He and Sorak dropped to the ground as the tentacles erupted from the trees and raced over them—and continued into the distance, chasing after the still-flying decoy. Nassir gave silent thanks to Xiong and his cadre of scientists, pulled his communicator from his belt, and flipped it open. With the press of a single switch he sent a triple beep to the rest of the landing party. That would be their cue to release their decoys and activate their signal dampeners.
He just hoped that the rest of the landing party was still alive to receive the order.
McLellan and Tan Bao flailed clumsily with their packs as they ran, their bodies able to do two things at once with speed but not with grace. She fumbled the decoy, which bobbled inside the pack with every running footfall she landed, while Tan Bao struggled to get a grip on the dampener.
As soon as her hand gripped the fist-sized device, she let her pack fall away in the mud behind her. Tan Bao did likewise as he pulled the dampener free.
Flashes of lightning to her left gave McLellan enough light to find the controls of the decoy. One touch was enough to arm its propulsion circuit. Another would send it on its way. It was only another five meters to a narrow break in the canopy cover.
An impact against the back of her knee was so swift and the cut so clean that she didn’t realize what had happened until the lower portion of her right leg fell away and she pitched forward onto her face. She fumbled the decoy, which rolled ahead of her and sank halfway into the mud.
Then the pain hit. Cold fire coursed through her leg. She looked down and saw the crystalline residue spreading over her wound, a scab of glass. The tentacle that had severed her leg reared up, momentarily a vapor as it coiled to strike.
The dampener, fully activated, rolled to a stop beside her, and the tentacle wavered, as if it had lost track of its prey. Then it steadied and fixed itself on a new target: Tan Bao. The medic dived toward the decoy, reaching for it with one hand while brandishing his phaser in the other. He slid across the muddy ground as the tentacle snapped forward. His hand closed on the decoy, and he fired his phaser at full power into the jungle canopy. The tentacle liquefied and solidified on target for his heart. He dropped his phaser, lifted the decoy, and activated its propulsion circuit.
The decoy shot up and away through the hole he’d blasted in the canopy. He flattened himself on the ground, face pressed into the mud, as the tentacle curved up away from his back and out through the smoldering channel in the foliage, hurtling after the decoy. A rumble of thunder shook the ground. Then there was only the white noise of rain.
Tan Bao pulled his face from the muck. He gasped for breath, checked to make certain there were no more tendrils stalking them, and scrambled over to McLellan. She took his arm in a fierce grip. “It hurts, Tan,” she said through gritted teeth. Tears of agony rolled from her eyes. “God help me, it hurts! Do something.”
“You have to let go of my arm,” he said. “I need to get back to my pack. I have a field kit in there.” He pried at her fingers. “I’ll be right back, Bridy, I promise.”
It took all her strength to let go of him. She covered her face with her mud-caked hands and listened to his sprinting steps squishing across the wet ground. Fighting for breath and clarity, she focused on the sound of him coming back, getting closer. Then the hiss of a hypospray brought a warm sensation to her body, and she felt weightless. She remained half-conscious while he examined her with his medical tricorder.
“The good news,” he said, “is that whatever that thing did to your leg, it stopped the bleeding.”
Anticipating the second half of his report, she asked, “What’s the bad news?”
“Whatever that stuff is…it’s alive.”
“Come on!” Niwara shouted to Theriault, who was a few paces behind her. “We’re almost there!
The jungle teemed with scores of tentacles. Adding to Niwara and Theriault’s numerous disadvantages, they had been forced to retreat uphill for the last hundred meters.
A crystalline blade cut across Niwara’s path and embedded itself in a tree. The liquid part of the tentacle disengaged from the crystal blade, leaving it behind as it recoiled for another strike. The nimble Caitian ducked under the stuck shaft of black glass and dodged right, nearly colliding with Theriault, who had caught up to her.
Ahead the darkness of the forest gave way to light and air, a clearing open enough to release the decoy. The two officers jumped through a wall of thick blue-green fronds—and nearly plunged over the edge of a cliff into a vine-choked ravine, thirty meters above a run of white-water rapids.
Niwara regained her balance first, then she reached out and steadied Theriault. They teetered for a moment on the crumbling edge of the cliff. “Activate the dampener,” Niwara said as she readied the decoy. Seconds later, the dampener powered up with a low hum, and Niwara released the decoy into the sky. The jungle canopy echoed with the snaps of breaking limbs as the tentacles shot upward in pursuit.
Mission accomplished, Niwara congratulated herself.
A shimmering blur barreled out of the forest behind them—a straggling tentacle in belated pursuit. It slammed them aside as it passed between them and sped away toward the horizon.
The impact hurled Niwara and Theriault off the cliff.
Niwara’s left paw shot out, seeking the cliff’s edge. Her right paw reached for Theriault. Catching the edge, she arrested her own fall, but she could only watch as her shipmate tumbled down the ravine. Vines snapped as the young science officer plummeted through them, desperately grasping for handholds. Then she splashed down into a muddy froth of fast-moving current and was swept away.
The Caitian scout pulled herself back on top of the cliff and looked down at the rushing waters. Overhead, the storm began to split apart. Something deep inside it unleashed another horn-like, groaning cry.
As she listened to its unearthly howl echo off the distant hillsides, Niwara felt as if it knew of her failure to protect Theriault…and that it was mocking her.
Razka let go of the decoy into the clearing full of stumps, and it zoomed on a long arc for the horizon. Lieutenant zh’Firro huddled close to him, the dampener humming softly in her hands. Crouched down at the tree line, they watched dozens of writhing coils blaze dark trails across the sky.
Looking up, he noted that the storm cloud was beginning to break apart. Pieces of it were heading in each direction, following the decoys. Watching the stormhead split itself and retreat, Razka grinned. Divide and conquer, he mused with satisfaction.
“We should head back to the rendezvous,” zh’Firro said.
“Yes, sir,” Razka answered. He took point and began retracing their steps through the jungle. It would be a roundabout route back, but it held the least likelihood of becoming lost.
As they walked, zh’Firro looked up at the clearing sky. Her focus seemed to be deep, as though she were looking into a great distance. “I wonder if Xiong’s okay up there,” she said. “He’s all alone on that Tholian ship. What’s he going to do when he runs out of air?”
“I’m sure he’ll think of something,” Razka said, pressing ahead to follow the trail. “He’s quite clever…for a human.”
“Is that supposed to be a compliment?” zh’Firro asked.
Razka cocked his head in amusement. “I guess that depends on your opinion of humans,” he said.
11
The Apostate was correct, noted the Herald. The Telinaruul are elusive. Perhaps the Avenger’s slumber robbed her of skills.
His words bordered on heresy. Agitating the others—particularly the Nameless—had always been the Herald’s favored sport, and the Wanderer had long held him in contempt because of it. The Herald was a rogue, a dangerously random element; it was impossible for her to tell whether his loyalties belonged to the Maker or to the Apostate, or if he had any loyalty at all. Had the choice been hers, she would have expelled him from the Serrataal and forced him to be counted among the Nameless.