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  The nearest three walkers froze for a moment, then slowly turned this way and that. They had the attitude of listening men. Like an escaping rodent, Gersen ran uphill between them.

  He glanced back when he’d reached the relative safety of the road. He put his hands on his knees and panted. He was not truly winded yet, but fear and poisoning had a way of tiring a man quickly. He could see the pod-walkers were curious and casting for him, like predators throwing their noses high to catch the faint scent of prey.

  He had evaded them. Now, he had a decision to make. He looked up the road again, but still couldn’t make out the village walls. The curl of smoke in the sky had thickened and turned black. He frowned. Something odd was definitely going on up there. He suspected Kerth was at the bottom of it.

  Gersen knew he couldn’t very well march up and tap upon the gates again. That would only gain him a fresh shower of crossbow bolts from the walls. Even Bolivar had said he couldn’t help. A stranger who broke their taboos had to be punished.

  Frowning, and wondering at his own sanity, Gersen walked to the nearest bed of freshly-planted sea-pods. These were the infants of the species. They were buried clusters of bulbs that were each no larger than a man’s eyeball. Later, these would turn into spiny pods the size of a man’s elongated head.

  Breathing through his teeth, he grabbed up the root of the plant and wrenched it loose from the sand. The vines began writhing weakly. Gersen produced a tiny blade he’d gotten from his boat and slashed open several of the podlings until they dripped a thick, greenish sap.

  Having been freshly transplanted from the bottom of the ocean to the beach, the pods were in no condition to defend themselves. They could, however, make a strange odor. Few men had smelled it before, Gersen himself being among that select group. The pods released a whistling sulfurous gas which he immediately recognized. They were calling for help.

  Gersen savagely ripped up another handful of squirming, fleshy tubers and slashed these open as well. The young plants released a powerful stink. He began to trot up the road with twin handfuls of vines. Sticky green sap dribbled behind him with every step.

  All along the beach, every pod-walker stopped stumping along the shoreline. They froze, crowns trembling. Then as one, they turned and thundered after him. They hooted and blasted tremendous, low-noted howls as they came. These noises served to call yet more of their kind. They had no ears, but could detect low vibrations which tickled their sensitive, hair-thin spines.

  The chase was on.

  –12–

  Gersen doubted the wisdom of his actions when he glanced over his shoulder. There had to be thirty pod-walkers pursuing him, and those were only the ones he could see. Worse than those behind were the ones that might be ahead. They would seek to intercept him.

  As he topped a rise less than a half-mile from the village walls, his doubts grew. He could see a hundred or more of the walkers, all behind him, humping upslope rapidly. He now was fairly certain he was mildly insane. No matter, he told himself. He would most likely be dead within minutes, and at that point all recriminations would be in the past.

  He topped the final rise, expecting to see the vast plateau of juvenile plants ahead he’d passed through before. His vague plan had been to run for the hole under the boulders, which was too small for a pod-walker to enter. While they madly howled and thundered after him, surging against the walls, he’d hoped at the very least to give Kerth and his friends the fright of their lives.

  When he saw the actual scene, however, he was almost too stunned to take it all in. The field was still there, terminating in the stern line of boulders, but the pods were all burnt and dead. In the middle of the field was a new, ugly structure of some kind. Built of blackened metal and struts, it looked like a bloated spider squatting on the land. The spider had a triangular mouth in its belly, and the mouth was open, the lower jaw forming a ramp that sank into the dust with what was evidently great weight.

  It took a second or two for Gersen to comprehend that he was looking at a spacecraft. He’d never seen one outside the vids, and this one was of an unfamiliar, alien design. He stumbled in his surprised, and fell to one knee. He quickly scrambled back up and advanced warily along the road.

  He was so stunned, gaping at the spider-like craft, he scarcely noticed the smashed gate and tumbled watchtower ahead of him until he reached them. He staggered to a shuffling halt and stared when these realities finally struck home.

