GeneStorm: City in the Sky Read online

  “Yes, that would be unwise!” The mantis banged on the side of her plasma rifle, which immediately spat blue sparks. “Ah, there we go! Water may have splashed the contacts.”

  “Oh Godfish…”

  A chorus of horrifying screams came echoing from far upstream. The distant noise drifted, ebbing and fading. Men checked flints on their muskets, or opened ammunition pouches. Snapper rode Onan behind the line, keeping an eye upon the creek upstream.

  “Wait for the order! No one fire – we have scouts out there upstream!” She rode slowly back behind the rifle line. “We’re going to stop the Screamers right here for ten minutes, then back behind the acid wagons to the next bend!” Snapper set her helmet straight. The sound of screams were coming closer. “Hold your fire! Hold your fire…!”

  Throckmorton came thrashing in overhead from upstream The plant fired a crossbow down at something out of sight around the next bend, reloading with an efficient thrash of tentacles. The oncoming shrieks of the Screamers rose into a baying howl, and pistol shots could be heard down the creek.

  Beau and his fellow outrider came flying around the bend, birds stretched out in the gallop. Their mounts climbed the creek walls as they ran, taking a bend at high speed. They flashed past the firing line, and then the first Screamer came thrashing into view.

  It was a long, narrow beast with patches of leprous fur. Behind it came a heavier monster – far larger and covered with chitinous plates. Muskets opened fire, but the bullets cracked into the armour plate and ricocheted away. Kitterpokkie clambered onto an earth bank and yelled out above the crash and bang of musket fire.

  “Never fear! I’ll get him!”

  The plasma gun opened fire, bucking wildly in the mantis’s slim hands. A wild scorch of blinding light hit the creek bed, exploding water into steam. The crackling bolt sawed across the larger Screamer, blasting it aside. The creature flew apart. The plasma gun ceased fire, leaving everyone blinking with aftershock. The mantis panted, quite breathless with fright and excitement, picking herself up from the mud.

  “There we go! Told you it worked.” She patted the gun. “A bit of tech, eh? That startled ‘em!”

  With a deafening scream, a dozen more monsters came thundering around the creek bend and launched into the attack. The creatures raged forward, to be met by a blast of musket and rifle fire. Rifle bullets struck with massive force – spent cartridges spun out of breeches and clattered ringing to the rocks. Wounded Screamers never faltered, but kept right on coming, hurtling themselves at the wagon. Some died mid-leap: others smashed into the wagon and clawed up over the sides. Musketeers fought frantically with hatchets and musket butts as jaws and tentacles tore the wagon sides apart. Snapper blasted two Screamers back from the top of the wagon, the revolver carbine firing hard and fast. She dropped out the empty cylinder and fired again, catching a monster as it clambered past the wagon poles. A lizard man and a rat from amongst the passengers clubbed wildly at Screamers, but were pulled down beneath scything jaws.

  Beau rode up, trying to control his terrified mount. The fox-bird fired his pistols, catching a Screamer as it leapt towards Snapper. He reloaded clumsily, the budgerigar running madly aside as another wave of monsters came charging straight towards the wagon.

  The plasma rifle fired again from underneath the wagon wheels. Bowling Screamers aside, the blast of exploding steam sent water and mud showering through the air. The mantis scrabbled back out from beneath the wheels, yelping as a Screamer narrowly missed her with its claw. Beside her, a Screamer’s head blasted through the wagon’s wooden side. It lashed at the mantis, only to be struck by a crossbow bolt fired from above. Throckmorton whirred low overhead, trying to drag the mantis back towards the acid wagon.

  More screams were coming down the gorge – far more monsters were on the way. Snapper gunned down one as it clawed at a fallen wagoneer, then drew her sword and crashed into another that was ramming past the wagon. Onan bit into the monster’s flank. Snapper struck the beast a massive blow and Onan leaped back, shaking gore from his beak.

  “Back! Hurry!” Beau and Kenda were already leading the retreat, speeding off downstream. Snapper whirled Onan about and seized the mantis by one of her four arms, swinging her up behind Onan’s saddle. “Is the bomb ready?”

  “It might be!”

  The numbing sound of the next wave of Screamers was almost deafening. Snapper jabbed Onan with her heels, and the bird sped off down the creek. “Time to go! Run run run run!”

