gamma world Red Sails in the Fallout Read online

  Sometime in the wee hours of the morning, Shaani felt Xoota come down from standing guard and nudge her awake. The rat gave a vast, chisel-toothed yawn and nodded to show that she was up and about. It was easiest to just grip an old flashlight globe and let power tingle down into her fingertips; providing her own illumination, Shaani groped around for the morning’s clothing—big, hairy socks; hiking boots; shorts; singlet; and poncho. She settled her glasses on her nose and reached for her bobble hat.

  “So how’s the desert? All’s well?”

  “All’s quiet.” Xoota propped her weapons up beside her bed, tore off her clothes, and flopped into her bunk. Since she would be up again in two hours, she left on her underwear, yet another set decorated with little hearts. “See you in two. We’ll get an early start and get breakfast on the move.”

  “Right-o.” Shaani slung her beloved chainsaw over her back. “Sweet dreams.”

  The rat took her night bag up on deck. The skies were a magnificent, velvety black with just a hint of glorious aurora australis. Shaani climbed up to sit upon the roof of the cabin. Feeling mightily pleased with the world, she took out her tooth file and proceeded to trim her incisors, the noise a horrible scar upon the quiet desert night.

  The muffled voice of Xoota came up from the cabin. “Further.”

  Shaani walked a few paces away.

  Xoota’s muffled voice pursued her. “Much, much further …”

  Shaani grumbled. She packed up her toiletries and moved away to the bow of the ship, where she sat upon the control cabin roof in peace and quiet.

  Ever a neat rat, she groomed herself. She washed her face with a piece of flannel cloth then combed her fur with a damp currycomb until it shone bright and fine as silver. She washed her whiskers and her ears; combed her face; and unbound her streaming, white ponytail. She let her glorious hair flow in the desert breeze, enjoying the quiet and the freedom.

  A mighty mission was being performed. Science was on the march, trying to make a better world. Shaani was fulfilling the great, noble vision of her ancestors. As long as one lab rat held on to the dream, the adventure was not dead. The rat propped herself up to watch the desert shadows, enjoying the peace of the night.

  It was her ship. She had designed it; she had built it. She could feel every tiny part of it around her. When she felt the suspension move ever so slightly, she first flicked her glance at the wind anemometer mounted atop the mainmast, but it still turned at the same rate as before. Wind direction had not changed. She swiveled around on her bottom and turned to look along the length of the ship.

  Something dark was crouching on the deck. A second and third shadow followed. Yet more figures were climbing over the rails. Shaani stood, staring, wondering if her eyes were playing tricks on her.

  There was one simple way to tell. The rat put her hand on the copper wire that ran along the railings, gathered up her energy, and let an electric shock sear into the rails.

  Down on the deck, figures were frozen halfway through climbing across the rails. Some screamed, some snarled. Two fell crashing to the sands. One of the figures up on the deck stood and roared, waving a cleaver as it charged toward the cabin. Shaani screamed at the top of her voice, raising the alarm, but she was still the only person up on deck.

  Brave far beyond her means, Shaani seized her fusion-powered chainsaw. She pulled the trigger, and the razor-sharp blades roared and whirred. The device seemed to fill her with a wild, manic glee. She raced forward, holding the chainsaw like a battering ram. “Tally ho!”

  A titanic razorback met her face-to-face, swinging at her with a hefty club. He collapsed backward as Shaani crashed into him, chainsaw first, the blade doing perfectly awful things. The razorback slammed against other war pigs, screaming and squealing as the rat leaped over him and crashed her chainsaw into another skull.

  There was a roar from out on the desert sands; there were dozens of them, in fact. Shaani fought wildly in the dark against huge war pigs that swarmed onto her ship’s decks.

  Her chainsaw growled like a demon as sparks and body parts showered the deck. The blade bit and clawed at razorback armor, razorback shields, and razorback internal plumbing until one vast war pig in full plate armor slammed into her with his shoulder. The rat squealed and fell, sliding and skittering across the deck. She slammed against the control cabin door. The armored razorback came for her, tusks bared.

