Stinger Part 37

She didn't answer. She knew what lay ahead of them: a torture of "tests" and, finally, dissection.

"You're going through there." The single claw motioned toward the portal on the chamber's other side. "Move." He reached out to shove Jessie.

Rick knew they were dead. All of them. Miranda too. There was nothing left for him to lose, and he'd rather die on Earth than in outer s.p.a.ce or some prison world beyond the stars. His decision was made in an instant, and it freed him from the terror that had locked around him. He drove his hand into his pocket. His fingers closed on the object there, and he wrenched it out. His other hand seized the creature's wrist.

The Mack Cade face twisted toward him, mouth opening in a gasp of indignation. At Rick's side, the honed blade of the Fang of Jesus clicked out. "Eat this," Rick said. He'd always been fast. Fast enough to grab the knife from under a sidewinder's snout. And now he brought the Fang of Jesus up in a blur of motion and drove the blade into the replicant's left eye with all his strength behind it.

It went in up to the hilt. Gray fluid spurted from the wound over Rick's hand. The creature gave a grunt of surprise and the body staggered back, tail writhing, but Rick dared not let either the wrist or his knife go.

Across the chamber, Stinger's head turned, its claws still darting over the geometric symbols. It made a wet, enraged hissing sound, and its brainwaves directed the Mack Cade replicant like a master puppeteer.

Rick pulled the knife out, struck for the other eye. The thing's head jerked to one side and the blade ripped across the cheek. The dog's jaws opened wide, dropping the pod to the floor, and its needle teeth snapped at Rick's ribs. They caught a mouthful of shirt and tore the cloth away. Rick held on to the replicant's flailing arm with grim determination and kept knifing at the thing's face, cutting away chunks of false flesh.

The dog's neck strained, its teeth about to pierce the skin on Rick's side. Tom lunged forward, latching his hands around the dog's throat. The neck had tremendous strength in it and the head thrashed, its jaws snapping at Tom's face. Tom hung on, even when its stubby forelegs came up and the two hooked claws raked b.l.o.o.d.y ribbons out of his arms. The three figures staggered across the chamber. Daufin saw the pod bounce twice and roll in Stinger's direction. She ran after it, scurrying over the tendrils that delivered Stinger's encoding signals to the replicating machines, leapt onto the pod, and s.n.a.t.c.hed it up. Stinger was lowering itself from the programming console. One pair of its eyes still monitored the combatants, but the other pair was aimed at Daufin. Explosions of electricity flared inside the monster, and with a noise like a steam engine building power, the corpse-swollen body began to undulate toward her.

The replicant's spiked tail rose up over Rick's head, about to smash his skull. But Cody had already shot from his hiding place and was sprinting forward. He reached up, grabbing the tail just below the ball of spikes. Its power lifted him off the floor, but Cody's weight stopped the blow before it fell. The replicant roared with anger, trying to shake Cody off. The others saw Cody grappling with the tail, but there was no time to find out where he'd come from. Everything was happening too fast: the replicant's claw was flailing Rick from side to side as he kept stabbing right down to the metallic skull. Tom's arms were streaked with blood, savage pain thrumming through him, and he could only hold the dog's head a few seconds longer. Jessie had run to Daufin's side. She picked her up, holding her protectively, as a mother would any child. Stinger was coming at them, gathering speed, the silver claws skittering across the floor. Someone shoved her aside. Curt Lockett touched the lighter's flame to the first of the two dynamite sticks he'd taken from the knapsack and clasped under his arms. His face was bleached, a pulse beating rapidly at his temple. He saw his own death coming at him, and his legs shook but he stood facing the onrushing beast as the dynamite's fuse sparked and caught.

He hurled the stick. It fell short, but Stinger went over it like an oozing train. There was no blast. Fuse got crushed, Curt thought. "Get back!" he shouted to Jessie. "Move your a.s.s, la-"

His voice was drowned out by a hollow whuuummmp! like a huge shotgun going off in a ma.s.s of wet pillows. Stinger shuddered, its tail slamming against the wall. At the same instant, the mouth in Mack Cade's knife-slashed face bellowed with pain, and the dog's head howled. The Fang of Jesus slammed into the mouth and sent needles flying.

