The Soldier: Final Odyssey Read online

  Halifax nodded.

  “Care to add to our bonus?” the pilot asked.

  “Sure,” Halifax said. “I can ask the boss once I get home. If I’m happy with the service.”

  The pilot glanced at Stem. Stem shrugged. “All right,” the pilot told Halifax. “We’re commercial people. You paid us. We do our job. We’re worried, though. You can understand that.”

  “Yeah, yeah,” Halifax said. He pointed at Stem. “I ought to have Cade poke him. But I’m going to let it go. This is business, like you said, right?”

  “Right,” the pilot said.

  And with that, Halifax left the piloting chamber and returned to Cade and told him what had happened.

  “It must have been the lurker, right?” Halifax whispered. “That’s why the other shuttle is missing.”

  “Seems like,” Cade whispered back. “That means it will be our turn next.”

  “What if the Master or Rohan Mars interrogated the other crew? The Master might realize we’re here.”

  “We are here,” Cade said, “our imposters in the cyro units. That’s what we want him to believe.”

  “You know what I mean.”

  “None of that matters,” Cade said. “The plan’s working. Stay calm and let me handle the rest.”

  “What are you going to do?”

  “Play it by ear for now,” Cade said. “Like you told me before, ‘Relax, stay loose.’ When the time comes, I’ll don the battlesuit and the action will start in earnest. You should put on the extra spacesuit then.”

  “Okay,” Halifax said, as he wiped perspiration from his upper lip.

  Chapter Fifty-Three

  “The action,” as Cade had referred to it, began fifty-six and a half hours later.

  That implied impressive deceleration and acceleration capabilities for the lurker. The two shuttles had ended up going in opposite directions. This deceleration and acceleration was more impressive given that no one else in the 16 Cygni System had noticed.

  The tramp-hauler shuttle was already in the Cygni B inner system, although it had only crossed the invisible boundary mark three hours ago.

  A wall-speaker snapped on, and the pilot’s voice quavered as he said, “There’s something out here with us. It’s using a tractor beam to slow us down. I’ve tried to signal for help, but heavy jamming is blocking our communications.”

  The forward hatch to the passenger compartment opened, and Stem with the same two beefy crewmen marched down the aisle. There were twelve other people in here besides Cade and Halifax.

  “Use your needler,” Cade said. “It’s time I donned the battlesuit.”

  The soldier stood and started to move away from the shuttle trio as he headed for the rear cargo hatch.

  “Stop!” Stem shouted at him.

  People looked up to see what was happening.

  “I told you to stop,” Stem shouted at Cade. The soldier opened the rear hatch. “Come on. Let’s get him.”

  “That wouldn’t be wise,” Halifax said. He stood and aimed a needler at Stem. The man didn’t stop though, but drew his knife and charged the doctor, who pulled the trigger so needles hissed. Stem stumbled, dropped the knife and then dropped to the carpeted aisle as he twitched spasmodically and made choking noises.

  Seated people began to scream.

  “Shut up!” Halifax shouted. “The shuttle’s being hijacked by Fat Felix of Louisville Hab.” He shot the two crewmen, too, because they kept coming. Halifax realized belatedly that he had death needles in the weapon, having forgotten to replace them with the knockout-needle magazine. He felt his gore rise and might have vomited.

  People were still screaming and shouting, and the wall-speaker rose in volume as the pilot demanded to know what was happening in there.

  “Anyone who doesn’t immediately sit down gets shot,” Halifax shouted, as he waved the needler for emphasis.

  That seemed to get through. The twelve passengers parked their asses on their seats. They twisted back to stare at Halifax, likely to see what he was going to do next.

  “Answer me!” the pilot shouted from the wall speaker.

  “You,” Halifax pointed at a woman. “Get up and answer him via the wall comm.”

  A sobbing older lady rose and staggered to the wall comm. She began to blather for help.

  Seconds later, the forward hatch to the passenger compartment opened, and a wild-eyed pilot stood there. He saw his brother or cousin lying in the aisle. Then he stared in terror and loathing at Halifax.

