The Lost Tech Page 8

  “Yeah,” Riker managed. “I’m counting on me too.”

  “Cryptobiolin,” Dagobert said triumphantly.

  “Huh?”

  “That was one of the drugs they injected into me. Another was…” Dagobert snapped his fingers. “Trilenidil. See. I can remember if I try hard enough.”

  “That’s good, really good.”

  “Macrospentol was another drug. That was the one that made me dumber.”

  Riker looked up at the brute. “Which one made you grow?”

  Dagobert walked in silence until he shook his helmeted head. “I can’t remember. I want to, but I can’t.”

  Riker’s chest hurt and breathing enough air to keep going—he stopped, bending over, putting his hands on his knees as he gasped.

  “What’s wrong with you?” Dagobert asked.

  “Nothing.”

  “It don’t look like nothing. Am I going to have to do this without you?”

  Riker forced himself to breathe deeply. It came with a wheezing gasp. That allowed him to straighten. He gave the giant a sickly smile. “See. I’m fine.”

  Dagobert cocked his head. “Are you faking me, Riker?”

  The sergeant shook his head, which made his eyes hurt, which caused him to heave, but nothing came out.

  “You’re sick, old man. I should take you back. But that would look wrong. Maybe I should just off you here.”

  “People would get suspicious.”

  “Not on Tortuga and especially not down here in the deep tunnels. They run experiments and fights down here, and they make the best drugs, you can bet on that.”

  “What fights?”

  “I already said: the best.”

  “You fight down here?”

  “I’m not the champion. Tobias is. I could kick his ass, though. I would crush his skull between my hands and make the brains come mushing out. The Queen would have to make me the champion then.”

  “Capturing Maddox would be better.”

  “Why?” asked Dagobert.

  Riker nearly hunched over and grabbed his knees. He needed help. He needed rest.

  “Oh, hell, Riker, let’s just hurry it, huh?” Dagobert grabbed a triceps and started hauling the sergeant along as if he was a truculent child.

  The sergeant did his best to keep his feet under him. Otherwise, he was sure the brute would drag him through the tunnel.

  “We’re making better time this way,” Dagobert said.

  Riker wheezed, using all his energy and concentration to keep his feet moving. This was ridiculous. But at this point, that was all he had left.

  -14-

  In this humiliating fashion, Riker closed in on the holding area. Dagobert marched into a side tunnel, with a lance in one hand and Riker’s arm in the other. The tunnel narrowed to half its width, and a hum began growing louder the farther they marched.

  “What’s that noise?” Riker shouted.

  “Generators,” Dagobert said. “The factory is burning full force. They’re manufacturing cryptobiolin, trilenidil, macrospentol and the other biochemical-altering drugs. The Queen wants an army of supermen to deal with…with her enemies.”

  “And the holding cell?”

  “Hang onto your britches, old man. It’s coming up. Can’t you walk any faster?”

  “I’m trying,” Riker shouted.

  “Damn you. You’re making me look stupid. I hate looking stupid. Run, old man. Run with me.”

  Dagobert burst into a sprint, forcing Riker to keep up with him. They raced down the corridor, the sergeant’s headache getting worse at the constant jarring. Riker groaned, heaved and stained his shirt with vomit even as some dribbled down his chin.

  “Wipe your face, you fool,” Dagobert shouted.

  Riker managed to look up as the brute slowed his pace. The sergeant’s eyes crossed. He heaved, but his stomach was dry. He trembled from exhaustion and felt a fever heat up his skin.

  “Hey, look,” a man shouted, “Dagobert’s caught himself a boyfriend.”

  Heavy voiced men began laughing at the joke.

  “No…” Dagobert whispered. “This is the worst, Riker, the worst. They’re making fun of me. I hate this. I want to go home.”

  “Keep going,” Riker gasped.

  “What?”

  “Show me these—idiots. I want to see them for myself.”

  “They’re not idiots. They’re tough Merovingians.”

  “Just do it,” Riker hissed.

  Dagobert’s grip tightened.

  That woke up Sergeant Riker, clearing his mind and his eyes for just a moment, anyway.

