Valkeryn 2: The Dark Lands (17 page)

He felt his stomach roil.  Whatever was in store for them was inside the castle. He wondered whether Arn had travelled this way, or whether he too was already a captive inside. The dark thought strangely lifted him.

Edward was jerked forward, forcing him to collide with Becky’s soft behind. He looked down momentarily, and for a few seconds, could almost forget where he was. He now knew what Arn had seen in her – from every angle she was beautiful.

Edward looked back up, and saw she had turned and knew where he was looking. An expression of disgust twisted her features.

He shook his head. ‘I wasn’t.’

Becky’s lip curled even more. ‘Don’t even think about it, creep.’

He groaned, his eyes downcast.
After all that’s happened, I’m the creep?
He sighed.
Might as well be back home
, he thought miserably.

*

Edward and Becky were forced to their knees before the throne. Edward tried to hold his breath so as not to endure the stench coming from the decrepit creature seated before him. He thought the killing fields of the castle forecourts were bad, until he was thrust into the presence of a thing that was like some sort of feline maggot – almost completely hairless, long bodied and with a few open sores on its white grub-like flesh. Attendants continually groomed the creature, stroking it, patting it, and kneading its skin.

It spoke to them in a long reptilian hiss, and he and Becky looked at each other, neither understanding the language.

‘Um, I’m American – A-mer-i-can.’ Becky offered helpfully, and tried to smile.

Edward knelt up as straight as he could, and pointed at himself, and Becky, and then raised one hand, opening the palm, he hoped in a universal sign of friendship.

He cleared his throat and touched his chest. ‘I am Edward Lin.’ He then pointed to Becky. ‘This is Rebecca Matthews.’ He waited for a few seconds, but the feline creature just stared with that half-lidded yellow gaze. He went on. ‘We have come to you as friends. We mean you no harm.’ He paused again, but all that was returned was the unblinking gaze.

Edward licked his lips, becoming unsettled. ‘We are searching for one who is like us. One who goes by the name of Arnold Singer.’

The creature raised a hand, and the attendants stopped their continual preening. She spoke a few words, and immediately both Becky and Edward’s hands were grabbed behind their backs and they were pushed forward, still on their knees. The creature was helped to a sitting position, and as they neared, it raised hands that ended in long black talons. It reached out to them, to gently touch at their faces.

Becky tried to turn away. ‘Please don’t.’ Her voice became urgent and shrill. ‘I can help you. I can show you how to get back to Earth. There are soldiers coming. I can help you.’

Wow, a true patriot
, thought Edward, as the gentle touch of the talons became firmer and then started to pierce the flesh of their temples.

As the claws sunk in, Edward felt a sudden explosion in his brain. It was like, he imagined, being seated in the electric chair when they first pulled the big red switch, and the currents coursed through your flesh to boil your blood, and fry your brain.

He still heard the hissing language of the grub-like cat creature, but then something else began to happen – the hissing whine became words.

Edward gritted his teeth, and felt his nose start to run, the liquid warm on his lip. His brain felt like it was being pulled apart as if a small animal had been let loose to madly race in the attic of his mind, kicking things over, ripping open doors and drawers, in a frantic search for information. He felt he had become an open book, the pages being flipped rapidly, with some torn free and stuffed into pockets. Images flashed up, bounced around, and were immediately ripped away. His most precious thoughts were treated like a bargain at super-sale time; snatched by a crazed shopper, judged, and then kept or flung aside.

His nose streamed now, and he worried about Becky as fragments of his life flashed before him, like a movie in fast play mode – his childhood, Naperville High, the Fermilab facility, images of Arn as a boy, and then a young man. Doctor Albert Harper, his face when the accident occurred, the guards, and then the army colonel, Briggs, who was preparing to come through after them with her team of soldiers. This image was frozen, and replayed several times over.

The talons were withdrawn and the link broken. But the understanding of the words remained, and so did the identity of the being before them,
Mogahrr, queen of the Panterran race. A decayed grin stretched her flat face.

Edward felt a pounding in his head, and wiping his chin, saw it was wet with blood from his nose. Looking across at Becky, he saw that she was the same, slumped forward, sobbing.

Mogahrr reached out a hand and wiped one talon under Edward’s nose, coating the sharp spike with his blood, and then bringing it back to her lips to taste. She turned to one of the small hooded creatures beside her.

