gamma world Red Sails in the Fallout Read online

  “Right, off you go.” Xoota eased out of her chair. She took her mace, crossbow, and drinking bottle. “Steady as she goes.”

  “Aye, aye.”

  “Hmm.” Xoota looked at the rat girl in puzzlement. “Is that another nautical phrase?”

  “I think so.”

  “What does it mean?”

  “I’m not sure. But it seems ever so adventurous.” The rat selected a new track on the music box and took the wheel. “Stretch your legs. Have fun.”

  Xoota was happy to leave Shaani at the wheel. She knew the rat girl could handle the ship. She knotted her shirt beneath her breasts, making sure her pants were pulled up high enough to cover her pouch. With spotted fur shining in the sun, she climbed out of the control cabin and up onto the deck. The outside world instantly sucked at her with its great, dry breeze. She pulled down her sunglasses and made sure her head cloth was on tightly. Her long, moth antennae stirred and tasted the sky.

  The sails were drawing well; speed was steady. Xoota looked over the railings at the balloon tires, made from some sort of solid omega stuff. The copper wire running along the top of the railings was all intact. The catapult had been stowed properly with a dozen rocks stored beside it in a plastic drum.

  Excellent.

  Budgie and Wig-wig were enjoying themselves down in the cool of the hold. Xoota waved them a hello as she walked past. Her backside was a little numb from the control seat. She walked along, stretching her back, heading for the sleeping cabin at the back of the ship.

  The crew cabin had been lifted from the back of an ancient, nomadic vehicle apparently christened Winnebago. There was a small common room, a kitchen, a shower, a toilet, a laboratory set up for Shaani’s books work, and a sleeping cabin set up with one double bed, a double bunk, and a tray full of nice, damp bark and leaves for Wig-wig to nest in. Benek had rather ostentatiously seized the double bed as his own. He had also hung a felt blanket across the middle of the sleeping room, taking three quarters of it as his own personal space, including the little dressing table, cracked mirror, and the outlet for the cabin’s air conditioner. Xoota used her prehensile tail as an anchor, gripping a handhold with it, as she planted her fists on her hips and surveyed the arrangement with dissatisfaction. She unhooked the line that supported the blanket, letting it fall.

  Benek sat at the dressing table, writing in a large, black journal. He looked up at the quoll in irritation. “Do you mind? This area is private.”

  Xoota looked at the man in growing dislike. “Benek. A word, if you please.”

  He was massively muscled, and there was an air of barely controlled violence about the man. Xoota tasted the world with her antennae, feeling a few flashes of possible violence. She chose the best route and sat herself down upon the bunk bed.

  Her mace was held innocently out of sight behind her back.

  “Benek, I need to be able to draft you as part of the deck watch with Shaani. Two hours out of every six when we’re under way.”

  The huge man looked at her scathingly. “I am the mission’s patron, not a crewman.”

  “Well, we are going into very dangerous territory. I would like you to contribute to this team.”

  “I have no interest in teams.”

  Xoota sat cross-legged on the bunk, watching the man. He was strong, perfectly groomed, and utterly self-concerned. The quoll waved her long, black-furred tail. “Benek, are you quite serious about this ‘date’ of yours? These two thousand brides?” She tilted her head, her predator’s eyes sharp and considering. “It seems a pretty big ambition.”

  The man began cleaning his weapons. “My mission is my own affair. Deliver me to the site; then you may depart.”

  “Mmm.” The quoll’s eyes narrowed. “Well, let me put it this way. If we have an accident because you’re not there on deck when we need you, you will never reach those brides of yours. With you on the roster, our odds are just that much greater.”

  She rose to go, not waiting for him to agree, simply expecting compliance. “You will be on deck two hours out of six. I have the deck now. Relieve me in two hours.” She rehung the blanket so it screened off just his chosen bed. “And the cabin space is for everyone. We have limited facilities; we all need access to them.”

  She left the cabin, feeling his eyes boring into her all the way. The quoll gave a malicious, little smile, full of fangs. Her antennae twirled as she made her way back up onto the deck.

  The Sand Shark had caught a nice breeze that channeled between the two long sandstone ridges. The wheels hummed, jouncing slightly as they rode effortlessly over dips and mounds. The ship really was a pleasure to behold. Xoota hung up in the rigging of the rear mast and scanned the horizon but saw nothing worthy of alarm. She dropped down to the deck and went below to check on the others.

