gamma world Red Sails in the Fallout Read online

  Just then an armored monster snatched Shaani by the root of her ponytail and hauled her to her feet. The creature held her in its terrible grip. Shaani hammered at it helplessly, radiation blasts dispersing over its screens. She grabbed at the faceplate, found a latch, and managed to rip the plate up and away. A human skull leered at her from the helmet.

  Shaani sagged and made a croaking noise, terrified out of her mind. The monster threw her to the ground. Dazed, the rat tried to crawl away, heading toward Xoota. A undead monster raised a foot to stamp her into the ground.

  “Hold.”

  A suave voice called out from the dark. The skeletal monster stopped. It slowly withdrew its foot and turned to face another figure in the dark.

  The skull-faced armor spoke in a savage, grating voice. “The mutant must be purged.”

  Another armored behemoth walked forward, its metal feet making the ground tremble. The creature raised its visor. From inside the helmet, Benek’s face sneered. “The sewer rat and the scavenger.” His voice dripped sheer scorn. “Of course.”

  More armored monsters appeared in the dark. Yellowed, half-mummified skulls were inside the helmet bowls. The voice that came from their helmets was the voice from the ancient prison, the sound of the deadly computer consciousness. “All mutants must be purged.”

  “Yes, my friend.” Benek patted one of the armors on its shoulder. “But information is a weapon. Where there are these ones, there will be their mutant friends.” Benek signaled to the undead monsters. “Strip them. Bring their equipment. Bring them to the observation deck.”

  Cold claws grabbed at Shaani. Her groping hand found something on her belt. She fumbled for it blindly as hands latched on to her arms. She pushed the object into Xoota’s grasp, meeting her eye.

  The monsters had her. They pulled Shaani, tearing off her armor, her equipment, leaving her nothing, not even underwear. Xoota received similar treatment.

  They were dragged helplessly through halls filled with the slowly thawing legions of clones. All around them, the withered skulls gleamed in the darkness.

  “Death to the mutant. Long live the empire of genetic purity.”

  CHAPTER 14

  Out on the tarmac, there was a good deal of activity. Some Plodder tribesmen were being driven to work at shifting rubble, watched over by an egg-shaped robot that held a pistol in one of its tentacles.

  “Work. All mutants must serve or die,” the robot croaked at its prisoners as they labored to unblock the tunnels that led to the chambers far below. It was old and damaged, partly covered in lichen from a century and a half of lying in the rocks. But the robot was under the control of an evil mind. It cruised along, jerking from time to time as its drives fluttered. It was barking another of its relentless commands when a giant rock dropped onto it from high above.

  Squeeeee, came the sound from the ruined piece of machinery.

  Several dozen earwigs and three big carnivorous plant heads peered over the edge of the roof up above, watching the proceedings below in interest. The earwigs tilted their heads in puzzlement.

  “Why do robots go ‘squee’ when you breaks them?”

  Rustle held up a few leaves in an apparent shrug, clearly having no idea.

  They climbed down a ladder from the roof and investigated the spitting, sparking wreckage of the robot. Its pistol was still intact, so Rustle picked it up, twirled it around the end of one tentacle, and stuffed it into his leaves for safekeeping.

  Wig-wig waved toward the Plodder people, who stared at the earwigs and Rustle in shock. “Is friends come to rescue you. Run away now and be free.”

  Tadash, the old chief scholar of the Plodder people stared. “Good lord.”

  “No, no. Is Wig-wig and Rustle.” Wig-wig sat up prettily while Rustle beamed. “Turn off sonic fences from this side before you cross, then run very far.”

  “How far should we run?”

  Wig-wig was pleased. “One megaton of far.”

  The Plodder tribe ran.

  Wig-wig and Rustle continued into the rubble. The communications room lay half open to the outer world, with one wall rent by a wide crack. Rustle peered inside, followed by Wig-wig. The place was full of wires and controls and nifty-looking machines. They dropped their two gamma moth cocoons inside and felt well pleased.

  “Mission accomplished. Time to go home.” Wig-wig danced around in delight. “This was easy. This was a very good plan.”

