Fire On the Sand Read online

  "I think they have some kind of ability to change their form."

  Greg sighed and tried not to rub the bandages covering his arm. "Well she certainly fooled me. I hope the real Cathy's okay."

  "So do I, but I don't hold out much hope. The thing obviously copied its appearance from her."

  Greg scowled and clenched his fist. "If it has killed her, I want a piece of its hide!"

  "Don't worry, we'll think of something. We're heading for Tabletop. It's one of our way stations, one of the first, actually." She glanced at the odd ten-hour chronometer mounted on the bulkhead. "At this speed, we'll reach it in an hour. Then we'll see what we can do." She laid her hand on Greg's shoulder. "Rest now, and let the drugs do their work. I'll wake you when it's time."

  Greg tried to protest, but the laudanum was pulling him down into a warm, fuzzy fog of forgetfulness.

  Adena watched, stroking his shoulder as her face faded into blackness. He heard her speak to Conner. "I'll leave him to your care. Call me on the flight deck if there's any change in his condition."

  "Aye-aye, skipper."

  "One way or another that thing will pay for what it did!"

  The silver lady barely glanced at Adena when she returned to the flight deck. Something about her seemed different. Looking out the corner of her eye Adena figured the creature's skin had taken on a silver-blue tint. "Where are we, Hsu-Li?"

  The navigation officer gazed ahead to avoid looking at their hijacker. She pointed. "Coming up on Tabletop now, Captain."

  Adena peered through the windshield, following Hsu-Li's finger. The mesa rose out of the plain a few degrees off the starboard bow about fifty miles away. The first of a row of ancient volcanoes, the mesa resembled an upturned flowerpot surrounded by an apron of eroded granite rock. Adena grunted.

  "Is the place in use?"

  Adena startled as the creature spoke. She drew a deep breath, reluctant to give it any help. "Not these days. Our airships are more fuel-efficient nowadays, they have longer ranges."

  "There is no garrison?"

  "Not that I'm aware of." Adena shrugged. "This is BloodDark. Anything could be there."

  The thing fell silent. It stayed that way as they approached the mesa, circling around to the east of the huge plug of rock. Adena didn't need to pass orders. Her crew had visited the way station in the past and knew the course to steer. A crack in the rock face appeared, one wide enough for Oculus Nightingale to fit in sideways. "This is it."

  The creature's appearance had diverged from that of Cathy Kozinski in the short time they'd spent traversing the sides of the mesa. It seemed to be abandoning any pretense at disguise now. The illusion of clothing had reverted to a silver skin on a humanoid body. Adena noticed areas of darker silver, patches of steel gray and gunmetal, and wondered if they indicated damage. She filed the information away for future reference.

  The creature pointed. "There is a cave."

  Damaged or not, it seemed to have impressive senses. Adena knew the place of old, yet even she would've had difficulty picking out the giant cave in the darkness. "That's where we're heading."

  "You will follow procedures. If anyone hails us you will act as if nothing is wrong."

  "Aye aye, skipper," Adena ground out.

  The creature didn't react to her sarcasm.

  The cave opened. Had the way station been occupied, a line of lanterns would've indicated the approach to the moorings, but the runway remained dark.

  "There's nobody home," Hsu-Li announced to the bridge at large.

  Again, the creature didn't react. "Slow all engines. Neutralize buoyancy," Adena ordered. "Ground crew prepare to head ground-side for mooring duty."

  Acknowledgments sounded throughout the airship. Adena watched her crew go about the well-oiled routine. "All engines stop."

  Oculus Nightingale slowed. Her mooring crew ground-side hauled her into the docking ring by main strength. Hsu-Li looked back at Adena, still ignoring the creature.

  "All secure for ground-side, Captain."

  Adena looked at the creature. "Well, here we are."

  It didn't respond at first. Adena made to speak again but stopped when the creature turned.

  "We will go ashore," the woman ordered.

  "As you wish." Adena gestured. "After you."

  "No." The deadly blade waved. "You will go first. Your crew will not do anything to jeopardize your well-being."

  Adena scowled but did as she was told. Zared followed in a trance.

