The Soldier: Escape Vector Page 23

  Skar took a deep breath and there was malice in his eyes, which seemed odd. “It’s time. That’s my gut instinct, anyway. I’ve stashed weapons if you want one, and there are a few others like me willing to fight to the death in the great cause.”

  Give me a break. Really? “How is it that you can walk about freely in the Rhune base?” Cade asked. “The door was locked. They’re all locked.”

  Skar touched his chest. “I’m a soldier. I take risks when I think it’s right. I’ve already been punished today. The next punishment will mean my death—so why shouldn’t I risk all now that I’ve decided it’s time?”

  “Did you hear me about the locked doors?”

  Skar pulled a flat device from the folds of his breechclout. “This unlocks everything.”

  “And you just happen to have it, eh?”

  Skar scowled, finally shaking his brutish head. “You can’t know I’m for real. That’s the rub, don’t you see? Uldin wants to steal your initiative, your desire to try. He’s attempted the same with me, but I’m a soldier, and I plan to die like one, fighting to the bitter end.”

  This guy’s good. Even though he’s an obvious shill, I almost believe him.

  “Aren’t you a soldier, too?” Skar asked.

  “I am.”

  “Then what are you waiting for?”

  “My gut instincts tell me you’re a test, a ruse by Uldin.”

  “I don’t understand you,” Skar said, exasperated. “What do you have to lose? If you have weapons, you might free Halifax from the Rhunes. What does it hurt to make the attempt?”

  “I don’t know. You’re obviously trying to manipulate me. I haven’t figured out why.”

  There was another click and a new door behind the soldier opened. He whirled around as a tall gaunt Rhune stepped within and stopped as if surprised.

  “Where’s Uldin?” the Rhune said. “I’ve brought the items as per his request. Why are there two of you here when there should only be one. Uldin was interviewing the Ultra. You,” the Rhune pointed at the thrall. “What is your name and why are you here?”

  “Skar 192,” the ogre-man said, shuffling deeper into the room and thus toward the Rhune.

  “You failed to state why you’re here and— stop at once,” the Rhune said. “Do not approach any closer.”

  Skar stopped and bowed his head submissively.

  “You still fail to tell me why you’re here,” the Rhune said. “This is unwarranted. If I recall correctly, the Magister confined you to barracks—yes. Look at you. You’ve received punishment shocks today. How can you even walk?”

  Skar intertwined his fingers and hunched his shoulders, putting a whine into his voice. “I-I came at once at the master’s orders.”

  “I detect falsehood, which indicates that you’re trying to deceive me.” The Rhune raised a skeletal hand, moving his fingers.

  The chrome collar brightened. Cade shaded his eyes from the intense glare.

  Skar grunted, grunted again—and then he moaned, a sound torn from him. He clutched at the collar and snatched his hands away as if the collar had become oven-hot. His neck turned red as foul roasting odors floated from him. His eyes bulged, and then he bellowed. Like some giant ape, he raced yelling at the Rhune.

  “None of that,” the Rhune said, widening his fingers.

  Skar bounced off an invisible field, falling onto his back and twisting on the floor, howling in agony.

  The Rhune’s really hurting him. But why? Was Skar telling the truth? Have the Rhunes stolen my initiative?

  Cade would have shouted for the Rhune to stop, but he knew that would make no difference. Screw this! He picked up the bowl of water and pitched it at the arrogant creature. Perhaps he got lucky, catching the Rhune by surprise as the bowl hit him on the side of the head. This is it. This is my chance. Cade grabbed the wooden chair and charged. The Rhune shook his head, turned toward him—Cade swung the chair, hitting the thing’s head. There was a crunch, the breaking of neck bones. Cade released the chair and slammed a fist into the Rhune’s gut, doubling the robed man over. The soldier thrust up a knee, connecting with the lowered chin. There was another snap, a brittle sound, and the Rhune rocketed up and then sprawled backward onto the floor. Kill him before he can summon his powers. Cade stomped on the throat, crushing the windpipe. Then, he dropped to the floor, grabbed the head and twisted as hard as he could, hearing bones snapping.

  The Rhune surged spasmodically, flopping, and then lay still.

  Cade turned to the thrall.

