Twenty-Four

Settlement, the following evening

“You ready to go back out again?”
Mike opened his eyes to see Major Wells standing over him. “Oh, crap, Major, how’s next month grab you?” Jenny tapped his head with two fingers. The young couple had been dozing in the light of the setting sun. Jenny was sitting in a clump of ferns against the wall of their borrowed shack, Mike was reclined with his bandaged head in her lap.
“Come on,” Major Wells chuckled, “There’s someone I want you to meet. Miss, I promise I’ll have Lieutenant Crider back to you in an hour.”
“I’ll hold you to that, Major.” Jenny smiled.
Mike got to his feet slowly, grumbling. “How’s the head?” the Major asked.
“It’ll do,” Mike informed him. “It still hurts, but not so bad. The doc tells me it’ll heal up fine, but I’m lucky to be here. Another centimeter to the side, and I wouldn’t have a head.” Jenny grimaced at that but didn’t offer any comment.
“Let’s go over to the briefing room. Your men should already be there. I’ve got two replacements for you, and we’ve got another mission in mind. Something that might stop these things once and for all.”
“Really? How?”
“I’ll let Doc Richfield explain that.”
The briefing room in the Security HQ was only five minutes’ walk away, and when they arrived, Mike’s scouts were already there and seated. Yuri Pyak had taken an energy bolt burn across his ribs on the left, Rousseau a glancing hit on one shoulder, but both had been examined and pronounced fit for duty.
The two replacements were seated at the front of the room. At a wave from Major Wells, they came forward to shake hands with Mike.
“Mike, this is Mick Menmunny. He’s been living on the edge of the forest south almost to the ocean, and just now brought his family in to Settlement.” Menmunny was brown-skinned, with a shock of light-brown, frizzy hair.
“G’day, Mike. I’ve ‘eard a lot about you, mate.” He stuck out a calloused hand to shake Mike’s.
“You’re from Australia?” Mike asked.
“That’s right. A little place in Queensland called Yarrabah. My people have been thereabouts a long time.”
Mick wore only tattered green cotton shirts, leather sandals, and a tooled leather bag on a strap over one shoulder. His weapon was a surprise, a beautifully maintained Berne & Kobel 14.5mm Recoilless. The weapon’s sling doubled as an ammo bandolier, lined with a dozen or so of the 14.5mm rockets for the single-shot arm.
Major Wells turned to the other man, a tall, powerfully built black man wearing khaki shorts and a black cotton shirt. “And this is Nathaniel Tzukuli, Mike. He’s our resident zoologist, but he’s volunteered to scout with your group.”
Tzukuli’s huge hand engulfed Mike’s in a powerful grip. “Pleasure to meet you, Mr. Crider.” His voice was deep, sepulchral, his accent upper class British. Tzukuli threw back his head and laughed at Mike’s surprised expression.
“Yes, the accent. My father was in the KwaZulu regional government, Mr. Crider. I was educated in England.”
“Don’t be so modest, Nathaniel,” Major Wells broke in. “Mike, Nathaniel here went to Oxford on a Rhodes Scholarship at age fourteen. He’s got PhD’s in Animal Behavior and Xenozoology. He’s probably the smartest man on the planet, so we all listen to him, don’t we, Doctor Tzukuli?”
“Well, the brighter among you do, yes,” Tzukuli replied seriously.
“What’s a xenozoologist?” Mike wanted to know.
“I study extraterrestrial life forms,” Tzukuli said. “You know what a zoologist is, yes?” Mike nodded. “’Xeno’ means ‘outside’ or ‘external.’ In this case, it means outside Earth’s biosphere. I specialize in the study of large predators, which is why I’m here on Forest.”
“The rocs,” Mike said. “I’ve got to ask, why are you signing up with us? I mean, if you’re a scientist, wouldn’t you be better off working with the Company people here to figure these things out?”
“Two reasons, Mr. Crider. One, I was a Zulu before I was a scientist. Forest is my home now, and now I find an enemy threatens my home. The impis, the war regiments, are forming, and I’ve come to join them.
“Two, the physics and technical people don’t need a field zoologist getting in their way. My field is specialized and of little value to the problem at hand. However, I am an experienced field zoologist and here on Forest that means I am also an accomplished hunter. I’ve fed myself in the wild for months at a time, and I’ve observed rocs extensively at close quarters without being detected. I think my skills will prove useful to your party. Besides,” he added, grinning, “I understand you’ve quite a challenge facing you. I think you’ll need all the hands you can get.”
“Ah, I don’ know if I like de sound of dat.” Beauregard Rousseau came forward, placing one huge, calloused hand on Mike’s shoulder. “But I tell you somet’ing. Dis boy ‘ere, there be more to ‘im than you see. We ‘ad our tits in a wringer night before las’, and ‘e keeps ‘is ‘ead. Brings us out in good shape. Before dat, I was t’inking, ‘Dis one, ‘e is only a wort’less boy. I was wrong. We go after dem t’ings again, I jes’ as soon go with dis boy in front.”
Mike’s face reddened with embarrassment at this unexpected benediction.
Yuri Pyak piped up, “Da!”
Thomas Quiet Water nodded once.
“We’re in with a good crew, Doc,” Mick Menmunny observed.
The briefing began a few moments later, with Major Wells once again at his place in front of the room. Gerald Richfield hurried in just as the Major began speaking.
“OK, our technical team, led by Doctor Richfield here, have found out something very interesting about the enemy we’re facing. Doc?”
Gerald Richfield stood up, adjusting his glasses. He glanced once at a thick sheaf of papers in his right hand, and then set them down.
“We’ve been examining the flying skimmer that Lieutenant Crider brought in. We were pretty baffled at first, because it doesn’t seem to have any power source, but the vehicle still functions. In fact, our research team’s been riding it all over Settlement.” The scouts chuckled at that remark.
“So, anyway, we were a little confused until we noticed what looked some kind of receiver wired to the presser field generator. They use a generator that’s really pretty similar to the ones on our skimmers, but they don’t operate on a fuel cell. When we noticed that, we cobbled together a wideband signal detector, and we found a broadcast signal that’s almost off the scale.”
“Broadcast power?” Nathaniel Tzukuli said in a wondering voice. “Isn’t that supposed to be impossible?”
“Evidently not,” Richfield replied. “These Grugell have figured it out. Let me tell you what that means.”
He pointed up at the ceiling. “Somewhere up there, the Grugell must have some kind of satellite with a massive solar power array. Well, we can’t get at that. It would take at least sixteen months to get any help from Earth, by the time a signal gets to Earth and any help can get here. We don’t have any ships on the ground here at the moment, and none are expected for another three months, so we can’t even ram the thing. So, we can’t do anything about the satellite.”
“I see where you’re going,” Mike said. “If we can kill the broadcast power, we kill all their vehicles, maybe all their equipment. But since we can’t get to the satellite, how do we take out their power?”
“That’s what we were worried about, until we analyzed the signal. It’s strong, but not as strong as we expected. They’re not broadcasting from the satellite. Forest is a magnetic planet like Earth, and our best guess is that the magnetic field interferes somehow with a direct broadcast. What we got to thinking is that they’re beaming the energy from the satellite to a receiver here on Forest, and broadcasting it from there. So, we analyzed the source of the broadcast signal, triangulating from ten klicks east and west of Settlement. Here’s where the signal is originating.” He walked to a large map on the back wall, indicating a spot with a pen taken from his shirt pocket. “Right here, in the New Pyrenees.”
“That’s where our cabin is! Was, anyway!” Mike burst out.
“That’s where they’ve set up their base camp,” Major Wells interjected. “And that’s where we’re sending you men. To find whatever receiver they’ve got up there receiving the broadcast power from orbit, and destroy it.”
“What will it look like?”
Major Wells and Doctor Richfield traded a sheepish look.
“We don’t know,” Richfield admitted.
“So, ‘ow we supposed to blow de damn t’ing up?” Rousseau demanded.
“That’s where Doc Richfield comes in,” Major Wells announced, taking the stage again. “He’s going with you.”
“If I can get a look at their camp, I should be able to spot the receiver. I’m not sure what it will look like, but I should know it when I see it.”
“You should know it when you see it?” Mike asked, doubtful.
“That’s the best guess I can give you, Lieutenant.”
“Oh, boy, dis is somet’ing. We gon’ drag all de way up in dese mountains, and den hope we can figure out what dis t’ing is, oui? Hoo boy.”
“Yeah, Beau, but if we can kill it, that kills their power to everything. We’ll be able to mop them right up,” Mike chided the older man. “I don’t think it’s a bad idea at all. Doctor Richfield, can you be ready to leave at first light?”
“My stuff’s already packed,” the scientist replied. “I’m not much of an outdoorsman, but I’m in pretty good shape, and the Mercantile has set me up with gear. I’ll try not to slow you down too much.”
“Mick, Nathaniel, are you ready?” Both men agreed.
“That’s it, then. Major Wells, can you arrange a skimmer to get us to Outskirts? We’ll jump off from there.”
“You’ve got it, Lieutenant Crider. Get some rest, men, you’ve got a long walk tomorrow.”
I’m going to have fun explaining this to Jenny, Mike told himself as he walked back to the shack.

