Alien Wars Page 22

  “I can hardly contain myself,” she said.

  “You will remain in these quarters. I shall instruct Toll Three to provide you with greater nutrients. Naturally, I expect you to maintain your trim condition. Perhaps, though, you could don small particles of clothing. One of my brain domes recalls that a female wearing panties and a bra can be just as erotic as one entirely nude.”

  Darcy told herself that being a stripper for a Prime Web-Mind would be much more pleasant than becoming breeding stock with her children destined to give their brains to these monsters.

  Somehow, in some way, I must help to destroy these things. They are abominations against nature.

  “In two hours we shall begin the grand attack,” the Prime said. “It is therefore time for me to begin ordering and overseeing pre-assault maneuvers.”

  30

  Skar 192 checked the controls from the pilot’s chair of his Battle Fang. The ship accelerated at maximum, which strained its grav-plates. He didn’t know how much longer they would hold.

  Without the grav-plates, the Battle Fang wouldn’t have stood a chance against the Tal drones. The Kresh missiles accelerated at twice the Battle Fang’s speed. Still, by running away from them, he bought everyone aboard more time. With the grav-plates, they accelerated at twenty Gs. The Tal drones accelerated at fifty Gs. Without the grav-plates, the human occupants of the Battle Fang could have taken perhaps three Gs for an extended burn.

  The Battle Fang had passed High Station 3 some time ago. The ship headed for the outer asteroid belt. Behind them, the Tal drones continued to catch up.

  Skar opened a comm to medical. “Is there any change in his condition, Mentalist?”

  “Negative,” Niens said.

  “How long will it take Cyrus to gain full control of his mind?” Skar asked.

  “That is an extremely subjective question,” Niens said.

  Skar scowled. He didn’t care for Mentalist Niens. The long-faced man enjoyed using large words and pontificating whenever the opportunity presented itself.

  “What does that mean?” Skar said. “Time is time.”

  “You are profoundly wrong,” Niens said. “Have you never been bored?”

  “What does that have to do with time?”

  “Why, everything,” Niens said. “Time is an extremely subjective subject.”

  “Why can’t you stay on the point? When will Cyrus wake up? If he doesn’t soon, the drones will deploy their X-rays against us.”

  “If I could wake him, I would,” Niens said.

  “Why are you avoiding the question?”

  “But I’m not. I’m answering to the best of my ability. The trouble is between you and me.”

  “What?” Skar asked.

  “Your thought process is linear, very forward traveling. That is as it should be, of course. You are a Vomag.”

  “Soldiers fight in the Chirr tunnels,” Skar said, nettled. “Do you have any idea what that is like?”

  “Thankfully, no,” Niens said.

  Skar scowled once more. He didn’t recall the range of the Tal drones. If only he could eke out greater acceleration from the Battle Fang.

  “I believe time moves much differently for Cyrus Gant than for us,” Niens said. “It’s possible that in his subjective frame of reference, days or even weeks might have passed in his mind.”

  “What difference does that make to us?”

  “None. I concede that. It’s simply an interesting topic.”

  “Staying alive is more interesting to me,” Skar said.

  “No,” Niens said. “It is more essential, yes, I grant you that, but it isn’t more interesting. In fact, the subject bores me.”

  “You’re tired of living?”

  “Can’t you understand that each of us faces our coming death quite differently from a Vomag? You strive against fate with every fiber in your muscular frame. I compose my mind, beginning to wonder what awaits us on the other side of death.”

  “How is that useful?”

  A sigh came out of the speaker. “Skar, Skar, you are hopelessly—”

  “Wait,” Skar said. “I’m picking something up on the sensors.” He bent over the panel. What did these readings mean?

  “Are you seeing this?” he asked the other crewmembers.

  “Is it a new long-range weapon?” Yang asked. He acted as the sensor operator, having relieved the regular crewmember so the woman could get some sack time.