  Skar lay on the floor, choking, with foul smoke rising from his roasting neck.

  Cade scrambled beside the dead Rhune’s torso, searching the robe—oh, hello sweetness. He drew the Lupus 19 Energy Gun and boot knife from a pocket. Right, the Rhune said he’d been bringing items per the Magister’s request. Cade jumped up and ran to Skar. He’s dead unless—Cade aimed, fired and then fired at the other side. With an oath, Cade tore off the front piece, singeing his fingertips doing so. He rolled Skar over, leaving the bottom collar piece on the floor.

  The throat was red-roasted, with tiny bubbles rising from the skin.

  How’s he still alive? It’s a miracle.

  Sweat bathed the stricken Skar, and incredibly, the ogre-man attempted to rise.

  Cade bent to assist him, marveling at the man’s stamina and will. Once upright and with a shaking hand, Skar pointed and Cade helped him to an open hatch. Together, they shuffled down a hall.

  “What’s the plan?” Cade asked.

  Skar opened his mouth but nothing came out. He gave Cade such an imploring look—

  “I don’t know what you want me to do,” Cade said, feeling helpless.

  Skar kept moving forward, losing strength, slowing down and shivering. His sweat-slicked skin was turning cold. He slipped several times, his head drooping as he panted and then gurgled.

  Why don’t you just die?

  Skar wheezed as he inhaled, standing straighter, pushing himself.

  What a man. What a fighter! What’s driving him like this?

  Skar stared into the distance or maybe into a different realm that only the dying and dead could see. Finally, Skar attempted to turn toward a side door as if he knew where he wanted to go.

  Cade tucked the blaster under his waistband, testing the handle. It turned. He began to open the door. Skar’s shaking hand touched his wrist.

  “What?” Cade asked.

  Skar shook his head and pointed at him.

  “You want me to check it out first?” Cade asked.

  Skar tapped him, shivering afterward.

  Cade set him against the wall, pulled out the blaster and opened the door, peeking in. There were vats, pools of liquid scattered around. Otherwise, the place was empty.

  “I hope this is where you want to go,” Cade said.

  The thrall stared blankly.

  “Not yet, Skar 192,” Cade said, grunting as he hoisted the cold thrall onto his feet. He helped him into the chemically fumed chamber. The stinks must have done something, because Skar raised his head. With a shaking arm, he pointed at the green-colored vat.

  Cade brought him there, helping him slide into the liquid pool. Skar released his hold, took a wheezing breath and sank underwater. Cade almost dove in to grab him. Then he saw Skar drink the green solution. Was the thrall drowning himself? No! Skar shot up with a gasp and sank once more, drinking underwater a second time and shooting up to gulp more air.

  It shouldn’t have helped, but the skin around his throat no longer seemed as burned and awful. Skar gained strength, too, crawling out of the vat to lie panting on the tiles.

  Cade squatted beside him, inspecting the throat. Some of the burn damage had definitely healed. He glanced at the green solution. Was that a healing pool? Was it wise to drink the liquid like that? How had Skar known about it?

  “Thanks,” Skar whispered.

  Cade nodded. Awed by the man’s performance, his iron will to live.

  “Give me a
few more seconds.”

  “You’re getting better, aren’t you?” Cade said.

  Skar breathed deeply, closed his eyes and exhaled slowly. He opened his eyes, sat up and studied Cade. “I never want to do that again. I thought—” Skar shook his head, climbing to his feet afterward. He touched his throat, and his eyes shined. “The collar is gone. Thank you, my friend. You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to be free again. If we fail and I die, it will have all been worth it. That was excellent marksmanship by the way.”

  “If I couldn’t hit a collar at that range—” Cade shook his head. “Well, what now? Do you have a plan?”

  Skar became grave. “The rebellion has begun. We must reach the weapon cache and arm ourselves further. Then, we must free as many of us as possible. Any second now, Uldin might give the order and burn all the collared ones. We’ve wasted too much time as it is. Are you ready?”

  “More than that, I’m eager to slaughter Rhunes,” he said, lifting the blaster.

  “Good,” Skar said. “Follow me.”