  Musketeers blasted a volley and fled back in panic past the acid wagon. Snapper, Kitt and Throckmorton came last, speeding down the gorge and flashing past the bomb wagon. The men ahead were fleeing wildly away, some hurtling aside their guns in panic.

  Two hundred metres back, Beau’s budgerigar had chosen this exact moment to buck and whirl around and around like a mad thing. The man held on in terror, squawking as he desperately tried to get the beast under control.

  More Screamers came thundering about the creek bed – a dense mass that screeched in deafening, maddened rage. Two hundred metres behind the acid cart, Snapper turned Onan about and lunged behind a rock. The Screamers were a black mass of claws, tentacles and shrieking death ripping their way past the acid wagon.

  “Kitt – blow the wagon!”

  The mantis took the best aim she could and pulled the trigger of her plasma gun. The weapon fizzed and sparked, burning Onan’s tail. Kitterpokkie hammered madly at the gun, cursing in a most unladly-like way.

  “Sodding thing!” She shook the rifle and pulled hard at the trigger. “The power leads are wet!”

  “Kitt! The wagon!”

  “I’m trying!” The power lead abruptly fell out of the rifle butt. “Oh bugger!”

  “Kitt!”

  The creek bed was choked with monsters as fifty Screamers – each a mass of fangs and foaming rage – clambered over and around the acid wagon, clawing along the gorge walls. The first few had leapt past the wagon and were already charging downstream. Snapper hefted her carbine, but the cylinder was empty. She scrabbled for a spare, and almost dropped it as Onan slipped and slithered in the mud.

  Trapped atop his panicked budgerigar, Beau had drawn his pistols. He fired in the air, trying to bring his mount to heel. The bird instantly stopped whirling around and took off at blinding speed – straight towards the monsters. The fox-pheasant jounced wildly on the bird’s back, his last pistol flailing back and forth. He sped past a Screamer as it lunged and missed – past another – then suddenly the pistol went off in his hand.

  The bullet cracked into the acid crystals that now crusted the wagon’s sides.

  The whole world seemed to take a breath.

  The explosion lifted the entire bottom of the creek. The steep banks bowed – water flashed – and then the wagon, Screamers and surrounding creek blew apart. The shock was so swift that men blinked and almost missed it. Debris flew with shocking speed. The entire Screamer horde abruptly disappeared. Water, mud and rock channelled by the high banks flew in a shockwave down the creek, slamming into Onan, Snapper and Kitterpokkie, tumbling them over in the muck. Throckmorton tumbled through the skies, whirling end over end. The banks of the gorge collapsed, deluging everything with mud.

  Ears ringing, Snapper struggled up out of the creek.

  Beau still sat on his budgerigar, blinking. Mud completely sheathed him from head to foot – mud mingled with Screamer guts and gore. The plumage on the back of his head stood straight backwards, stiffened by the blast – an absolute picture of shock. His budgerigar slipped and fell. Beau ended up sitting in the filthy creek, still staring in silence toward the crater in the middle of the gorge.

  From behind Snapper, Kitt and Onan, the wagoners crept about the corner of the gorge and staggered past, led by Tammin, the caravan master. Tammin leaned on Snapper and pointed in amazement at Beau, his eyes lighting up with joy.

  “He’s saved the day! Captain Beau has saved the day!” Tammin waded up the creek, relieved pass
engers and wagon crew following in his wake. “Three cheers for the captain! Hip hip!”

  “Hooray!”

  The passengers and crew of the caravan surged forward. Beau was hoisted up on their shoulders and borne in triumph back towards the wagons. The women of wagon number three ran forward, dancing about with stars in their eyes. Beau modesty tried to brush off their praise – no no, the merest stuff! Any red blooded fellow would have done it! They carried him off, while the last few fragments of dead Screamer plopped down out of the trees. Throckmorton descended dazedly from above, looking rather the worse for wear, with twigs and passion-gum fruit sticking to his wings. He settled beside Kitterpokkie, who stared at Beau in amazement as the procession disappeared.

  “Well I never!”

  Snapper sighed. This sort of thing seemed to be the hallmark of her world. She was dead tired, saddle sore and utterly smothered in mud. Beside her, Onan fluffed out his feathers, showering them all with yet more mud.