  The air felt cold and dry after the warmer confines of the ship as Adena stepped onto the gangplank rigged by the ground crew. The brow led to a gigantic wharf constructed of field stone gathered from the area. A crewman handed her a lantern, flinching away when the creature moved close.

  "You might not need visible light, but we do!" Adena snapped at it.

  Blank silver met her eyes. "Understood. Proceed."

  Adena proceeded. "What do you want here?"

  "A place to lie up and repair. I am fully capable of dealing with you should you try to stop me carrying out my objective."

  "I don't doubt it." Adena headed down familiar ways then pointed to where a passageway opened out of the bare rock. "There's a series of offices that way. They have one door. It should suit your requirements."

  "Lead."

  As the silver lady stepped forward something shot over her head, brassy clicking and glittering in the lantern light. The creature stopped short. "What was that?"

  Adena felt a small flicker of hope spring up in her breast. "I think it was my parrot."

  "Parrot?" The creature's gaze scanned the area. "What is a parrot?"

  "My pet. A mechanical companion."

  "If it threatens me, I shall destroy it."

  "It won't threaten you."

  "Lead on."

  Adena headed for the offices. They lined either side of the passageway, the doorways closed off by simple wooden doors. The creature scanned them. "What is the function of these places?"

  "They were used by traders, or quartermasters, of the airships in times gone by."

  "Are we likely to be disturbed by traders or quartermasters in the immediate future?"

  "No," Adena drawled. "You'll be able to rest undisturbed."

  Without another word the creature stepped over to the nearest door. It worked out the simple latch mechanism then entered the dark space inside. It paused on the threshold.

  "I have exceptional hearing, Captain. Should you try to leave in your airship I shall know it — and I will take action against you all." With that it went inside, closing the door after it.

  Adena made an obscene gesture at the closed door and turned away. Mr. Phibuli was nowhere to be seen. She hoped her old friend wouldn't tip his hand — if he had a plan of any kind — too soon.

  The parrot waited for her at the wharf, perched comfortably on a bollard. Adena drew up short at the sight of him.

  "I didn't see you pass back this way." Adena frowned.

  If brass and leather features could look smug, she reckoned Mr. Phibuli looked smug now. He clattered his wings. "If you didn't spot me, neither did my erstwhile comrade."

  "Do you have a means of dealing with it?"

  He nodded. "I think I do — but I require your help."

  Chapter 12

  Greg emerged from his drug-induced somnolence to see a brass and leather parrot gazing at him from a perch on the head of the bunk. From Greg's point of view the parrot looked upside-down. It didn't appear to be happy.

  "Hello?" Greg ventured. His tongue felt like it was thick with hair.

  "Hello, Greg. I need your help."

  "Uh, yeah?" Greg gasped as he inadvertently knocked the stump of his forearm against the bulkhead.

  "Hold still," the parrot commanded. It hopped down, landing daintily on the humped form of Greg's knees under the blanket. "I can't do anything to heal your arm — yet — but I can at least make the pain easier for you to bear."

  He lowered his head t
o the stump. Greg drew back nervously.

  "Keep still!" Mr. Phibuli commanded.

  Before Greg could do anything, the parrot lowered his head again to the stump. A glittering brass needle shot out of his open beak to pierce the bandages. Greg gasped as the needle penetrated his skin, but just as quickly it withdrew.

  "There. That should hold you for a while. Come. Adena and I have need of you."

  Greg moved his arm. All traces of pain had vanished. "How did you do that?"

  "Did you not observe? Come — and bring your gun."

  The parrot took flight, something Greg would not have credited if he hadn't seen it. It shot out the door and came to a hover in the passageway. Before it could scold him again, Greg rolled to his feet and grabbed for his clothes. His revolver hung on a hook on the bulkhead. He took it down and buckled the Sam Browne belt and holster around his waist, silently thanking that old-time soldier for inventing a belt that could be buckled with just one hand.

  Dressed, Greg headed through the door. Mr. Phibuli landed on his shoulder, gripping it with a surprising amount of strength. Greg winced. "I need to conserve my energy for now. Proceed. I shall direct you."

