Uprising, page 18
He had never seen such a vast expanse of water that wasn’t choked with industrial effluent or stained the same ochre hue as the compacted dust that passed for earth in much of the underhive.
Taking off his rebreather, Bruno took a long breath, filling his lungs and savouring the sweetness of it on the back of his tongue. He had never tasted air so pure before either.
The air wasn’t only redolent with sweet scents, it was also filled with a cacophony of strange sounds – beetle-like clicks, the buzzing of bejewelled wings and a distant sound like water thundering from a reservoir outflow.
As he took in his surroundings, he saw now that the boulders dotting the incline were in fact portions of the dome’s ceiling, which had cracked and been pushed out by a clump of wire weed that had broken through from a crawl space or conduit behind the rockcrete superstructure. And there, beside the gaping fissure, in stencilled letters thirteen feet high, was the dome’s original designation: L-16G.
‘Will you look at that…’ Invar Latten said, rubbing at the greying stubble on his chin with a callused hand, letting his autogun swing free from its strap about his neck.
All Bruno could manage was, ‘I know.’
‘I never thought I’d see paradise while still on this side of the veil. So now I guess we head back, yes?’
‘What?’ exclaimed Chase.
‘No!’ cried the twins together.
‘Why not? Job done,’ Latten said. ‘We head home with an updated map of the route to this place, pass it on to your guilder contact and take the money, thank you very much.’
A gleeful grin spread across Bruno’s face.
‘Or, we take a look around first, and if we happen to stumble across some old archeotech, or a ghast deposit, so be it. We salvage what we can, and then we return to the guild with the map and the route to this dome marked on it.’
‘But I thought the job was just to find this place, not explore the dome ourselves,’ persisted Latten.
‘And so it was,’ Bruno agreed, ‘but there’s nothing wrong with a little improvisation. Crixus Phall didn’t say we couldn’t scope the place out.’
‘Sounds good to me,’ chimed in Klinker Ludd, setting off down the incline towards the towering fungi, checking the load on his boltgun as he did so.
The grizzled ganger scowled.
‘Come on, Invar, when have I ever let you down?’ Bruno asked.
‘The boss is right,’ Scoria said. ‘It would be a crime not to check this place out for ourselves first, especially after all we’ve been through to get here.’
Scoria’s comment caused Bruno to call to mind the encounter with the tentacled thing lurking in a flooded service conduit and the foraging mutie pack, as well as the battle with their old enemies the Badzone Brawlers.
‘That’s right. And I’m not leaving until I’ve discovered what secrets this place is hiding.’ He indicated the structure on the other side of the dome.
‘Very well,’ Latten conceded grudgingly. ‘If you say so.’
‘I do say so.’
Bruno turned his attention to the rest of the Dust Dogs.
‘We’ll split into three groups and meet up again on the other side of the dome. Oss, I want you, Chase and the twins to check out that ridge.’ He pointed to the escarpment hugging the dome wall to his left.
‘Understood,’ the Grox said, giving a curt nod.
‘Ludd and Scoria, you’re with me.’
‘Yes!’ Klinker Ludd punched the air, knowing that wherever Bruno went, the Krusher would go too. And if they did run into anything unwelcome in this strange paradise – a sumpkroc perhaps, or even some unspeakable overgrown mutant, like those that were said to dwell within the unmapped depths of Hive Bottom – any ganger in their right mind would want to be where the Ambot was.
Just as Ludd couldn’t hide his delight, Gotin wasn’t afraid to air his disappointment either, offering up an imaginative curse that Bruno chose to ignore.
‘Invar, you happy to take these two miscreants,’ he looked pointedly at first Gotin and then Veld, ‘and follow the perimeter of the dome in the other direction?’
‘Will do,’ Latten replied, meeting Veld’s furious gaze with a steely stare of his own.
‘Then let’s get going, people. Time’s a-wasting.’
While the Grox and his team climbed the ridge to the left, and Latten and his skirted the dome wall to the right, Bruno led the way into the fungus forest, Scoria following, with Klinker Ludd coming after her. Last of all came the Krusher, the hydraulics of its robotic chassis wheezing with every step it took.
