Even as the shrade attack began the flooring directly in front of each of the major exits heaved upward. Violent tremors shook the hall. Then there was a quiet moment, a lull, during which the crowd milled in fearful anticipation. The swelling numbers at the exits hesitated, uncertain. What might lurk in the darkened corridors? Even Zimmerman found himself crouching down behind his podium, listening to the floor, watching the swaying chandeliers. Everyone waited with pounding hearts for whatever new form this bizarre attack might take.

  Finally, the moment came. Like surfacing whales, the heads of the great umulks burst through the maroon carpet, spraying plumes of dirt and dust. Tables were overturned, tossing their contents and the people sitting at them about like toys. With earth and bricks rolling from their huge heads the umulks took the opportunity to snap up fallen men, women and children where they lay. The crowd surged forward then realized the exits were blocked by these new monsters and fell back. In their midst more wriggling shrades dropped, tackling anyone they could catch. Utter panic swept the hall.

  To their credit, the militia officers were somewhat faster to react to the unexpected attack than perhaps your typical group of humans might have done. Working in teams, they counterattacked the shrades, pulling them from victims, stabbing them with forks and table knives. Many had brought weapons; pistol shots and the booming of Wu hand-cannons reverberated from the walls. Many of the shrades were destroyed, but only after leaving dozens of crushed corpses in their wake.

  Then the great umulks withdrew their fantastic snouts, sliding back down into the earth like worms slipping into their burrows. For a few seconds there was a pause, during which an enterprising few undertook to escape through the exits. Only a handful managed to dash into the kitchens or reach the corridor leading to the visitors lobby before squads of killbeasts boiled up from the great black holes. Moving with terrifying speed, teams of killbeasts shredded everyone near the holes then stood guard while more squads climbed up into the hall and formed up ranks.

  The humans took this time to maneuver. The officers armed themselves as they could and moved to the front, forming a circle around the spouses and children. Here and there a militia officer shouted orders; crude incomplete barricades were thrown up using the long banquet tables. Several marksmen, getting over their shock, put their pistols to good use by squeezing off round after round into the growing mass of killbeasts.

  Then a different sort of alien appeared at the mouth of one of the holes. Strange bulbous pods, assumably optical organs, extended up from his misshapen head, waving about disconcertingly in their cusps.

  #

  The nife surveyed the scene with neural thrills coursing through his frontal lobes. Here was a glorious victory for the Imperium in the making. The human fortress had been breached and the core of leaders taken almost without a fight. The nife felt sure that his brain would experience chemical euphoria later tonight due to this great military coup. His genes would see to it that he was rewarded for masterminding this bold stroke.

  He hesitated only a moment before sending the amassed killbeast squadrons to slaughter the enemy. Something about the aliens and their variations in preparedness concerned him. He could understand why they had virtually no defenses against underground invasion, as they were clearly arboreal descendants. But why had the spaceport been so obviously gearing for combat while the central defense fortress itself was apparently engaging in festivities? The unpredictable vertebrates seemed astoundingly clever one moment and pathetically idiotic the next.

  Unable to answer the riddles inherent in the actions of the enemy, the nife decided it was time to finish the taking of the fortress. With a single chirrup of code, he signaled the killbeasts to perform their prime function. The gray leaping forms moved to their tasks with relish. The crude barricades were bounded over or simply plowed through. The reptilian killbeasts kicked out with their deadly bladed feet, neatly decapitating and disemboweling anyone that resisted their advance.

  The vertebrates, to their credit, fought savagely. The nife noted with detached interest that the ones protecting their offspring tended to fight with greater energy. Certain relationships soon became evident. A lone vertebrate or a pair of them stood no chance against a killbeast, but working as a pack, three or four of them could usually win if they fought together. The most common approach was to hack and shoot at the armored knees, then knock them back with repeated blows from makeshift clubs fashioned from table legs and the like. Once down and unable to leap back up, the vertebrates would swarm forward, fighting past the deadly sweeping foot-blades. They would then tear, cut or shoot away the optical sensory fronds, rendering the killbeast blind and crippled. More often, however, the killbeasts were simply too fast, too strong and too vicious. Ignoring injury, they fought with amazing skill, speed and daring. Pistol shots boomed, blood splashed the floors as bellies and throats were ripped out. Dark ichor spilled from wounded killbeasts to join the growing slicks on the carpeting.

  After several minutes of wild melee, the battle moved toward its inevitable conclusion. All vertebrates that had any fight in them were soon exterminated by the bounding horde of killbeasts. Here and there a culus soared over the tangle of struggling forms. Several shrades worked the crowd in the wake of the killbeasts, riding about on panicked vertebrates. Umulks, disinterested in the battle, nosed about amongst the corpses near enough to their burrows to reach without excessive effort. They sought and ate the youngest and the fattest vertebrates, chewing methodically.

  Soon, the fight was beaten out of the enemy. They crouched down in a quaking, lowing mass and awaited death. Once they were subdued the killbeasts had to be urged back from them, so that enough would be alive to provide the livestock that the Parent desired. The nife ran about the hall, commanding individual killbeasts to halt the slaughter. So caught up were they in their bloodlust, their genetic purpose and greatest desire being sated, many had to be clubbed to their senses.

