Project Dystopia (The Directorate Book 8) Page 6

  "Yeah, those are the more poisonous ones."

  "Figures. So . . . this place was hit by a kill-everything-nice bomb, right? What about the grass . . . No don't tell me, super allergy pollen. Right?"

  "Ebsa, you goof. Actually they think . . . well, there aren't any fallout decay products, so no nukes. Itchy thinks maybe a solar flare. Dr. Ybba says a nearby supernova. Dr. Kiop says an unusually active solar cycle combined with a magnetic field reversal. And . . . well they're all running frantically about looking for evidence to base a theory on. There's a layer of carbon, but whether that was part of the catastrophe, or just everything burning because of it, or just uncontrolled burning with no one left to put out fires. But they dated it, so they're pretty sure the fires happened just a hundred and fifty years ago."

  "That recently? We were . . . well, we were researching dimensional travel, but hadn't ever opened a gate. But this could be an early Earth colony."

  "Shh! Sacrilege! The archaeologists want a truly new, undiscovered civilization. Not that they'll fail to acknowledge that, if they find evidence. They joke about 'the war of the hypotheses,' but really, any evidence to the contrary, and the idea gets dropped and kicked under the rug and they act like they never actually proposed anything so absurd."

  "Huh. Scientists are so fickle, one single solid disproof, and it's all over for that theory. I need to get out of the kitchen and talk to more people." Ebsa looked around and shook his head. "Wake me up when we get to the interesting part."

  He eased his seat back and squirmed around to have an easy view of Paer.

  After a long moment she glanced his way. "What are you doing?"

  "Indulging myself watching the play of light on your gorgeous face. Ah, there's that narrowing of the eyes. With the humor crinkles, thank the One. Mouth pulling back into a smile, the silky hair swinging forward as you duck your head."

  "Ebsa, you are, you are . . . Never mind, keep going."

  "The play of light across your long elegant fingers as they almost unconsciously make the minute adjustments necessitated by the rough road. The quiver of the shoulders as you laugh at me."

  "Ebsa! You goof. What have you been reading lately? Manuals on how to compliment a lady?"

  "I was stuck in a meeting a few weeks ago. Incredibly boring. The lady sitting next to me had this . . . novel running on half her screen while she faked taking an occasional note . . . So it kept catching my eye, and . . . worse thing is I have no idea of the title so I'll never find out what happened."

  She sputtered with laughter, wiped tears of mirth from her eyes.

  Ebsa grinned and climbed out of the seat. "So, coffee or something cold?"

  "Cold. It's getting warm—not that the winter here is really cold, just a couple of freezes and no snow at all—and I'm beginning to think the summer may be brutally hot."

  "Good. I'll work on my suntan . . . umm, the bugs don't do anything odd in the summer, do they?"

  "Well, the camp just got set up . . . let's see, I think in Shaban, so people were here at the end of last summer. I guess this'll be the first spring."

  Ebsa loaded a few essentials into a bag, snagged his comp, and climbed back into the navigator’s seat. "Let me see if any of the early Exploration teams were here in the spring."

  "Wow, imagine how they felt, finding this place. A First Across Exploration Team would be a fine deployment . . . Surely they need med techs?"

  "In case they find something like here? Damn straight. And, yeah. First Across Teams would be fine. Science Support Teams are my favorite. Although personally I prefer smaller science projects than this one. And . . . don't tell the tykes, but I'd really rather be Action Team than Mess Chief on this sort of assignment."

  "Ha! Don't worry about the tykes. I'm telling Ra'd that you want to be on an Action Team."

  "Oops. I may be in trouble . . . although after a few months of family life, he may be so mellow . . . Oh Dear One. Do you think he might get fat?"

  He'd timed it perfectly. She sprayed soda, snorted it out of her nose, and hit the brakes.

  Half coughing, half laughing. "Oh you are dead meat. You did that on purpose!"

  "It's my sick masculine sense of humor." He leaned and pulled a damp cloth from his bag. "Would you like to wipe your face?"

  "With malice aforethought. Just you wait until we're someplace where professionalism can be safely put aside." She wiped her face, the steering wheel, the instrument panel, her hands . . . his face . . .