Some of Stinger's claws had crisped, and yellow flames gnawed at the underbelly flesh. A pool of liquid was spreading across the floor, and as Stinger writhed and rose up like a quaking mountain Curt saw a three-foot-long gash with charred edges on the soft white flesh. Inside, electricity sputtered along the veins and organs.

But Stinger kept coming, trailing slime and some of its guts behind it. Curt retreated, pulling out the last stick of dynamite. Jessie still clutched Daufin, and was backing away too. Curt flicked the lighter, touched the fuse to the flame with shaking hands.

"Hold it! Hold it!" Rick shouted to Tom, but the man's arms were scored with gashes and the dog's head got away from him. As Rick dodged the snapping jaws, the replicant flung him aside. It strode toward Curt, Cody straining against its tail. The dynamite's fuse was smoking, and Curt c.o.c.ked his arm back to throw it.

"Dad!" Cody screamed. "Watch out!"

Curt whirled around. The replicant was upon him, its face hanging in tatters and the single eye glinting with fury.

The thing's claw flashed out in a vicious arc. Shreds of Curt's red cowboy shirt and pieces of flesh flew into the air, followed by streamers of blood. The dynamite's fuse popped a flame, but Curt's hand lost it and the stick fell to the floor. The replicant kept slashing at the ruins of his chest, and Curt tried to fight it off as blood clogged his lungs and welled up into his mouth. Cody frantically jerked back on the tail, his own injured ribs driving agony through him. He hauled the monster back a few feet from his father. Curt went down, and the replicant's tail threw Cody from side to side but he gripped tight and held on.

Stinger loomed over them, the undulations of its body opening wider the charred and torn bellyflesh. Cody saw the dynamite, its fuse sizzling down toward the cap. It lay less than ten feet from him, but he dared not let go of the spiked tail.

Daufin struggled loose from Jessie's grip; she hit the floor running and picked up the dynamite stick. A pair of Stinger's eyes twitched toward her, and almost simultaneously the replicant turned away from Curt Lockett and rushed at her. No! Cody thought. Can't let it get her! He dragged against the tail, his teeth clenched and tears of pain in his eyes; the replicant's aim was jarred, and the metal-nailed hand whipped past Daufin's head.

Daufin stood her ground as Stinger began to rear up before her. She had a quick mental image: the pitcher in that mathematical game of safes and outs called baseball. Saw the pitcher's arm c.o.c.king back, then flashing forward again in a miracle of moving muscles, bones, and sinews. She c.o.c.ked her own arm back in imitation of that pitcher, and with a split-second calculation of angles and velocities she threw the sizzling stick of dynamite. It flew across the twelve feet between her and Stinger, and landed in the wound on Stinger's soft belly, exactly where she'd aimed. She dropped to her knees as the replicant's claw flailed where her head had been a second before and Cody strained to hold the thing back. A heartbeat pa.s.sed, as long to Daufin as an agonizing eternity. Stinger's flesh quivered, its body contorting like a question mark; there was a hollow boom that made Jessie think of thunder caught in a bucket. Two things happened at once: a shower of sparks seemed to jump from Stinger's organs, and the monster's flesh swelled and stretched like a grotesque sausage about to burst apart. The tear at its belly split wider, rimmed with yellow flames, and as Stinger thrashed wildly, burning coils of intestines spilled out. Flares of electricity exploded within the body, as if the double blasts had set off an internal chain reaction.

The replicant with the ruined face of Mack Cade made a strangling, moaning sound and lurched to right and left, the claw swiping at empty air as Daufin scrambled beyond its reach. The dog's howling was hoa.r.s.e and full of pain, its teeth gnashing so hard the needles were shearing off. Jessie bent down and pulled Daufin close to her, their hearts pounding in unison. Stinger's head reeled; it began backing away, its sucker mouth oozing drool, and beneath its body was a spreading circle of ripped organs, things that looked like dark red matter with needle-teethed mouths. The organs themselves gasped and twitched like misshapen fish as they came out, and when Earth air hit them, they ignited with yellow flames and shriveled into leathery ashes. Stinger stretched upward, as if reaching for the violet sun. Something exploded with white fire inside it. The split widened further, more tides of thick inner matter streaming out. The upper portion of Stinger's body crashed to the floor.