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Dr. Halifax was half-dozing as Charaton meticulously continued to repair the circuits in Velia’s brain. Then Uldin strode into the examining chamber. The doctor’s head jerked up and his eyes narrowed. What was with the Magister? For a Rhune, he seemed agitated.

  Uldin reached Charaton, staring down at the still Velia. “Are the brain units working yet?”

  “To a degree,” Charaton said.

  “Can you wake her?”

  “It would be better if we—”

  Uldin held up a hand, cocking his head as if listening to an inner voice. “Repeat that,” he whispered.

  Charaton didn’t say a word.

  It occurred to Halifax that the command had not been directed at Charaton but someone unseen.

  Uldin listened longer to the voice inside his head, or maybe he had a receiver in his head. He glanced at the two thralls standing against the wall and then peered speculatively at Halifax.

  Oh, boy, what have I done now? “Have I offended you, Magister?” Halifax asked meekly.

  Uldin ignored the doctor as he raised a hand, moving his fingers so a holo-screen appeared before him in the air. “Show me,” he said.

  Unable to quell his curiosity, moving slowly so he didn’t bring attention to himself, Halifax slipped near, peering at the midair holo-screen.

  What the hell?

  A huge air fleet serenely sailed through a cloudless sky. There had to be over one hundred airships with their giant propellers all spinning madly. The great gasbags took up a massive amount of space, spreading out for kilometers. There was something different about these dirigibles, though.

  Halifax craned his neck, frowning, trying to understand what the difference was.

  Uldin glanced at him. “Do you see the problem?”

  “I…I sense a difference to the airships,” Halifax said, “but I can’t tell what it is.”

  “No? Look closer. Half the airships carry a torpedo on the bottom. It is a dichotomous sight: old-fashioned dirigibles with advanced torpedoes. Lord Magnus under the Eagle-Dukes’ auspices wishes to destroy the final Rhune base. The torpedoes have a precise and known cruising range. According to the report, the air armada has almost reached launch-point. The question arises, of course: why doesn’t Magnus fear a Rhune sky-raft attack? A few rafts could eliminate the entire fleet. Or is that the armada’s true purpose, to draw out Rhune sky-rafts?”

  “Are you asking for my strategical advice, Magister?” Halifax said.

  “Don’t be absurd. I’m merely wondering aloud if the air fleet is bait.” Uldin turned to his left and once more moved his fingers in the air. Another holo-screen appeared. It showed the curvature of Coad as seen from orbital space. A trio of teardrop-shaped strikers traveled in a group, moving fast in low orbit.

  Uldin gestured again.

  The holo-screen showed other striker trios in low orbit. They seemed to move according to a prearranged pattern two thousand kilometers above the torpedo-carrying air fleet.

  “I admit I’m baffled,” Uldin said. “I’ve always believed that Captain Tarvoke wished to raid Rhune bases for high technology. Why, then, is the space bandit aiding Magnus’s supposed assault on our last base? The torpedoes are meant to destroy, not just defeat.” The Magister turned to Halifax. “You’ve seen the visuals. Do you understand their game?”

  Halifax blinked. “Uh, Magnus is trying to draw out your sky-rafts so Tarvoke’s strikers can attack them?”

  “You say that because you heard me say it. Yet, that appears to be the case. If the sky-rafts race at the air fleet, the strikers will launch an orbital bombardment, a tactical attack to wipe out the rafts.” Uldin tapped his chin. “It is late in the game for something like this. Is Magnus or Tarvoke attempting to buy time with this maneuver? Or is there a hidden ploy I’m not seeing, more subtle than either Tarvoke or Magnus could devise?” Uldin tapped his left cheek. “Why do this now? I’m beginning to wonder if it’s to fix my attention outward. That would imply they, or someone, doesn’t want me to look inward.”

  “Destroy the lot of them,” Halifax said, snapping his fingers. “That will solve your problems.”

  Uldin studied the doctor. “I’m superior, far superior to them. That means I do not act foolishly, hastily or arrogantly. Too often, the superior side loses because it believes itself so far above its opponent that it doesn’t take them seriously. That is not my particular fault. I take pains, Doctor, which is one of the reasons why I have always won.”

  Oh, boy, what’s the best thing to do? Is Uldin agitated? Should I interfere—? If I don’t, he’ll turn me into a Rhune. If I can piss him off, he might make a mistake and that will give me a chance.