  Dagobert slowed to a walk as the two of them neared a door or hatch built into the tunnel side. Two Merovingians dressed in armor like Dagobert stood watching the two of them. One was still laughing. The other was shaking his head at them.

  “You got a prisoner, Dagobert?” the laugher asked.

  “No!” the seven-foot brute shouted.

  The two guards glanced at each other.

  As they did, Riker drew the .44 from his waistband. He used his thumb and cocked the hammer.

  Dagobert halted before the two guards.

  Riker raised the revolver, aimed it at a center mass torso and fired. The guard staggered back against tunnel rock. Better yet, Dagobert released Riker. The sergeant brought up his other hand to steady the revolver and fired as the second guard brought his lance level. The shots were deafening, and Riker didn’t stop with two, but pumped two more into the second guard and two into the other one.

  They no longer moved, but lay dead with blood spurting out of them.

  In a daze, mechanically, Riker opened the cylinder and let the brass casings spill onto the stone floor. It took even more deliberation for the sergeant to slide one bullet after another into the empty cylinder. He clicked the cylinder shut and looked up at an open-mouthed Dagobert.

  “We’re doing it,” Riker slurred. “I can do the rest if you want, or you can help me and become the champion.”

  “They’re dead. You killed them. You weren’t supposed to kill Merovingians.”

  “They laughed at you, and that made me angry.”

  Dagobert stared at Riker.

  “They were making fun of you,” Riker said. “It cost them their lives because they were acting stupid.”

  “They were my friends. I let you kill my friends.”

  “Wrong!” Riker shouted. “You’re doing it, Dagobert. If you got the balls, if you’re man enough, you can stay with me. Otherwise, slink away like a coward, like a puss and let me take care of this.”

  “I’m no coward!” Dagobert roared. “I’m the greatest of the Merovingians.” He lifted his lance and shook it.

  “Are you going to help me or not?”

  The hatch slid up, and two more armored Merovingians were there. Each of them held a lance.

  “Help you do what?” one of them asked.

  “This!” Dagobert roared, clutching his lance two-handed and jabbing the steel blade into the helmeted face of the nearest guard. The lance point punched through armor, bone and bone again as Dagobert skewered the man.

  The second guard reacted, but Riker shot him five times until the man lay on the inner corridor floor.

  “Hot damn!” roared Dagobert. “This is fun. I’m a killer. I’m the greatest. I’m the Queen’s champion. Come on, Riker. Let’s finish this.” The seven-foot giant charged into the corridor, sprinting at seeming light-speed.

  “Wait for me,” Riker panted, shuffling his feet, trying to follow as fast as he could. He would never have made it if both legs were biological. One was bionic, and that allowed him to move with less effort than otherwise, and that kept his brain functioning.

  He moved down the halls and corridors, hearing Dagobert wreak havoc on his fellow Merovingians. Once, Riker heard the gush of flames, and men screaming.

  “Dagobert! It’s me! Stop firing!”

  Death rattles and thumping bodies told their own story. Dagobert hadn’t halted.


  Soon enough, Riker came upon burned corpses, the armor radiating heat and two places slagged and melted. The stench made Riker heave, gasp and stumble through the chamber. He continued following the sounds of battle, coming up as three Merovingians fought the berserk Dagobert. He was bigger, faster and frankly, superior. But he wasn’t going to defeat all three.

  Dagobert stabbed at one. The other jumped back and blocked with his lance. The giant followed and stabbed again. That put him into a larger area. The other two guards began flanking Dagobert.

  “Not happening,” Riker said, kneeling on his right knee, bringing up the revolver and firing. He took down one of them. The other dropped prone, aimed the lance—

  Riker hurled himself to the left. A gout of hot fire flickered where he’d been standing.

  The prone warrior twisted up.

  “Die, scumbag!” Dagobert roared, stabbing the prone warrior in the back.

  The warrior writhed in agony.

  Riker scrambled upright and brought up the Magnum, firing three times, wounding the first warrior who charged Dagobert. That gave the giant just enough time to jump back and engage in a quarterstaff-like duel. They clacked staffs—lances—poked, parried—

  Riker got off the perfect shot, nailing the already-wounded warrior, slowing him down enough so Dagobert skewered him to death.