  Dazed, Shaani pointed a finger. “Take that, you blighter.” She fired her radiation blast at the monster, hitting it right in the head. Blinded, the monster staggered toward her as she scrabbled her find her feet. His war flail crashed against her, sending her tumbling across the deck. Stars danced before her eyes; her ribs felt broken, stabbing with pain. The armored razorback shook his head, cleared his vision, and charged at her, flinging himself on her in a rabid avalanche. The rat lunged upward with her chainsaw. The blade point skipped, lodged, then plunged in. The monster roared and grabbed Shaani’s throat in his hands. He choked her, making her vision turn bright red. The rat yanked her chainsaw upward, and suddenly she found herself rolling free, hacking and coughing as she fought for breath.

  The night rang to the sounds of weapons slamming into armor. Shaani’s ribs speared her with agony; her vision danced with stars. She staggered to her feet and blinked at the melee.

  Earwigs soared and flew, pinching and nipping, squealing and snarling. Razorbacks slapped and fought at the creatures, leaving themselves open for Xoota. Dressed in her heart-spotted underwear, the quoll fought ferociously with cog mace and shield, slamming her weapon home into razorback helms. She battered one to his knees but slipped, and suddenly a razorback warrior loomed over her. Wig-wig enveloped the razorback’s face with dozens of wings and pincers, and the beast reeled aside.

  Benek fought alone, making no move to help Shaani. He slammed his sword into razorbacks as they tried to climb up the railings. There were more war pigs down on the sands, yelling like demons as they raced toward the ship.

  Rocking backward as a flail crashed into her shield, Xoota tried to make sense out of the melee. More and more razorbacks were closing in. She tried to see where Shaani had gone.

  “Shaani, get us under way! Go go go go go!”

  She saw the rat, staggering in a daze, blank and concussed. A war pig charged toward Shaani with a massive, two-handed cleaver.

  Xoota gave a roar of warning. Quite suddenly long claws shot from her fingertips. She hurtled herself at Shaani’s foe.

  Xoota’s claws were sharp enough to shear clean through steel. She screamed in feral glee and leaped onto her enemy, ripping his armor apart. The pig staggered and fell screaming. Xoota leaped from her victim and instantly felled another razorback with her claws. Her whole face lit up with delight.

  “Yeah! Now that’s what I call an alpha mutation.” But her claws shrank and disappeared just as quickly as they had appeared. “Oh, bugger …”

  Shaani staggered toward the control cabin. Budgie had erupted up out of the hold, kicking and biting at the enemy. He bowled into one razorback and sent the monster tumbling across the railings. Shaani stumbled past, into the control cabin, and threw the knife switch that fed the electric engines. The ship refused to move.

  Hand brake. The rat attacked the lever, putting her whole back into it. She had nowhere near Xoota’s strength, but she managed to squeeze the locking handle open and pushed her weight against the lever.

  The ship lurched. The Sand Shark picked up speed only slowly—a walk, then jogging speed, then slightly faster … slightly faster … Razorbacks down on the sand broke into a run. They were all visible in the graying light. Some swung grappling hooks; others fired at the railings. Shaani abandoned the steering wheel and lurched her way back out onto the deck.

  Benek, Budgie, Xoota, and Wig-wig were fighting a savage action against half a dozen war pigs all around the central deck. Shaani blinked, half blinded with concussion, then made her way to the catapult. She worked the crank handle, jacking ba
ck the titanic, steel springs, then slapped a rock into place. She swiveled the weapon around, took aim, and fired.

  The rock slammed into the razorbacks who surrounded Xoota. The missile took one pig’s head clean off before slamming into a second, who fell into a third.

  Missed by a hair’s breadth, Xoota stared at Shaani in shock and outrage. “Holy kack.” She slammed her shield against another razorback, crashing him over the railing and onto the sand below.

  Shaani ignored the fight. She staggered to the mainmast and hit the winch control. The mainsail soared upward, filling to the wind. The boom whipped across the deck, smashing two war pigs overboard.

  “Who’s driving this thing?” Xoota’s yell carried across the chaos of the fight.