  “What transpires?” Skar asked, sitting back. A fantastically large spheroid moved through . . . what Skar thought of as “strange space.” The soldier began examining the sensor information.

  “That thing is five times bigger than a hammer-ship,” Yang said.

  “Cyborg,” Skar whispered. “It’s a cyborg military vessel.” During their many journeys together, Cyrus had told him about the terrible beings and the war in the solar system over one hundred years ago.

  “How can it do that?” Yang asked. “It just appeared in space.”

  More cyborg spheroids sailed through the strange space. The dreadnoughts moved slowly, majestically. They headed toward Pulsar, toward Jassac and High Station 3.

  “I’m counting five dreadnoughts,” Skar said.

  “Affirmative here,” Yang said. “Good thing they didn’t appear twelve degrees closer to us. Then we’d be on an intercept course with them.”

  Skar nodded. He kept watching the panel. What else would come through the strange space? As he wondered, the oddities of the space vanished.

  “I don’t understand this,” Yang said.

  Skar sat back, thunderstruck. “While I do,” he said.

  “Tell me.”

  “Those were discontinuity windows,” the Vomag said. “Cyrus has told me about them. That’s how the Earthers reached Fenris.”

  “I thought DWs couldn’t open inside a star system.”

  “Do you disbelieve your own senses?” Skar asked.

  “No.”

  “The cyborgs are attacking,” Skar said. “That is, they are maneuvering to attack.”

  “Uh-oh,” Yang said.

  Skar saw it on his screen. Powerful sensor scans struck the Battle Fang. They seemed to have originated from the cyborg vessels.

  “What do we do?” Yang asked.

  Skar was a Vomag: a genetic soldier. It was in his genes to fight to the end. How could he use the entrance of the cyborgs to their advantage in the present situation? The creatures from the stars had already attacked Kresh ships. He had witnessed some of the detonations near the asteroid belt, having watched on the long-range scope.

  The enemy of my enemy is my friend. It was an ancient slogan from Earth, kept alive among the Vomags.

  Skar turned around, looking at the others. “It’s time we called Dagon Dar.”

  “Why?” Yang asked.

  “Those Tal drones on our tail,” Skar said. “Maybe we can convince the Revered One to retarget them against the cyborgs.”

  Yang thought about that, and he nodded. “It is worth the attempt.”

  “It will buy us a little more time,” Skar said. “Maybe by then, Cyrus will wake up.”

  Yang shook his head. “I think our chances for survival are over. That game is up.”

  “I don’t agree,” Skar said. “While I live, I fight.”

  “No,” Yang said. “You also hope for the best.”

  “None of that matters unless we can convince Dagon Dar. Hail him. It is time to bargain.”

  Dagon Dar understood the significance of the Vomag’s offer. The low-grade creature had supped deeply of Resister creed. How could a human otherwise stare him in the eye without the obedience codes taught him in his youth taking hold?

  Through the screen, the soldier managed to sit straight without any submissive bowing of the head. The codes
were there in the man’s brain. Dagon Dar recognized the signs.

  This one has traveled with the Earther. The Sol humans are a disease to the body politic. After this is over, we must build a fleet and travel to Sol, eradicating all wilds.

  “You can destroy us,” the Vomag was saying. “But we are fleas compared to the cyborgs. Let us join forces and attack as one.”

  “Do you dare to believe the Kresh Imperium needs your help?” Dagon Dar asked. “I am the highest Revered One. You should bow low and beg forgiveness for your outrageous behavior.”

  The Vomag wavered. The struggle was writ large on his features. As a one-time Majestic Interrogator, Dagon Dar knew how to read the signs.

  “The Chirr have run wild,” the Vomag said in a harsh voice. “We have seen it through our scopes. The Chirr annihilated the Kresh fleet around Heenhiss. They must have killed many of my brothers and sisters in arms on the surface. I would avenge their deaths.”

  “Then you must obey my commands.”

  “I offer you an alliance instead,” the Vomag said.