  “What in the Nine Hells …?” he whispered to no one.

  At that point, the first of the pod-walkers crested the rise behind him. It hooted and trundled forward on its three churning legs. Gersen tried to think. The gate had clearly been smashed down by invaders from the ship. He recalled the streaks of light he’d seen in the sky—could this truly be them? Aliens from the quiet skies? No one came to Faust—no one. He could scarcely imagine a reason why anyone would want to bother his people in their meager existence, but he pushed those thoughts aside quickly. He wasn’t one for pondering unknowables, especially not when his life was under immediate threat.

  Not sure what else to do, Gersen whirled the podlings he still dragged behind him around his head three times, releasing them. They sailed into the open mouth of the ship. The pod-walkers would have a good time retrieving them. Then he turned and raced into the village itself, passing the disintegrated gates.

  As he trotted into the compound, his horror grew with every step. The bodies of villagers decorated the landscape. Twisted, burned, and chopped into bloody bits, people lay dead in every imaginable state of repose. They were hung from the struts of domes or left in piles of severed body parts. Some seemed to have been simply struck dead where they stood.

  Gersen examined each, shuffling ahead and making odd sounds in his throat. Black blood mixed with gray dust and formed a crust upon his sandals. His eyes searched every twisted, dead face he saw. The breezes coming up from the sea ruffled the dead, lifting their hair and coating their cheeks with dust. He recognized a few of them, but did not see Estelle.

  Behind him, the pod-walkers set up a tremendous din when they found the burnt field. When they reached the spaceship, they went mad. Wild, undulating hoots and howls rose up. The sounds were alien, like sea winds in a raging night storm. They attacked the struts and beat their crowns against the dark hull. They tore and scrabbled at what they viewed as a huge attacker, taking off chunks of shielding. They left sticky splotches of sap on every surface. They rushed through the open hatch when they found it, smashing down mech crewmen in the passages and running wild inside the ship itself. Their echoing cries warbled from deep within the craft.

  Incredibly, Gersen saw the entire ship sway slightly, such was the power of their collective fury. He felt a deep-seated pang of terror in his belly. Just such scenes had heralded the extinction of various colony settlements in the early days. What had he unleashed?

  He found Kerth strung up by a length of cord. Gersen realized after a moment of peering that the cord was from the man’s broken crossbow, which lay beneath his dangling feet. All of his crossbow bolts had been thrust into his body at a variety of angles. His left eye was dead and staring, while his right had been plucked loose. It sagged and drooped upon his cheek like an emptied bladder.

  Shuddering, Gersen wasn’t sure if he should advance further into the village. Who could have performed all these atrocities? Were the invaders better than the pod-walkers, or infinitely worse?

  Crouching and peering from the wreckage of a demolished dome, he watched as the walkers wreaked havoc upon the invading ship. Dozens ripped at the exterior, attempting to pull off chunks of the outer hull. Some, however, had wandered away from this task. They quickly found the wall and its absent gate. They bellowed for their brethren, and flooded into the village itself. They set about tearing down the domes nearest the entrance. Excitedly, they attacked everything they came near. The last standing structures were knocked flat and the dead were shredded before being cast aside.


  Gersen crept back further into the wreckage he’d found. He sensed the end of his life was near. If not from the walkers themselves, then from the invaders, who seemed hell-bent on killing every villager in the most gruesome fashion they could devise.

  He heard a new sound then, but it didn’t fill him with anything resembling hope. A group advanced from deeper within the village. Their footsteps sounded loud and numerous. There was an odd metallic ring to the steps, as if they wore metal suits.

  Gersen sought a better place to hide, and he soon crawled under a demolished water basin. There, he crouched and stared.

  –13–

  No one was more shocked than the Engineer when the mechs met up with the pod-walkers. Strange, alien creatures heaved and stomped, tearing up what remained of the village. The mech column, including sixteen Marines, two Sergeants, the Captain and the Engineer with his trailing Techs, all halted in surprise.