‘Nowww, bring meee thissss feeemale called Briggssss.’

*

Colonel Marion Briggs couldn’t sleep, couldn’t turn off. Her body was as tired as it had ever been, but she was still so juiced she knew restful sleep would be beyond her… at least until she had achieved her objectives and she was headed home.

She groaned. Besides the over-fatigued state of her mind and body, there was something that kept nagging it at her, making her feel that she had forgotten something critical. She sat up and rubbed her face. The electronic shields had been deployed and a couple of sentries patrolled the camp perimeter.  She looked around – her team slept soundly. She checked her watch… only an hour until they were due to get moving again. She swore; might as well give up and walk the line – sleep fairy ain’t paying you a visit tonight Briggsie.

She stretched, hoping the solitude would help her remember what it was that bugged her. Getting silently to her feet, she stepped through the sleeping bodies, and walked a little further out from under the broad branches of the tree they had taken shelter under. A soft tremor of the low hanging limb made her turn her head and then smile – one of the last of the football-sized egg casings was inching along the broad branch, making its way towards her.

Nothing’s what it seems in this damn world
, she thought as she waited for a few moments for it to be directly overhead. The long sinewy worm dropped down, fangs extended as it lowered itself towards her face. In a flash of movement, she pulled her longest K-bar from its sheath and slashed across the bulb, cutting it in two.

The grub fell to the ground, with a small squeal, and she stamped on it with her boot.
Thought we cleaned all you ugly mothers up
. She wiped her heel on the grass.

Briggs walked out onto the hilltop and stood looking out at the horizon. The landscape reminded her of a cross between Sequoia National Park, and a giant Banyan tree forest.
Who knows
, she thought,
maybe the trees are some sort of weird hybrid.
She looked at the mountainous horizon. It certainly did not look like the flat landscape of Illinois that she had stepped out of days before. A lot of geological push and shove had gone on in the eons she supposed had passed between then and now.

One of the sentries moved up beside her and nodded. She returned the gesture, and he continued his sweep. Briggs walked another few paces and stood staring into the distance. She lifted her field glasses, and switched between the different optical enhancements – first infrared – nothing but a few small nocturnal animals moving about in the darkness. Then she switched to telescopic, zooming in and out on anything that might have been of interest. Nothing to notice, and that was a good thing.

She should have felt at ease, but something was still gnawing away in her gut. She continued to walk slowly. Why was she worried? They carried all the aces – they had the firepower, the intel, and the element of surprise. The local indigenous were big, slow, and would probably mount a few frontal attacks, relying on their brute strength. She’d blow them all to hell. In another day or so, she’d own this place.

She thought of the huge beasts and her mouth turned down. She couldn’t understand them, therefore they had absolutely no tactical value. Maybe she’d take a small one back for the lab boys to cut up.

The next sentry approached silently in the dark, and had just lifted his hand in a small salute, when the dart took him in the neck. Briggs’ eyes widened, and her training took over – she crouched and spun, her hand going to her pistol just as she felt a pinprick at her own throat.

Immediately the gun holster seemed at the bottom of deep pit and miles out of reach. Her arm started to weigh more than a Mack truck, and gravity crushed down on her shoulders. There was a thump, and she found herself sitting on the ground. Her muscles refused to obey her commands, as small figures materialized around her. Her hands and feet were expertly bound, and something was pulled over her head.

In modern warfare, real time information was the real weapon, and they should have had it all. Unless of course, the two young people who had gone through before them had somehow tilted the equation. What if the indigenous managed to interrogate them? Could they even understand them? Unlikely, but… now she realised what had been bugging her.

Never underestimate your enemy. She felt herself being lifted.
Off to meet the Red Queen, Alice
, she thought, as she felt herself being borne away in the dark.

*

Samson lifted the Delta sentry by the throat. The man’s toes were now the only things touching the ground. Samson’s nose was pressed to the man’s face and spittle flew from his mouth as he yelled.

‘Jackson and the Colonel taken while on your watch. You want to explain to me how that happened, Diekes? Or should I execute you for sleeping on the job, right here, right now?’

Diekes reached up and grabbed Samson’s wrist and twisted, hard. The bigger man held on, oblivious to the pressure exerted on his arm. Samson brought his face even closer, his forehead now crushing into the other man’s. He squeezed, gritting his teeth. Diekes tried to talk through his crushed windpipe, but couldn’t get the words out.