  "Eww, you've gotten it all sticky." Ebsa snatched it quickly before she could think of somewhere else to put it. "Cheese and crackers while you drive?"

  "Are you going to behave?"

  "Yes, ma'am. In fact I'll even behave nicely."

  She glowered at him, but her mouth looking like it was fighting to turn up at the corners. She eyed the road ahead and hit the throttle. "Fat. Lazy. Mellow . . . Nope. They're probably running two or three kilometers every morning, with Oak in a carrier on Ra'd's back."

  Ebsa sighed. "I have neither run nor exercised all this week. I'm the one who ought to worry about fat and lazy."

  "Well, you've always been mellow. So, you know, fat and lazy would be right at home."

  He gave her a hurt look, but she had her eyes on the track, and a smirk on her face. "Right. I'll start running every morning. Lift weights every afternoon. Katas every other day, alternating with target practice."

  "Ata boy! That'll take care of all that spare time you've been complaining about."

  "Funny how even at the Directorate School the view of the Action Teams is of violent bullies. How did we lose track of all the Teams that are around to protect scientists in the field?"

  "Public perception is that those are 'Explorer Teams' and sometimes they are. The teams get used for so many things . . . They specialize, but they also switch around."

  "It might be time to lose the name." Ebsa shrugged. "And some of the Teamers are . . . all right. But a whole lot of the Teams are psychologically . . . irredeemable."

  Paer nodded. "Yeah. No kidding. I wonder what Ajki is going to do . . . Did you catch the news this morning?"

  "No. What did I miss?"

  "Disco's stepped into the Granite Peak mess. And rumors are circulating that the President may ditch Ajki and put a hatchet man in to clean up External. Izzo's been mentioned."

  Ebsa winced. "One! That's . . . a nasty turn of events. Maybe I should stop complaining about the giant spiders. Poisonous politics are worse by an order of magnitude."

  "You've got that right."

  Ebsa sighed, and this time he did drift off, waking when Paer slowed.

  "Check the map. This is the right distance for the turn to almost directly west. But I'm not seeing any definite turns." Paer scowled as he spread the printout.

  Ebsa stuck a finger on the turn. "It looks like a narrower stretch, branching off."

  Paer slowed further and eyed the jagged ruins to the right. "I don't see anything that looks drivable, let alone bulldozed. It widens up ahead though."

  Ebsa tapped at the panels. "The satellite is below the horizon, so I can't spot us relative to the turn." He squinted at the map. "I think I see your wide spot. Turn right as soon as you can, I think there's a kink north, then west."

  "Oh . . . yes. It looks like a fallen bridge over a deep stream bed." She pulled up to the edge and stopped. "I'm going to take a look over." She grabbed a shotgun.

  Ebsa followed her out, grabbing the 12 mm. Leaned over and studied the stream crossing.

  The construction team had gone for expediency and speed, not proper construction. They'd shoved some large slabs of old concrete into the gulch. The slabs bridged the streambed, leaving enough space between randomly fallen slabs and chunks to probably allow the flow of water. And then gravel was packed on top.

  It was still a pretty deep, steep, drop.

  Ebsa eyed the lip of the drop. "Wanna bet we high-center on one edge of the canyon or the other?"

  "With my driving
skills? Have a little faith, Ebsa." Paer grinned and headed back inside. "Besides, we've got three axles. All I need to do is keep at least four wheels on the ground, right?"

  "Right. And gun it at the bottom, so we have the momentum to carry us over a few belly scrapes at the top on the far side." Ebsa strapped in. Subduing a grin. And a desire to be the one driving. Paer's had enough experience to do this, so stop being bossy.

  "Gun it at the bottom, eh?" Paer edged the crawler forward. The front wheels lost contact. They ground forward, the front hanging out . . . then the whole crawler tipped. The front wheels touched down as the crawler dived down the slope, picking up speed, the slight curve to the flat part was just enough that the nose only scraped a bit before they were on the flat, and Paer floored it.

  The nose grazed the upward slope as the front wheels found the ramp and they charged up the slope and didn't actually go airborne at the top, but with three axles, the front lost traction, then crashed down and the crawler bounced away from the stream.

  "Holy One! I don't believe I did that!" Paer heaved a deep breath.