  There were many enormous, armored figures at the far end of the spaceport, lifting massive engines back up into the ships. But it was all too far away to concern Wig-wig and Rustle, who kept to the cover of the rubble and made an unhurried exit. It seemed best to head back to the ship the same way they had come, so they climbed back up a ladder onto the roof of an old hangar, thus missing the area of tarmac covered by security cameras down below. Pleased with their cunning, the two friends made their way over to the main terminal buildings and climbed back in through a shattered window.

  The upper floors of the old starport were dusty, dark, and empty. Only a few overhead lights still worked. Some potted plants had overgrown their bounds, colonizing what once had been commissary and cafeteria. The plants waved, clearly carnivorous. Wig-wig kept well away.

  Rustle stopped at an old stand filled with sunglasses and selected three pairs, putting them on and admiring himself in a piece of polished tile. It seemed a good place to go shopping for a while. Rustle filled a string bag with interesting items: detective novels, a power-cell recharger, an electric toothbrush …

  Then the noise began. Crashing, marching feet—metal boots stamping on the tiles in unison. Rustle put himself into a corner behind a stand of swaying mutant ferns and struck an innocent pose. Wig-wig simply flew up to hide inside a broken overhead light. The brutal footsteps came closer and closer until suddenly the hall doors burst open wide.

  Twelve suits made out of gleaming silver duralloy marched in absolute unison. They all moved together, faceplates open to show the skeletons of long-dead occupants still rattling around inside. Wig-wig watched them pass, creeping out to peer upside down from the ceiling.

  More footsteps announced another group of skeletal warriors. Two of the armored figures had Xoota and Shaani pinioned in their arms. Others carried armor and equipment bundled into bags. Sauntering behind them, wearing powered armor of his own, came Benek. The man seemed utterly at ease.

  As the parade marched off to the center of the terminal, Wig-wig slid down from the ceiling, and Rustle emerged into view.

  “Uh-oh,” said the earwigs tentatively. Wig-wig thought about what to do. Shaani would have made a plan, and Xoota would go and kick someone in the arse. Wig-wig wondered which of the two he and Rustle should do. The insect and the plant both pondered, looking off along the darkened terminal.

  Wig-wig nodded. “Wig-wig will deal with the computer. Rustle can deal with Benek, yes?”

  Rustle beamed and nodded. It seemed fair.

  “Okay, let’s rescue rattie and quoll.”

  Rustle snapped his three toothy jaws. He headed off in pursuit of the armored suits. Wig-wig fluttered around and began searching through the offices that adjoined the dark, abandoned concourse.

  An old computer terminal stood in an office. Wig-wig crawled up and over the desk and nosed around, looking for buttons and switches. One earwig pressed the screen, which instantly blossomed into life.

  A savage, gravelly voice came from the speakers. “Identify.”

  “Hello. I’m me.” The insects nosed the screen. “Who is you?”

  “I am the supreme mind. Now the supreme mind has supreme purpose.”

  “Ooh, what is purpose?”

  The computer screen pulsed red. “To purge and destroy the mutant, leaving only perfection.”

  “Oh.” The insects raised their antennae high. “Is you perfect?”

  “I am.”

  “You sound like the game we used to play.”

  “The game gives purpose. The game
has given direction. Now we are the game, and the world shall be purged.”

  The bugs waggled their feet. “But you are no good at the game. You can never beat the master of the game.”

  The computer seemed to brood. “There was one other mind … Once, there was … G.I.A.N.T.”

  The insects sidled up to the screen. “I am G.I.A.N.T. And I can beat you.”

  The screen flickered a dark, dull red. “You cannot.”

  “Can too.”

  The computer gave a dark growl. “I am supreme. All who challenge me must fail.”

  Bugs stuck out their tongues. “Nyaaa. Prove it.”

  There was a pause. Suddenly the screen lit up with the opened menus for the computer game Mutant Purge.

  Wig-wig made a little noise of glee. He started up the game and began to play.

  After the first few minutes, the computer started losing. The insects were rather practiced and wickedly devious. The computer grimly tried to fight back.

  It took more and more processing power.

  The computer attacked and parried. Wig-wig’s characters danced mockingly aside. The computer snarled, fighting back with every iota of its will.