  “You lied to us,” the pilot shouted.

  “Settle down,” Halifax said. “Stem and the others are asleep.”

  “They’re dead,” the pilot shouted. “Don’t you think I can see that?”

  “No, they’re not,” Halifax said in a reasonable tone. “I’m using deep-sleep knockout darts. They look dead. I’ll grant you that. But—”

  The entire shuttle shuddered. The pilot and older lady staggered. She screamed and went down hard as her hip hit an armrest. The pilot did better, almost falling into a chair, but grabbing the backrest and righting himself.

  “What was that?” a thickset man shouted from a passenger seat.

  The pilot was shaking his head and staring up at the ceiling bulkhead.

  “Is that drilling?” a passenger shouted.

  Halifax looked up at the ceiling. It vibrated, and odd sounds came from there.

  One of the passengers must have decided to play hero. He launched up out of his seat and tackled Halifax from the side. The doctor grunted painfully as the man knocked him against a seat. The man grappled the needler out of the doctor’s hand. Halifax groaned in pain, falling to the aisle.

  “You bastard!” the man shouted. He was standing over Halifax, the needler aimed down. “You’re planning to murder all of us, aren’t you?”

  “No,” Halifax said weakly. “Listen.”

  The armed passenger laughed in a crazed way, using two hands to aim the needler at Halifax’s face.

  At that moment, a section of ceiling bulkhead exploded down. It crashed upon three passengers, crushing them. A splinter speared the needler-armed passenger in the back.

  The man fell hard onto Halifax, gurgling and spitting blood in the doctor’s face.

  Junk and dust spewed, and three short men jumped down into the shuttle. They wore black utilitarian garb and each held a laser pistol. Each of them looked identical to the other. They wore round black-tinted goggles over their eyes and had scalp-tight caps over their heads.

  “Everyone down,” one of the androids said.

  The pilot did not obey.

  The three androids opened fire, beaming the pilot, crewmen and several passengers, killing them. Screaming renewed. The androids rushed forward, moving with machine speed. They stared at each person and then shot him or her in the face, killing them.

  One of the androids pulled the formerly armed passenger off Halifax.

  “I’m Dr. Halifax of Group Six,” he shouted. “I’ve been to the Vellani Rift and know how to find the vortex to the pocket universe.”

  The android stared at him.

  “Did you hear me?” Halifax shouted. “I’m—”

  “Yes, I heard very well. You are Dr. Halifax. The Master said you were in cryogenic slumber. Why are you here in the passenger area?”

  “They woke me up.”

  “For what reason?” asked the android.

  “It doesn’t matter why,” a different android said, stepping near.

  “Are you Rohan Mars?” Halifax asked.

  “Yes, indeed, Doctor. Is Jack Brune with you?”

  “Do you mean Marcus Cade?”

  Rohan stood still for a moment. “Yes. That is right. I desire Marcus Cade. Jack Brune—I killed Jack Brune.”

  “You’re not the same Rohan Mars,” Halifax said. “Therefore, technically, you didn’t kill Brune.”

  “It doesn’t matter,” Rohan said. “You are alive. Tell me, where can I find Cade? If you do not, I will
hurt you by breaking bones.”

  Halifax pointed wordlessly at the back hatch. He hoped like hell that the soldier had donned his battlesuit. Otherwise, the two of them were heading into cyborg captivity.

  Chapter Fifty-Four

  Cade had heard much from within the cargo bay as he pried open the container and attempted to jam his body into the battlesuit as quickly as he could. It didn’t help that the damn thing was so tight. He activated the suit even as he shoved his legs and arms into it.

  There was a normal procedure to fitting and activating a battlesuit, particularly aboard a spacecraft. He bypassed just about every safety feature there was. These were live missiles and grenades, and the autocannons along his sleeves could have wreaked mayhem in a jungle-field such as Therduim III with its tusked mutants. Cade actually grinned remembering Jed Ra. He wouldn’t have minded having the mutant chieftain here with him. There had been a fighting man. What had ever happened to Jed Ra? Would he ever find out?