  “No one.” Sick and exhausted, Shaani restarted her chainsaw. “Right. Here I come.” She collapsed against the mainmast.

  Three razorbacks were left. Benek smashed one down, savaging the monster where it fell. The last two pigs abandoned ship, leaping down into the sands. Benek fired his crossbow after them. Xoota ignored the razorbacks and raced over to Shaani.

  “Shaani!” Her voice cracked with panic. “Wig-wig, get over to Shaani!”

  The rat was covered in pig’s blood; her chainsaw was dripping gore. She had a determined look in her pink eyes as she did her best to stand. But she was shaking; she was in shock and badly hurt.

  Xoota caught her in her arms. “Easy. Easy now. They’ve gone. You chased them off.”

  Earwigs came flocking down around them. Wig-wig instantly caught Xoota’s mood and raced around and around Shaani in fright, patting her with his feelers. The earwigs glowed, working their strange mutation, healing her as best they could.

  Xoota watched carefully and made Shaani drink. She took a damp cloth and wiped the rat’s face and whiskers clean. “You need a bath.”

  “A-a what?”

  “A bath. You’re a wreck.”

  Shaani tried to struggle up off the deck. “Are they gone? The razorbacks.”

  “Falling behind. Benek set the fore sail.” The ship was bounding along. “I have to go steer. Wig-wig, look after her. Make her lie down.”

  The quoll raced off, still in her underwear, and threw herself into the control cabin. The ship had been bouncing off downwind, heading for sandstone boulders. The Sand Shark came back under control, curving away, leaning as she caught the wind diagonally from the stern.

  Out on the sands far behind, the razorback tribe gave a vengeful yell. Cockatoos screamed as the warriors mounted to pursue the sand ship. Lying on the deck, Shaani groped for the flask of cold tea that Wig-wig handed her, and stared dazedly up at the sails.

  “Wig-wig, can you … can you ask Benek to please set jib and fore staysail?”

  “Benek be shooting at pigs. Pigs too far away, but Benek is shooting.”

  “Well, could you please ask him to stop it? We need full sail.”

  A ballista bolt from the razorbacks’ krunch wagon flew past the ship. Shot from a wildly bucking wagon, it had gone wide but only just. The artillery shot was enough to finally move Benek into action. Jibs began to whip up into place at the bow, followed by topsails at the heads of all the masts. The vessel leaned dangerously over to starboard, tilting hard. But her wheels sang faster, the springs absorbing the ripples of the hard-packed sand.

  “Thank you, gentlemen. Wig-wig, go downstairs to the electric pump and shift all water to the portside tanks, please.”

  “Shaani must rest first. Into bed … lie down.”

  The rat swallowed. “I need to … to check the hull for damage. Check the tires …”

  Wig-wig and Budgie were taking no arguments. Shaani suddenly felt the bugs swarm beneath her and carry her off across the sloping deck. He swept her down into the cabin. While they could not get her up into her bunk, they could set her up on the floor with blankets, sheets, and a pillow. They checked her broken ribs, quite distraught, wanting to help.

  “Wig-wig, the water tanks …”

  “We must heal you.”

  “Shift the water to port.”

  The earwigs gave in as they caught wind of Shaani’s concern for the ship. They flowed off toward the hold. Minutes later the ship began to right herself a little, losing some of her extreme tilt.

  By the time Wig-wig came back, Shaani was trying to sit. She had apparently taken quite a crack on her skull; the whole room was spinning.

  The earwigs made a noise of protest and tried to make her lie back down. “Rat lady, be still. Be still and heal.”

  Shaani’s tongue felt thick. For some reason, her words seemed to slur. “There are some tools. I can make caltrops … maybe land mines.”

  “No, no, rattie wants to go to sleep.”

  “Don’t be silly. Of course I don’t.”

  But apparently she did. The rat suddenly felt a great gush of images—soothing water, rustling leaves, and for some reason an infinity of sheep stupidly bouncing over a fence. It was odd, really. The only sheep she knew were three brothers, all called Kevin, who ran a farm in her home village. And the Kevins were all bright green …

  Wig-wig. The little blighter was doing his brain-tweaking trick. Shaani felt her eyelids grow heavy and lifted up a finger to protest. “I shall have words with you about this …”

  Seconds later she was asleep.

