The Soldier: The X-Ship Page 3

  “What is your name?” the chief technician asked.

  The subject refused to answer.

  The chief technician glanced at the others before leaning lower. “What is your name? Tell us.”

  The subject’s jaw muscles twitched and bulged.

  “You are Jack Brune,” the chief technician said. “You are Jack Brune. Say it.”

  “Cade,” the subject growled.

  “No, no,” the chief technician said. He motioned to another.

  That technician injected a will-weakening drug into the subject’s bloodstream.

  The team waited.

  “Now,” the chief technician said. “Admit to us that you are Jack Brune.”

  “Brune?” the subject asked.

  “That is your name.”

  “I…I don’t remember.”

  “You have Jack Brune’s memories. They are yours. You are Jack Brune.”

  “…Yes,” the subject said. “I am…I am Brune.”

  The chief technician straightened even as his shoulders slumped. He might have thought about saying something uplifting to the team. Instead, he grunted to the nurses and headed for the exit. He was exhausted both physically and emotionally. What a lousy way to make a living.

  Chapter Four

  In a deep corridor, five hundred meters under the ruins of Lima, Peru, the Director of Group Six and small Dr. Halifax approached a thick steel door. Harsh bulbs provided the lighting, and somewhere in the distance, an air conditioner hummed. Halifax perspired and breathed heavily, practically galloping to keep up with the Director’s swift pace.

  The Director produced a plastic card and slid it through a slot. The heavy steel door rose. The two entered an elevator. The door closed, and the elevator began descending.

  Halifax leaned against a wall, using the left sleeve of his shirt to press against his damp forehead.

  “The cranial operation was successful,” the Director said. “The chief surgeon said it went off without a hitch. We shall therefore accelerate the timetable. The new Brune can heal during the journey to the Rigel System.”

  Halifax lowered his arm. “Aren’t you going to test him first to see if everything works like it’s supposed to?”

  “There’s no time for that.”

  “What if there are psychological problems with the personality overlay?”

  “The reason why we’re paying you,” the Director said. “You’ll have to cope with the new Brune as you see fit.”

  Halifax stared at the Director a moment longer, inhaling sharply. “I’ve been thinking, sir. Maybe we’re going about this the wrong way.”

  The Director’s expression remained unreadable.

  “What I mean, sir,” Halifax said. “Uh…perhaps the Rigel setup is too elaborate, too convoluted. The real Brune thought he worked alone, a private operator on Helos. In his eyes, I was his sidekick, not his case officer. Wouldn’t the new Brune act more efficiently if he realized he was a Group Six operative?”

  “Don’t be absurd. It was deliberately set up this way so we have complete deniability. Brune is a long-term operative. Look how Rohan Mars sought him out. It’s incredible really, working perfectly.”

  “That’s another thing, sir. I don’t trust incredible.”

  The Director’s thick white eyebrows rose. “That’s the first smart thing you’ve said in some time. I don’t trust it, either, if you must know. But that’s yet another reason the new Brune will continue to act as a private agent. He’s our net, if you will, one we can disown and discard. While the setup may be elaborate, from our standpoint, it’s also quite elegant.”

  “I see,” Halifax said. “So…you want him to go to Avalon IV?”

  “If he fails to discover the identity of the tech company whose operatives approached and killed him, yes, of course.”

  Halifax sucked at his lower lip, staring at the floor before centering on the Director’s face. He didn’t like how those blue eyes watched and weighed him. “The way you’ve been treating me, and this—do you suspect a connection with the ancient…cyborgs?”

  “The slain silent partners did not prove to be cyborgs, but advanced robots, androids. I thought you read the Helos police report.”

  “I did, but—”

  “But Avalon IV is proscribed for a reason,” the Director said, as he studied Halifax. “And the tale about the woman waking from stasis…”

  “Yes?” Halifax prodded.

  The Director shrugged. “In truth, I’m not sure what to expect with all this. It’s one of the reasons I’ve brought you down here. What do you know about the actual Cyborg War?”

