Kal jerico sinners bount.., p.19
Kal Jerico: Sinner's Bounty, page 19
‘And how will we be doing that?’
‘By taking advantage of the opportunities fate provides us.’ He snatched the monocular back. ‘I thought I saw something…’ He turned, surveying the bad zone outside the walls. ‘Ah. There we are,’ he murmured. He twisted the magnification diode, and a distant scene sprang into sharp focus. There were men out there, waiting in the gullies, just below the level of the dyke and under the range of whatever sensors the hauler might be packing. ‘Smart,’ he said.
‘What is?’ Yolanda asked.
‘Quiet. I’m looking at something.’ Kal swept the monocular around. There were at least two dozen of them – scummers, mostly. All of them with bikes, buggies or trikes. Such conveyances were common, this far down. In the larger tunnel networks you could ride for days without worrying about hitting rough terrain. And outside the hive, in the Ash Wastes, it was the only way to travel, unless you bought passage on one of the few passenger mag-trains still running. But it was unusual to see this many, all together.
The bikers were scattered through the gullies, singly or in small groups. They were strung out along the length of the dyke, as if preparing to ride up the slopes and through the wide gaps in the framework. He spotted three of them, fairly close to the bottom of the dome wall below, and looked closer. Goliaths – and ones he recognised.
‘Greel,’ Kal said. He tossed the monocular back to Scabbs. ‘Why am I not surprised?’
‘Where?’ Yolanda asked.
‘Down there.’ Kal pointed.
Scabbs peered through the monocular. ‘What are they doing? Are those–’
‘Bikes.’ Kal scratched his chin. ‘They’re going to chase the hauler down.’ He scanned their surroundings. ‘Good plan. We should borrow it.’
Scabbs looked at him, startled. ‘What?’
Yolanda laughed. ‘Ha! Smart.’
Kal grinned. ‘I thought you’d like that. Think you can handle the tall one?’
Yolanda smacked a fist into her open palm. ‘With pleasure.’
Kal looked at Scabbs and Amanute. ‘You two take the other one. I’ll handle Greel.’
‘Wait, wait – what exactly are we doing?’ Scabbs demanded.
‘Simple, really. Take out the Goliaths and steal their bikes. Easy.’
‘Are you insane? There must be twenty scummers down there.’ Scabbs gesticulated with the monocular. ‘They’ve assembled a scavving army!’
‘Yeah, but they’re spread out, waiting for their bosses to lead the charge. They won’t know anything has changed until we’re well on our way. And by then, it’ll be too late.’ Kal spread his hands. ‘Look, we need transport if we’re going to catch up to Zoon. Well, here it is. Stop complaining and start scheming.’
‘Yeah, but–’
Kal tapped him on the nose. ‘Ah, ah, ah. That doesn’t sound like scheming, Scabbs. That sounds like complaining.’ He turned and squinted. ‘We’ll need to be quick and sneaky. Fast, even. Yolanda–’
‘Yolanda’s already gone, Kal.’
Kal sighed. ‘Of course she is.’ He turned to Scabbs and Amanute. ‘Remember – quick and quiet. But get to the bike.’
Scabbs frowned, but nodded. ‘I still say that this is a terrible idea.’
‘But it’s an idea, and that’s what’s important. Always forwards, Scabbs. Never backwards. That’s my motto.’
‘I thought your motto was never pay today what you can owe tomorrow.’
‘A man can have more than one motto, Scabbs,’ Kal said. He went to the edge of the walkway and looked down. There were layers of scaffolding on the outer shell of the dome, each one connected to the next by a series of ladders and walkways. Kal caught hold of the top of a ladder and slid down. As he dropped to the scaffold below, he whistled for Wotan. The cyber-mastiff followed with a single bound down to land next to Kal.
Moving swiftly, Kal and Wotan descended, ignoring the shouts of the work-gangs. Kal had only a rough idea of what he was going to do when he reached the bottom. A simple plan was an easy plan, in his experience. And the simplest plan of all was to attack.
‘Going somewhere, Greel?’ Kal called out, as he slid down the slope at the base of the shell. He had his sword out even as he reached the bottom of the gully. Greel was forced to leap back from the bike. The Goliath hauled his spud-jacker from his belt and swung it in a vicious arc. Kal deftly avoided the blow and replied in kind. His blade scored Greel’s protective furnace plates, but failed to draw blood.
