Charles Ingrid - marked man 02 The Last Recall (39 page)

Drakkar took to flying as though he'd been born to it, which, Blade reflected, he had. Wind raiders were part of Denethan's arsenal and threat to the safety of the Seven Counties. He yelled to Blade in the front seat, "Keep the nose up!"

Blade threw his weight on the stick, but there wasn't a

lot he could do. The storm had driven him farther than he'd hoped, but it was also driving them downward. The ridge of mountains along the north side of the basin rose before them. This was where he wanted to be, the Angeles Crest forest. There was water in the ridge which ran west to east from the ocean to the Mojave. And where there was water, there would be nesters.

The bat-wing veered off suddenly, left wingtip dragging in spite of Thomas' efforts to right it. Drakkar shouted in Blade's ear, "We're going down!"

Blade's reply was torn out of earshot by a wind which was suddenly across and against them instead of being behind them. He could see the darkness of evergreen blanketing brown hills below them rushing up. He threw himself on the stick full weight as the raider came crashing down.

Drakkar sat up and peered out of the wreckage. A tree limb gave under the raider as he did. He spat out a mouthful of blood from a split lip and grinned. "Any landing you can walk away from is a good one."

"I'll remember that while I'm picking pine needles out of my ass." Thomas threw his legs out of the fuselage of the raider and hoisted the rest of himself over gingerly. The stand of trees which had broken their fall, and done a fairly good job of demolishing the wind raider, shivered under his weight. He was still a good six to eight feet off the ground and reminded himself that now was no time to risk a broken ankle. He looped an arm about a tree limb and swung himself down.

Drakkar threw down the packs and rifles before joining him. He shrugged on his pack. "Any idea where we are?"

"A good idea."

"Great." Drakkar sucked at his split lip for a second. "Then things are going according to plan."

"Plan?" said Thomas as he shouldered his pack.

The Mojavan looked at him. "You do have a plan?"

"Naturally. I'm going to find a nester, kill him, take his horse and ride east. You're welcome to accompany me, but you've got to find and kill your own nester. Make sure he has a horse or mule before you do it, though. We don't have time for wasted effort.''

Drakkar stared at him a minute. Then those dark jewel-blue eyes blinked. "You're kidding, right?"

"Do I look like I'm kidding? How the hell do you think we're going to get out of the woods? I have one goal and one goal only—to get to the dean as soon as possible, slit his throat, and put an end to this foolishness. I'll wade through as many nesters as I have to to do it."

Drakkar absorbed the words. He shook his head. "I thought when you were appointed delegate. ..."

"I don't have time and neither does Denethan. The nesters respect one thing and one thing only: strength. They won't cut slack for anybody who can't keep up. They have no respect for community welfare. They're outcasts who live the way they do because they chose to. They're not going to let me walk up to the dean and parlay just because I ask them to." Thomas adjusted the weight of his pack. "Coming with me? We need to get mounts, as soon as we can. I figure we have a day of riding ahead of us."

"Where are we going?"

"Just beyond the Vaults, slightly north and east. There's a plains area that sort of fades into the Mojave—"

"I know it," Drakkar said.

"All right. Logically, that's where the dean will pull back to establish a front line. His back is to the Vaults if he has to retreat and I'll bet the old bastard has another tunnel entrance or two we didn't find, in case he has to hide to save his ass. The nesters will bivouac at the reservoir where we camped, sweep down off the mountain, and attack.''

Drakkar fell into step with Thomas' long-striding pace. "What makes you think my father will come that far out of the desert after him?''

"A couple of things can happen. Either the nesters will fall back, -feinting a retreat, pulling the Mojave troops after them—or Denethan will be chasing bait.''

"Bait?"

Thomas nodded with satisfaction that the youth was panting a little to keep up with him. He repeated, "Bait.