  Explosions, shots and laser beaming sounded from the passenger compartment. The androids, or maybe even cyborgs, were in the shuttle. Cade didn’t have much time left.

  I have to make this thing airtight and activate the tanks.

  Cade’s stomach coiled with anticipation. He hated having to get dressed fast. It always made him edgy, and it made him clumsy. If the androids shot their way into here before he—

  Concentrate. Forget about them. Just get your suit ready for action. This is it, Cade. Your wife and your teammates are counting on you. Can you get it done, or are you a loser who’s going to louse it up in the end?

  He started closing the suit locks. The breather was on. He was switching to his air-tanks…now. Cade started coughing. The tank air was stale, harder to breathe, too. Maybe he should switch back to shuttle air.

  The hatch shuddered.

  Inside the tight helmet, Cade grinned. He wore a battlesuit again. It had been—a millennium since he’d worn one of these in battle.

  Let’s see if I can remember what to do.

  The suit’s battery-powered motor hummed just fine. Everything was green.

  Trying to take delicate steps, Cade tiptoed to the shuddering hatch. Did androids try to hammer it down? Just what was—?

  The hatch slid up, and a small, dark-haired android with black-tinted goggles stared at him. The thing held a gun, and it fired the weapon so a ray beamed from it.

  The laser did nothing to the battlesuit, but if it stayed on target long enough, it might begin to burn through the battle-worthy if older piece of motorized body armor.

  Cade aimed and selected for a single shot.

  The autocannon fired a heavy-caliber bullet, and the bullet smashed into the android’s torso. For good measure, Cade fired again. Again, the bullet penetrated, and the machine-man staggered back as fluids and gunk spewed from the twin holes in its torso.

  Cade walked normally, though at seriously throttled-down power. He clanked through the cargo hatch in time to see another android try to grab a hostage.

  Two shots broke the machine-man.

  From behind a passenger-seat, Cade saw Halifax pointing up.

  Cade looked up and shot an android peering down from the broken ceiling bulkhead. The android fell into the aisle, thudding. Cade shot the android in the head, and the bullet went through the floor and must have punctured hull plating as air began hissing, leaking into space.

  “Get your spacesuit and follow me,” Cade said through a helmet-speaker.

  “They killed everyone but me,” Halifax shouted.

  “Tell me later,” Cade said, “and hurry your sorry ass. If the lurker decouples with the shuttle, we’re doomed.”

  Halifax stared at him.

  Cade ignored the doctor as sweet elation swept through him. He’d guessed right. He’d figured out what the Master would do next. Yes, it had cost these people their lives. War was hell. It always had been. He was a soldier, and that was a sad part of his…duty, job, call it what you wanted. His wife was counting on him. Was he going to break down and weep over the lost?

  No. It was clobbering time, if he could get into the lurker and if he had enough juice to kill every cyborg before they disabled or detonated the lurker.

  Cade stared up, and triggered the mechanism once as he jumped. Exoskeleton enablers propelled the heavy one-ton suit up higher than a man could jump. Cade used the power-gloves as the suit servos whined. He hauled the one-ton battlesuit up here, and saw the attached boarding tube.

  His heart hammered. Direct access to the lurker—should he wait for the doctor?

  The desperation of the mission mandated the answer. Cade jumped again with extra exoskeleton enablers, and he grasped rungs in the boarding tube, climbing higher and out of range of the shuttle’s gravity field. He sailed weightless up the tube, activating magnets if needed.

  To his amazement, he saw that the lurker lock was open. Did cyborgs wait to grab him? Cade gritted his teeth and launched two grenades ahead.

  “Surprise,” he growled.

  It was time to fight to the death, but hopefully to victory. Storm and capture the lurker. This was his glory moment, if he could get it done.

