Astronomy by Richard Wadholm

Author:Richard Wadholm
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
ISBN: 9781930815551
Publisher: Electricstory.com
Published: 2000-10-15T07:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eight

SUSAN HAD A WILD IDEA THAT SHE WOULD turn around and this Kriene, whoever he was, would be standing there, waiting to rebut Malmagden’s argument.

But it wasn’t Kriene. Lieutenant Illyenov was coming across the glass with a squad of soldiers and a pair of heavy machine guns.

Susan could guess what was happening. Something unearthly was coming. She heard a crash of rocks in the dark directly ahead of them. A curtain of dust silvered under the moon. Whatever they had tracked among the valley’s western cliffs had come around to attack from the rear. Illyenov’s men were establishing their eastern perimeter.

Somewhere on the far side of the Russian camp, the Lysander engine wheek-wheek-wheeked, coughed itself to life, rose to an even drone. The Russians had positioned it on the far side of the campfire, pointed in their direction. Susan looked back to see the flames flatten and stretch beneath the sudden wind. Plumes of oily smoke were already rolling across the glassified plain to meet them. An idea came to her, a bit from her Dunwich, Massachusetts, lectures. She started to get an idea what the Russians needed this smoke machine for.

She really hoped she was wrong.

“You know,” Illyenov said, “you press my Slavic hospitality to the breaking point.”

A kid pointed toward a promontory of rock overlooking the glassy lakebed, crowned by the wreckage of the Faulkenberg hydroelectric plant. This had been their destination. The kid wanted to know if they should carry on. Good cover up there. Lots of metal and concrete to hide behind. With a little time, they would have found a way up the cliffs and set up a nice crossing field of fire. Indeed, Susan tried to imagine what Illyenov was doing down here.

He had a bag of something that he eased gently to the ground. With a couple head-slaps and a few quick words, Illyenov directed his troops to form a defensive perimeter right here on the glass. Then he turned his attention to them.

“You did not tell me your friend was the great Krzysztof Malmagden. I had to eavesdrop on you till you said his name out loud. That is hardly the way comrades and war-time allies treat each other.”

“We’re here investigating a threat to the peace,” Susan said.

“With your friend the war criminal, you are worried about the peace?”

She winced a little. That sounded lame, even to her.

Illyenov turned a predatory smile on the German. “You are Krzysztof Malmagden,” he said.

Malmagden stepped back, touching his throat in the manner of an aging movie star. “Excuse me. Do we know each other?”

“You are the man who ran the dead people. You are the man with the ghouls.”

“I am afraid you have me confused with someone.” Malmagden turned toward Susan. “Tell him—”

Illyenov went for him with a bayonet coming up from below. Malmagden caught the Russian’s wrist, threw a forearm into his throat. They went down, locked together at hand and throat.

The machine gun crews looked up from their work. Susan went, Uh oh.

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