He'll have the longshippers hung out to dry." He paused, looking up. "It'll be raining tonight. It should tail off in the morning. Say your prayers, Drakkar. Your dad is probably up to his ass fighting nesters right now. They'll disengage when the rain hits. And then he'll go after the bait."

Drakkar trotted in silence for a few minutes, then he asked, "How do you plan to get to the dean in all of this?"

"One nester at a time, if necessary. But I'll get to him." Blade's voice was grim.

Drakkar stopped talking, hard put to keep up with the pace. If Blade was going to run him into the ground, he began to see the logic in obtaining a mount as soon as possible.

The dull clanging on the shuttle's hull eventually stopped. Willem Marshall left the lounge, was gone a few minutes, and then returned.

Dusty knew it had been the dean who'd come calling. She could sense the man's presence even through the thick, space-protective skin of the vehicle.

"What did he want?"

"To remind us we're parked on a dry lake bed. He says this part of the desert is subject to flash flooding— that the rainstorms are fairly intense. He recommends we move the shuttle to higher ground and closer to the L. A. basin."

Dubois had ducked into the lounge to see what was happening. His face creased into his usual sardonic mask. "And what does he think we're going to do?" he said. "Fire her up and fly over?"

"Actually," the commander said, "we've a lot of use left in the ATVs. We could tow her."

"In the dark? In the rain?"

"We've got landing lights. The solars are strong enough to stay powered up. The possibility of flash floods does worry me." He faced Dusty. "Get your rain gear on. You're one of our best drivers."

"Will do." As she turned to sprint for the cabins,

Marshall could be heard telling Dubois to batten the hatches and alert Reynolds for driving as well.

It was an all night, nine-hour drive. Klegg and Dubois spelled her twice, but she took the main brunt of the tow on the port side, Reynolds with Marshall and Palchek spelling her to the starboard. The shuttle rolled behind them, an immense white behemoth, cutting through wind and rain and mud with the difficulty of its size and weight. She had swallowed more than her share of the mire when the sun came out and the pounding rain began to let up. The horizon of the Angeles Crest Mountains was illumined in front of them, dark green from the fringe of pine and golden brown from the dried grasses and brush reaching up to its crown. In the brilliant morning light, the mountains did look as though they were gold, rising out of the desert.

She braked the ATV to a halt, coordinating with Reynolds. They had climbed a small rise, a gradual grade to a butte overlooking a plain now scoured with their wheel marks. The shuttle hatch opened and Marshall climbed down. It had taken them the better part of an hour to make the mesa.

Marshall scratched his head. "I didn't think we were going to make this last haul."

She shrugged, easing the tension from her shoulders. "We could have left her down below if we couldn't have. Nice view."

He looked about. "At least we're going to see all comers," he admitted. Dark clouds were sweeping away from the fringe and the air felt fresh and clean.

Mud caked her silver enviro suit and rain gear from head to toe. He put out a finger and wiped it across her face. "That stuff is going to dry on."

"Got enough water for a bath?"

He shook his head. She knew ship stores had been tailing. Dusty pushed back her poncho hood. Her hair was sodden and limp upon her shoulders.

The dean rode up and dismounted. Pleasure split his face from ear to ear. "Excellent," he said. "You have a good eye for strategic placement." He eyed her. "Dirty work, however."

Reynolds joined them. Her muscular form conveyed an aura of sexuality, even slathered with the mud. She shivered as she looked out over the expanse, however. Dusty realized she had not yet conquered her fear of wide-open spaces.

The dean said suddenly, "There is a reservoir not far from here. Ketchum could chaperone you for bathing and cleanup. You could test the water if you need to lay in supplies."

Even under the mud, Reynolds paled. She shook her head. Dusty said, "I'm in."

Palchek and Dubois nodded enthusiastically. Ketchum dismounted his horse. Dubois jumped into the driver's seat of the ATV and the rest of them climbed in. A look passed between the nester and the dean that Dusty caught as the nester occupied the rear seats with her. She wondered what could have happened to cause it.