  Riker climbed to his feet and reloaded. When he was done, he noticed Dagobert looming before him.

  “Riker!” Dagobert shouted. He grabbed the sergeant’s triceps.

  “Not again,” Riker moaned. He jumped and moved his feet as Dagobert ran down the hall of dead warriors, dragging him along as they hurried toward a panel and a closed hatch.

  “Victory,” Dagobert said through a raw throat.

  “Let’s finish this,” Riker said.

  Dagobert slid to a stop before the panel and peered at it in wonder. Finally, he dragged Riker near and practically shoved him at the panel. “Your turn, old man. Open it.”

  Riker looked at Dagobert, opened his mouth to ask what he meant exactly and then figured it out. He was supposed to open the hatch. “Do you happen to know the code?” Riker asked, delaying.

  “No, no, no code,” Dagobert said. “You’re smart, very smart. Open the damn hatch so I can collect my prisoners.”

  “Yeah,” Riker said. None of this would have worked if Dagobert could rub two brain cells together in the ordinary way. The man was a fantastic warrior, but he was almost as dumb as a tree stump regarding everything else.

  “I’m waiting, Riker. My patience has limits.”

  Riker pressed a key. He looked up hopefully at the steel hatch, but nothing happened.

  “Well?” Dagobert shouted.

  “Stand back,” Riker said, raising the revolver, aiming it at the panel.

  “That will work?”

  “We’re going to find out.”

  “No! I’m going to do it. You stand back, old man.’

  Riker shuffled out of the way as Dagobert aimed his lance at the thing. The brute pressed the firing stud and a hot gush of liquid flame hit the panel, burning it, making the keys melt. The giant whirled around, and surprisingly, the hatch rose.

  How about that, it had worked.

  Dagobert bellowed in triumph, grabbed the back of Riker’s neck and raced through the opened hatch, moving through a steel-walled corridor. He aimed the lance forward and halted abruptly as a golden-skinned New Man met them, coming their way.

  “On your belly, worm!” Dagobert roared. “I’ve bloody well captured you.”

  The New Man frowned.

  “You bastard!” Dagobert shouted, pressing the firing stud.

  The New Man grunted as liquid fire licked at his belly and consumed the spot in a blaze. The superior screamed in agony and staggered backward, collapsing before he went very far.

  “Victory is mine,” Dagobert shouted, racing ahead, propelling Riker from his neck hold.

  They stepped over the New Man and entered a large cell, and no one was visible.

  “Come out, come out, wherever you are,” Dagobert roared. “I’m the champion. I’ve caught the lot of you. Now, I’m taking you with me.”

  Captain Maddox stepped into view, standing at the narrow part of the holding cell, the middle. “Riker?” the captain asked.

  “Uh, you’d better do as he says, sir. This is Dagobert, and he’s the Queen’s champion.”

  Maddox stared at Riker.

  “Do you want to die?” Dagobert shouted, aiming the lance at the captain.

  “No,” Maddox said. “You…you slew Rusk.”

  “Who?” demanded Dagobert.

  “The New Man,” Maddox said.

  “He wouldn’t obey me. Are you going to obey?”

  “Yes,” Maddox said. “If Riker says you’re a champion, I know you are. May I tell the others?”

  “Do it!” Dagobert shouted. “Tell them, and hurry. I’m taking you to my place.”

  Maddox made an elaborate bow, sweeping his right arm. “I am your slave, champion. Command me at your will.”

  “Huh?” asked Dagobert.

  “Captain Maddox fears you,” Riker said. “That’s why he’s making a show of becoming your prisoner. He’s bowing before you.”

  “Oh. That’s a bow?” Dagobert asked Maddox.

  “Yes,” Maddox said. “If I have your permission, sir, I’ll get the others.”

  “Are they going to try funny stuff?” Dagobert demanded. “Because if they do, I’m going to kill all of you.”

  “No funny stuff,” Maddox said.

  “Is he lying to me, Riker?”

  “He can’t,” Riker said. “He fears you too much. He bowed and now he has to do exactly what you tell him.”

  Dagobert laughed in delight. “This is great, Riker. I love being a champion.”

  “Can I make a suggestion?” Riker asked.

