Behind a high steel palisade rose a conglomeration of cylindrical structures like a chemical plant, but painted in various shades of burnt sienna, green and yellow, so as to blend into the landscape. To one side of this complex lay the gutted ruins of huge craft. These possessed stubby glide wings and bloated nacelles, now gradually decaying into the plain. Spaceships perhaps, but Tack wasn’t to know, nor could he safely ask.
‘Pig City,’ muttered Meelan, her attention focused on the newer structures rather than on the once-streamlined vehicles.
Tack noted a hint of contempt in her voice. She now turned her attention to her arm stump. He watched her pull away the strangely distorted dressing, as if it was a dried-out scab, and drop it out between the lower struts of the mantisal. An embryonic limb was revealed. She grinned at Tack triumphantly, and he quickly switched his attention elsewhere.
To clear the palisade, Coptic took the mantisal higher. Now the clouding throughout the construct’s cagelike body was resolving into black veins, and its flight was becoming erratic. Tack suspected some problem. He returned his attention to their destination, where he observed, mounted on a tower set in the fence, some sort of gun tracking their progress.
‘Why is it called Pig City?’ he risked asking, and received an irritated glare from Coptic.
Meelan was more forthcoming. She gestured to a herd of animals gathered outside the palisade. Though these battle-scarred monsters bore some resemblance to wild boar, their mouths were crocodilian and crammed with broken teeth, and they themselves were the size of a rhinoceros. ‘Enteledonts. I’m told the Umbrathane here regularly give them little treats and provide them with water, and in exchange can rest assured that no one is likely to approach on foot—which is why we aren’t.’
Two of the fearsome monsters were between them tearing apart a bloody mess of bones and flesh, and Tack assumed this must be one of those treats. When he glimpsed a boot nearby with some of its owner still inside, he swallowed dryly.
Coptic brought their transport in over the wall and down.
‘Out,’ he ordered, withdrawing his hands from the mantisal’s eyes, which now were black at their core.
As Tack dropped to the ground, he observed four people walking over towards them. Two men and two women. They were Umbrathane he knew because he had been told, but otherwise he would never have been able to distinguish them as a different kind from Traveller. One of the women he recognized at once as Iveronica—the woman in the rock. Following Tack out of the mantisal, Coptic snared him by the collar and marched him forward. Behind them came a familiar rush of chill air as the mantisal began to disappear. Tack glanced back and watched it folding away slowly and unevenly, its structure beginning to evaporate. Coptic jerked him towards the approaching four. A harsh, staccato conversation ensued, Meelan sounding by far the most vocal. Listening intently, Tack recognized the name ‘Saphothere’, and frequent use of the word ‘fistik’ while Meelan gestured at her newly growing arm, but otherwise their exchange was lost on him. Glancing to one side, he spotted a grinning woman standing by the palisade tossing from a small tin what looked like sweets out to the enteledonts. The beasts fought amongst themselves as they gobbled them up, thick drool hanging from their jaws like glass rods. Tack now had no doubt where he would end up once he was no longer of any use to these people. At that moment he felt Coptic grab up his arm, to show Iveronica Tack’s nascent tor.
‘The heliothant you with that want?’ Iveronica said. Before he could begin to formulate a reply another staccato exchange ensued between them. Tack’s attention was drawn back, by the roaring grunts and a crashing, to the woman at the palisade. As she rattled her tin against the bars, the creatures beyond it were going wild, chewing on the metal, trying to force their way through, even biting at each other. Abruptly Coptic shoved Tack down to his knees and stepped back. The woman who had just asked the question stepped forward and walked all around him.
‘Are you a Heliothane agent?’ she demanded.
She unhooked something from her belt and held it up. After studying it, she turned to Coptic and spat some command at him. The big man jerked Tack back to his feet and began probing his scalp with iron-hard fingers. They finally located the base of Tack’s skull, where Traveller had inserted an interface plug in order to reprogram him. A finger drove in, and Tack groaned as something was levered from the cavity. Coptic tossed his pink and gelatinous discovery on the ground, and Meelan drew her weapon and fired once, turning the object into a puff of black smoke.
Be ready, came Traveller’s voice over Tack’s comlink.
Tack felt a surge of adrenalin. He reached into his pocket with his one free hand and closed it around the shark’s tooth. Iveronica was now barking instructions to her fellows, who obediently moved away. Pausing to gaze contemptuously at Tack, she then gestured to one of the cylindrical buildings behind her.
Then it hit.
There came a vivid flickering as of numerous flashbulbs going off in sequence. The woman clanging at the palisade dropped her tin and stumbled backwards. Bright lines travelled across the fence’s surface like flame on ignited fuse paper, so it was eaten away and fell to dust. With the root of the tooth braced against his palm, Tack turned and drove it up hard, slicing into Coptic’s neck and up under his chin. Next twin explosions took out a couple of towers. A huge gun barrel entangled with debris dropped away and crashed to the ground. Staggering wildly, Coptic scrabbled with bloody fingers at the tooth embedded in his neck. A woman screaming briefly, an enteledont shaking its tormentor like a red rag. More of the creatures piling in behind. Meelan, yelling as she points her weapon at Tack. Shots dogging his steps as he runs. Another explosion nearby, and out of it a ragged figure cartwheeling through the air, then a red man-shape, peeled from head to foot, bellowing as it drags itself along the ground. Over the rampaging enteledonts a mantisal hurtles in, and it slams to a halt right above Tack, instantly shrouding him in cold mist. Tack reaching up and grabbing, hauling himself inside as the construct ascends.
‘Push that out,’ said Traveller, nodding to pumpkin-sized mirrored sphere attached loosely to one of the struts. Tack pulled it free and slipped it out through a gap in the structure. Glancing down he saw other mantisals appearing all round, and people running to board them. Then they were up and away from Pig City, hurtling out over the scrubland.
‘Don’t look back. It will blind you,’ warned Traveller.
Tack turned away just in time from the burst of harsh white light, which refracted through the body of the mantisal and threw midnight shadows beyond rocks and trees on the landscape below. Momentarily he glimpsed the familiar shape of a nuclear explosion, before the mantisal folded them into between space.
But even then it was not over. Against the surrounding blackness he saw a spreading cloud of escaping mantisals.
‘Don’t look,’ Traveller warned again.
Fire bled through and painted red light across colourless space. Immediately after, they flew on through the vorpal and human wreckage evaporating in a place unable to sustain it.
‘I saw you get the one called Coptic,’ said Traveller.
Tack merely nodded, too stunned still to speak.
‘My given name is Saphothere,’ Traveller conceded.
8
Engineer Goron: