Alien Wars Page 26

  The triangles vanished. In their place was a picture of hard-burning spaceships, hundreds of them. A moment of hope leaped in her breast.

  “So many,” she whispered.

  “You speak about the number of missiles?” the Prime asked.

  “Aren’t those spaceships?” Darcy asked.

  “No. Your former alien overlords attempt an elementary combination assault. I suppose it is the best they can do under the circumstances. Perhaps they do not realize the power of my dreadnoughts.”

  “Have they faced your ships before?”

  “No indeed,” the Prime said. “This is their first taste of a full cyborg invasion. Before, we sent heavily armed scouts. One limped back with the data we needed. From the information, I know this fleet will annihilate the reckless aliens. This is a great day. The universe will witness the extent of my military power. It is awesome to behold.”

  “You’ve already impressed me,” Darcy said.

  “Have I? Good. It means you are suitable harem material. Your body has excellent proportions. I had begun to wonder, though, about your mind. I am mostly vast intellect and brainpower. True, I have armies ready to fight at my command. And I control these five dreadnoughts. Soon, I will launch the orbitals and then the boarding-party vessels. Senior Darcy Foxe, this is a day of destiny for me. That your intellect is sufficient to understand my amazing might and superior tactical ability allows me to gratify myself with your honest praise. It is honest, is it not?”

  Darcy swallowed uneasily. “I never lie about things like this.”

  “Excellent. You would be too afraid to lie, yes?”

  “None may deflect you from your purposes, Great Prime. Oh, they might try, but your superior brainpower will uncover their schemes every time. My few hours in your presence have given me a glimpse into cyborg greatness. Although, I would hasten to add that among the cyborgs, no one is like you.”

  “I am the Prime. I am the intellect of this fleet. Now, as much as I enjoy our honest conversation, I must attend to combat matters. Do you realize that the aliens have made a critical error?”

  “I did not.”

  “They believed I showed them the full range of my heavy beams. Perhaps they thought I feared their missiles. No. I used half the range in order to lure them closer into destruction. Still, they have given me pause. I wonder if there might be a sly ploy afoot that I have not foreseen.”

  “Is such a thing possible?” Darcy asked.

  “My poor dear beautiful creature,” the Prime said. “While you have enough intellect to realize my supreme greatness, most of you is still physical beauty. These are aliens. I have yet to capture one and study it in depth. They may have unknown quantities and qualities. The simplicity of their weapons leads me to believe this isn’t so. Yet the mind creature earlier gives me some pause.”

  “Oh?”

  “Perhaps I should sweep space with my AI-brain shift mechanisms. They might pick up psionic waves. Yes. The mind alien acted upon you before. Oh, Senior Darcy Foxe, this is truly a marvel.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “While basking in your praise and examining your body, military programs of mine received stimulation. This has caused several of my brain domes to explore new avenues of speculation. I suspect this is another parameter of my genius. Sometimes, Senior Darcy Foxe, I believe I act with cunning without realizing how clever I really am. Fortunately, my great intellect allows me to analyze truths others would miss. In addition, I lack any form of false modesty. I know I am great, thus I always see the signs of my extreme prominence.”

  “Ah.”

  “So then,” the Prime said, “I awaken the sluggish shift-dedicated bio-brains. They thought they could relax after the inner-system shifts. No, no, I spike them with urgency drugs. Ha, ha, they squirm. Now, I will fuse them with the AIs and—let the psi-scanning begin.”

  “What are you searching for exactly?” Darcy asked.

  “A moment while I calibrate. Hmm, I suppose it makes the best sense to begin scanning near the dreadnoughts. I will—WARNING!” the Prime shouted.

  Darcy screamed, clapping her hands over her ears as she fell off the chair. She struck the floor and curled into a fetal position. The sound hurt her head.

  “My AI-brain shift mechanisms have spotted a previously cloaked object,” the Prime said. “It is tumbling at me in close proximity. It will strike—”

  The deck plates shuddered. Darcy heard shrieking metal and tearing steel. The bulkheads shook. The screeching sounds lessened, and then there came silence.