  Finally, the nife had achieved some sense of order and began classifying the livestock according to the quality of their meat, culling out those too old or muscular and stringy to make a good meal. Out of the burrows trundled an army of trachs to bear away corpses back to the nests. Killbeasts rounded up satisfactory livestock and herded them down into the ground. The nife thrilled at the idea of fresh tender meat in the nest. The larders would be filled for days.

  During this process, which took several minutes, gunfire broke out in the kitchens. The nife had expected a counterattack and responded instantly. He ordered three squadrons of killbeasts into the kitchens, with a fourth stationed at the entrance.

  In the darkened chambers a tremendous roar of gunfire began.

  #

  Although it took several minutes to put on their body-shells, Captain Bergen of 2nd tactical squad insisted on it before they went to the rescue. He had not expected so many people to be slaughtered in so short a time, and was sickened as he watched on the security video. The men shoved ammo into their waist-mounted automatics feverishly, casting frequent wide-eyed glances at the horror on the holo-plate.

  “Here’s the plan,” boomed Bergen’s voice in their helmets. “Ruble, Fung and Lee, I want you down in the kitchens. Shoot up the place and get the attention of these monsters. Set up a fire zone right in front of the door and blast everything that comes through.”

  The men acknowledged and ran for the stairs. Bergen turned to the remainder of his troops. “The rest of you follow me. Switch to infrared, no suit-lights, and move as silently as you can.”

  #

  The nife’s elation with the promise of quick victory faded as the killbeasts met up with organized heavy firepower. A dozen gray forms lay in the entrance to the kitchen, bodies blasted apart by armor-piercing exploding rounds. The three squads of killbeasts had been forced to pull back, leaving behind half their number. The effectiveness of the enemy’s ballistic weaponry was unexpected. He had sent in a humping swarm of shrades through the drainpipes and air ducts, but as yet they had been unable to reach the enemy holed up in the kitchens. The nife’s stalks lowered somewhat in concentrated thought. His cusps were closed to mere slits over his orbs.

  Then a small girl came running into the hall from the main entrance. She halted upon seeing the Imperial forces and screamed shrilly. Running after her, a female militia officer darted out, snatched her up and disappeared back into the corridors.

  The nife’s cusps snapped open wide. He chirruped rapidly to a culus that soared about the hall with a flock of her sisters. A group of them broke off and headed into the corridor to reconnoiter. Trotting behind them came more squadrons of killbeasts, fresh from the nests. Several more squadrons were sent off in pairs through all the other exits. The nife moved to speak with an umulk who was in the act of chewing the legs from a particularly fat vertebrate.

  #

  Bergen crouched in the main corridor, congratulating the efforts of officer Sung and her daughter. He ordered them both out of the building, explaining that little could be done without heavy armor and weaponry.

  They didn’t have long to wait. Almost immediately, a group of bizarre-looking flying creatures swooped into the corridor. The men held their fire until the creatures were almost upon them before blasting them out of the air. By that time, the first of the killbeasts was springing toward them. The ripping sound of automatic fire was amplified in the enclosed space. The killbeasts kept coming, a new pair appearing as the last were blown to bits.

  While the killbeasts gave their lives for a distraction, the shrades burst forth from their transport forms. A culus at Bergen’s feet exploded, and the shrade was wrapped around his legs in an instant. Armor compressed, crushing the flesh underneath. Bergen cried out in agony.

  Falling into confusion, 2nd tactical squad resorted to firing at their own men, hoping the body-shell would protect them while blasting away the vile shrades. This allowed a killbeast to reach their lines and attack. Several more sprang up from behind, having successfully encircled them. Both sides quickly realized that the body-shells were impenetrable for foot-blades, but when wrestling in hand-to-hand, the killbeasts were much stronger. Guns were ripped from their waist-mounts and the members of 2nd tactical squad were killed by continuous streams of fire from their own weapons.

  #

  Governor Zimmerman was among the last to be found as he masterfully played dead beneath the corpse of a gutted deputy. After a cursory glance from the nife commander, he was judged suitable livestock due to his body-fat content and hustled off into the burrows of the umulks. After what seemed like hours of travel through muddy tunnels he joined the rest of the human herd and soon learned the horrors of the Imperium nest.

  Fourteen

  Mudface pulled the limo over to the side of a dark street that led down into a cluster of quiet estates and summer homes. They were high up in the hills surrounding New Grunstein now, on the edge of the Polar Range itself.

  “What about the kid?” asked Mudface, waving his shotgun in Bili’s face.

  “We’re almost there. We’ll kill them as soon as we get to the house,” said Daddy, grunting as he heaved his bulk out of the limo and slammed the door shut. He went to relieve himself on a road sign.

  “You can’t kill a little boy,” Sarah pleaded.

  Mudface shrugged disinterestedly.

  Bili said nothing. He gazed out the window into the forests and seemed absorbed.

  “You can’t, Mudface,” hissed Sarah urgently. “I’ll make it worth your while if you just let him go. What can he do?”

  “Little ones grow up. Maybe one day he’ll come looking for poor Mudface.”