  “You have dared more than I can tolerate—” Dagon Dar hesitated because Red Bronze the 232nd sent him an emergency signal. “Hold,” he said, “while I confer.”

  With a touch of his claw, Dagon Dar erased the bothersome Vomag from sight. The tattooed Red Metal freak took the creature’s place.

  “I do not wish to presume upon our working relationship,” Red Bronze said. “But I would like to suggest a possibility to you.”

  “Proceed,” Dagon Dar said.

  “Let us use the humans.”

  “They are Resisters. They are vermin. I desire to stamp them out.”

  “As do I,” Red Bronze said. “Yet could we not put them to better use?”

  “Explain.”

  “We do not know the range of the cyborg beams. Let us reroute the Tal drones and allow the hijacked Battle Fang to attack. Likely, we can learn the greater enemy’s extreme range and beam intensity.”

  “Can the laser range be greater than those of our hammer-ships?” Dagon Dar asked.

  “The cyborg vessels are larger, which implies a bigger engine. Does not a greater beam need a greater power source?”

  Dagon Dar paused. He was aghast with himself. I have let emotion rob me of my full analytical ability. A Red Metal heretic has kept her head better than I have. This is unseemly. Where does her icy decorum come from?

  “Your thesis has merit,” Dagon Dar said.

  “You are generous with your praise.”

  “No. I am practical and to the point. I have erred in letting my emotion color my judgment.”

  Red Bronze hissed, which was a form of Kresh laughter.

  “I amuse you?” Dagon Dar asked.

  “By no means,” Red Bronze said. “I believe I understand your unease.”

  “Please, share this gem of wisdom with me.”

  “You believe I have sealed off my emotions and used strict logic,” Red Bronze said.

  “Am I wrong in believing this?”

  “Yes.”

  “I fail to grasp where I erred,” Dagon Dar said.

  “I use my emotion to strengthen my logic.”

  “That is illogical.”

  “Yet I have done this, and you failed with your method,” Red Bronze said.

  “I have admitted my failure. Until proved otherwise, I do not believe emotions colored your thinking.”

  “But they most certainly have,” Red Bronze said. “It is why we Red Metals strive for intuitive leaps.”

  “This conversation leads us nowhere,” Dagon Dar said.

  “Do you admit then that Red Metal doctrine has a noted supremacy over strict orthodoxy?”

  “No. You spout theories without the proof needed to back them.”

  Red Bronze moved closer to the screen. “FIRST, my dearest desire is to close my teeth over the Resisters. I long to eat them chunk by bloody chunk, letting their meat digest in my belly.”

  “That is disgusting,” Dagon Dar said. “It is worse than barbaric.”

  “It is a central tenet of Red Metal doctrine.”

  “Madness,” Dagon Dar said.

  “By focusing on this desire,” Red Bronze said, “I tell myself, ‘Let this Vomag believe he has tricked us. It gives me that much more of a margin of hope for his survival. If he survives, then I will feast on his flesh.’ Because of that, I have logically seen his utility.”

  “Your reasoning has gaps,” Dagon Dar said softly.

  “I would appreciate you telling me where, FIRST. Let me learn from your superior wisdom.”

  She mocked him. At this unseemly moment—

  Dagon Dar turned from the screen, stalking throughout his private chamber.

  I am more emotional than I have realized. The Red Bronze teaches me, but not as she believes. I envision destroying her heresy, her cult. The joy of that moment will allow me to use her.

  In some part of his incredible mind, Dagon Dar realized he utilized Red Metal heresy in his thinking. He would not admit it openly to himself, at least not at the moment. There would be time for that later.

  Dagon Dar resumed his stance before the screen. He strove for reptilian ruthlessness.

  “We will use the Resisters, these Humanity Ultimates,” he said. “It would be wise to know cyborg capabilities before we engaged them. Still, we come to a critical juncture. Should we use the Tal drones and hijacked Battle Fang to test cyborg beams while we hide the fleet behind Jassac? Or should we accelerate now and thereby defend the Pulsar gravitational system habitats?”