They broke apart and circled one another. Greel tossed his weapon from one hand to the other, a wide grin on his face.
‘Come for a rematch, Jerico?’
‘Not really. This is just a distraction.’
Greel blinked. ‘What?’
Kal whistled. Wotan hit Greel from the side and knocked him sprawling against the slope of the gully. The cyber-mastiff gripped a brawny forearm between steel jaws and jerked the struggling Goliath around like a rag-doll. Greel cursed and flailed at the automaton, but to no avail. His spud-jacker lay out of reach, and his fist wasn’t good enough.
Kal kicked the weapon further away and straddled the bike. He’d driven a few of them in his time, and found the activator-rune first try. He revved the engine and swung the bike in a hard circle, spraying gravel. He whistled again and gunned it, roaring up the slope and onto the path, Wotan bounding after him. He glanced back, and saw Greel staggering after him, shouting obscenities. Kal laughed.
He urged the bike along the crawler-path, leaning low over the handlebars. A moment later, a second bike joined his. Yolanda half-stood in her seat, teeth bared in a wild grin. There was blood on her, from her fists to her forearms, and he spared a moment’s pity for the Goliath. It was never wise to get between Yolanda Catallus and something she wanted.
‘Where’s the runt and the witch?’ she called out, as her bike swerved towards his.
‘Right behind us, if they know what’s good for them,’ Kal shouted in reply. He glanced over his shoulder, but saw no sign of Scabbs or Amanute. He frowned and turned back. Zoon’s ore-hauler was third in line, rumbling slowly along the path. Kal had a strong suspicion that they wouldn’t stay there. When the hauler began to nose forwards, nudging the vehicle ahead, he knew those suspicions were correct.
Abruptly, the ore-hauler’s engines roared and it surged forwards, slamming full-tilt into the one in front of it. The other vehicle gave a groan of straining axles as it was slowly forced aside, to slam into the support girders on the opposite side of the path. Zoon’s hauler shoved past it, and lunged for the rear of the lead vehicle, seemingly intent on repeating the manoeuvre.
Kal glanced up, checking the gun towers. None of them had so much as fired a shot. Either this wasn’t an unusual occurrence, or… Kal laughed. Greel. Somebody had paid off the Van Saar or the guilders. Or both. Greel’s ambush was sanctioned.
As if on cue, he heard the roar of another bike. He looked back. It wasn’t Scabbs. It was the Goliath crew. They’d seen Kal and Yolanda shoot past and followed suit, just as Kal had hoped.
‘Our distraction is here,’ he called out, swinging his bike close to Yolanda’s. Wotan zipped between them, moving bullet-swift towards the hauler.
‘What’s the plan?’
‘Slow down, wait for an opportunity.’
‘And when they realise we’re not Goliaths?’
‘Would you be able to ignore a bounty like that, when it was in front of you?’ Kal asked. Yolanda grinned and peeled off, taking the bike off the path and out of the way. Kal did the same, on a parallel course along the opposite side of the path. As they separated, the scummers roared past in pursuit of the hauler.
As the first of them drew close to their quarry, the improvised gun-ports on the rear of the hauler slid open. Stub-cannons extended and began to sing a hymn of death. A trike caught fire and flipped, tumbling down the side of the path and into a gully, where it exploded. Bikes skidded and slewed, their riders hurled in bloody heaps across the packed ground. But the rest kept riding, engines rumbling. They swarmed around the hauler as it continued to try and shove the lead vehicle aside. Harpoon guns hummed as bolts attached to weighted cables sank into the hull of the hauler. Trikes skidded onto two wheels as they tried to slow the hauler’s progress.
Scummers climbed out of the backs of the trikes and buggies, and hauled themselves along the cables. Kal was impressed – the ore-hauler was moving slowly enough that they could risk it, but even so, it took a certain courage to try such a stunt.
The first scummer to reach the hauler slipped and fell. He hit the road and rolled away. Kal watched him tumble past and winced. But the others made it. Kal saw that they were carrying welding pikes and plasma torches, along with their weapons. They set to with a fury, plying their tools against the hull. Kal saw their plan immediately. It was a good one too, save for one thing.