  “Salty cracker?”

  “Yeah. Salty cracker. And about twelve hours of sleep.” Snapper fought painfully up to her feet, then helped Kitterpokkie and Throckmorton up out of the mud.

  “I just hope these people stand us some drinks once we hit town.”

  The mantis looked wanly back towards the crater.

  “Bugger. All my belongings were on the rear wagon.”

  “Well, we can fix you up somewhere to stay. You seem a useful sort.” The shark patted her on the shoulder as the group wearily walked off toward the caravan. “Come on Throckmorton. I’ll shout you a beer, mate. I’ll shout you a beer.”

  Chapter 3

  Three days of riding out across the plains. Three days of slow golden sunrises and grass trees sparkling with dew. Smoke bush swayed and rippled in the breeze, washing back and forth like a vast silver ocean. Strange animal hybrids lived in the brush; creatures part plant, part rabbit and part mouse that led busy lives out in the quiet. Dandelion mice and catbirds flitted through stands of wattle trees, vanishing as the wagon train slowly grumbled near.

  In the evenings, gorgeous sunsets slowly uncurled their wings while the wagon train made camp. Out in the scrublands, fat little floating rodents emerged from roosts and drifted in the skies, lighting the evening with bio-lights. Passengers lounged beside campfires and played guitars or grass flutes. There were nightly games of cards, and dominos played with painted tiles. Beau – the hero of the hour – was excused his night sentry duties, and instead disported himself amongst admiring female travellers, reading stories aloud or sampling gifted titbits of food and wine.

  Snapper made camp with the wagoners, and took the liberty of sharing their food. Crispy fried bacon plant and oatseed cakes for breakfast. Baked meat melons or mystery meat stew for the evening meal. One night she brought forth an old treasure – a long recorder carved from a single sweep of dark red wood. She played while Onan danced, much to the delight of the passengers and crew. The cockatoo then shamelessly wheedled one and all for salty crackers, hard biscuits and sugar balls.

  Snapper spent her evenings with Kitterpokkie, swapping tales and sharing cherry wine. Between them they managed to prune and groom poor Throckmorton, repairing the damage caused by tumbling through the trees. They spruced up his foliage and scrubbed his tendrils, sitting him down at night in a root bath of water and compost. His flowers sprang back to life, and he was soon grinning happily and eating countless flies.

  At night, Snapper and Kitterpokkie bedded down with Onan and Throckmorton – well back from the campfire, since Snapper preferred the shadows and Throckmorton was adverse to flames. They passed insect sticks back and forth and watched glowball rodents drift by. The mantis was fascinated by new lands and new creations: Snapper’s tales of plants, animals and creatures were absorbed with great interest.

  The seven villages all had populations of seemingly infinite variety. ‘Splicers’, animal hybrids with clear humanoid form, were so varied as to be a constant source of amazement. The GeneStorm seemed have brought a gift of sheer variety.

  Kitterpokkie lounged back against a bedroll made from old canvas sacks. Her sole remaining garments – a sort of halter top and a skirt, were hanging up to dry, and she wore a borrowed blanket that covered her from cleavage to thigh. As she watched one of the passengers – a grey, winged gentleman part cat and part dove – she curled her elegant antennae in thought.

  “I have been keeping notes upon cross-breeding, trying to determine whether some species traits are dominant or recessive. Thus far, I have found no real patterns – but there is an astonishing blend of life.” The mantis passed Snapper a strip of ‘camp snake’ – a coil of baked savoury dough that had been wrapped about a stick. “But I do find such a marvellous mesh of attitudes and abilities.”

  Snapper ate the salty dough, dunking it in a cup of brown onion gravy. "I met a toucan once. Sort of part cat, part bird.” One often wondered just what the story might be behind various hybridisations: in predator/prey hybrids, the story became less mysterious. “Now she married a guy that was a sort of strawberry-dog hybrid. Well – their kid sort of stayed a cat toucan. But his feathers were all red and green strawberry colours. Pretty striking.”

  “Indeed! The variety of life is a never ceasing wonder.” Kitterpokkie lounged back, firelight glittering off the high peaks of her eyes as she watched glowball rodents wafting through the trees. “A fascinating study in complex systems. Diversity in balance. Wealth in abundance.”