The replicant toppled to its knees.

Cody let go of the tail, his arms bruised at their sockets, and got away from it; he slipped in his father's blood, and crawled to where Curt lay.

Stinger's body began to collapse like a torn-open gasbag. The tail kept hammering at the wall and floor, but it was getting weaker.

The replicant fell forward, and Mack Cade's face banged down.

"You'rrrre out," Jessie heard Daufin whisper.

Rick was trying to stand up, fighting the weight of shock. And then Miranda was beside him and he didn't know if he was dead or crazy or dreaming, but she put her arms around him and those were real enough. He laid his head against her shoulder.

Sarge Dennison had come out from hiding. He stood watching the creature slowly implode. Brackish tides rolled across the floor, and in it were what had once been human bodies. He reached down; Scooter licked his hand. "Good boy," he said.

Bursts of fire rippled through Stinger's gutted hulk. The tail was still feebly twitching, and some of the claws were still trying to crawl. One pair of eyes had rolled back into the head. The body kept shuddering, the sucker mouth rasping like an engine dying down.

"Lordy, Lordy," Curt managed to say. "What the h.e.l.l did I do?"

"Don't talk. We're gonna get you out." Cody had pulled his father's shoulders off the floor, and Curt's head rested on Cody's leg. Where Curt's chest had been was a heaving ma.s.s of tissue. Cody thought he could see the heart laboring in there. He wiped a trickle of blood from his father's lips. Curt swallowed. Too much blood, he thought. Could hardly draw a breath for it. He looked up into his son's face, and he thought he saw... no, couldn't be. He'd taught his son that a real man never cries.

"I hurt a little bit," he said. "Ain't no big thing."

"Hush." Cody's voice broke. "Save it for later."

"I got... a picture in my back pocket." He tried to shift, but his body was too heavy. "Can you get it for me?"

"Yes sir." Cody reached into the pocket and found it, all folded up. He saw who the picture was of, and his heart almost cracked. He gave it to Curt, who held it before his face with b.l.o.o.d.y fingers.

"Treasure," Curt said softly. "You sure did marry one h.e.l.l of a fool." He blinked, found Cody again.

"Your mama used to pack a lunch for me. She'd say, 'Curt, you do me proud today,' and I'd answer, 'I will, Treasure.'" His eyes closed. "Long time back. I used to be a carpenter... and... I took the jobs that came along."

"Please... don't talk," Cody said.

Curt's eyes opened. They were gla.s.sy, and his breathing was forced. He gripped his hand around the photograph. "I... did wrong with you," he whispered. "Mighty wrong. Forgive me?"

"Yes sir. I forgive you."

His other hand slid into Cody's. "You be... a better man than me," he said. Gave a grim little smile.

"Won't be too hard, will it?"

"I love you, Dad," Cody said.

"I..." Something broke inside him. Something heavy fell away, and at the same time he realized life was short he felt light and free. "I... love you," he answered, and he wished to G.o.d he'd had the courage to say those simple words a long time ago. "d.a.m.n kid," he added. His hand tightened around his son's. Cody was blinded by tears. He wiped his eyes, but the tears returned. He looked at the still-shuddering ma.s.s of Stinger, then back to Curt.

The man's eyes had closed. He might have been sleeping, any other time. But down in that mora.s.s of ripped flesh and lungs Cody could no longer see the heart beating. The grip on Cody's hand was loosening. Cody held on, but he knew the man had gone-escaped, really, to a place that had no dead ends but only new beginnings.

Daufin was standing next to him. She was clutching the sphere, her face dark-hollowed and weary. The strength in her host body was almost used up. "I owe him-and you-a debt I can never repay," she said. "He was a very brave human."

"He was my father," Cody answered.

