A Night Without Stars (58 page)

“I don't know.” He fought the impulse to glance at his hand. The organic circuit tattoo was invisible, but the guilt was strong in his mind.
And in truth I don't know what it does. She could be tracking me through it.

Jenifa shook her head slowly, regarding him as she might a wild beast. One hand went snaking down the side of her uniform jacket, then stopped. “Who are you working for, sir?”

“She can get us out of here.”

“What?”

“The Warrior Angel. She told me. The wormhole Laura Brandt repaired when she killed the Prime—it's still there under the palace, still working. Paula can use it to evacuate people to Aqueous if the Apocalypse starts. I can probably get her to take us.”

“You are crudding kidding me!”

“No. I don't think the Warrior Angel can hold off the Apocalypse. She practically admitted that. That's why she wants to talk to Stonal, so she can use the wormhole to save some of us.”

“This is bollocks. How did she know where you were? Even I didn't know you weren't up here.”

“I don't know,” he answered with hot indignation, trusting that would cover his guilt. “Because she's the Warrior Angel and Corilla's probably been reporting our every movement to her. Like we wanted. Remember?”

“This is crazy—”

Voices suddenly started shouting out of the radio.

“Code five! Code five!”

“We're under attack!”

“Explosion! Second floor hit!”

“They're using a bazooka!”

“Return fire return fire!”

“Nail the scum!”

“Call the regiment, get some support here!”

Chaing started at the radio in shock. It was tuned to the local PSR frequency. “What's happening?”

“They're attacking the office,” an aghast Jenifa grunted.

“Who's attacking?”

“It has to be the Fallers. It is the start? Is this
it
?”

He stared at her, not wanting to even think the possibility.

The secure telephone started ringing. Chaing had gotten a PSR technician to install it a day ago, splicing a line into the lighthouse's main cable and doing whatever it was technicians did at the main exchange to make it secure. He knew he couldn't trust radio communications with Fajie; both Eliters and Fallers would be monitoring radio frequencies. He turned down the radio and picked up the handset.

“Chaing?” Fajie asked.

“Here. Do you know who's attacking the office?”

“No, but they're moving.”

“Yeah, I know; we've been watching them cast off. I don't like the timing.”

“No,” Fajie said. “Not the
Gothora.
The nest!”

More shouting burst from the radio. Another bazooka round had been fired. There were casualties. Structural damage. PSR officers were returning fire, strafing the street outside. Chaing closed his eyes, seeing the outside of Cameron's, the sudden deadly sweep of machine-gun fire riddling the vans of the tactical team.

“What?” he barked.

“The nest, they're moving. They're out on the dock.”

“Crud!” He looked through the lighthouse's high window and beckoned urgently at Jenifa to give him the binoculars. “How many?”

“We've confirmed five of them. Heavily armed.”

He stood next to the curving glass and trained the binoculars down on the long dockside. Sure enough, two men and three women were walking along the crane rails, leaning into the wind, each openly carrying what looked like a heavy-caliber machine gun.
Same type as they had at Cameron's!
He moved the binoculars to the
Gothora III,
seeing white water churn at the stern as the propellers started up. “But the ship's already leaving. They've pulled in the gangplank. What's the point?” He looked up from the binoculars, working out distances. Reckoning put the nest members a good seven hundred meters from
Gothora III.
Then he saw the muzzle flash; a second later, the
crack
of gunshots arrived, muted through the glass.

“Crud.” Through the binoculars, he could see a dockworker was sprawled on the dock, red blood pooling. The nest ignored him as they walked past. “What in Uracus…?”

“What is it?” Jenifa demanded.

“I don't know. The nest is going active, but
Gothora
is leaving.”

“There's more on the move,” Fajie announced.

“Where?”

“Warehouse three.”

He slid the binoculars around. Sure enough, a flatbed truck was driving along the docks, seven men in the back, all holding weapons. Two of them had a bazooka. It was too much to ignore. He picked up the radio microphone and switched to the second channel. “Chaing calling Major Danny, come in Danny.”