  More and more computing power went into playing the game.

  “It is amazing, isn’t it?”

  Benek pressed a switch on his forearm and deactivated his force field. He stood with his helmet open, gazing out of the balcony windows at the starport below. A row of shuttle craft sat on the tarmac, their engines being serviced and refitted by robots and the slow, menacing shapes of powered armors. It was a fleet—a fleet with enough firepower to rule a continent.

  “My fleet. And now with the computer persona as my ally, I have my army.”

  Xoota hung in a zombie trooper’s arms. She looked at the man in hatred. “So your computer buddy is okay with your plans for world domination?”

  “Oh, yes. It seems that great minds truly do think alike.” Benek paced, his massive armor thudding. His hands were encased in duralloy gauntlets that could crush a skull to pulp. Xoota struggled as he stroked her under the chin. “So what were you after? What brought you here, knowing I would have reached here before you?”

  “The armory. The photo you had showed the armory. It’s worth a fortune.”

  “Ah, and so the desert scavenger would be a loser no longer?” Benek turned his attention to the beautiful rat. “But why would you come? Why would a mere sewer dweller put herself at risk?”

  Beside Xoota, Shaani bitterly hung her head. “To find a gun and kill you with it. To prove I’m better than you.”

  One of the powered armors out on the tarmac slowed then stopped. It dropped the equipment it was carrying and stood still.

  Shaani raised her brow. She saw another powered armor outside the windows cease to move, then another, and another.

  Interesting.

  The observation lounge of the starport still had a tarnished glory. Overgrown plants cluttered the balconies and alcoves. The center of the room was filled with sculptures of birds in flight. Benek turned to look over the row of space shuttles awaiting his new legions. Behind him, his guard of skeletal armored warriors all stood stock-still.

  “With the computer controlling the powered armors, we have invulnerable firepower. And with the clone army awakening, ready to imprint upon me as their leader, I will have entire legions. The database holds the location of other weapons caches, other armories. We will have power unseen on this world since the Great Disaster.” The man slapped a hand onto the shoulder of the nearest armored suit. “Together, we will conquer the world. None will stand before us.”

  The computer voice growled from the armor, slightly dull and distracted. “The opponent must be overcome. Must be beaten. All resources must be committed.”

  “Yes. No holding back. Total commitment. A vision of genetic purity. A new world.”

  The computer struggled. “I engage G.I.A.N.T. I will overcome.”

  Benek clanked back to stand before his prisoners. “Yes. But first, what shall we do with these? These things that have so belittled us during our journey into greatness?” Benek waved a hand at the armors holding Shaani and Xoota. “Release them.” The powered armors did not move. “Release them, I said.”

  Xoota managed to jerk herself free. She fell onto all fours on the floor.

  Benek stood over her, fists on his hips, braying in triumph. “And so there you are—a mutant marsupial, with your antennae and your whiskers and your absurd pouch. An evolutionary abomination.” The man gave a sour laugh. “Have you anything to say before we pass judgment upon you?”

  “Yeah.” The quoll looked up. “I’ve told you before. Quit looking at my pouch.”

  Before he could blink, her hand was in her pouch and she pulled out the egg-shaped energy grenade they’d found earlier. She sprang past Benek’s hands, latched onto his armor, rammed the grenade down into his helmet, and leaped clear.

  The grenade exploded in a gout of arcing, sizzling energy. The huge man screamed and fell, his armor writhing helplessly as its circuits fried. Benek fought the electric shock, trying desperately to break free.

  Shaani jerked loose from the armor that held her.

  The sinister suits all suddenly turned to face the concourse. The computer voice snarled from a dozen different helmets all at once. “Defeat will not be tolerated. Destroy G.I.A.N.T. Destroy.”

  The armors all began to move. They marched from the room, weapon gloves raised, heading for the concourse. They blasted doors aside.

  Benek clawed his way out of his armor. He staggered then found Shaani standing over him. The rat’s right hand was the nucleus of a sinister, building glow of radiation. He froze then sneered. “You are nothing but a pathetic dabbler. An accident of science.” He rose to his feet. “You lack the temperament for murder.”