  “That it happened over a thousand years ago.”

  A faint grin curved the Director’s lips. “You don’t believe it a myth then?”

  “Certainly not,” Halifax said.

  “Some people and cultures do, you know.”

  “Yes, and ignorance is almost universal.”

  The Director nodded. “The men we use as Brune…do you conceive of them as Ultras?”

  Halifax was surprised. “Aren’t they?”

  “It depends on your definition, I’m afraid.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “Why we’re still heading down, my dear chap. Get ready. You’re about to see sights few have and survived to tell about it.”

  “I’m not sure I like the sound of this, sir. I’ve done my duty to Earth—”

  “Now, now,” the Director said, patting Halifax’s right shoulder. “You’ve gained my trust—no small thing, I assure you. I’m not thinking about inserting an obedience chip into your brain, if that’s your fear. You’re much too valuable for that. Your dash here with the core element proves your loyalty and good sense.”

  Halifax grimaced. “I’ve been psychologically conditioned to have extreme Earth loyalty.”

  “Well, well, well,” the Director said, eying Halifax anew. “You have been busy. But I should have expected that, given your exceptional IQ and specialty. Yes. You’re right. You’ve received light psych conditioning. It was light because I didn’t want anything interfering with your good sense. Your arrival on Earth with the element has proven me correct. You will leave as you arrived, Doctor, with all your faculties intact.”

  Halifax nodded, even as more perspiration dotted his forehead.

  “After all this, of course, I will increase your stipend. You are rising in rank, Doctor. Given more actions like this, you’ll be running your sector in another few years.”

  “Thank you, sir.”

  The Director nodded. “Now, prepare yourself. Are you mentally prepared?”

  “I am, sir.”

  “Excellent.”

  The elevator slowed and came to a stop. The heavy metal door slid open, and the two walked out into a corridor. It was hotter down here and felt more oppressive. Halifax hunched his shoulders. The Director’s head twitched now and again.

  They stopped at a hatch. The Director slid his card through a slot so the hatch opened. They walked into a small room with a panel and three chairs. Each chair aimed at a wall screen.

  “Sit,” the Director said.

  Halifax chose the middle chair, sitting before a screen.

  The tall old Director sat beside him on the right. He slid his card into a slot, waiting. A green light blinked on the panel and a set of controls rotated into view.

  Halifax lacked any such controls.

  The Director manipulated his keys. “This first one is a rare video of an ancient cyborg in motion. Mind you, this is over one thousand years old. We found it, well, never mind that part. Watch your screen.”

  Halifax did, his head swaying back and then pushed forward to get a better view. Three cyborgs raced after a tank churning dust. The cyborgs moved in great leaping bounds with the speed of insects. In the sky, two suns shone. A close-up showed a cyborg leaping onto the tank. For a second, the cyborg froze at the turret. It had a human face with obviously artificial eyes. It had an armored body, and with
great strength, it ripped a swiveling machine gun from the turret and began prying open the hatch.

  “Power-graphite bones,” the Director said, “with human brain tissues in an armored brainpan. This model could have slain everyone in Helos. Only several direct hits to the brainpan at point blank range with the WAK .55 Magnum could have stopped it. These things move at incredible speed.”

  Abruptly, the video ceased.

  “They’re hideous,” Halifax said in shock, finding his mouth dry. “Why do you keep the video a secret?”

  “In any age, knowledge is power.”

  Halifax blotted his forehead, feeling sick. “This is what is on Avalon IV?”

  “I have no idea.”

  “Why is the planet proscribed?”

  The Director shrugged. “I just know the Concord has good reason for it. Now, watch. This is an Ultra, one of the advanced types.”

  Halifax stared at his screen again. To the side, the Director manipulated keys. On the screen appeared a towering individual in a black uniform with red chevrons. He didn’t quite seem human anymore. He had great tension in a minimalist face with slit eyes and a bleak slit mouth. The way the uniform moved…the muscles bunched at the joints. He attacked a regular human, a dwarf by comparison, doing so in swift jerks with brutal efficiency.