  Sarah reached out and touched his plastic skin. She forced herself to caress him. “Please.”

  Mudface tracked her carefully with the barrel of his hand-cannon. Never did she have a moment to make a move on him. Not that she thought it would do her any good. All mechs were stronger than normal people. He was very small for a mech, but not that small.

  Mudface fidgeted indecisively. “Oh, all right,” he said finally, opening the car door and giving Bili a shove. “Off with you.”

  “I don’t want to leave you,” said Bili seriously. He tried to catch his mother’s eyes. “Not yet.”

  “Go on now. Go,” his mother insisted, pushing him away.

  Bili turned and ran into the night, hot tears burning his cheeks. Mudface fired a few wild shots into the woods after him to convince Daddy, then turned back to Sarah. “You know I’ve got a soft spot, don’t you missy? You’re gonna have to pay for this favor, don’t you know.”

  Sarah said nothing.

  Daddy came back to the limo, fumbling with his fly and cussing at Mudface.

  Sarah searched the fringe of dark trees for some sign of her son, she thought she saw a dark shape flittering through the trees, but she couldn’t be sure.

  #

  The drive through the forest to the secluded vacation house Mudface and Daddy kept there seemed to take forever, although it only lasted a few minutes. The entire time, Mudface grinned silently and ran his cold plastic fingers over Sarah’s legs.

  At times, as the limo wound its way up into the mountains, they came upon open vistas beneath which all of Grunstein was visible. As they passed one of them, they could see the flashes and hear the distant rattling of gunfire coming from the spaceport. Daddy slowed the limo and rolled down the windows to watch.

  “That’s a squadron of Stormbringers up there,” he said, rubbing his stubbly chin. “I don’t like this at all.”

  “So what if the dirt-huggers are getting a new Governor? Let them fight it out,” said Mudface.

  Sarah could tell he was anxious to get the car moving again so he could continue his fantasies and his gropings.

  “Nope, don’t like it at all,” repeated Daddy. He cleaned a long triangular fingernail with his teeth. “Big changes in who’s who won’t help our business. I’ve paid a lot of money for Zimmerman’s rubberstamp. What if this new Droad guy out from the Nexus is uncontrollable?”

  Mudface rolled his eyes and bared his teeth in impatience. Sarah braced herself as Daddy rolled the window up on the distant battleground and drove onward. Mudface’s ministrations began again immediately and in earnest. He leaned close to kiss her and she forced herself to respond. It was still possible for them to go back and try to find Bili. She had to give him as much time as possible to get away.

  The smell of the man, up close and personal, was enough to gag her. His fake skin had a burnt smell to it, probably the effects of long exposure to the elements. His breath was indescribably powerful.

  Breathing through her mouth, Sarah endured this silently. She wondered if anyone would have cared even if she had been screaming her head off. Mudface started on her knees next, squeezing hard enough to bruise her. Sarah steeled herself and stared out the windows into the forest.

  “What’s that?” she gasped. A dark shape glided across the road ahead. For a moment the headlights caught an image of a stingray-like creature with mottled brown skin. The creature vanished into the forest.

  “Shut up!” barked Daddy. “Just some kinda bird.”

  Sarah fell silent again, but inside her a numbing block of icy fear began to form. She knew the creatures of Garm well, and she had seen too many odd monsters lately to count this one as normal. What was happening? It seemed as if she were caught up in several nightmares at once.

  Shortly after that they pulled into a driveway that curved downward at a sharp angle. After one more switchback they reached the house, and the floodlights came on, sensing their approach. A subsection of the house slid away and the limo glided inside.

  An elevator took them from the garage up to the main floor. Daddy sent Mudface to the security center to check all the systems out. The moment he was gone, Daddy advanced on her, grabbing up a handful of her hair and placing the barrel of his hand-cannon to her temple.

  “Come on, girly,” he rumbled in her ear. “Quiet now.”

  He dragged her out to the indoor pool area and shut the door behind them. The walls and the domed roof reflected wavering lines of light from the pool. Sarah’s breathing became short and desperate. Her heart pounded in her chest.

  “Sorry, but I just don’t think we have time to do this little bit of business properly,” said Daddy. With that, he unceremoniously gripped her throat in both hands and began squeezing. She struggled, kicking his blubbery body and scratching at his face. He cursed a bit, but was otherwise unaffected. He forced her down on her back and slid her head toward the edge of the pool.

  #

  The frenzied sounds of splashing echoed around the indoor pool. Daddy held Sarah’s head under the water, trying not to let her scratch his face and hands. The barrel of his hand-cannon, shoved into his waistband, gleamed in the wavering pool lights. After a time the splashing stopped.

  “What are you doing?” demanded Mudface. He returned from the security center and rushed up to father’s side.

  “Shut up.”

  Mudface reached out with two thin hands. He grabbed his father’s flabby arms and lifted. His unnatural muscles were narrow, but they were stronger than a normal man’s. Daddy went flying into the pool, howling. He splashed down. Both Daddy’s arms were bleeding. The skin had parted where Mudface’s titanium-boned hands had gripped them.

  There was a lot of cursing and splashing as Daddy climbed out of the pool.