Rick was on his feet. He limped with Miranda's help over to the fallen replicant, placed one foot on the thing's shoulder, and shoved the body over onto its back. The dog's head lolled, its eyes amber blanks.

But suddenly the body hitched. The single blue Mack Cade eye was still open, and it fixed on Rick with utter loathing.

The mouth stretched, and from between the needle teeth came a harsh, dying hiss: "You... bugsssss..."

The eye rolled back into the head, and the mouth gave a final rattling gasp. A death rattle came from Stinger's husk. The tail rose up, the ball of spikes quivering, and crashed down one last time as if in defiance.

And then the carca.s.s lay still.

But the ship's pulse was thunderous now, and the violet sun crackled with energy. Daufin turned toward Jessie, who knelt at Tom's side. The man's arms had been flayed raw, and Jessie was tearing up strips of his shirt to bind the slashes. "The time is short," Daufin said. She scanned the programming console, seeking to decipher a code in the geometric shapes. "The engines are about to reach their lift-off threshold. If they go beyond that point, they might suffer damage." She peered at the banks of levers inside the smaller pyramid. "That's the control center. I can delay lift-off long enough for you to leave the tunnels-but there won't be time to change the navigational coordinants and get to the sleep tubes."

"Try that in English," Tom said.

"I can't keep the ship on the ground much longer," Daufin translated. "And I don't have time to meld into my pod. I need another guardian."

Jessie felt as if the breath had been punched out of her. "What? "

"I'm sorry. I need physical form to keep the ship from lifting off while you're in the tunnels. The shock wave would kill you."

"Please... give Stevie back to us." Jessie stood up. "Please! "

"I want to." The face was tormented, and the small hands clutched the black sphere to her chest. "I must have another guardian. Please understand: I'm trying to save all of you as well as myself."

"No! You can't have Stevie! I want my daughter back!"

"Uh... is 'guardian' kinda the same as 'custodian'?"

Daufin looked to her right, and up at Sarge Dennison. "What's a guardian do?" he asked cautiously.

"A guardian," she answered, "protects my body and holds my mind. I wear a guardian like armor, and I respect and protect the guardian's body and mind as well."

"Sounds like a full-time job."

"It is. A guardian knows peace, in a place beyond dreams. But there'll never be any returning to Earth. Once this ship takes off-"

"The sky's the limit," Sarge said.

She nodded, watching him hopefully.

"And if you get another guardian, you... like... shed your skin? And the Hammonds get their real daughter back? Right?"

"Right."

He paused, his face lined with thought. He looked at his hands for a few seconds. "Can we take Scooter?" he asked.

"I wouldn't dream of not taking Scooter," she said.

Sarge pursed his lips and hissed out air. "What'll we do for food and water?"

"We won't need them. I'll be in a sleep tube, and you'll be here." She lifted the pod. "With Scooter, if that's as you wish."

He smiled wanly. "I'm... kinda scared."

"So am I," Daufin said. "Let's be brave together."

Sarge looked up at Tom and Jessie, then over at the others. Returned his gaze to the little girl's intense and shining eyes. "All right," he decided. "I'll be your guardian."

"Place your fingers against this," Daufin told him, and he gingerly touched the sphere. "Don't be afraid. Wait. Just wait."

Blue threads began to creep across the black surface. "Hey!" Sarge's voice was high and nervous.

"Look at that!" The blue threads connected with each other, and floated like mist beneath their hands. Daufin closed her eyes, blocking out all externals and the insistent bellows' boom of the ship. She concentrated solely on opening the vast reservoir of power that lay within the sphere, and she felt it react to her like the ocean tides of her world, flowing over and around her, drawing her deeper into their realm and away from the body of Stevie Hammond.

Blue sparks jumped around Daufin's fingers. "Lord!" Sarge said. "What was-" They danced around his fingers too; he felt a faint tingling sensation that seemed to flow up and down his spine. "Lord!" was all he could say, and that in a stunned whisper.

And in the next instant currents of power snapped out of the sphere, coiled around Daufin's hands and Sarge's too. His eyes widened. The bright blue bands intertwined, braided around each other, and shot with an audible humming sound into the eyes of both Daufin and Sarge, into their nostrils and around their skulls. Daufin's hair danced with sparks. Sarge's mouth opened, and sparks were leaping off his fillings.