  “I’ll tell you a secret,” the Director said after the screen went blank. “We believe that those like Brune were early projects. They’re stronger and quicker than average, but then so are many others who are or were completely normal.”

  “But, but…”

  “Yes?”

  “How old are the Brune models?”

  The Director stared at him.

  Halifax grew queasy under the scrutiny.

  “We’re not sure…” the Director said slowly. “Over a thousand years, that much is certain. We found our cache—well, never mind where. They were in stasis units of a kind no one knows how to make these days.”

  Halifax was nodding, but he was highly uncomfortable.

  “What is it now?” the Director asked, sounding annoyed.

  “Sir,” Halifax blurted. “Why are you showing me all this?”

  The blue eyes seemed to shine. “Knowledge is power, my dear fellow.”

  “Yes, but—”

  “Don’t interrupt me,” the Director said coldly.

  “I’m sorry, sir.”

  The Director nodded curtly. “Something troubles me about this one. I can’t quite put my finger on it, but I sense real danger for all of us. I want someone on the ground to know the facts. We—I mean humanity—survived the Ultra Dominion. We survived the Cyborg War. It set everyone back over a thousand years. Now, those of the Concord think they hold all the cards because they rose up first from the ashes of the Old Federation and grabbed the few pieces of ancient tech lying around. I suppose that’s neither here nor there for the moment. The tech company Rohan Mars spoke about obviously seeks things better left in the dustbin of history. We have to stop the tech company or anyone else wanting to revive the old horrors. If anyone is going to revive them, it will be us of Old Earth, the few sane people left.”

  “And that’s why we use Ultras, even though it’s against Earth law?”

  “Don’t get cheeky with me, little man.”

  “I’m not, sir.”

  “I’ll decide if that’s true, not you.”

  Halifax hung his head, afraid he’d gone too far. The seconds ticked by in silence.

  Finally, the Director sighed. “I suppose your impertinence indicates high intelligence. Be thankful I need you, Doctor.”

  Halifax waited.

  “We use an early brand of Ultra because our type of work demands the best. As guardians of humanity, we of Earth dare not fail. That means we have to beat the competition.”

  Halifax nodded while he continued to look down. The tall old man seemed affable enough. But now he was sensing a deeply hidden mania. The Director would do anything to win and give any reason he needed to do it. What was the Director’s real goal in all this? Halifax wasn’t sure he wanted to know. One thing he did know. He would never come back to Old Earth again unless someone dragged him here against his will.

  Chapter Five

  In a shuttle drifting in orbit around Old Earth, Dr. Halifax peered at the cryogenic cradle holding the new Jack Brune. Through a small glass window, the man—an early Ultra of some kind—although frozen, looked upset.

  Halifax glanced around. He was alone in the cargo hold with the cryo unit. The shuttle would rendezvous with a liner somewhere near Saturn. The doctor wasn’t sure how much time he had alone with…with the subject.

  Working to his knees, Halifax used a sleeve, wiping moisture from the outer window of the cradle. He squinted, studying the rugged face.

  “No,” Halifax whispered. That didn’t look like Jack Brune. Brune had had a sense of humor, a wry outlook. This one…he looked deadly. Well, Brune had been plenty deadly. This one looked tougher was all.

  This was surely a death sentence for him. Halifax wanted out at the first opportunity. He couldn’t do it on the space liner. Could he bribe his way to the cargo hold while on the starship? That was doubtful. He would have to bribe a ship handler. The handler would have to go into the cargo bay and make sure the new Brune’s cryo unit malfunctioned.

  That was part of the twelve percent probability of dying when using “under,” traveling in cryo. It was a risk. The process had never been meant for human transport, but rather for animals. But not everyone had credits, surely not enough to pay for regular or above passage on a starship or even a tramp hauler.