As they descended the slope the ground became softer underfoot, until they were enveloped by the shadows that pooled beneath the crowded canopy formed by the broad caps of the fungi. Passing between the pale fleshy stems, they found themselves advancing over a spongy loam that gave up rich, earthy scents with each step they took. The smell was intoxicating.
Bruno had never seen anything like this place. He was used to the underhive being little more than a sterile wasteland. Finding himself somewhere like this, that had lain undisturbed for the Emperor alone knew how many centuries, was overwhelming.
But despite his sense of euphoria and the raw emotions assailing him, the alpha of the Dust Dogs had spent too long scrapping with rival gangs for territory in the subterranean badzones to take leave of his senses entirely, even when those same senses threatened to overpower him with all the wondrous scents, sights and sounds Dome L-16G had to offer.
He still scoped the way ahead, sweeping his autopistol from side to side. There were dangers lurking everywhere you looked in the underhive, man-made or otherwise, and he doubted this seeming paradise, no matter how magnificent its fauna and flora, was any different.
Their comms crackled, making him start.
‘What is it?’ Klinker Ludd demanded.
‘This place is amazing!’ Oss’ voice came over the vox, unable to hide his unalloyed joy. ‘From up here we can see a… a…’ He faltered as words failed him. ‘I don’t know what it is. I mean, it looks like part of the sump but without the coating of scum or the dead rats floating in it.’
‘You mean… it’s a lake?’ Bruno suggested hesitantly.
‘That’s it!’ Oss exclaimed in excitement. ‘It’s a lake of clean water! I’ve never seen anything like it.’
‘Have you got eyes on that structure yet?’
‘Yes,’ the Grox replied.
‘Any idea what it is?’
‘No. Not yet.’
‘Understood. Then stick to the plan and we’ll meet you there.’
‘Oss out.’
The comm went dead.
A split second later, Bruno reactivated the vox himself.
‘Invar. How are things with you?’
‘Nothing to report,’ buzzed back Latten’s less obviously delighted voice, ‘other than Gotin’s attitude and the fact that anything that might be waiting for us will have been able to smell Veld from the other side of the dome.’
Bruno suppressed a laugh. ‘See you at the structure,’ he said and cut the vox.
As they continued their advance towards the heart of the dome, the sound of water trickling over pebbles announced the presence of a stream. It wasn’t wide or deep, and it was easy enough to cross in a single bound, but Bruno stopped at the water’s edge nonetheless, marvelling at the glassy clarity of the water. He could see the polished stones that formed the bed of the stream, where the soft soil had been washed away in the time the dome had remained undisturbed, quite clearly.
The only sign they had so far seen that anyone had been here before was the presence of the rusted edifice.
He bent down and let the cool, clear water run over his fingers, before scooping some of it up in his cupped hand.
‘Careful!’ Scoria chided as he drank.
Bruno gave a satisfied sigh, relishing the sensation of the water trickling down his throat, cooling his body as it did so. He had never tasted anything so good, not in all his thirty-three years.
He smiled at the anxious Scoria and the scowling Ludd. ‘Go on, try it. I can guarantee you won’t have tasted better. Not ever!’
The pair crouched down beside the stream, Scoria using the cap of her canteen to sample the stream-water while Ludd went all in, slinging his gun out of the way over his shoulder, so he could use both hands to gulp down great scoops of the refreshing liquid. He even went so far as to wash the dust from his face and moustache, clearly enjoying the chance to be clean again after their travels through the underhive.
Before going anywhere else, the three of them emptied their canteens of the recycled chemical-aftertaste swill they had been using for rehydration, and refilled them with the pure bounty offered by the stream.
Only when that was done did Bruno’s party set off again. The Ambot, which had come to a halt when they did, pulled its splayed-toed feet from where they had sunk into the soft loam, and resumed its steady trudge, following them.