Tom and Jessie held on to each other, not daring to speak or move, and the others were silent. The power surge snapped Sarge's head back. His legs buckled, and he fell to the floor. Daufin went down two seconds later. The energy flow ceased, and the pod fell out of the child's hands and rolled to Jessie's feet.

Daufin sat up. Blinked at Tom and Jessie. Started to speak but nothing came out. Sarge's body trembled. He rolled over on his side, slowly got up on his knees. Daufin rubbed her eyes. Sarge breathed deeply a few times, and then he spoke: "Take your daughter home, Tom and Jessie."

"Mama?" Stevie said. "I'm... so sleepy."

Jessie rushed to her daughter, picked her up, and hugged her, and Tom put his arms around both of them. "Why are you crying?" Stevie asked.

Sarge retrieved the sphere and stood up. His movements were quicker than before, and his eyes glinted with a fierce intelligence. "Your language... isn't big enough to tell you how grateful I am," he said. "I'm sorry I brought such pain to this world." He looked down at Curt's body, and placed his hand on Cody's shoulder. "It wasn't what I wanted."

Cody nodded, but was unable to reply.

"We know," Tom said. "I wish you could've seen a better part of our world."

"I think I saw a fine part of it. What's any world but its tribe? And the generations yet to be?" He reached out, gently touching Stevie's auburn hair with Sarge's work-gnarled fingers. Stevie's eyes and brain were fogged with the need for sleep. "Do I know who you are?"

"Nope. But someday-maybe-your parents might tell you."

Stevie nestled her head against Jessie's shoulder. She didn't care where she was, or what was happening; her body was worn out. But she'd been having such a wonderful dream, of playing in the summer sun in a huge pasture with Sweetpea. Such a wonderful dream...

"The greatest gift is a second chance," the alien said. "That's what you've given my tribe. I wish there was something I could give in return-but all I can do is promise that on my world there'll always be a song for Earth." A smile touched the corners of Sarge's mouth. "Who knows? Someday we might even learn to play baseball."

Jessie grasped his hand. Words failed her, but she found some. "Thank you for giving Stevie back to us. Good luck to you-and you be careful, you hear?"

"I hear." He looked at the others, nodded farewell at Cody and Rick, then back to Jessie and Tom.

"Go home," he told them. "You know the way. And so do I."

He turned and strode across the floor. One leg folded up at the knee joint like an accordion. He entered the small pyramid, paused only briefly as he studied the instruments, then began to rapidly manipulate the levers.

Tom, Jessie, Cody, Rick, and Miranda left the chamber, with Stevie clinging to Jessie's neck. They went the way they'd come in, through the pa.s.sage that spiraled down to a wide black ramp in the tunnel below. The lights they'd thrown away were still burning in the distance. And in the black sphere in the creature's hand, Sarge Dennison stood at a crossroads. He was a young man, handsome and agile, with his whole life before him. For some reason, and this was unclear, he was wearing an olive-green uniform. He had a suitcase in his hand, and the day was sunny and there was a nice breeze and the dirt road went in two directions. The signpost had foreign words on it: the names of Belgian villages. From one direction he thought he heard the dark mutter of thunder, and clouds of dark smoke were rising from the ground. Something bad was happening over that way, he thought. Something real bad, that should not ever have to happen again. A dog barked. He looked the other way, and there was Scooter. A mighty prancy thing, waiting for him. The dog's tail wagged furiously. Sarge looked toward the clear horizon. He didn't know what was over that way, beyond the green trees and the soft hills, but maybe it was worth a walk. He had all the time in the world to get there.

"Hold on!" he called to Scooter. "I'm comin' !" He started walking, and it was funny but the suitcase hardly weighed a feather. He leaned down and picked up a stick, and he flung it high and far and watched Scooter kick up dust as the dog ran to fetch it. Scooter got the stick and brought it back. It seemed to Sarge that they could play this game all day.

He smiled, and pa.s.sed on along a dirt road into the land of imagination.