  Halifax touched the small box in his jacket pocket. The box contained a hypogun, ampules and a tiny memory unit. What had it been now, six years since he’d injected the original Jack Brune? Brune had believed he’d traveled from Earth on a liner as a blank, an amnesiac. That had been a false memory Halifax had inserted into the man. So much of what the original Brune had believed was Group Six-created memories. Brune had never won the ex-Patrol scout in a poker game. Brune had never won him—or freed him from slavery— in the same game. Group Six had supplied the scout through back channels and given him—Halifax—the means to suborn Senior Lieutenant Dan Clarke of the Rigel Branch of the IPO.

  Brune had unknowingly aided Group Six on several occasions. Halifax had received rewards because of it. Now, though, it was time to move on, to head farther from Earth and the Director’s long arm of punishment.

  Could the new Brune take up the original’s place? Did the Director think the people of Helos were stupid? Did the Director think he—Halifax—could produce miracles? These tin men of the unknown tech company—these androids—they were highly dangerous.

  The Patrol moved slowly on such things. The richest, most powerful worlds of the Concord had created the Patrol. Together, the IPO and the Patrol kept the peace throughout the Concord, meaning the rich worlds could save their carefully built-up space navies. Could he go to the Patrol and tell them about Group Six? He could. He also knew the Director would send assassins to kill him. He would have to spend the rest of his life looking over his shoulder. No. It would be best to keep Group Six’s secrets to himself.

  Halifax touched the cryo unit’s glass window. What kind of Ultra had this one been? Would the inserted core element work? Ancient cyborg technology had been ghoulish but effective. Yet, how long could such a device last?

  Halifax stared at the harsh upset face. The subject would be Jack Brune for the rest of his life. Whoever the soldier had been, he was gone. Had that been wrong of Group Six to do?

  “What am I doing?” Halifax whispered in alarm.

  With a grunt, the doctor worked up to his feet. Surely, cameras watched the cargo hold. Pickups might record every utterance in here. There might be other equipment to test his sensitivity to the new Brune.

  “Well,” Halifax said aloud, slapping the cryo unit. “Can you solve your own murder, Brune? I can’t wait to find out.”

  Halifa
x forced himself to chuckle. This was a fine mess, a fine mess indeed. He never should have accepted Earth credits back in the day. He never should have let the bastards blackmail him.

  He shrugged. “You and me, Brune. We’re going to win the jackpot this time.”

  ***

  Dr. Halifax might have been appalled but not surprised to learn that the Director was aboard the shuttle.

  The Director sat at a panel with another person. Both of them watched a screen showing Halifax with the cryo unit. The other person was a lean woman with short dark hair and darker eyes. She wore a metallic one-piece and was slender like a rapier. She was a cleaner, one who took care of delicate problems with a nail to the back of a head or a rope around the neck as the problem supposedly hanged himself in remorse. She had a team and was a Group Six professional of the highest order. Her name was Leona Quillian.

  “Your opinion?” the Director asked.

  Quillian eyed the tall old man sidelong before shrugging. “He’s thinking about quitting. He’s wondering how he ever got himself into the game.”

  “How can you tell?”

  “The usual signs,” she said. “But the giveaway was how long he stared at the subject through the glass.”

  “Because he did it on his knees?”

  Quillian nodded. “Going to his knees indicated emotion. He wanted to be certain about his feelings.”

  “I concur,” the Director said. “However, this case is different.”

  She waited for it.

  “Halifax will attempt to go through the motions. I give it a high probability that he will send Brune to Avalon IV. He might believe that is the best way of getting rid of Brune without dirtying his hands.”

  Quillian nodded. Maybe.

  “If that’s the case,” the Director said, “let Halifax play it out. I want to know what’s on the proscribed planet. I also desire the young woman and whatever technology the tech company is trying to acquire. I want that technology for Earth.”

  “And Brune?” she asked.

  The Director rubbed his chin. “The insertion operation—of the core element—wasn’t completely successful. I don’t know if the chief technician was careless, if the core element is too old and malfunctioning, or if the subject has unusual qualities. If he functions as Brune, leave him in place. If he shows any symptoms of another personality—take care of him.”