  Wig-wig bustled all over her, pulling a sheet across her, making sure the fans were blowing cool air on her. One earwig bustled quietly up, kissed the rat on one cheek, and left her to her sleep.

  The ship raced onward with her sails spread full. Far behind, a horde of razorbacks snarled in her wake.

  All through a long, hot morning, the Sand Shark skimmed east-southeast, steering off course to take the wind full force into her stern quarter. The wind was moderate but steady. The ship moved at an average of thirty kilometers per hour, slowing as she reached rough ground or moved into the wind shadow of rock outcrops and sand hills.

  At midday the wind died away almost completely. The sails jerked and flapped, leaving the ship to coast to a stop. Xoota engaged the electric drive, rolling the ship slowly onward at a dazzling eight kilometers per hour. But the ship began to slow after fifteen minutes of battery drain. She finally ground to a halt as she tried to reach the top of a sand dune, groaning, shuddering, and starting to roll backward.

  They were stalled. Xoota hauled on the hand brake, gave an irritated sigh, and decided to make the best use of time by checking the ship for damage.

  Out on deck, Benek was glaring out over the desert. The sails hung flaccid in the still, hot air. The little generator windmills for the air conditioners had also stopped. On top of the mainmast, Shaani’s little wind-speed meter stood completely still.

  Xoota shook her head in irritation and walked aft. “Benek, any sign of the razorbacks?”

  “Nothing.” The huge human had tossed razorback corpses overboard, but had made no move to swab the deck. “We have outrun them.”

  While leaving a set of tire tracks that could be followed by a blind man, Xoota thought. If the razorbacks were insane enough to pursue them into the deep desert, then they might be crazy enough to keep on coming. That would imply the creatures were seriously pissed off. The whole tent-theft incident seemed to have sparked a serious vendetta.

  Xoota took the chance to head back to the cabin and visit Shaani. She found the rat fast asleep. She knelt beside her, checking her bandages. Wig-wig surrounded the rat girl, fanning her with dozens of giant earwig wings. It made the air surprisingly cool.

  A representative earwig climbed onto Xoota’s shoulder. He spoke in a whisper. “She can has sleeping. Is good.”

  “How bad is she?”

  “Broken ribs. Bash on head. And skin had lots of big, black marks.” The earwig was a little puzzled by mammalian structure. “Is that a disease?”

  “Those are bruises. I think it’s broken blood vessels beneath the skin.”

  “Not good design.” The earwigs looked over Shaani’s
bandages, gently neatening them. “I shall fix.”

  “How soon do you think you can fix her?”

  The earwigs looked unhappy. “Tomorrow, I can has more power. Make little bit better. A day after, little bit more better. Maybe four days.”

  “Does she need anything?”

  “Just sleepings.” The bugs sighed. “I needs food. Energy. Must have sugar nom noms.” Wing-wagging was hard, hot work. “Tired.”

  “Okay, well, we might as well break for lunch. I can bring you some of that condensed milk?”

  “Ooh, nommy.”

  Xoota put the kettle on the stove and boiled tea. She made soup from a packet; found some of Shaani’s homemade, deliciously crusty locust bread; and carried the food down into the hold, where they could eat in the cool.

  Benek ate in one corner, fastidiously keeping to his own stores. Xoota couldn’t have cared less.

  The wind seemed determined to stay on holiday. Xoota checked on Shaani then went back up on deck, where she checked on the wind meter; climbed the mainmast; and made a long, careful study of the empty desert all around her. The tracks of the Sand Shark were clearly visible stretching back off across the hills. Xoota pulled out her binoculars and carefully studied the horizon, looking for anything that might spell danger.

  A dust plume hung low on the west horizon. Small, it was low to the ground, with a broad base. But it looked as if it came from a large body of riders, moving fast.

  Razorbacks.

  Xoota watched them for a while, trying to estimate the distance. The cloud might hang twenty meters above the ground. Xoota was high, high up in the mainmast atop a fairly high hill.