  Gingerly, Darcy lifted her hands from her ears. She was ready to clap them back in place.

  “Prime?” she asked.

  “Treachery,” the Prime said. “The aliens were craftier by far. Intruders have breached the main hull of my dreadnought. I will summon cyborgs and capture them. They cloaked a vessel. Yet do not fear, Senior Darcy Foxe, I will crush these vermin. Afterward, I will smash the Kresh fleet into tiny particles.”

  37

  Cyrus blinked several times as something wet stained his eyes. Where was he? What had happened? He felt groggy, disoriented.

  Have I returned to my mind, fighting the Eich?

  No. That didn’t seem right. He . . .

  I’m in the cyborg dreadnought. We made it. Why don’t I hear Skar giving us commands over the headphones?

  Cyrus tried moving an arm. He groaned. His muscles felt twisted, misused. He hurt everywhere as his body throbbed.

  That must have been some crash. Why don’t I remember it? Had he blacked out? What would have caused that?

  Some of the wetness trickled past his eyes, over his upper lip, and into his mouth. He tasted it, and realized it was blood.

  I’m bleeding.

  He used his psionics, healing the gash on his forehead. Then he strengthened his limbs. His stomach rumbled. Boy, I’m hungry.

  Clenching his teeth, he forced his arm to shift around his body. He found the vibrio-blade, turned it on, and began cutting his way out of the construction foam.

  Several minutes later, as he sat up, he found the main control chamber a shambles. A quick analysis at a sensor board showed him the cyborgs had covered the main breach. There was a breathable atmosphere in here. He opened his vacc-suit helmet, ripped open food concentrates, and devoured them. He crammed so fast that he began to hiccup. He needed the protein and fats for the healing.

  Everywhere he looked were crushed bulkheads and smoking, sizzling debris. After taking a long drink of water, he sealed his helmet and began searching through the chamber.

  With the vibrio-knife humming at full strength, he cut open crash cocoons. The blade slashed through the hardened foam with ease. The first pod revealed a dead tech with a broken neck. The second also showed death with a metal strut pierced through the corpse’s chest.

  Are they all dead, even Jana? He hesitated, but soon began to cut again. Whatever had happened was. He didn’t have time to become queasy or afraid.

  The third cocoon gave him an unconscious Jana with blood trickling past her lips. Jamming the knife point-first into a deck plate, his hands roved over her body. The vacc-suit was intact, thank God. He took several breaths, composing himself, using telepathy. With a sigh, he realized she was okay. He shook her awake.

  Her eyes snapped open. She stared at him with fear.

  We made it, love. Now I need your help.

  After a moment, she nodded. He gave her a hand, helping her stand. He retrieved the knife. She checked her suit, tested a rib, and licked the blood off her lip. Finally, she faced him, mouthing the words “I’m ready.”

  They tore open more cocoons, gathering the survivors, Yang among them. The horror was Skar. The soldier sat strapped to his chair, his head hanging forward.

  A knot tightened in Cyrus’s gut. They’d gone too far together for him to l
ose Skar now. Without hesitation, he used telepathy, mind probing the man. The soldier was alive, but he was dying fast.

  “No,” Cyrus said. That’s not going to happen.

  Taking a wide stance, he gathered his power. Then he mentally dived into the Vomag’s battered body. He began rebuilding ruptured organs. It was delicate work. Cyrus made two mistakes, but recovered in time. Afterward, he repaired bones, forcing them to knit back together. All of that ate up Skar’s interior reserves. Even so, the man’s eyelids flickered.

  With great care, Jana removed his helmet.

  “Go,” Skar whispered. “Leave me to my fate. Get the silver ship while the cyborgs are surprised. You don’t have time to fuss over one man.”

  “Shut up, you fool,” Cyrus told him. “I need your help to defeat the cyborgs. Jana is going to feed you. Your body is screaming for protein. Eat even if you think you’re going to vomit. You desperately need the nutrients to aid with the repairs.”

  Skar stared hard, and comprehension entered his eyes. He must have felt wretched, but he was a Vomag. He obeyed orders even though he almost gagged several times as he swallowed the food concentrates.