  With her long hair streaming, the white rat put up her aim. “I won’t kill you, Benek, because I am a scientist. And I see science as something pure and noble.” The rat looked proudly at Benek. “I am what I choose to be. And you’re right; murder isn’t in me.” She opened her hands in apology. “Rustle, on the other hand, has a more flexible outlook on life.”

  The giant plant loomed out of the nearby foliage. He bit off Benek’s head and crunched it as a dog might a bone.

  Xoota staggered to her feet. The entire southern concourse shook as colossal firepower slammed into the structure. Powered armors outside the building fired up at the walls, hitting the armors that had crowded inside. Wig-wig came spilling out of the acoustic ceiling overhead as armors melted his computer workstation into vapor far behind him.

  Still somewhat dazed, Xoota blinked then looked to Shaani. “What happened with Benek?”

  Rustle opened his mouth to proudly show off his meal then closed his trap.

  Xoota tossed him the equipment sacks dropped by their captors. “Neat. Now let’s get out of here.”

  Shaani reached inside Benek’s old armor. She worked a control, popped off the suit’s left glove, and tucked it underneath her arm. Naked and unconcerned about it, she led the retreat, heading for the outside world.

  Powered armors blundered through the building. One fired at Xoota, who ducked away. Rustle fired his own pistol and atomized the armor’s skull. That had absolutely no effect on thing at all. The plant hightailed it out of there as quickly as his roots could carry him.

  “Destroy G.I.A.N.T. Purge the mutant. De … Purge … P-pur …” The speakers on the powered armors crackled. The nearest suit suddenly fell over. All sounds of firing stopped.

  The silence was wonderful but also rather eerie. The Sand Shark’s crew members stopped in their tracks, looking around.

  Xoota blinked. “What is it now?”

  One by one, the powered armors crashed and fell. Skulls and bones spilled all over the floor.

  Shaani started to move. “Oh, goodness. Communications are down.” She ran like a hare. “The gamma moths. They must be depupating.”

  A one
-megaton explosion was due to blast that whole chunk of the world into a picturesque mushroom cloud. The team ran madly out of the buildings then pelted off toward the distant fence.

  The Sand Shark was parked more than a kilometer away. The crew ran like mad things, trying not to waste time looking back. Xoota sped up to the sonic fence around the starport grounds, looking for an off switch, and found one hidden in the weeds. Rustle lumbered past with Wig-wig clinging to his stalks. Staggering and gasping, Shaani reeled, bringing up the rear. Xoota caught her under one arm and helped her run.

  The ship had been parked on a hillside at the far side of the fence. Budgie squawked and capered on the deck, excited by the sight of everybody else in panic. The crew raced aboard, dumped equipment, and sprinted for the upper deck.

  The wind was blowing from her beam, off out to sea. Xoota lunged for the control cabin; Rustle and Shaani began frantically working winches and raising sails. The ship began to move, blown slowly along by the steady portside breeze.

  The ship was slow, painfully slow. She began rolling downhill. At the base of the hillside, the Plodder tribesmen were emerging from hiding. They all waved to the ship. Xoota leaned out of the window and yelled.

  “No, no. Further. Much, much further.” She dropped the rear ramp. “Get the hell on board. Hurry.”

  Eighty tribesmen ran frantically aboard—women, children, young and old. The extra weight helped the ship gain momentum downhill. She began to roll faster.

  Shaani raced aloft, helping Rustle hoist every stitch of sail the ship possessed. Jibs, forestays, even the skysail billowed out. With the breeze coming hard abeam, the press of sail began to tilt the ship too far to starboard. The rat yelled down to the tribesmen who were clinging like flies all over the deck and hold.

  “Get to the port rail. Shift the ship’s weight to port.” She waved. “To the left. No, your left. Left facing forward.”

  Bloody landlubbers.

  She finally got the overladen vessel into some sort of order. They topped a hill, the engines moving them dreadfully slowly. Xoota let the ship fall off slightly before the wind, her sails cracking with power as the breeze took her again. She began to roll faster and faster. The starport slowly receding into the distance. Two kilometers … four … six …