A hatch burst open behind the scummers and a Redemptionist clambered out, an autogun in his hand. The Redemptionist loosed a burst, cutting down several, before the others turned on him and rushed the open hatch.
Kal heard a wild cry and saw Yolanda aiming her bike at the hauler. Before he could even think about intervening, she’d launched the bike at the massive vehicle. Kal watched in shock as she gunned the engine and rode the bike up the back of the hauler. Then he laughed and made to follow her example.
Yolanda’s bike strained to climb the slope of the hull. As it reached the crest, she slid from the saddle and guided the bike towards the Redemptionist standing atop the hatch. She released it at the last moment, and it caught the robed fanatic like a missile. The bike roared over the man and careened down the front of the hauler. It fell under the treads and Kal heard it explode. Gouts of flame arced over the front of the hauler, and pieces of wreckage pelted the top of the machine.
Kal was right behind her. He let the handlebars of his own bike go, and slid from the seat. The bike kept going, its rear wheel striking the hull. It skidded and twisted, crashing into a pair of scummers. Bike and men went flying. Kal drew his laspistols and sought cover behind a sensor array, as the bike exploded somewhere below and to the left of the hauler. He glanced over at Yolanda.
She was already in the thick of it, chainsword growling. She swiped at the scummers that had inadvertently positioned themselves between her and the open hatch. There were at least ten of them crawling all over the hull now, trying to get inside. Kal shot one as he lunged towards Yolanda, earning himself a glare from his partner.
‘Mind your own business,’ she shouted.
‘I am. We’re married, remember?’ Kal ducked as a scummer towards the front of the hauler started shooting. He returned fire, to no avail. It was hard to draw a bead, the way the hull was vibrating under his feet. Instead, he holstered his pistol and vaulted over the sensor array. He drew his sword and parried a blow meant for Yolanda’s back. Deftly, he interposed himself so that they stood back-to-back. ‘You’re welcome, darling,’ he added, over his shoulder.
‘So help me Jerico, I will pitch you off this hauler,’ Yolanda said, as she punched a scummer. Kal laughed and disarmed his opponent, before kicking the man between the legs and shoving him away. He spotted Wotan scaling the hull. The cyber-mastiff scrambled up onto the top of the machine and leapt for the nearest scummer, jaws wide. The beast’s momentum carried him and his prey right off the other side of the hauler and down onto the back of a trike. Kal watched in consternation as the trike swerved and slammed into a support girder. ‘Scavving dog,’ he muttered, as the burning wreck was left in the distance.
‘Eyes front, Jerico,’ Yolanda snapped. Kal turned, just as a welding pike hissed towards him. The white flame licked close to his cheek as he ducked aside. He caught the nozzle just behind the igniter. He could feel the heat eating through his glove. Quickly, he yanked the welding pike down and slashed his sword out, opening his opponent’s throat. A cutting torch scorched his coat, and he lashed out with an elbow, driving the air from a scummer’s lungs.
He saw Yolanda swing the long-las off her back and snap off a shot, one-handed. Between the awkward grip and the shaking of the hauler, her aim was terrible, but things were so close it was impossible to miss. She fired again and again, burning holes in enemy flesh. Kal tried to capitalise, but was quickly occupied by a scummer, who bared sharpened teeth and lunged, buzz-knives in his hands.
Before Kal could deal with him, however, the man stopped, stiffened and slumped. As the scummer rolled away, Kal saw a tall figure in red, a smoking autopistol in one gloved hand. At first, Kal thought the Redemptionist was wearing a funerary mask. It was iron and wrought in the shape of a stern countenance. The helm enclosed the man’s entire head. There was even sculpted hair. Kal thought the features looked familiar, but he couldn’t place them. Fuming censer-nodes shaped like a laurel encircled the crown, spewing towers of thick smoke that were caught by the wind and ripped aside.
The Redemptionist had an autopistol in either hand, and met Kal’s gaze coolly. Kal stared, momentarily taken aback by the apparition.
‘Desolation Zoon,’ he murmured. It couldn’t be anyone else, not with a mask like that.
Yolanda kicked a scummer off her blade and turned. ‘What?’