  Cyrus bent over him, grabbing Skar’s shoulders. Cyrus didn’t know why, but touching the subject made it easier. He continued the process, healing the tough soldier. A moment later, Cyrus released Skar, stumbled backward, and sagged to his right knee.

  “What’s wrong?” Jana asked, concerned.

  “Give me a second,” Cyrus said. “I feel disoriented. I’m not used to that.”

  The others watched him. Their frightened gazes were eloquent. If he went down . . . nothing else mattered.

  Come on, Cyrus. Get it together. You can’t fail your friends now. Skar brought you here. Now suck it up and use what you’ve been given. It’s your time to go to the limit.

  He straightened and said, “Put on your helmets. It’s time to go.”

  Everyone sealed back up. Then Skar shouted a warning over the headphones. The noise crackled in Cyrus’s ears. Metal screeched to the left, and three tall cyborgs squeezed into the damaged control chamber. The enemy had made it onto the Battle Fang!

  With a soft phuft, Yang fired his pistol. The exploding round struck a cyborg on the armored chest, shedding bits of debris and producing a slight gouge but otherwise having no effect.

  The three creatures moved with impossible speed. Unless the cyborgs stood utterly still, their bodily details were hard to see. With the vicious swipe of a hand tool, one creature gutted a tech, spilling the man’s innards, splashing blood and guts against a bulkhead. A second cyborg smashed the helmet and then the brains of a Berserker Clan warrior, causing the top half of the head to disintegrate.

  The violence stunned several people, who froze in shock.

  More cyborgs squeezed into the wreckage, making seven of the killing creatures. The new ones carried rifles.

  “You have to mind-blast them, Cyrus!” Jana screamed over the headphones. “Otherwise, we’re dead.”

  Cyrus watched the new cyborgs lift their rifles. Gunfire smashed three people, pitching them onto the deck plates. The cyborgs swiveled, retargeting.

  Cyrus shut his eyes. He was getting faster at this, and he knew what to do now. A mind blast would be easier. He had to keep his friends alive, though. At the speed of thought and with deadly precision, Cyrus psi-stabbed each cyborg mind. That part of each creature was fully human. Before the cyborgs could pull the triggers, their brains hemorrhaged.

  In the confines of the wrecked control chamber, the seven cyborgs convulsed. Two got off dying shots. One missed. The second smashed a helmet, grazing a woman’s head, but leaving her alive. Then the creatures went inert, crashing onto the wreckage, becoming part of it.

  The grazed woman moaned. Skar reached her, checking her and helping to take off the damaged helmet. He took a good one from a dead tech and attached it to the woman’s suit.

  “Is anyone else hurt?” Jana asked.

  “Woman,” Yang radioed. “What are you thinking? If they are hurt bad enough to be unconscious, how will they be able to respond? If not, they can fight.”

  “Count off,” Jana said.

  Cyrus let the others worry about numbers. He had to figure this out fast.

  I have to kill the cyborgs faster, and I have to reach the silver ship.

  What was the best way to do this? With a psi-scan, he saw that more cyborgs were on the way, several hundred of them. Okay. Where exactly was the prize? He scanned farther, saw it, and found the passageways that would take him there.

  “Grab the cyborg rifles,” Skar said. “They’re better than our pistols. We have to protect Cyrus the best we can. He can’t do everything. And I expect the cyborgs are going to make him try to do everything at once.”

  Cyrus had opened his eyes and he was mentally with them again. “Okay, people,” he radioed.

  “Our comm lines may be monitored,” Jana warned.

  That was a good point. Listen, people, Cyrus said via telepathy. I know which way to go. I’m going to put it in your minds—now.

  He gave them a mind map of the passageways to the silver ship.

  “I see,” Skar said. “We know our destination. You will all follow me. You will shoot to kill, and you will give your lives to protect Cyrus Gant. The salvation of humanity depends on him. This is the moment of destiny and we are the vanguard.”

  So saying, Skar moved toward the spot the cyborgs had used to crawl into the wreckage.