  Down in the hold, Budgie had decided to sleep. He lay sprawled over the water tanks, making a contented noise. Wig-wig was making himself useful, scuttling around the place and checking the brake lines and electrical connections. He had turned into a very able assistant in Shaani’s technical endeavors. He was also ludicrously eager and happy, another trait apparently transmitted to him via Shaani. Shaani’s enthusiasm for life, people, and the world in general never seemed to fade.

  Lunchtime was a “help yourself” affair. Xoota swung into the hold, found an insect stick, dried fruit, and some ship’s biscuits for Shaani. She carried the food forward with a flask of tea, thinking the cabin might be the coolest place to enjoy a nibble for lunch.

  The cabin door muffled the sounds of the music box. Xoota opened the door with her tail and backed through, carrying an armload of food. She put it all down on the little map table at the back of the cabin. “Benek is now on the roster for sail trimming.”

  “Oh, jolly good.” Shaani leaned forward as she drove, concentrating just a little too much on keeping a tight grip on the wheel. “Is that lunch?”

  “Bug sticks, tea, and biscuits.”

  “Ooh, spiffy.”

  Shaani absently took hold of a biscuit, crunching into it with teeth as sharp as chisels. It was a bit of a shock at times, realizing just how much power the neat, little rat had in her teeth. She nibbled rapidly, took a cup of tea, and suddenly took an interest in something in the road just up ahead. “There it is again.”

  Xoota cocked her head, her mouth full of pounded, dried grasshoppers. “Hmm?”

  “Dust. Just a little bit. Just over to port.”

  “Where?” Xoota looked out a window.

  “No, no, to port. Just over there.”

  There was the tiniest little smidge of dust about a kilometer ahead, so low to the ground that it was nothing but a haze. Xoota rose, a bug stick in her jaws, and clambered out onto the deck.

  Shaani’s voice pursued her through the door. “Port. That means the ship’s left.”

  “I know, I know.”

  The foremast rigging made a quick and easy ladder. Xoota climbed up into the air with her binoculars dangling from her neck. She wrapped her tail securely in the rigging then used both hands to steady the binoculars as she carefully searched the port-side hills.

  She could just see the barest hint of dust hanging low above the sand ridges. It was just a wisp, but not too far from thick stands of bushes that grew near the Sand Shark’s path. Xoota narrowed her eyes then slid swiftly down on deck.

  “Shaani. Go hard right. To starboard.” She rang the ship’s alarm bell. “All hands on deck, please. Arms and armor.”

  Xoota ducked into the control cabin for her armor. She yanked on her leggings and swiftly buckled up.

  Shaani had started the ship on a long curve to the right, away from the spinifex. “What’s happening?”

  “Dust behind the spinifex dead ahead. Someone might be waiting for us to pass.” Xoota shrugged on her leather tunic. “We’re manning topside. Careful of the ridges to starboard. We want to stay out of bowshot. Three hundred meters, at least.”

  Shaani checked her dials. “She
’s losing speed. We need the sails opened out more.”

  “I’m on it.”

  With crossbow, mace, and shield, Xoota hastened back on deck. Benek and Wig-wig had emerged. The earwigs manned the stern, a little pile of pipe bombs beside them.

  Benek loaded his overly complex crossbow. He looked loftily out over the desert. “Where are all of these imminent enemies?”

  “We’re being cautious.” Xoota turned a crank on a winch, giving the foresail about a meter more play to starboard. She pointed Benek at the rear mast. “Let that rope out about a meter. We need to keep our speed.”

  Something stirred in the spinifex. Suddenly a dozen huge shapes mounted on black cockatoos erupted up out of the bare desert sand. A whole squadron of razorbacks, dressed in heavy leathers, prepared to attack.

  “Yeah, there you are.” Xoota grinned.

  The razorbacks fired bows. They were well out of range, but it made an impressive display. Xoota uncovered the ship’s catapult. She opened a locker, found a bomb, and slotted it into the firing channel, fuse side up. “Wig-wig. Are there matches? How do you light this thing?”