  Chapter Fifty-Five

  In astonishment, Dr. Halifax watched the brute of a battlesuit leap. The one-ton monstrosity rose, and Cade reached up, grabbing the torn shuttle ceiling and hauling himself even higher. The doctor heard metal groaning, creaking and then shrieking, as the battlesuit must have leapt again.

  Halifax panted as he shivered with dread. He’d accidently killed people, and he’d just witnessed the androids murder one person after another. It had been gruesome and terrifying. Now, he was alone in a shuttle full of dead people, torn destroyed androids and a hull breach. He could hear the air whistling as it fled outside into space.

  I have to do something if I want to survive. Cade could get us killed.

  There were too many scenarios in which Cade ended up dead in the lurker. That was bad, very bad, as his existence would be over then forever.

  I don’t want to die, and I can’t stay in the shuttle. Listen to that.

  He shivered as a singular thought speared through him and activated his survival instinct, a highly honed instinct.

  Fortunately, he’d planned for this moment well in advance. He wanted his money, and despite everything, Cade had a way of winning in the end. The idea of gaining a lurker to replace the Descartes—might he steal the lurker out from under Cade? There was a real chance of that if he waited for the right moment. First, though, he needed to prepare to survive the times when Cade failed.

  Halifax turned and sprinted into the cargo bay. It might have been his imagination, but the air was already starting to taste bad. What if it isn’t my imagination? He rushed to the open container that had held the battlesuit. It was huge and held a secret compartment in back.

  First, Halifax grabbed and donned the spacesuit lying there. It was the ordinary kind, silver and crinkly, lacking all armor except against the vacuum of space. It fit, as he’d tried several on before choosing to put this one here. He attached a bubble helmet of clear material, twisting it into place so it locked. He only waited on the space gloves to make it airtight.

  Now, Halifax entered the container and opened the secret compartment in back. He pulled out a huge piece of plastic-like material, along with air tanks. It was unbelievably heavy, but he dragged that to a different part of the cargo bay. There he found two worker’s vacc-suits with a laser welder and hydrogen-filled thruster attached to each.

  Now he dragged and heaved the mass, panting and sweating as he brought everything to an emergency airlock. Cade might win. Halifax hoped he did. But Cade could lose because the Master blew up the lurker, for instance. That would be bad for Cade, but did he—Dr. Halifax—have to die because the soldier lost?

  Not if I can help it.

  Halifax attached his space-gloves, turned on his tanks and moved the first vacc-suit-thruster combo into the airlock and outside the shuttle. He
hooked a line to keep the suit in place and then back into the airlock. Soon enough, he had everything outside as he and his stuff drifted away. He could see the shuttle and—yes! There was a blurry outline of the vastly larger lurker. Cade was in there, possibly battling it out with the enemy.

  I hope you win, Cade.

  Halifax didn’t consider himself a gambler, although he was an excellent poker player. He played odds and people, and planned for failures, which meant it wasn’t gambling, right?

  Licking his lips, wondering how much time he had, Halifax attached the hydrogen-thrusters from the vacc-suits to his plastic-like mass. Once set, he turned on the first thruster, hanging on as white exhaust propelled him and his stuff away from the lurker and attached shuttle. He did it for as long as hydrogen expelled from the tank. When it went dry, he detached the thruster and pushed it away with his space boots. Then, he opened up the next thruster, continuing the journey.

  He’d already lost sight of the shuttle. The lurker had become impossible to see almost from the beginning. This wasn’t far in stellar terms. Might it be far enough to survive a detonating lurker? That would depend on many factors. If Cade won, the problem wouldn’t matter, and it would be easy for the man to find him out here, as Halifax had a comm unit.

  Either way—with a detonating lurker or with Cade victorious—Halifax felt alone and insignificant at this point. Space was so incredibly vast. He saw the nearer 16 Cygni B star and the smaller because of distance 16 Cygni A star. From this perspective, A wasn’t that much smaller than B. Ah, he even spied 16 Cygni C, the red dwarf star 840 AUs away.

  Suddenly, the second thruster ran dry.

  Here we go, old chum. This might be your coffin, but it might be just the thing to help you survive long enough.