  They could scarcely believe their orbs. Beasts like walking three-legged trees were running amok. There were scores of them, and they were big. The largest were taller than the thirty-foot tall row of boulders that ringed this pathetic settlement. Suddenly, the Engineer understood why the natives had built their primitive fortifications.

  The Captain recovered faster than the rest of them. “First Squad, advance!” he roared. “Second Squad, encircle this position and lay down defensive fire!”

  The Marines surged ahead, following their Sergeants. They moved with bent knees and raised weapons. Their grippers spun as they adjusted nozzles and release-valve settings. Without instructions, they knew they would need both range and maximum output.

  At a range of fifty paces, a Sergeant roared: “Fire!” He was immediately obeyed. A blaze of plasma that resembled solid, glaringly bright light spun outward in a spiral pattern from the throat of every Marine’s weapon. The front rank of walkers was scorched and many of them burst into flame. The mech weapons were designed to destroy metal rather than cellulose; consequently the enemy was not stopped.

  The effect on the milling mob of monsters was astonishing. They’d been wandering in random directions like agitated ants searching for something to attack. Now, they’d been given purpose and direction. A tremendous collective roar of fresh howls shot up from every creature. They charged as if they possessed a single mind between the mass of them.

  The monsters moved with surprising rapidity and, although many were encased in flames, they showed not the slightest hint of fear. If they felt pain, it was clear the only effect of it was to goad them into a greater fury.

  “Close-assault configuration!” screamed First Squad’s Sergeant. “Fire at will!”

  The Marines again adjusted their weapons expertly, dialing for a broader spread of plasma. When they unleashed their lavender gushes of energy again, the enemy was almost upon them. Several of the monsters went down this time, overwhelmed by the searing heat that burned away their vines and blackened their bark. The majority, however, pressed forward despite the withering attacks.

  When the two lines crashed into one another, both sides reeled from the shock. Every mech Marine was a fierce combat system. Equipped with a thicker chassis than normal crewmembers, reinforced titanium limbs and even orbs that could not be broken with a sledgehammer, they did not succumb to any kind of assault easily. Each weighed more than a ton and stood a foot taller than a normal man. But when the pod-walkers charged into them, they went down like a row of sticks. It was a simple matter of mass and weight ratios. Each walker was three times as tall and had six times the weight of a mech. As most of the walkers were on fire and their vines had been burned away, they did not try to grapple. Instead, they knocked the mechs down and stomped on them. Huge flat feet drove downward like wooden mallets.

  The mechs continued struggling from the ground. They released gush after gush of brilliant plasma up at their raging attackers. Overwhelmed, many pod-walkers thrashed and died. Their legs were cut from under them, causing them to topple and fall onto one another.

  Mechs were crushed into the ground, hammered down like spikes. Their limbs broke, and their weapons misfired. Often, these accidents caused gruesome casualties. The mech weapons were more deadly to another mech than they were to the walkers. Numerous cases of fratricide occurred as mechs blindly unleashed gush after gush of blazing plasma.

  “Captain,” said the Engineer. “The First Tactical Squad is being defeated.”

  The Captain’s orbs blazed. “This is incredible! Where did these villagers get this army of trees?”

  “I believe they are an indigenous alien species—not trees.”

  The Captain gave a strange bark of laughter. “You have a substandard brain. As proof, you lack any sense of self-expression above the most literal. Of course they aren’t trees! They are vicious alien beasts. You are worse than useless Engineer, and I will disconnect you the moment this battle has been concluded.”

  “Captain,” began the Engineer, but the officer marched away from him.

  The Captain spoke to the Sergeant of the second Marine squadron. “Narrow your beam and fire low. Take out their legs at range. They will be helpless if they can’t maneuver.”

  “But sir, some of the First Squad might be hit.”

  “Follow your orders Sergeant, or be disconnected!”