  Cyrus hurried after him. So did the others as they rushed out to storm the cyborg dreadnought.

  Senior Darcy Foxe shrieked as the room’s speakers blared into life.

  “Attention!” the Prime shouted. “I spy humanoids instead of the dinosaur aliens. What is the meaning of this?”

  “I don’t understand?” Darcy said in a weak voice.

  “Observe,” the Prime said.

  On the wall screen, Darcy saw people in vacc-suits racing down a dreadnought corridor. Some carried rifles, others pistols. They moved past downed, no, dead cyborgs. That was amazing. She counted seven intruders altogether. How could so few hope to capture a cyborg military vessel?

  “You will tell me about these invaders,” the Prime said.

  “Yes,” Darcy said. “I will gladly do that. The creatures you’re seeing are human.”

  “I already know that. Tell me what I don’t know.”

  “How can I do that?” Darcy asked. “You are supreme. I am a harem woman.”

  “Do not attempt word games with me, Senior Darcy Foxe. You know the creatures of this system. Tell me what I am seeing.”

  “Oh,” Darcy said. She looked more closely. “The one in the lead is a Vomag.”

  “Explain the word to me.”

  Darcy did, telling the Prime about the genetic soldiers.

  “Why is there only one of them?” the Prime asked.

  “I have no idea.”

  “That is not acceptable. You must know more. Speak while you are able. Have they come to rescue you?”

  “No,” Darcy said. “That’s impossible.” Wouldn’t it be wonderful if that were true, though: that they’re here to take me home.

  “Do you want to be rescued?” the Prime asked.

  “Of course not,” Darcy lied, as she trembled. “No one could give me as great an honor as you do. No one is as awesome as you are. Serving others after realizing your greatness would only lead to my sorrow.”

  “I knew this to be true, even if I hadn’t said as much among my brain domes. I had thought just now to execute you, Senior Darcy Foxe. I find the idea of others possessing you as maddening in the extreme. You are mine and no one else’s.”

  “Thank you for reassuring me of this,” Darcy said. “I thought maybe you wouldn’t want me any longer.”

  “Why would I think this?”
the Prime asked.

  “Humans are doing this to you. I’m human. I wondered if you would hold it against me.”

  “Never,” the Prime said. “Humans are independent agents. The action of one does not mean anything concerning another.”

  “You’re so right,” Darcy said. “I wish I could help you stop them.”

  “Yes, yes, that is why I speak with you. I seek knowledge about them. I want to know their strengths and weaknesses. Perhaps as important, I must know why they are here.”

  In an instant, Darcy knew. There couldn’t be any other reason. In that moment, hope flared, and she began to plot furiously.

  Can I even try? Yes, I must. This is my last opportunity. Grab it, Darcy, or I’ll hate you for the rest of my life.

  “I am monitoring your bodily functions, Senior Darcy Foxe. My instruments inform me you are agitated. Why is this?”

  She swallowed, knowing this would never work. The Prime was too intelligent. Yet if she didn’t try to bluster, to lie—Yes, I must feed him what he wants to hear. By stroking his ego, I might be able to blind him to the truth.

  “Speak to me, Darcy.”

  Full of anxiety, she said in a weak voice, “I fear for you, Prime.” He didn’t answer. Her fright boiled into terror. She almost moaned. Her knees grew weak.

  “Why do you fear for me?” the Prime asked. “How can these creatures possibly defeat me?”

  “I-I don’t know.” Can’t you come up with something better than that? I’m so stupid. I have to think.

  “Don’t lie to me, Senior Darcy Foxe. I can punish more severely than anyone else in the universe.”

  She did moan, and she clutched her stomach. This was never going to work. Even so, she nodded, plunging ahead. “I-I need to know something before I can tell you the danger.”

  “Speak faster, harem woman. I do not like these creatures running loose in my main ship as the enemy missiles approach. Soon, the battle will begin. By then, I must know what these seven are trying to do.”

  Realizing the Prime feared—even in some small way—helped calm Darcy. “How did the humans cause all the cyborgs to go to sleep?” she asked.