“Danny here,” the receiver cracked.

“We have an active nest on the docks. I need you to deploy, landing strategy four. Repeat, strategy four. Take them out.”

“Roger that, Chaing. What about
Gothora III
?”

Jenifa was looking at him expectantly as the first drops of rain began to smear their way down the thick glass wrapped around the top of the lighthouse. “Strategy four only,” he said firmly.

“Confirmed.”

Jenifa let out a feline hiss of censure.

He replaced the handset and turned up the radio volume. The speaker spewed out anger and determination as the PSR office fought back against the treacherous attack. When he looked out into the wide estuary mouth, he could just see the
Lanara
start to move.

“You're letting her go,” Jenifa said.

“She's not on board.”

“How do you know?” she challenged.

“There's a whole nest out there, gunning down civilians. We're PSR officers.”

“Are we?”

“For crud's sake—”

The phone rang again. Chaing snatched it up. “Yes?”

“Chaing,” a female voice said. “The Fallers have arrived.”

“What? Who is this?”

“Corilla.”

“What the crud are you doing with Fajie?”

“I'm not. Friends spliced me into your phone line.”

“How the…?”

“Chaing, listen to me. The Fallers are in Port Chana. They just arrived on a train from Portlynn.”

“What?” How do you know that?” Instinctively he stared out across the warehouse district. The train station was on the other side of the huge corrugated roofs.
So close.

“We've been looking for them just as hard as you, Chaing. For Giu's sake, they've got the missing nukes! They're taking them off the train right now. Putting them on trucks.”

“No,” he whispered.

“Listen to me, the nukes are here in Port Chana! That attack on your office, it's a diversion. You have to order the regiment and the marines to intercept the vehicles.”

“This is the real diversion,” Jenifa said forcefully. “The Eliters want us to let the
Gothora
go. Corilla's an Eliter, Chaing. She's lying to you.”

“No,” he said, trying to consider all the variables rationally.
The threat is real.
“I've already given intercepting the nest full priority, and we cannot ignore Corilla's claim about the nukes. The attack on the PSR office only makes it more likely.”

“Unless it's the Eliters who are shooting at us.”

“That's too much paranoia, Jenifa. They have no reason to.”

“To divert us from the
Gothora
!”

“They know everything!” he snapped at her. “Don't you understand that? They are not the enemy. They're not the ones shooting at us. And they are the ones who will stand beside us when the Apocalypse starts. But
this
—this is the Fallers.” He switched the radio back to the second channel. “Danny, I've had intel that the Fallers might be bringing the missing red one packages to the party.”

“Crudding Giu,” Major Danny grunted. “Confirm that. Suspect packages in the picture. Do you have a location for me?”

“Not yet.”

“They're storming a ship,” Jenifa said, tight-lipped.

“Who?” Chaing asked.

“The nest. Look.”

He peered through the thick curving glass. Big cold raindrops were slamming into it, smearing his vision. More muzzle flashes penetrated the sleet. They were coming from one of the ships moored to a wharf. “That's the
Sziu
?”

“I think so.”

The
Gothora III
was surging past the end of the harbor wall. He looked down at its bridge, almost expecting to see Florian and
her
inside. Instead, all he could make out were a few smudged figures. The ship was traveling fast. Fishing boats were desperately trying to move out of the way, scattering in mimicry of the shoals they themselves had chased scant hours before.

Lanara
was hurrying in the other way. They passed within a hundred meters of each other, causing even more chaos among the fishing fleet stragglers. Their wakes clashed, sending swirling surf-topped waves curling out across the harbor. Angry foghorns sounded in protest.

“Oh, great Giu,” Jenifa whispered.

It was the fear in her voice that made Chaing turn. He wasn't used to that. Anger yes, but this…

Four canvas-covered trucks were rolling along the side of the docks. The first one stopped beside the
Sziu.
Chaing looked on in disbelief as a monster lumbered out of the back. It was huge, the size of a horse, with a gray-blue hide made up of rigid armor bone plates. Four thick legs supported a squat body, while a pair of multijointed arms protruded from shoulders below the raised neck. A crown of short sharp horns bristled from the fat skull. It was carrying what to Chaing looked like a pump-action bazooka. The weapon was huge; a human would have trouble just trying to lift it. This
thing
swung it around as if it were made of paper.