“You’re going to do what?!”
“Baby, this is important! If we can knock this thing out, we kill all their equipment. We’ll have them beaten!” Mike hugged Jenny against his chest, kissing the top of her head. “We’ve got to do it. It might be our only hope of beating these things.”
“Why you?” Jenny sobbed. “Why can’t they send someone else? Haven’t you done enough?”
“There’s nobody else that can do it. I know that country, I know how their camp is set up, and I know how to get in and out of there without being picked up.”
“I wish I was going with you,” Jenny relented. “They say they need every gun they can get here, in case they come looking for us.”
“No way I’d let you come anyway, baby. Too dangerous.”
“You and your tough cowboy attitude. Well, don’t you ‘little woman’ me, Michael No-Middle-Name Crider. I’m going to be on the palisade with my rifle if they come down here looking for trouble.”
“I know, honey. We are in a hell of a spot, aren’t we? I bet you wished you’d stayed on the Moon.”
“Not even close. If this is as far as we go, Mike, then this is as far as we go. But loving you for the last year is worth more than living another fifty without you.”
“Me too, baby. Me too.”
“Now, let’s go in this horrible little shack, and go to bed. I’ve got an idea it will be a while before we get another chance to, well, you know.” She thrust her flat little stomach against Mike’s belt buckle, quickly, before taking his hand and leading him inside.

To see more of Animal’s writing, visit his page at Crimson Dragon Publishing or Amazon.