  They made their way out of the ship. Those crew members they passed seemed in a restrained state of fury. Greg couldn't blame them.

  "Pick up a lantern," Mr. Phibuli commanded. "We're going onto the wharf then into that passageway,"

  "Uh, where's that thing?" Greg asked, looking around.

  "In an office off that passageway." The parrot pointed a wing at a pile of sacks on the ground nearby. "Pick those up too. We will walk by the creature's lair. If you're challenged by the creature you will say you are fetching supplies for the ship."

  "O...kay." Greg held up his wounded arm. “But we have a small problem.”

  Mr. Phibuli uttered a sigh and swooped down to the sacks. With quick, precise movements he used a length of rope and a stray piece of wood to bind the necks of two sacks together in a rough yoke, his claws and beak clacking and clicking. Stepping back he nodded at the assemblage. "There. Drape those around your neck."

  Greg set down the lantern and picked up the sacks, which smelled of some kind of herb or spice. The yoke fitted well enough around his neck, and he found he could carry both sacks and the lantern without trouble, but he knew it would would become a serious burden before long.

  They made their way down the passageway. Zared stood unmoving outside one of the doors. His eyes followed them as they passed unchallenged. Greg felt creeped out by the scrutiny of a man he didn't consider entirely sane. They walked for several minutes, the air growing cooler and breezy. At last they emerged into a vast space where Adena waited for them.

  "Good. You're here," she said. As they came up to her Adena reached out to touch Greg's bandaged arm. "How're you feeling?"

  "Pretty good." Greg dropped the sacks with relief. "Mr. Phibuli here injected me with something that worked wonders."

  Adena smiled, although lines at the corners of her eyes and mouth made her look tired. "He's a regular miracle worker, all right."

  "What is this place?" Their voices echoed. "It feels immense."

  "That's because it is," Adena replied.

  Their two lanterns made a pool of light in a space much bigger than the hangar they'd come from. Greg saw a wall ahead curving around to either side, out of reach of the lantern light. It appeared to encircle a wide walkway, like a parapet around a castle wall. Behind him the raw rock had been smoothed and worked into artistic shapes by tools to form a sheer wall that rose out of sight. Pointed-arched doors set in the wall hinted at rooms beyond, perhaps more offices, storerooms or even dwellings — he didn't know. Somewhere away to his left he could hear a waterfall.

  Adena looked sad. "I remember when we commissioned this place, way back when. It was full of light and bustle."

  "It must've took a heck of a lot of effort to work all this." Greg appraised his surroundings with a professional eye. "Several years at least, with modern equipment."

  "That, and a gang of well-motivated people."

  "Lady and gentleman, we must press on," Mr. Phibuli said. He took off from Greg's shoulder and flew toward the parapet. "Follow the wall to your right," he said before disappearing into the darkness.

  Greg and Adena did as ordered. They came to a well-built wooden bridge that stretched over the void occupying the center of the mesa.

  "Huh!" Adena stared at it. "I thought this was what Mr. Phibuli intended."

  "Where does it lead?"

  "There are other hangars on the other side of the mesa. This connects the various quarters. Another bridge meets this one halfway over. Come on."

  As he followed Adena onto the bridge Greg envisaged the whole place as being like the inside of a gigantic vase. One glimpse into the yawning void on the other side of the railing was enough for him to keep to the middle of the span.

  "What does that parrot intend, Adena?"

  She looked troubled. "I think he's planning an ambush."

  Greg touched the holstered pistol. "With these? It didn't work too well last time, and I only have one arm left."

  "I trust the parrot, Greg. Mr. Phibuli's never let me down in all the time I've known him."

  "If you say so. What exactly is he?"

  "He's the same type of being as that creature."

  "What?"

  Greg's shout came back manifold in the echoes.

  Adena turned and put her hand over his mouth. "Sssh! Not so loud. Mr. Phibuli's loyalty is not to be questioned. He knows what he's doing — although I wish I did."

  He moved her hand away. "Maybe we should ask him."

