Christopher Hinz - Liege-Killer

Helpless halts my tongue;a devouring fever Runs in flame through every vein within me;

Darkness veils my vision; my ears are deafened, Beating like hammers;

Cold the sweat runs down me; a sudden trembling Sets my limbs a-quiver; my face grows paler Than the grass in summer; I see before me Death stand, and madness.

- "Sappho of Mytilene" 6th century bc

The shuttle crouched between skyscrapers, in the center of the desolate street, dwarfing rusted cars. Gouged and dirty wings-arched slivers of white metal-swept upward from the squat body of the craft like floppy ears from a fat rabbit. The underbelly quivered, radiating heat. Gray smoke drifted out from beneath the craft, swirling into oblivion as it met the perpetual Philadelphia gusts.

What's the level? asked Bronavitch, younger of the two crew members. He stood beside the monster engines, oblivious to the waves of heat pouring from the vertical landing jets. Their spacesuits were designed to protect them from far worse perils.

Kelly grinned. Parched walnut skin crinkled across his cheeks, made him look older than his forty-six years. Nothing to worry about within five miles of here. Kelly twisted his neck forward, peeked out through the top of his helmet visor, and checked the readout counter mounted to his thick utility belt. The scan reads less than point-oh-seven-we're in a fairly safe area. We could probably even take our suits off for a minute or so." Yeah, Bronavitch grumbled, and we could gulp some air and say good-bye to the Colonies. Bronavitch did not need Kelly or a poison counter to tell him that there was enough organic death in the smog to keep a cleanup crew busy for years.

Kelly's grin expanded. The air does seem a bit thick."

Bronavitch shook his head. He was not in the mood for Kelly's humor. I'm telling you, I've had it. I'm sick of the whole damn planet. My contract is up in two months and I'm not signing on for another tour. I've had it."

His partner rumbled with laughter. You told me that last year. Hell, admit it. You like it down here. You told me that you thought it was very serene." It pays good."

Skyscrapers-metal and concrete shells-lined the boulevard. A few smaller structures were nestled in their midst like scared children clutching at their mother's skirts. Chunks of unidentifiable debris lay everywhere.

To the west, a mountain of trash poked up through the lower smog cover, interrupting the flow of the street. Bronavitch thought he detected form in the junk pile. It seemed to resemble a giant frog. He suspected some mad humans had been responsible for its creation during the final days. His theory seemed reasonable. Dying of radiation and a host of other ecospheric poisons would have justified the creation of such a weird monument.

Do you know what they used to call this place? asked Kelly.

Bronavitch shook his head.

The City of Brotherly Love. Thankfully, the black face had lost its smile.

Bronavitch booted a crusted brick. Let's get on with it. I want to get the hell out of here."

They marched down the street. Open doors and glassless windows seemed to stare at them; dark eyes, full of death, contemptuous of the living. Bronavitch felt a familiar twinge of fear tighten his stomach. He hated these dead cities. It always seemed as if someone were watching, like they were intruding upon some private domain.

Kelly broke into a fresh grin. He appeared to be enjoying himself.

All right, we know the pirates landed where we touched down. They must have been close to whatever they were looking for." How do you know they were looking for anything? Bronavitch argued. Maybe the bastards just dropped in at random, hoping to pick up a few artifacts. Or maybe they had shuttle problems and were forced to land for repairs." I don't think so. First of all, they couldn't have been here for more than two or three hours-in and out real quick, not nearly enough time for a profitable artifact hunt. And when did you ever hear of a shuttle dropping into a supercontaminated zone like this for repairs? Even if they lost their main engines, the vertical landing jets were still functioning-had to be in order to touch down safely in the middle of this mess. Kelly shook his head. No, if it had been an emergency landing, they would have coasted down toward the Virginia area. The contamination's not as bad."

Bronavitch sighed. These are Costeaus you're talking about. They're not always that rational."

Kelly laughed. Maybe not, but most of the bastards got better ships than we do. Don't believe all that Guardian crap about stupid pirates and their rundown equipment."

It was no sense arguing. All right, which direction? This is a goddamn big city."

Kelly pointed toward the frog-shaped mountain. That trash pile could have been their landing mark-there's nothing else down here that's so easily recognizable from the air. And if I were a Costeau captain, I wouldn't have touched down any closer to it than this." Landslides? Bronavitch asked uneasily.

Right. That mess doesn't look too stable. At this distance, at least the shuttle would be safe even if the whole damn mountain came tumbling down."

Bronavitch nodded. That still leaves a big area to search. Why don't we call base and request help?" No way, growled his partner. I'm not gonna get chewed out by some commander for tying up a whole unit just to find out what some pirates were looking for."

Bronavitch clamped his mouth shut.

They had come from E-Tech-from the Berks Valley base, about sixty miles to the northwest. Berks was one of E-Tech's major experimental arenas where scientists and engineers sought methods for removing the contamination from the environment. Ecospheric Turnaround was the long-term goal of the huge organization, a goal in which Bronavitch no longer had much faith. Working down here as a shuttle pilot for the past two years had slowly eroded his belief.

Too much of the Earth was dead. There were still insects and a few of the hardier forms of plant life, and there was man, in his protective garments. Most of the evolutionary links in between had perished; the complex chain of life had been broken by the madness of two centuries ago. Bronavitch believed that the Earth would never again be a hospitable place for humanity.

He and Kelly were assigned to perimeter duty. They checked on the status of various bioprojects that Berks initiated, searched for signs of natural life, ferried scientists to and from other bases, and policed the zone surrounding the Berks Valley. Today's duty fell into the last category.

Early this morning, Berks radar had picked up an unauthorized ship heading toward the Philadelphia area. Although the fix had been lost before the ship landed, computer projection had indicated several likely touchdown locations. Naturally, the pirates had already departed by the time he and Kelly located this landing spot. Costeaus generally knew just how long they could remain in an area before E-Tech tracked them. Heavily smogged cities like Philadelphia made visual detection nearly impossible, and sensor analysis took time. Pirates were rarely caught on the surface.

The best that could be hoped for now was that he and Kelly might locate some evidence identifying the pirate clan. Then E-Tech or the Intercolonial Guardians would launch an official investigation up in the Colonies. With exceptional luck, the trespassing pirates might be arrested.

Unofficially, though, Bronavitch knew that this Costeau incident would be treated like most of the others-largely ignored. The Costeaus antique-hunting expeditions to the surface were tolerated as long as they did not directly interfere with any of E-Tech's projects. Today's hunt, and the subsequent official report, would be made primarily to assuage the Irryan Council, which, in its wisdom, was demanding a final solution to the pirate problem.