Beyond the stream, the thick grey-stemmed fungi gave way to a profusion of yellow-capped toadstools, thirty feet tall, their pink gills filled with clusters of spores, which in turn took them to the edge of the lake. Gangly limbed, jewel-winged insects flitted over its surface, beneath which Bruno could see thick growths of hairlike waterweed, the verdant beards rippling in the currents that followed in the wake of whatever life thrived within the lake’s green depths.
Skirting the right-hand shore, they came to a morass of wet mud, which ran all the way to the wall of the dome, where the toadstools gave out. A moment later, Latten announced the arrival of his team with a shout and a wave as they emerged on the far side of the fungus forest.
Bruno looked to his left, to see if there was any sign of Oss lumbering through the plant growth covering the elevated ridge. On cue, he saw a disturbance among the cycads, and then the Grox himself emerged, leading his team across an overgrown gantry that led from the ridge to the rusted structure, past a thundering waterfall cascading from the mouth of a semicircular pipe, where it looked like the edifice actually merged with the curvature of the dome.
Bruno, Scoria, Ludd, Latten, Gotin, Veld and the Krusher negotiated the quagmire, the black mud glittering with mineralised deposits, taking care where they put their feet and using a combination of half-sunken masonry, exposed pipes and drier patches of ground to stitch together a path through the swamp, until they passed from the stinking marsh and into the jungle of giant ferns.
Wet leaves slapped at their legs as the Orlocks climbed towards what was quite clearly now not one structure, but actually an interconnected complex of prefabricated units.
The place looked not unlike one of the manufactories where the work-clans of House Goliath laboured at furnace and foundry, but Bruno instinctively knew that this was something different, although he could only guess as to its purpose.
Wondrous as the lost paradise dome was, it was nothing compared to the fortune he was certain could be made salvaging the ancient archeotech that doubtless lay within.
‘So what’s the plan?’ asked Latten, as he gazed up at the towering façade of the edifice, a wall of rust-red pipes, fluted metal columns, grand arches, ornamented buttresses and STC-stamped bulkheads.
‘This place is ripe for plunder, so we pillage it of all the archeotech we can carry, and then we return to the Quantum Queen, having first taken a quick detour to the trading post at Mercury Falls. That way we’ll get paid twice for this little endeavour.’
‘And Oss can carry more than most,’ added Veld.
‘Talking of which, where is the Grox?’ grunted Gotin.
Veld began to skirt the perimeter of the edifice, heading in the direction from which the remaining Dust Dogs were expected to arrive.
‘Oss!’ he shouted. ‘Where are you, you lazy b–’
Veld’s derogatory remark was cut short by a sharp crack, and the ganger dropped to the ground. Bruno knew he was dead, because his head had vanished in a puff of blood, bone and brain matter.
Scoria screamed.
‘What the sca–’ Gotin swore, before a second shot took him out as well.
The gangers’ weapons were in their hands in an instant, shotgun slides racked and safeties taken off as the Dust Dogs scoped the rusted metalwork of the curious manufactory, searching for any sign of the marksman.
Bruno was horribly aware of how exposed they were, gathered on the open ground between the building and the fern forest. Questions concerning who could be shooting at them and why were swamped by the overriding consideration that they needed to get into cover.
The pounding of heavy footsteps, ringing from a metal gangway, had Bruno glancing to his left. The Grox was leading his team at a run across the final span of the rust-red bridge over the lake, heading towards the other Orlocks’ position.
‘Oss!’ he shouted, as he and the others ran towards the arched entrances of the edifice. ‘Take cover!’
As the big bruiser ran towards the structure, he hefted the Goliath-forged rivet-cannon in both hands and opened fire. The bullet-hard projectiles panged off the rigid bulkheads, erratically cleaning the structure of its patina of rust.
Bruno didn’t see the tumbling sphere until it flashed silver in the intense light of a glow-globe, a moment before it landed a few paces in front of Oss on the bridge.
The grenade detonated with a dull boom and the Grox disappeared behind a ball of greasy smoke and roiling flame. The sound of the explosion was followed a moment later by a splash, as something heavy hit the lake.