  "Ambush is what I intend, Greg." Mr. Phibuli's voice came from above them. The parrot dropped into the pool of lantern light and perched on the railing. He regarded them with bejeweled eyes. "We must summon my erstwhile comrade."

  "How?"

  "Cover your ears."

  "How?" Greg asked, looking at the stump where his hand had been.

  Mr. Phibuli turned his head in the direction they'd come, opened his beak and emitted a shriek like a factory whistle.

  Greg winced at the penetrating volume of sound. Mr. Phibuli stopped, but the echoes of his shriek lived on. He lowered his hand. "Well, that should give me tinnitus."

  "Be ready," the parrot said, and flew upward into the darkness.

  The last echoes died away to be replaced by the sound of running feet. Zared appeared on the bridge, trotting toward them with his robe flapping.

  "What are you doing?" he hissed. "My mistress must not be disturbed!"

  For answer, Greg socked him square on the jaw.

  Zared rocked back on his heels, but didn't fall. He looked wide-eyed at Greg. "You shall pay for this!"

  "Bring it on," Greg growled.

  Zared backed away, and his eyes rolled back in their sockets. After a handful of seconds, he smiled. "She comes!"

  Adena drew her pistol. "Get ready!"

  Greg followed suit. Together they stared into the darkness toward the bridgehead where they knew the silver lady would appear.

  She was not long in coming.

  A glimmer of reflected light from their lanterns shone off something in the darkness, and then the silver lady strode onto the bridge and into their view. Her face showed no discernible expression, yet Greg sensed the annoyance emanating from her.

  "I hope to God Mr. Phibuli knows what he's doing!" he said to Adena out the corner of his mouth.

  "So do I — pray to that god of yours he does!"

  Of one accord, they raised their weapons and opened fire. Bullets slammed into the silver figure. She rocked under the impact. Their fire had no apparent effect. The silver lady even looked bored.

  Then she moved with a glittering blur of motion. One arm swatted Adena clean off her feet, sending her sprawling against the parapet. Greg flung up his good arm in time to ward off her first blow, but the next came at lightning speed, chopping across his ribs and hurling him back. Gr
eg's leather coat took most of the force of her blow, but it packed enough force to make him gasp. Before he could react, the silver lady dropped to a crouch and swept a leg around in a scything arc that knocked his feet out from under him.

  Adena had regained her wits. She scrabbled to recover her pistol and fired at the creature's head. Greg felt nauseated as he saw bullets smack against the thing’s shapely skull without doing any harm. The lead slugs fell to the ground, flattened and useless.

  The silver lady blurred again and Adena's pistol flew out into the void. Adena took a punch to the stomach and doubled over. The silver lady made to grab her by the scruff of her neck, but Greg came up behind the creature and kicked the back of her knees.

  Strong and agile as the silver lady was, simple mechanics caused her legs to buckle. She loosened her grip, and Adena rolled free, swinging a booted foot at her foe's head for good measure. The silver lady's head snapped back, but she shook it back into place. With a fluid motion she stood upright again and caught Greg by the throat in a vice-like grip. Swinging him out over the parapet, she hung him feet dangling over the awful drop.

  Greg clutched at her hands, fighting to loosen the grip but with only one remaining hand it was a forlorn hope. The expressionless face was in shadow now, but he sensed her glare.

  "This ends here," the silver lady whispered.

  Mr. Phibuli dropped out of the darkness to land upon her head. His claws extended and dug into the silver surface, creating deep dents. The silver lady gasped and reached up to grab the brass parrot, releasing Greg in the process. He began to fall, and a scream formed in his throat.

  The silver lady was gone, pushed out of the way by Adena. A strong hand gripped Greg's wrist, and his muscles and tendons screamed as inertia and gravity worked to pull him down.

  "Hang on!" Adena shouted, bracing herself against the parapet.

  Sweat broke out on her face as she gritted her teeth in concentration. Slowly she pulled Greg up and over the parapet to safety. He rolled, gasping for breath, feeling weak as the adrenaline surge collapsed.

  Some yards away the battle between Mr. Phibuli and the silver lady continued.

  "Traitor!" the silver creature screamed, her hands wrapped around the little brass shape with crushing force.