  “Do you believe our present warships can defeat the five cyborg vessels?”

  “Would the cyborgs have appeared here if they believed we could defeat them?” Dagon Dar countered.

  “Of what use is a military victory to us if our civilization is destroyed?” Red Bronze asked. “The Chirr will likely savage the Glegan Kresh. That leaves the habitats here at the Pulsar system as the last Kresh bastion.”

  “That is logically reasoned,” Dagon Dar said. “I will now resume the conversation with the errant Vomag.”

  Red Bronze vanished from the screen. In her place, the blunt-faced Vomag reappeared.

  “You will obey our instructions,” Dagon Dar said.

  “I cannot match your guile,” the Vomag said. “I am a soldier. I only know how to tell bare truths. We will not obey your instructions as cattle. We are allies in a vicious war. As such, we will listen to your advice with careful consideration.”

  Dagon Dar studied the arrogant creature. He couldn’t believe it would dare speak to him like this. Perhaps . . . Red Bronze had a point. If ever there was a human he could desire to devour—

  Inwardly, Dagon Dar recoiled at this barbarity. What did it matter, this creature’s arrogance? This was a war for supremacy in the Fenris System. He must use every article he could in order to drive for victory.

  “For the moment, we are allies,” Dagon Dar said. “I now speak as the FIRST philosopher king. I am taking the Tal drones off your scent. They are charged to destroy the lead cyborg vessel. You may do as you see fit.”

  “Skar 192 acknowledges your words, FIRST. We have a war pact. Let us fight our common enemy together.”

  31

  Inside Cyrus Gant’s altered mind, the elevator slowed. It had been traveling down for quite some time.

  Cyrus massaged his forehead. “I feel the Eich,” he said.

  Klane sat cross-legged in the center of the elevator. The sword lay across his lap. He looked up. “It has been a long journey, my friend.”

  Cyrus nodded.

  Klane looked away. “I . . . I don’t think I’m going to be able to join you once the doors open.”

  This was surprising. “Why not?” Cyrus asked.

  Klane made a groping gesture. “
I exist in your mind. I am the memories of Klane. He—I died in the real world.”

  “Is that necessarily so?” Cyrus asked. “After this is over, all of it, I’ll come back and visit you. In that way you will continue to exist.”

  “My friend, that isn’t wise. I remember a memory of another seeker—he did as you suggest. It drove him mad because he could no longer tell fantasy from reality. No. Once you defeat the Eich—”

  “If,” Cyrus said.

  “You must defeat the alien parasite. You must strip it of knowledge. Then you will become the Anointed One indeed and save humanity. I wish . . .” Klane looked away.

  The elevator grounded. The doors opened and dense jungle growth greeted the two men. Cyrus recoiled at the screeches. A musky, damp odor drifted into the elevator. A pink sky showed through the leafy foliage. He’d never seen trees or clouds like that.

  “The Eich’s home world,” Klane said. “This is the stronghold it created in your mind. Here, it is powerful. Here, I cannot go because I will lose coherence.”

  “Will you wait for me?” Cyrus asked.

  “I do not know if I will exist by the time you return.”

  Cyrus moved up to Klane. He held out his hand. The two clasped, shaking.

  “It has been my privilege knowing you,” Cyrus said.

  “I’m glad you came to the Fenris System, my friend. Without you, humanity here would have lost. As long as you live, I believe we have a chance.”

  “I hope you’re right,” Cyrus said.

  “You have become much stronger,” Klane said. “Use your power. Destroy the Eich. There is no other way.”

  “Good-bye, Klane.”

  “Good-bye, my friend. Remember me.”

  With moisture in his eyes, Cyrus stepped out of the elevator and into the memory of the Eich home world.

  Cyrus moved cautiously, slowly. Once, he looked back, and he could see Klane staring after him. Would he ever see Klane again?

  Something inside him said no. This was it. Could a memory cling to life?