  Ebsa laughed. "And very well done, and there's the road, such as it is."

  It was only another hour to the crest of the low hills. And the steep drop down to the coastal plain.

  They stopped for a late lunch at the crest. Once off the steepest part of the hills, ruins filled the fifteen kilometers or so to the coast. Then deep blue water to the horizon.

  They took a long hard look at the switchback road down the steep west slope.

  "Crumb." Paer finished her sandwich. "Am I going to regret saying you could drive the last stretch?"

  Ebsa lowered his binocs. "Well, I've never accidentally rolled a crawler. But some of those turns are going to be really tight."

  "Well, a bulldozer and a ute pulling a trailer made it down, so we can too, right?"

  "Right." He eyed the ruins that stretched to the coast. There was greenery everywhere. Large trees. The buildings below looked as if they'd suffered less from the initial disaster and more from time, weather and attack by plants. "So, was the extreme damage back there due to proximity to whatever, or a local effect?"

  "I think, being wetter, the coastal areas may have just burned less."

  Ebsa popped his last bite into his mouth and headed down the top hatch. "Ra'd says the proper thing to say in these situations is . . . "

  "Hold my beer and watch this." Paer snorted. "I remember the look on Ajha's face the first time he said that. How is it that the stiffest prick in the directorate has all these pithy sayings?"

  "It's his bad upbringing. Makkah . . . sounded like a strange place. Do you have any idea how hard it is to get that man drunk enough to start reminiscing?"

  Paer eyed him. "I didn't think he drank at all, and how drunk were you?"

  "He had a bad case of missing Nighthawk. I took advantage of his mood, and stayed as sober as possible . . . just in case he was a mean drunk."

  Paer gave him a baleful stare, and strapped into the navigator’s chair. "Why are you grinning?"

  "I always wondered why you and Ra'd never hit it off. I mean, he was a bit stiff when I met him, but he's . . . "

  "Still a stiff prick. And still arrogant and defensive. Ebsa . . . you think he's bad now? You should have seen him when he was fifteen. Shoved into this sissy civ full of people who thought he must be a colonial, and probably an upcomer. And he wasn't allowed to beat them up." Paer eyed him. "So, was he a mean drunk?"

  Ebsa paused . . . "Mostly he cried about his mother and cursed his stepmother . . . umm . . ."

  "His stepmother is very Arab. And the jerk is one hundred percent New Prophet genetically, and as close as is possible mentally. Born and raised as one, until his mother died, then, well, you've met Umaya. She took over trying to raise him when her sister-wife died. Ra'd was thirteen, it didn't set well, and he was stuck into the Warrior trainees as early as possible. Over a year of actual combat, and suddenly he's being shoved into a suburban high school and treated like a poorly educated child."

  "Ouch."

  "Yeah. Urfa said he really didn't want to see a three-quarters trained Warrior turn into a juvenile delinquent. So he switched to an online school, with Rael coaching him at the same time she was gigging me to study . . . we got pretty competitive . . . "

  "And who got better grades?"

  "Well, with the Olympics and all, I let a lot of stuff slide, so I hated him for beating me."

  Ebsa grinned. "Oh, you did well enough to get into Directorate School. And you were pulling down straight A's as a senior."

  "Yeah . . . three quarters of the way through college and I finally found something I wanted badly enough to really work hard at it." Paer sighed. "So I wind up mopping the floor and carrying anti-spider-venom."

  Ebsa grinned. "Just wait till you wind up assigned with a doctor who's seen you in action. Then you'll start getting some respect." He shifted all wheels forward and turned onto the bulldozed path downward.

  It was steep. He switched all the motors to charging and let them do half the work of controlling their speed. The hairpin turn was tight. The next stretch was nearly level, the turn not bad . . . then a very steep slope down to an impossible curve.

  "Time to walk?" Paer looked out the side window and down.

  "Not yet, but I need to check out this corner on foot before I get stuck. Maybe move a few rocks."

  He paced out the width of the road at the center of the curve, eyed the crimp in the middle. A half meter drop, from upper leg to lower, that he'd have to get the back end around. But nearly twelve meters from there to the bulldozed rubble pile at the head of the curve.