As the smoke cleared, Bruno saw the shocked looks on the faces of Chase and the twins, and the twisted hole ripped in the side of the walkway, but no sign of Oss.
‘Hurry!’ Bruno cried out, as he and his fellow survivors moved as one towards the shelter they hoped the alcoves and culverts of the manufactory would afford them.
The twins hung back. ‘The killer is in there!’ Talmi’s voice carried to him, causing Bruno’s bounding steps to falter.
His eyes fell on Chase, as she crossed the bridge onto dry land.
There was the crack of another echoing shot and she stopped running, momentum carrying her forward, making it look like she was diving for cover as her body hit the ground hard, face first.
His panic grew. They were four down already, and they still didn’t know who was shooting at them!
‘Stand your ground!’ he commanded, his voice breaking with emotion. ‘And open fire!’
Their guns already in their hands, the Dust Dogs unleashed a storm of stubber rounds and autogun shells at the façade of the structure, aiming for the shattered ruins of windows and open accessways. The sniper had to be in there somewhere. And whoever it was, they would soon regret ever taking on Bruno’s Dust Dogs.
A few moments later, the sound of autogun and stubber gained a chugging bass-note rivet-cannon accompaniment. Bruno risked a glance back over his shoulder and was rewarded with a vision of Oss wading out of the shallows of the lake, dripping with waterweed, the looted Goliath weapon on full-auto, and his teeth clenched in a vengeful grimace.
Weapons fire continued to pummel the edifice, crumpling pipework and twisting window frames, until steadily, the chattering of the guns ceased, one by one, and silence chased the echoes away. Finally, all Bruno could hear was the panting of his breathless fellows, and the harsh cough of the rivet-cannon running on empty.
‘Got ’em!’ Oss snarled, casting the spent weapon aside and bringing his autogun to bear once more, before absent-mindedly pulling a strand of sodden plant matter from his shoulder. There was blood mixed with the lake water running down his face, and a ragged gash on his forehead.
Bruno eyed the openings in the front of the structure, searching for any sign of movement, anything that might indicate the sniper was still a threat, his stress-heightened pulse thumping in his ears.
There was another distinct crack, and something impacted the ground at the ganger’s feet, sending up a spray of dirt.
‘Take cover!’ he screamed at his companions, and with his next breath, ‘Krusher, step forward and activate grav-fist!’
The Ambot did as commanded, a slight tremor passing through the ground with every step it took, as the Dust Dogs sought out what little shelter they could find.
When it was in front of the Orlocks’ position, the bug-like robot raised an arm as heavy as a steam-hammer, channelling power from its energy core into the mysterious device fitted to the limb, which turned it from a simple ore-excavating claw into a lethally effective ranged weapon.
‘Fire!’ Bruno yelled, diving for cover among the dense foliage behind him.
The air distorted, rippling like an ash desert mirage, as the Ambot directed a succession of graviton pulses at the manufactory. And while the gangers might not have been able to see the device’s discharge directly, they bore witness to its devastating effects.
At first, as the localised gravity field slowly increased in strength, the building began to blur as the graviton pulses vibrated its superstructure, causing great patches of rust to break free and fall to the ground as a shower of glittering crimson particles. And the effects didn’t stop there.
Under the Krusher’s relentless assault, the beams and pillars themselves buckled, and the structure started to come apart. The tangle of pipework that threaded through the edifice was crushed flat, unleashing powerful jets of clean water that drenched the watching gangers. But still Bruno waited, withholding the command that would force the Ambot to cease its assault.
With a dreadful groan of distorting metal, the ground cracked open, more water erupting in great fountains from buried cisterns, the manufactory collapsing under its own weight as the gravitic effects intensified.
The screeching sounds issuing from the collapsing structure were like the death screams of the disintegrating manufactory. And so it continued, until there was no more shrieking of shearing steelwork, or the crashing of toppling columns, but just the rattle of pulverised rubble settling among the debris and detritus, and nothing remained of the structure but a flattened mound of mud and metal.