“Breeder Fallers,” Chaing breathed in shock.

More of the vile creatures were emerging from the other trucks. There were even some of the hulking humanoids he'd encountered at Xander Manor.

“Oh, crudding Uracus,” Jenifa moaned. “This isn't happening!”

“Danny!” Chaing shouted into the microphone as the heavy squalling rain pounded across the harbor. “Danny, the nest has breeder Fallers. Repeat: breeders. They're huge and armed.”

“Roger that,” Danny's voice came from the radio, completely emotionless. “We can see them.”

“Why don't they just use the nukes?” Jenifa murmured shakily.

“Because they haven't seen the Warrior Angel go on board, either,” he replied.

One of the monsters on the dockside swung around and brought his weapon up, lining it up across the harbor. “Noooo!” Chaing growled as he realized what it was being aimed at. There was a gigantic muzzle flash. The projectile hit the
Lanara
amidships, sending a seething orange flame-cloud roiling out.

“Fucking Uracus!”

The monster pumped the weapon's mechanism. Fired again.

Chaing slapped the sniper rifle's safety off. Settled the stock against his shoulder and peered through the telescopic sight as he swung it around.
Don't hurry. Be smooth.
The monster flew across his narrow field of view. He tracked back.
That is thick hide. The bullet might get through, but it won't do much damage.
He steadied his breathing.
Has to be a head shot.
Crosshairs found the monster. He adjusted slowly, taking his time. Watching it prepare for another shot on the
Lanara,
anticipating the moment when it would be still.

His finger squeezed the trigger just as the monster fired.

He saw one of the spiky horns shatter. Then the monster was jumping about.

“Well, that annoyed him,” Jenifa grunted as she watched through the binoculars.

Chaing did his best to ignore the vicious sarcasm in her voice, concentrating on the furious juddering monster. He worked the bolt, flipping the spent cartridge onto the floor, and sent the next sliding into the chamber. When he settled himself again, the monster had stopped shaking itself and was scanning around slowly. Chaing took two measured breaths, then inhaled and held himself still, watching the Faller.

This shot hit just below the creature's left eye, and blew out a large chunk from the back of its skull. The body collapsed instantly.

“Nice!” Jenifa exclaimed, the tip of her tongue flicking out to moisten her lips.

Chaing looked up from the scope, seeing the big Fallers scatter for cover across the docks. Two of the monsters hunched down behind the hoods of their trucks, their pump-action weapon barrels sticking up vertically like dull exhaust pipes, betraying their positions. Out on the
Lanara
's deck, marines were deploying, crouching behind the superstructure, opening fire with heavy-caliber weapons. A couple of them had grenade launchers they were readying.

Movement by the trucks. Chaing peered through the scope, seeing one of the beefed-up humanoid-Fallers scuttling between vehicles. He took aim. Fired.

Blue blood erupted from the Faller's chest, and it spun around before crumpling to the ground.

“Oh, yes!” Jenifa cried. “Good shot!”

Chaing worked the bolt again, and checked the scope—just in time to catch one of the monsters rising up and leveling its bazooka at the lighthouse. The gaping hole at the end of the barrel seemed to expand in a single distorted lurch, filling the scope with lethal blackness.

“Move!”

They both lunged for the narrow doorway as the tip of the lighthouse's spire exploded. Blast pressure cracked most of the thick curving glass into a crazed mosaic, searing in through the open window to hurl the rifle and camera against the huge lens. Jenifa went tumbling into Chaing, the pair of them falling painfully down several stone steps together before thudding into the wall.

“Keep going!” Chaing shouted. Wincing against the pain that flooded in from too many places, he half fell down several more steps, Jenifa pressing awkwardly into his side, as if she was trying to push past.