  “A new world.”

  “A new world. Filled with all the thrill of discovery. A chance to come to life – to do it right at last…”

  Snapper sighed. Above her, stars gleamed with colours too subtle to perceive. Her electrical sense felt the soft hum of nearby life. Overhead, there was the faintest glimmer of Aurora Australis – shimmering ribbons uncoiling far, far above the earth. Smoke weed stirred softly, and the world seemed a wondrous, infinite thing.

  She stretched, breathing in the soft scents of the night.

  “With all of this here… think how much more there is to see. Marvellous things just waiting to be found.” The shark put her hands beneath her head and watched the glittering bands of light rippling through the skies. “Just waiting for us. We could find places that just…. stun the soul.”

  Resting back against Onan’s warm, plush feathers, the shark quietly swirled her tail.

  “My uncle Toby – he and the old timers once found a pass up through the barrier cliffs. They said they found a city. A whole ruined city, all covered with flowers. There was a lake – a real lake, with floating plants, and huge golden creatures just cruising in the clear waters… Ancient, silent towers, shrouded by ten thousand drifting butterflies…”

  “I’d like to see that.” The mantis ordered her notebook at her side – invaluable hand made paper covered with her notes and observations. “Have you ever crossed the cliffs?”

  “Never made it. Some sort of landslide covered the route through the radiation. No one’s ever been able to reach the cliffs again. I went looking last season, but the rains came early. Almost washed Onan and I straight down to the salt sea.” The shark sighed in frustration. “Good thing, I guess. Onan’s feathers were prickling. It was probably going to turn hot on us further up the valley.”

  “You uncle and his companions – they were not poisoned by radiation, for all love?”

  “No, the city itself was clear. But the whole zone at the base of the cliffs is one huge radiation field.”

  “Yes…” Kitterpokkie sat up and reached for the dough snake, creasing her brows in thought. “Well, never fear, never fear! We can quite certainly solve the problem. The initial radiation would have been in the form of particles. Those particles will have largely migrated down into folds and hollows. With properly designed protective equipment, and confining ourselves to exposed rock and high points… Oh, QED! We could quite definitely find a way across!”

  Snapper thought about it.

  “How would we scout a
route?”

  A soft honk came from beside them. Throckmorton had been dozing peacefully in his compost tub. The plant made a lazy sketch of words with his tentacles.

  “Throckmorton will fly high and guide you.” The plant wriggled his roots and tucked his many heads beneath his leaves. “Not a problem.”

  “There we are then!” Kitterpokkie rubbed her hands together. “The seed of a plan.”

  It was an interesting idea. Snapper gave a thoughtful twitch of her long tail.

  “We’d need a grub stake.” Snapper saw that the phrase was unknown to Kitterpokkie. “You know – food, supplies, riding critters, pack animals…”

  The mantis gave a fluttering wave of her hand. “All problems have a solution. I’m sure some chips will turn up somewhere! With all the activity in Spark Town, there’s sure to be something that needs to be fixed! Improved! Innovated!”

  The shark took another bite of dough. “Where did you come from, again?”

  “Oh – Rocky Crossing, for all love. A little place given to farming vegetables, pruning vegetables, eating vegetables… and also table tennis. Very noisy place at night!” Kitterpokkie patted at a small parcel of books that she forever carried in her shoulder bag. “But the village does have a single marvel – an old cellar that held a great many books. Printed books! Marvellous place to get an education, if you don’t mind digging through the rubble.” Kitterpokkie lovingly patted her bag, pulling forth a very ancient, dog-eared book. “Principals of Basic Chemistry’, by a gentleman called Ballard! Written in 1938, whenever that was. A perfect introduction to an astounding world!”

  Snapper received the book and flicked through the pages. There were masses of exceedingly dry text, along with photographs showing pipes, fluids and retorts. “When did you first read this?”

  “Oh, I was about ten or eleven. I’d never have understood half the other stuff without it.” The mantis accepted the book back. “Oddly enough, it’s the most practical book of them all. There’s not much chance to exercise anything from ‘Handbook of Fusion Power Plant Operation’ – and not half as much fun.”