  Some earwigs fluttered over and pointed to a knob mounted on the side of the catapult. It was a cigarette lighter ripped from an old car. “Push in and wait little minute.”

  “Oh, thanks.”

  Xoota checked the wind. The ship was changing course to keep three hundred meters between them and the razorbacks. Xoota swung the catapult starboard, much to Benek’s rage.

  “Idiot animal. Fire at the barbarians.”

  “I intend to.” Xoota’s eye was on a stand of spinifex on the ridges almost six hundred meters away. She plucked out the cigarette lighter and saw the end was glowing cherry red. She touched it to the fuse, and it began to splutter. Xoota tilted the catapult high, aimed at the hills, and fired. The catapult springs made an almighty clunk, and the big, black bomb went whizzing away into the sky.

  The bomb flew to the crest of the ridge and bounced down among the spinifex before exploding in a shocking ball of flame.

  The violence of the explosion was stunning. Shaani had exceeded herself with the design of the bomb. Shards of scrap metal had scythed through the bushes, and a great gout of sand and dust clouded the air.

  There was panic all over the hill crest. A cockatoo reared, and figures could be seen running back over ridge to hide. Xoota furiously worked the catapult crank, gears and ratchets clanking as she hauled the leaf springs back.

  Benek glared at the starboard hills. “More of them?”

  “That’s the main body. The attack from the bushes was supposed to drive us right into them.” Loading the catapult was no mean feat. The ship had crossed another few hundred meters before the springs were finally cocked. Off to port, a dozen mounted razorbacks were racing in pursuit.

  Wig-wig gave a little cry of alarm. Sailing into the air from the starboard came a giant spear launched by a ballista. The razorbacks had their krunch wagon hidden up in the spinifex bushes, and the damned thing was dangerous.

  Shaani hit the brakes. The ship shuddered as it lost speed, the masts bowing forward. The spear flew past a scant few meters in front of the ship and plowed into the sand.

  Xoota loaded her next missile—a rock bound with rags soaked in oil. She set the thing afire, let it burn like a mad thing, then fired at the spinifex. The flaming ball shot flat and true as smashed into the dried brush. It bounced and rolled, showering the area with flame.

  The dry brush caught fire and the flames spread, burning so hot that they shimmered visibly under the desert sun. Razorbacks jumped from the burning spinifex like fleas from vermin. Still, random shots came at the Sand Shark, all falling short. Cockatoos screamed as they surged to their feet and danced back from the fire. At the far end of the battle line, the krunch wagon suddenly emerged, dragged by a team of ragged cockatoos. The wagon moved hastily away from the spreading fire and disappeared down the far side of the hill.

  The ambush to the right was looking much the worse for wear, but the twelve razorbacks who had begun to give chase rode hard and fast for the ship. Shaani curved the ship to port, bringing the catapult to bear on the advancing riders. The razorbacks, feeling threatened, instantly fanned out wide and scattered. They fired a few petulant shots before slithering to a halt and arguing furiously with one another over whose fault the disaster had been.

  Shaani came back on course. Xoota secured the catapult then checked the trim of the sails. She walked past Benek, who stood at the railings with his crossbow unfired.

  “Thanks, Benek. Moral support, mate. Couldn’t have done it without you.”

  The man watched the razorbacks arguing in the distant dust. “We have killed none of them. We could turn back and reengage.”

  “Yes, we could but won’t. Not a mission-positive activity. And it also might get us all killed.” The quoll looked at the razorbacks through her binoculars. “You know, I think those are the ones we stole the tents from. We must have really pissed them off.” She heaved a grateful sigh. “Right. Now back to lunch, I think. I’ll head up the masts and keep a watch out on our snouty friends.”

  The ship rolled onward. Benek went back to his affairs. Xoota found her half-chewed bug stick and climbed up into the rigging, sitting happily aloft and watching the razorbacks disappear into her wake.

  CHAPTER 6

  The Sand Shark rolled on, up over a rise in the sandy desert then off down the vast slopes beyond. They moved past sand dunes and rock outcrops, past the stubs of shattered, ancient walls. At one point, they steered wide around a vast, jagged tumble of rocks, where lizards clung and countless quill bushes grew. The ship tacked with the wind steady at her back, zigzagging her way along beneath her noble spread of sail.