  "Ebsa, the crawler won't fit." Paer had paced across the turn. "Eight meters! How did they get the trailer around this corner?"

  Ebsa tried to look serious, gave up and snickered. "Let me show you this neat little trick." She looked apprehensive, but followed him back aboard. He switched the motors to reverse and backed up, getting cozy with the cliff to the left. Drove back down, and turned gently across the corner, then hard back to the left, tapping the bulldozed rubble pile with the front bumper, slightly uphill of center. Perfect.

  "Umm, Ebsa?"

  He checked the mirrors, grinned and put all wheels in reverse. Backed onto the lower leg and kept backing.

  Paer peered out the windows and shook her head. "I've got to admit that not turning at the turn would not have occurred to me. How far . . . so we'll go forward at the next turn?"

  "I sincerely hope so. Backing up can get tedious."

  There were only two more switchbacks he couldn't turn on, so really, it only took an hour to drop down three hundred meters of elevation. The sun was getting low as they finally reached flat ground again. The road wound around buildings; some of the lower ones looked almost intact, apart from collapsed roofs and empty windows. The old roads were obstructed by heaps of fallen brick and stone. The bulldozed path was obvious.

  The explorers had camped in an open area surrounded by the remains of large buildings.

  Ebsa eyed the broad high flight of steps leading to ruins and piles of shattered marble. "Bet that was their capitol building, and this was a park." He eased up to the camp.

  A flimsy wall of corrugated metal sheets surrounded it. A man with a gun stepped out cautiously, his gaze sweeping the area for spiders before he swung the gate open and let them in. The guard knelt and looked at the undercarriage as they rolled past, then got back up and closed the gate.

  "I'll go anti-chitin everything, you go check your patient." He parked and they both grabbed weapons as they stepped out.

  The guard was checking the Junkyard over. Ebsa joined him, sweeping the spell over and under the whole machine.

  "What the hell is that?"

  "It destroys chitin, the insects' exoskeleton. Then they can't do anything. They die fairly soon, or you can stomp them."

  "Huh. Like I'd believe a crazy man like you? I can't believe you got a crawler around those curves
." He looked worriedly toward the trailer. "Damned roaches have swarmed the last two nights. Why didn't Dr. Atly come?"

  "Paer's better at bones. So . . . want to change some tires . . . " Ebsa frowned from ute to trailer.

  "We took the wheels off and put them inside. We'll put on the new tires tomorrow morning, one less night we'll have to defend them from the damned bugs." He jerked a thumb at the trailer. "Go on in, and talk to the boss. Talk him into getting out of here. This isn't just a swarm because they chowed down on some tires. Every kind of cockroach here is trying to eat anything organic."

  "Great, what about the spiders?"

  "They've started spinning webs and catching roaches. Carrying them down underground to feed their babies when they hatch."

  "Oh. Umm . . . how big . . . No, never mind. I don't think I want to know how big the mommy spiders are."

  " . . . be an ass, Ogly." Paer looked around as Ebsa stepped into the very crowded trailer. "Oh good. Ebsa, grab his foot. The idiot has made things worse, fighting off cockroaches a few hours ago."

  She had her hands on Ogly's right thigh, staring down at the wrap around it.

  Can she really see the bones and stuff?

  "Good. Now pull gently. Not that gently. More . . . a bit further, it's not too compacted, but I need the extra room to get the pieces into place . . . " She fell silent.

  Ebsa tried to keep still, to not change the tension on the leg.

  Ogly was sweating. "Ebsa, you got any idea what she's doing?"

  "Telekinesis to get the bones into the right place. Then she's got a calcium crystallization spell that'll hold it in place while it heals. Beats the hell out of surgery. Then she'll look over the soft tissue. Physical repair, where needed, then she'll apply the usual healing and anti-inflammatory spells. She's the best."

  "Oooo. Got lucky, did you?"

  Ebsa tried to glare . . . failed. Tried for lofty. "I prefer to think of it as fate. Two souls, meant for each other."

  A snort from Paer. "If I thought you were serious, I'd never kiss you again." She straightened. "Right, the bone's all stuck together, but it's fragile. I'm going to put it in the splint, and then we'll . . . " she looked around the trailer.