way out of the wreckage of the bunker, put away the Hiberzine injector and followed her, without looking back.
CHAPTER 31
Near Franklin, GA, United States, Sol III
2214 EDT Saturday September 26, 2009 ad
Wendy stopped at the top of the escalator and frowned; it wasn’t working, but what was worse were the yells and sounds of firing from below.
“I don’t think so,” she muttered.
The problem was that as far as she could tell the Posleen had gotten around and below them. To avoid the Posleen, the group needed to drop several floors, very fast. But most of the elevators were shut down and so were the escalators. That left very few options.
“Come on,” she said, heading back down the main corridor.
About halfway down she came to an attack pack and palmed it open. She looked at the array of gear and shook her head; there was no way to carry everything she wanted so she had to decide what she really needed.
Med-pack, among other things, that had Hiberzine in it and she’d used that too many times not to recognize the utility. Doors had already been a problem so she pulled out the door-pack including a tank of liquid nitrogen and a punch-gun. And they were probably going to be climbing some, so a coil of rope with a descent pack attached to it was piled on the top of her pack.
Finally recognizing that she couldn’t carry the Halligan tool, or the rescue saw, which had a real appeal, she closed the door and went on.