  “Begging your pardon, Magister,” Halifax said, “but it appears as if the Rhunes have lost ground during your tenure. According to you, tens of thousands have perished, which saw many Rhune bases destroyed. Your only victories are perceived ones of Rhune individual superiority over others.”

  “What caused you to say that?”

  Halifax blinked several times.

  “Come, come,” Uldin said, “give me an answer. I demand it.”

  There was a pressure in Halifax’s mind. He fought it and realized something was prodding him. The urge to speak became unbearable. “I-I needled you because I fear becoming a Rhune.”

  Uldin stared at him. “Your manner is different from earlier. What accounts for the change? Can you tell?”

  Yeah, something’s using mind tricks on me, but I’ll be damned if I tell you that.

  “Perhaps something occurred during my absence to embolden you,” Uldin said. “Look into my eyes, Doctor. Let us find the reason.”

  Stay out of my mind, you bastard. Halifax deliberately turned away.

  “I think not.” Uldin snapped his fingers.

  An invisible force closed around Halifax’s head. The force turned his head until he peered into Uldin’s swirling eyes.

  “Please,” Halifax slurred. “This isn’t necessary. I—”

  “Shhh…” Uldin said. “Your manner tells me I’m missing something. I’m beginning to wonder if you’ve discovered the ancient alien influence—or if he has discovered you.”

  Halifax struggled, resisting more than last time.

  The force radiating from Uldin increased. Still, Halifax stubbornly resisted. Then, agony struck the doctor as his eyesight darkened. He felt disoriented and alone. He was falling, falling—he hit face-first upon the floor, his nose bashing against tiles. The new pain brought him out of the stupor Uldin’s hypnotic spell had placed him in. Halifax clutched his nose, groaning as he twisted upon the floor.

  Uldin towered over him, the Magister studying holo-screen after holo-screen. “I felt something new in you, Doctor. I doubt you were even aware of it. But because of you, I’ve discovered that there is a rebellion taking place. What’s more, your damned Ultra is in the thick of it. Some of the thralls have weapons—�
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  The sudden thud of running feet caused the doctor to look up. The two smooth-skinned thralls rushed Uldin, their faces contorted with rage.

  “I see,” Uldin said, while raising his hands.

  The two thralls bounced off an invisible force field, falling onto the floor. They both scrambled up fast.

  Uldin aimed a finger. A ray sprouted from the tip, piercing a thrall’s chest. Blood spurted as the thrall staggered, clutching at his chest, burning his hands in the ray—he screamed, charging anew and collapsing before he took four more steps. There, he twisted and gurgled, dying.

  The doctor scrambled to his feet—and felt a force holding him in place. With an effort, he turned his head, watching.

  “Closer,” the Magister told the last smooth-skinned thrall. The Rhune maneuvered his hands, undoubtedly controlling a force field. It tugged and jerked the reluctant thrall nearer and nearer.

  “You’re part of this, are you?” Uldin asked.

  The thrall shook his head.

  “Look into my eyes,” Uldin whispered.

  Halifax watched spellbound as the Rhune stood motionless. Invisible energy seemed to spear from the Rhune to the thrall. That one’s features went slack as the staring eyes dulled. Halifax hoped he didn’t look like that when Uldin hypnotized him, but he supposed he must.

  “Are all the thralls part of the rebellion?” Uldin asked.

  The thrall didn’t blink or answer.

  Uldin stared with greater intensity. The thrall moaned as drool spilled from his mouth.

  “You will speak to me,” Uldin whispered.

  “Yes…” the thrall said. “We…we will kill you all.”

  “Oh. Well, in that case,” Uldin said, gesturing.

  The chrome collar became unbelievably bright. Halifax shielded his eyes even as he felt heat radiating from the collar. The thrall screamed, awakened from his hypnotic state by the pain. His neck burned as the brightness intensified. He writhed on the floor, bellowing in agony, panting and then screaming for mercy as he clutched the collar, snatched his hands away and clutched at it again, trying to pry it off his neck. But there was no chance of that happening. Soon enough, the thrashing ceased as the thrall died in bitter agony.