  The Sergeant offered no more objections. He shouted orders, and his Marines advanced, firing steadily into the thrashing mass of mechs and walkers. Within a few minutes, most of the walkers had been disabled. It was a simple matter after that to destroy the crippled survivors.

  The Engineer watched with dismay. The Captain had indeed given appropriate orders. Using these new tactics, the pod-walkers would be quickly destroyed. Unfortunately, that meant he was to be disconnected very soon and had only seconds left to live. He turned to his two Techs, and beckoned them to advance. Between them, they carried the metal box he’d been working on for days.

  The Captain ordered Second Squad to cease fire and advance into the heaving mass of bodies. They were to save every Marine from the First Squad that they could. Few survivors were found, however.

  The Engineer felt stressed. He did not think the Captain had made his threat as a joke. Neither was he likely to change his mind. As the Engineer fiddled with the controls on his metal box, the Captain strode back toward him. Repeatedly, the Engineer adjusted the settings and activated the machine. Nothing appeared to happen.

  “Engineer,” the Captain said. “Stand clear of that equipment. I do not wish to damage it.”

  “One moment, sir,” the Engineer said. “I think I have a new reading on the location of the enemy equipment. If you will give me a few minutes more—”

  The Captain chuckled, and raised his disconnection device. “Disobedient as well? This shall be my good deed for the day. Your removal from the crew—”

  The Captain broke off as the mech Marine Sergeant standing beside him stumbled. The Sergeant pitched forward on his face. The chassis was stiff and unresponsive, and his orbs were face down in the dust.

  “What’s wrong with him?” the Captain asked irritably. Frowning, he returned to his attention to the Engineer.

  The Engineer was now frantically adjusting his equipment and slapping at it with his grippers. The Captain’s artificial eyes spread wide. He lifted his disconnection wand and depressed the firing stud.

  The Engineer wanted to dive out of the way. But he knew it was pointless. His chassis had already received the signal, and three seconds from now it would be too late. He activated his makeshift device, and hoped the projector was aimed correctly this time.

  “Mutiny!” said the Captain, but already, the volume of his voice had shrunken to a whisper. There was no power in it. The arm holding the disconnection wand sagged, pointing toward the ground. He could no longer lift it.

  A moment later, the Captain crashed into the dust at the Engineer’s feet, disconnected. The Engineer’s metal box had finally operated as intended. It was a disconnection device, like a
ny other. It was overly-large and primitive, but effective at short range nonetheless. The only improvement the Engineer had made to the original design was the removal of the three-second delay.

  “The Captain has suffered a malfunction,” the Engineer said calmly. He ordered the rest of the Marines to advance on the ship and remove the rampaging aliens. He picked up the Captain’s disconnection wand and waved it meaningfully at the other mechs. They all hastened to obey him.

  It was time to leave this vile planet.

  –14–

  As the Engineer marched at the rear of his Marines, Gersen found himself in the mech’s path. He’d been forced to exit his hiding spot due to the battle. He was now trapped between the pod-walkers on the far side of the wall and the advancing mechs. He calculated his odds of survival were higher if he faced the mechs, rather than the enraged pod-walkers. He decided to bluff it through.

  Accordingly, Gersen stood to one side of the broken gates. He kept his hands out, showing he was unarmed and doing nothing to impede the passing mechs. The mech Marines marched past him, advancing upon the pod-walkers that still thronged the ship. Using the Captain’s technique of burning away the enemy’s legs, the Marines pressed the walkers back steadily.

  They passed Gersen by, barely glancing at him with their flashing metallic orbs. They had no orders regarding him, so they ignored him after determining he wasn’t a credible threat.

  Gersen grew bolder as the Engineer approached. He dared to ask a question. “You are leaving?”

  The Engineer glanced at him. For a moment, it seemed he would march by like the rest of them, but then he hesitated. The two Techs behind him shuffled their clanking feet uneasily.

  “Yes,” the Engineer said to Gersen.

  “But why did you come? Why did you burn our village and torture our people? Was this all for nothing?”