The Ashes of Worlds - Kevin J. Anderson [123]
Slowed by its landing thrusters, the pod struck the ground and tumbled, scraping up a rooster tail of glittering gypsum powder and alkaline dust. His small window was completely covered, and Lanyan bounced around like a man going over a waterfall in a barrel. Stupid, not to have strapped himself in.
As the pod finally came to a rest and his adrenaline slowly ebbed, shock still rang in his ears. He realized that the sharp pain indicated he must have broken his elbow. More stupidity.
First things first. With one hand he found a first-aid kit and cracked open a dual stimulant/painkiller shot. That should be enough to keep him going. He couldn’t think very far ahead, though. Lanyan couldn’t believe that Brindle would not follow his duty and come to retrieve him, but for now he would be on his own. He’d have to live off the land and survive somehow.
Next step, he activated the locator beacon on the off chance that someone would come back to scoop him up. He gathered a survival pack, a handgun — the only weapon stored aboard the pod — and braced himself as he popped open the hatch.
Outside on the flat, white landscape he saw no towering insect structures, no alien buildings. Nevertheless, Klikiss were swarming out of deep tunnels, their spiny carapaces glittering in the sun, their scythelike limbs flailing in the air. Though his pod had landed many hundreds of kilometers from the heart of the Klikiss city, their tunnels apparently extended across and under the entire continent. He hadn’t killed all the bugs on Pym — not even close. And the breedex must still be alive and controlling them.
Now Klikiss warriors were emerging to investigate the crashed escape pod. Millions of them. And they had spotted him.
As the creatures scuttled forward, he held his weapon in his good hand, took careful aim, and fired. He kept firing. He counted thirty-eight splattered bugs before his charge pack was almost depleted. Swallowing hard, he decided he should keep the last shot for himself; the gun’s power levels read nearly zero. The stimulant burst he had given himself wasn’t working. His elbow ached like a son of a bitch.
As chittering and clacking Klikiss surrounded his escape pod, Lanyan dropped back inside and sealed the hatch. Hunkering down, he could hear them pounding and scratching against the hull. The pod was not designed to serve as a bunker in an all-out attack.
There was a long, ominous pause, then Lanyan heard cutting tools and sharp claws. In four different places, the wall of the vessel broke open. The enormous bugs clawed their way inside. Lanyan backed against the wall, holding his weapon.
Everything was happening too fast, but he could accept reality. These things were monsters from his worst nightmare, and they came at him now, all claws, pincers, and mandibles. With a final defiant howl, he squeezed his eyes shut, pressed the weapon against his temple, and activated the firing stud.
The charge pack had only enough energy left to burn his skin. Lanyan stared at the empty weapon in helpless dismay. The curved hull fell apart behind him.
From all directions, the Klikiss swarmed over him. Their chittering, triumphant music drowned out his screams.
* * *
86
Deputy Chairman Eldred Cain
Cain felt no emotion about this at all, which he found odd, since (unlike Chairman Wenceslas) he had never committed outright murder. But this was necessary. The assassination of the Archfather, the cold-blooded murder of former Chairman Maureen Fitzpatrick, the appalling bargain with the black robots — Cain could not let the downward spiral go any further.
Basil Wenceslas had to be removed, permanently.
McCammon had helped Cain set up the trap, while Sarein had tried to convince the Chairman to consider less extreme alternatives to some of his actions, to no effect. Cain had chosen not to tell Sarein