Zoon lifted his pistols and fired. Kal snatched Yolanda aside as he ducked out of the way. Her long-las clattered from her grip, and she cursed viciously. Bullets chewed the hull, ricocheting off in flurries of sparks. Kal and Yolanda rolled down the slope of the hull, and tumbled onto the crawler-path. Kal grunted as his coat’s armoured fibre-weave absorbed most of the impact, saving his body – and, by extension, Yolanda’s – from anything worse than bruises. They rolled over and over, eventually coming to a stop in a cloud of dust. The ore-hauler continued on, and bikes swept in its wake.
‘My scavving las,’ Yolanda snarled at him. ‘You made me lose it!’
Kal shook his head, trying to clear it. Around them, broken bodies and wrecked vehicles were strewn about in smoking heaps. Rivulets of burning fuel crept across the path and spilled down into the gullies to either side. The moans of the injured and dying rose along with the smoke. Yolanda shoved him aside and scrambled to her feet.
‘That thing cost me fifty credits! What were you thinking?’
‘I was thinking it’d be unfortunate if you got cut in half by an autopistol.’ Kal groaned as he sat up. Everything hurt. ‘My mistake.’
Yolanda kicked him – not hard, but hard enough. Kal fell onto his back. She glared down at him. ‘I don’t need rescuing, Jerico. And certainly not by you.’
‘Duly noted.’ As Kal pushed himself to his feet, Wotan trotted up. The cyber-mastiff’s form smouldered, but he seemed none the worse for wear. ‘And where were you?’ Wotan barked and Kal shook his head. ‘That’s no excuse. If I paid you, I’d dock your wages.’ He winced as something exploded nearby.
‘It’s still going,’ Yolanda said, shading her eyes. ‘And our bounty is going with it.’ She looked at him. ‘What do we do now?’
‘We find two bikes that are salvageable and go after him.’ He turned as a bike roared towards them. Scabbs sat atop it, Amanute riding behind him.
‘Are you two okay?’ Scabbs asked, as he brought the bike to a slow stop. He looked around at the devastation and shook his head.
‘You took your sweet time getting here,’ Yolanda said. ‘We could have used your help, you know.’
Scabbs shrugged. ‘I knew it wasn’t going to work, so I didn’t see the rush.’
‘This is merely a setback,’ Kal said. ‘Also, your lack of confidence wounds me.’ He bent and picked up his sword. The blade was still in one piece, thankfully. He peered down its length, watching the hauler recede into the distance. A red figure still stood atop it, and Kal had the impression that Zoon was looking back at him. He raised his blade in salute before sheathing it.
‘What was that?’ Yolanda asked.
‘What was what?’
‘That thing just now with the sword?’
‘I have no idea what you’re talking about.’ He turned and kicked a fallen bike. It seemed mostly intact. ‘Right. Find some bikes that are still in one piece.’
‘And then what?’ Scabbs asked. ‘We tried stopping him. It didn’t work.’
‘We go with Plan B.’
‘Which is?’
Kal levered the bike up onto its wheels. ‘We know where he’s going.’
‘So?’
‘So we get there first.’
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
VENATORS
The muties finally launched their attack at the last intersection.
Baertrum had detected them hours before, as he and his small band navigated the twists and turns of the transit tunnel. Heat signatures were all but impossible to pinpoint down here, thanks to the environmental disruption, but his augurs had warned him nonetheless. The resulting tension had made his shoulder-blades itch.
He wasn’t used to being hunted. He found that he didn’t enjoy the sensation. At first, he’d thought they were merely observing the intruders. Then, he’d realised that the reason he’d been able to detect them at all was because their numbers were steadily increasing.
Belladonna hadn’t seemed surprised, when he’d mentioned that fact. ‘Let them come,’ she’d said with confidence. ‘We’ll deal with them.’
It was as if the muties had been waiting for such tacit permission. A moment later, dozens of the cannibals had flooded from the access hatches, shouting and brandishing weapons. Goeth and his Cawdor had reacted swiftly, seeking cover among the shattered remains of the shunt-line. Big Sledge and Horst hadn’t been much slower. They waded in, meeting the muties in the centre of the tunnel.
Belladonna joined them, moving fast. She was beautiful and murderous. Her power axe licked out in humming arcs, lopping off limbs and spilling intestines in steaming piles. She danced among the dead and dying, like the image of a primitive goddess that Baertrum had once seen in a book.
