“Jesus, that was close.” Yul wiped dust from his faceplate.
“Those are Zikri and Mentera vessels,” Cloye muttered. “Killing each other, snapping at each other’s tails like rabid dogs. I thought this was an alliance?”
“Funny how they’re not getting shot down,” mused Hresh.
“Ever hear of shields?” said Fenli.
“Where they disappear to though? Makes no sense.” Cloye’s eyes arched skyward. “More coming.” A bright flash trailed across the sky between two horned peaks. Two Zikri Orbs in pursuit of the attacking Mentera craft.
“They’re aliens!” Fenli croaked. “How do we expect to understand them?” He threw up his hands. “I say we get the hell out of here. We’re too exposed.”
“Yeah, and where you want to run to?” Yul demanded. “The open desert?” He gritted his teeth.
“They’re not likely going to be searching for humans down here while they’re up to their eyeballs in enemy ship fire,” Hresh pointed out.
“I don’t want to be the one to find out otherwise.” Yul stumbled to his feet. The others grudgingly followed.
On they trod toward a blemish in the cliff that might have been a crude opening. Hresh huffed and puffed into his faceplate, fogging it up, not used to the sudden brisk exercise despite the lower gravity. The older man would slow them down. He’d better not slow them down too much. Fenli could turn into a problem, too, Yul thought, for other reasons.
Before them, the base of the ridge loomed, a near sheer cliff, and they approached with wary steps. The place was layered with crumbled rock and scree. Fenli confirmed this was the place his wingmen had flown over before they crashlanded. “The rest of my team came hurtling down somewhere over there. Sket burned up before he crashed. I’m sure of it. I don’t know where Miko ended up.” He pointed a shaky finger to a distant bend off to the right. “The man saved my life—rescued me from a bug tank on some distant Mentera station. Sorry I couldn’t do the same for him.”
Like ghosts, they moved toward a crude opening in the moon-like, dust-grey cliff. What looked like massive carven ox horns curled around the arched top, creeping them out: disturbing, top-heavy things, but were actually alien tentacles carved in some bygone past.
Awe and unease left Yul groping for words. He shuddered, recognizing the eerie iconography of the squid-like Zikri.
A quick peek within revealed a long tunnel laced with sepulchral shadows, large enough to accommodate a mid-sized starship. Yul clambered forward to investigate, despite his qualms.
“Wait!” Fenli grabbed his shoulder. “You sure you want us to go in there? Doesn’t look that inviting to me.”
Yul looked at him with strained patience. “What is inviting in this wretched place?”
“Your ship—the one that went down, maybe you can salvage something—”
“Forget it, Fenli,” Cloye snapped. “The ship is lost. You’d better have some good reason to steer us this way. Nowhere else to go and we’re running out of air.”
“Me? What are you on? I’ve no plan. Been stuck in a frozen pool since crash-landing on this dunghill slagheap.”
Cloye cursed in acknowledgement.
Yul motioned them on. “Quit bickering. We move on into this opening in the ridge. We hope it’ll lead us to where the smoke and ships came from, as planned. There must be some life-support systems where those Zikri and Mentera have their creep meets. Oxygen, water, food. Beg, borrow or steal, we’ll get food and shelter.”
Hresh looked on with wide-eyed curiosity. Yul stared back at him, wondering what went on in the scientist’s square head. Everything seemed like an intellectual puzzle to him—death, deadly plant species, mechnobots of horror. Did the man not realize the danger they were in? Obviously not, or some side of his persona was as warped as could be. Considering the mechno-bio fusion of horrors he’d engineered on Remus that was not unlikely. No time to dwell on that now.
“We’re lucky to get two hours more out of these suits. Better hope your info is reliable,” he growled at Fenli through the com.
Fenli waved it off with an air of confidence. “Your call, Yul baby. Nowhere else to go. I’m thinking this is as good a place to die as any.”
Cloye swore under her breath. “Is this clown for real?”
Yul inclined his head. Not a few dozen feet into the tunnel, he kicked at the pale grey rubble at his feet. Skulls and vertebrae were mixed in of unlucky animals, shells too, that looked like the last macabre hybrids they’d been forced to slaughter, maybe one of the scuttling, crab-like aliens they’d blasted back at the site where they had pulled Fenli from his black frozen pool.
Zikri squiggles and symbols marked the sides of the tunnel. A wide path showed ahead, jumbles of loose rock and occasional boulders to either side, a honeycomb of passageways left and right. The dim light grew dimmer behind them.
Yul gripped his blaster in his gloved palm. Under no circumstances must they screw this up. One misstep and their chances of survival dipped even lower into birdshit.
All good so far. No alien patrols or checkpoint. Odd though. His sharp eyes narrowed, brows bristling. Obviously the squids and their bug friends were not expecting company from this quarter. Maybe they’d even forgotten about this access point? Maybe too much to expect.
Distant booms sounded in the thin atmosphere, registering through their suit receivers. The sound of gunfire? Yul frowned. Rocks caving? There was definite activity ahead. “Let’s move in,”