  Even there, so far from water, the desert was alive. Thousands of flies plagued the ship, clinging to it like a long-lost brother. The little bastards settled on every flat surface they could find—all except for the ones that came too close to Wig-wig. Those flies were summarily snipped in two and eaten. The insects buzzed the ship until the sun finally started to go down; then they left as quickly as they had appeared. Apparently even flies need their beauty sleep.

  Gunmetal and scarlet, eggplant blue and gold, the desert sunset unreeled glorious banners of color across the sky. The wind cooled, backing fitfully and making the ship quest back and forth as she tried to catch the breeze. With no moon due to rise, the desert became a little too dangerous to navigate, but they rolled on for a while then picked a fine vantage point atop a rise to bring the ship slowly to a halt. Xoota tugged on the mighty hand brake; the sails were furled, and the Sand Shark settled down to camp for the night.

  It was odd not to be moving; the motion of the ship had seemed so permanent, so natural, that to be standing still felt almost strange. Budgie came out to strut the decks then paraded off onto the desert sands to forage for grubs and goober pods beneath the bushes. The crew of the Sand Shark decided to make its meal on the open upper deck beneath the stars. The last wisps of sunset hung dark and glorious in the sky. Strands of spinifex made stark, black shapes against the horizon.

  Shaani made the dinner, cooking with the same easy aplomb with which she handled everything in life. Humble rations were somehow turned into delicious rolls of chapati bread filled with meat, spices, and cheese. She had even managed to chill the fruit yogurt she had made out of dried curds. The crew sat with deep satisfaction, watching the sun go down and the desert grow blue and mysterious with night.

  Shaani brewed tea and served it with condensed milk, rich and creamy. She sat back, wriggled pink toes at the stars, and gave a satisfied sigh.

  “Not bad at all. Day one, three hundred and two kilometers. We’re moving at an angle to our destination, so that brings us two hundred and twenty-nine kilometers closer to the mission objective.” The rat was pleased. “An excellent day’s run.”

  Shaani told herself that she should walk around the ship and inspect the tires, the brakes, the wheels,
but she put it off until morning. It was too peaceful, too perfect an evening. It would be a shame to break the spell. Still, it had been a long, long day. Bedtime beckoned. The rat gave a huge yawn.

  Xoota noticed and heaved herself up to her feet. “We’ll keep one person on guard at all times. Two-hour shifts. I’d like the drivers to rest their eyes. Benek, if you could take first watch then Wig-wig. I’ll take third; my night vision is good. Shaani can take the last watch and do her teeth out on the main deck where we won’t be tempted to stuff her tooth file up her backside sideways.”

  Benek gave a scowl. “Why am I on first watch? Why not last?”

  “Because desert creatures are at their most active after sundown, and we need our best man armed and ready.”

  Benek approved. He laid out his weapons, ready for his first stint.

  So there would be peace for a little while at least. Xoota took one last look at the horizon. Shaani took one last glance over the ship, and they retired to the sleeping cabin. Xoota tore off her boots and clothes and flopped into the upper bunk. Shaani neatly folded her clothing, topped them with her spectacles, and slid herself into bed. They kept the doors and windows wide open, letting in a cool, night breeze.

  Wig-wig was down in the hold, clandestinely playing the computer game again. Apart from that, the ship was quiet. The two girls heard Benek’s boots clomping along the deck as he marched around on guard. Somewhere out on the sands, a gecko called.

  It was wonderful just to rest. Xoota lay back and enjoyed the desert breeze. “Hey, Shaani.”

  “Yes, old bean?”

  “Your ship is wonderful.”

  “Oh.” She sounded embarrassed. “Thank you.”

  “Good night.” The quoll scratched herself, gave a vast yawn, and went to sleep.

  Below her in the dark, Shaani smiled. She turned her pillow over to the cool side and settled down to sleep.

  The night progressed peacefully. Benek came into bed after his stint on guard, ostentatiously ignoring the women sleeping in their bunk beds. Xoota dangled one leg over the side of her bed, snoring as though her life depended on it. Up on deck, Wig-wig tramped around the ship, scuttling up and down the rigging, mostly for the fun of jumping off and gliding back down again. Benek shook his head in disgust. He made sure that his weapons all lay close to hand and slept wearing his boots and combat pants.