‘Let him go.’ Teacher’s voice was low and level.

Samson ignored him, his fingers digging deep into Diekes’ flesh.

Teacher stepped in closer. ‘Let him go. We’re gonna need every gun we got.’

Samson continued to stare at the elite soldier in his grip, now rapidly losing consciousness.

Teacher watched the bigger man from under lowered brows. With Briggs gone, Samson assumed command, and that made Teacher 2IC. For big Jim Teacher, being a highly trained Spec Ops soldier meant fearing nothing.  He was fiercely loyal to the chain of command. However, in his book, killing your own people cancelled that loyalty.

He felt what Samson felt. He knew damned well it wasn’t Diekes’s fault. But they all wanted someone to blame. Bottom line, Briggs stuffed up. She had set the security parameters, she had underestimated the enemy… and now, she paid. Every man and women they had brought with them was one of the best all-round warfare professionals that existed on the planet, in this time or any other. But somehow the enemy had found a way to get in under their guard.

Samson growled for a moment, and then pushed the man away, letting him fall to the ground. Samson turned away, and Diekes was up quickly, blood fury in his eyes.

Teacher held up his hand in front of him and shook his head.
Cool it
, the action said.

Another of the soldiers came jogging in to join them and Samson stood with his hands on his hips watching his approach.

‘About time. Report in, soldier.’

The soldier, Theo Themopolis, tagged “Two-Ts” by his comrades, stepped up as the other Delta Force members formed a ring around them. He held a large wet piece of cloth in his hands.

‘There are dozens of these out past the perimeter. They wet them and then probably crept in, slow and low to the ground. Came right in under our infrared; the cold blanket masked their heat signature.’

‘Jesus Christ; how the hell would they know to do that?’ Samson grabbed the material. It was a rough wool-type material, interwoven with leaves and twigs – camouflage. He held it out – it was little more than four feet square. ‘This is bullshit. This thing would not cover one of those big dumb mothers we encountered at the forest rim.’

Teacher took it from him. He sniffed it – he got hits of dirt and ammonia. ‘Must be something we haven’t encountered yet. Something a lot smarter.’

Samson took the blanket back. ‘They worked out how to beat infrared… in a day? They don’t have it, and from what we saw of the attack on the GBs, their equipment was totally obliterated. Nothing operational should have remained.’

Samson sniffed the material and wrinkled his nose. ‘Stinks.’ He handed it to the woman soldier closest to him. ‘Hand it around, remember it, everything is tactically crucial now.’

Teacher walked away, looking up at the tree canopy, and then slowly scanning the darkening forest. He stopped and turned back to them.

‘Interrogation.’

One of the Delta Force women, Alison Sharp, looked up as she handed the blanket to the man next to her. ‘Makes sense. They probably broke down the two kids that came through before us.’

Samson looked back at her and grunted his agreement. ‘Has to be. Damn, damn, damn….’ His jaws clenched and the big man swore loud enough to startle something small, which sprinted out of the bushes, heading for the darkness. Faster than the eye could follow, he drew his sidearm, and fired once. The animal exploded.

Samson paced away, holding the gun with his other hand balled into a fist. He squared his shoulders, and walked back to the team.

‘Listen up, children. Nap-time is over. The element of surprise has just been eliminated. Our mission protocol is unchanged, countdown is unchanged, rules of engagement are unchanged. We need to locate and retrieve the acceleration diamond, and Mr. Arnold Singer if possible – he is of secondary importance.’

Samson looked hard at each of them. ‘There is one change to our job sheet. We now have another priority objective. We need to get the boss back – rescue or revenge, and then we can save the world.’

‘HUA!’ As one.

Samson nodded. He turned slowly in a circle looking at each of them again, assessing them.

Teacher agreed the strategy, even though the rulebook said extending the mission objectives in the field put the primary objective at risk. This was different. Samson nodded to him.

‘Teach, anything to add.’

Jim Teacher looked at each of the fearsome looking men and women. ‘Time is against us. We do not, I repeat, do not want them getting inside Colonel Briggs’ head. It may compromise our primary objective, the way back home, and our world.’ He put his hands on his hips. ‘Rescue or revenge.’