  “Sure, Riker,” Dagobert said.

  “You might have to fight your way to your hostel. Can the others pick up weapons and help you defeat—”

  “No!” Dagobert shouted. “That smells like trickery. Are you really my friend, Riker?”

  “Why would you suggest such a thing, Riker?” Maddox asked. “Dagobert is the champion. He doesn’t need our help. He broke in here, didn’t he?”

  “Yes,” Dagobert said. “I did. Riker shot a few of them, but I did the real damage. Now, let’s get moving, huh? We could be running out of time. More Merovingians will be coming, and they’re going to be pissed. I want to hide all of you and then bring you to the Queen.”

  Maddox glanced at Riker. The sergeant nodded slightly.

  “Hurry!” Dagobert roared. “Get the others.”

  “He doesn’t have to,” Golden Ural said, as he stepped into view. “We all surrender to you, Champion. Do with us as you will.”

  Dagobert glanced at Riker. “It’s happening,” he whispered. “It’s really happening.”

  “Make them march ahead of you,” Riker said.

  “Huh? Oh, yes.” Dagobert turned back to Ural. “You heard the old fart. Get your asses in front of me, and start marching. We’re getting out of here as of now.”

  -15-

  Maddox move purposefully through the corridor, stunned at Dagobert’s deadly escapade, seeing the crumpled, stabbed and burned Merovingians. He noticed the shot ones as well, having seen the sergeant’s revolver. As Maddox led the New Men—the two plus Golden Ural—he recalled facing warriors like this on Earth in Antarctica. They had possessed a similar lance, with some differences. Those had shot missiles like an RPG. The one Dagobert carried had ejected liquid fire. Back then, the medieval-armored warriors in Antarctica had used power packs and connected lances to create a transportation gate, taking the Iron Lady—his grandmother—to a waiting stealth ship in Earth orbit. After Maddox and his team had captured the stealth ship, they’d used similar transportation tech to attack the Prime Saa hidden inside Luna, the Earth’s Moon.

  Clearly, the Merovingian
s worked for or served Methuselah Woman Lisa Meyers, Dagobert’s Queen, no doubt. The question was could they find such transportation technology on Tortuga and use it after capturing Lisa Meyers?

  Maddox glanced behind him at Ural. His uncle was still upset from the gut-shot, dead Rusk. Ural and the others would jump Dagobert soon, and that might be the correct tactical move, but it might not be.

  “We’re exiting the holding cell area,” Riker shouted from behind.

  Maddox halted, turning around. The New Men did likewise.

  “What’s the meaning of this?” Dagobert demanded. He was several meters back, the lance held level, aiming at them.

  Riker was behind Dagobert, the revolver held beside his leg. One swift move could bring it up to fire at the Merovingian giant.

  “Is Meyers holding others down here?” Maddox asked.

  “Meyers, who is this Meyers?” asked Dagobert.

  “The Queen,” Riker said.

  “Oh,” Dagobert said. “Yes, of course others are here. They’ve been injected and are awaiting metamorphosis.”

  “Injected with what?” asked Maddox.

  “No!” Dagobert shouted. “It is…unseemly for prisoners to question their captor. You do as you’re told, or I’ll kill you. Do you understand?”

  “Of course, Champion,” Maddox said.

  “I grow weary of this,” Golden Ural told Maddox. “What’s the purpose?”

  “Deception,” Riker said quickly. “To move into a staging area before we strike.”

  “What are you talking about, Riker?” Dagobert asked. “We’ll keep them in my room until the Queen is going crazy, wondering where they are. Then, I bring them to her, and I’m declared the mighty champion of the Merovingians.”

  “No,” Ural said.

  “Uncle,” Maddox cautioned.

  “Stop,” Ural told him. “I appreciate your sergeant’s cunning. But we no longer need it. We must move as only we can move.”

  “Hey, you,” Dagobert said. “If you keep talking, I’m going to burn you. I can kill the lot of you skinny gold freaks. You’re starting to make me angry, very, very angry.”

  Maddox directed a significant glance at Riker. The sergeant saw it and shook his head. Maddox glanced significantly again, putting more oomph into it. Riker shook his head harder.