She shrugged it off as the ATV jolted into motion. "You're going to love the woods," she shouted forward into Dubois' ear.

"Good. Then we'll take the scenic route!"

Marshall sat in the captain's chair, going over the computer set being read out to him. He checked and re-checked it, and then mulled it over. The numbers didn't lie. He had just enough fuel to make the thrust necessary to get the shuttle off the ground and into an orbit. From there, he would have very little maneuverability to actually dock with the
Challenger.
Sun would have to do all the fancy work to pick them. But it could be done. Maybe. If the thrusters were burning cleanly enough and if there was absolutely no waste of fuel so they could burn long enough to get the payload up.

He was running the numbers through again when Reynolds ducked her head in. She was toweling her long brunette hair off. "The ATV's back. There's been a problem."

There'd been more than a problem. The front grill was bent and one of the fender shields had been peeled back like a fruit rind. Palchek was in tears and Dubois looked uncharacteristically repentent. The nester Ketchum moved back as Marshall caught up with them.

"What the hell happened? And where's Dusty?"

Palchek blew his nose lustily as Dubois lifted a stricken face.

"We lost her, Commander," Dubois got out.

"Lost her? What the hell are you talking about? You left her in the mountains?"

Palchek dissolved into rasping sobs. Dubois gave him an annoyed look and climbed slowly out of the ATV. "Willem, she's
gone."

Reynolds had followed Marshall out of the ATV. Gold-stone and Colby flanked her. "You mean she's dead?" the mechanic asked.

Dubois nodded. He leaned against the battered ATV as if it were his anchor.

"God." Colby's voice was barely audible.

"Where's the body?" her husband said.

"We couldn't retrieve it," Palchek finally got out. His face and nose were swollen red and contorted. Marshall finally noticed that not all of it was from crying—he'd been horribly braised about the left side of his lanky face and Dubois was favoring his left wrist and ankle.

"What happened?" the commander repeated.

"We went to the reservoir. The water tests good, by the way. We washed off, kicked back, then Dusty wanted to go exploring. So we drove upriver, one of the tributaries to the reservoir. She said—" Dubois' voice caught. He swallowed and went on. "She said we'd love it, seeing a real river, in a real forest, after a real storm. The ATV was handling well. We cut across country once we got into some rough ground. The ATV hit a boulder and bounced to a halt in a riverbed. We all got out, got some deadwood for leverage—there wasn't any problem. The river was fairly deep and swept downstream. Dusty said it was beautiful. She could hear a waterfall below us, around the bend. Anyway, we all put our backs to getting the ATV out. That's when it happened."

Kerry had come down the shuttle ramp and approached them. She interrupted saying to Palchek, "You're hurt. Commander, let me take him in and get him quiet. He could have a concussion."

Marshall nodded. Dubois waited until Palchek had limped off with the medic's help. Then he said, "We almost had the ATV out. Then one of the tree limbs broke. The ATV reared up and rolled over, right over the top of us. Dusty went under. She was swept into the deep water immediately. The ATV came down on top of me and Palchek—he was underneath, too, pinned down in the shallows. Ketchum—" Dubois faltered.

The nester looked to the dean who had been silent during the entire exchange. The dean gave a nearly imperceptible nod. Ketchum said, "I heard her head hit rock.

I could not catch her. The water carried her around the bend. I could help these two, so I did."

Dubois took a deep breath. "We couldn't find her body. We drove slowly downstream. There was a series of falls-—unconscious, she must have drowned and her body swept off—God, Marshall, it happened so quickly."

Reynolds said, "I'll find it."

Willem shook his head. Heavily, he said, "These things can happen. We've other problems now. Dubois, go find Kerry and get that leg looked to. The dean tells me we've got a war on our doorsteps. More of those lizard people are massing. He's sent for his nation to protect us. By tomorrow morning, we'll be up to our chins in trouble. Dusty would understand, I think. In the meantime, we have some major decisions to make."