Laorcq leaned toward Mallory. “The Vohrns’ home system. A trip of several months by express and almost a year by cargo ship. If they are willing to cover such a distance to exploit Procyon’s resources, it’s not surprising that Morsak is going as far as genocide to try to take over the system.”
This idea left her pensive: she had forgotten how far away the Vohrns originated from.
Laorcq’s forehead wrinkled as if he were lost in thought, and then he declared, “If Morsak is so interested, he must have gotten his hands on specific information about each planet’s potential. I wonder how…”
Mallory informed him, “When I was on Mars, Hanosk said something about industrial espionage and the kidnapping of Vohrn scientists.”
He nodded his head. “That explains everything! You could have told me earlier.”
“Oh? Sorry, between the burglary and the shootout, I had forgotten that detail,” she joked, rewarding the scarred man with a wide smile.
While the two humans talked under the cybrid’s protective gaze, Hanosk led them into a room where they found daylight.
Two tall windows looked out on the ocean. At the other end, Mallory recognized a set of genotech devices, similar to the equipment on the Lyoden’Naak.
The Vohrn spoke briefly with two of his colleagues. He gave them the storer containing the data collected by the pilot. Accessing the Idernax files, they began studying them immediately. Omsyn was continuing its deadly work, so every second was precious.
An alien almost indistinguishable from the others presented himself to Laorcq and Torg. “This way, please,” he announced.
The Vohrn went down a corridor without confirming that they were coming with him. The pilot was about to follow in their footsteps when Hanosk intervened. “Captain Mallory Sajean. Allow me to insist. I know the process is painful for humans, but it is imperative that I read your memory again. If one of my people risked recording information there, it must be important.”
She resigned herself. Until he got what he wanted, he wasn’t going to leave her alone.
“Okay,” she relented. “However, this is the first and last time that one of you is going to use me to scribble your notes!”
“I understand,” the extraterrestrial replied. “We will offer compensation for the inconvenience.”
“No need. Just remember that we Earthlings believe in ‘private property’!”
Hanosk escorted her into the heart of the complex. Perched on Mallory’s right shoulder, a genotech firefly allowed her to get her bearings. The gift from the alien was particularly useful in this unlit place.
He led her into a small room. Under the firefly’s pale light, she saw five seats arranged in a circle. Mallory thought it was a lounge for the Vohrns.
She sat in one of the chairs. It didn’t fit the shape of her body at all, but at least she wouldn’t fall to the floor if she fainted.
“Okay, let’s get this over with,” she told Hanosk.
He sat next to her and uncovered his rostrum. “You should relax. The pain will be less pronounced than it was during the recording.”
Influenced by her sinking feelings, her sensitive tattoos transformed. Her arms and the backs of her hands became covered with an interlacing of black brambles. Controlling herself, she said, “Thank you, you have a real gift for putting me at ease.”
The Vohrn completely missed the sarcasm. With a slight sigh, she closed her eyes. Hanosk took hold of her wrist. At the touch of his long fingers, cold as steel cables, Mallory shivered.
With unexpected gentleness, he brought her hand to his rostrum. When her palm touched the extraterrestrial’s sensitive organ, she let out a cry of anguish. A burning wave ran through her veins. The trail of fire spread to her skull and sent her down into the void.
Exploring the Earthling’s subconscious, the Vohrn quickly isolated his compatriot’s thoughts.
First, his identity: Nanesil, a member of the delegation sent to Earth. The circumstances of his kidnapping: in the middle of the street in Nogartha, under the indifferent gaze of onlookers.
What came next would have frozen the blood of a human.
For three years, he was a guinea pig for Idernax’s scientists in their genotech research. During this ordeal, he learned many details about Morsak’s intentions. No one bothered to hold his or her tongue in front of a condemned alien without a translator box. An oversight. The Vohrns who spent time in the solar system became acquainted with the Earthlings’ language, even if they were incapable of producing the slightest syllable.
Hanosk studied each fragment of memory. He confirmed his suspicions. Morsak had orchestrated everything, from the incursions on Procyon’s worlds to the use of Omsyn.
A last item held the extraterrestrial’s attention. The sight of non-humans of unknown origin, leaning over Nanesil’s corpse. Breaking contact, he concluded that the leader of Idernax had benefited from the support of another species. He had to find out why and, especially, who they were…
A thousand miles away from Lebrane’s qualms, Morsak was anxious to see his new toy take shape. He attentively followed the different steps for creating the first U-Barg. The “volunteer” underwent a series of tests. He was injected with a cocktail of hormones and synthetic drugs, intended as much to regenerate his body as to render his psyche malleable.
Finally, he was transferred to the operating room set up in the basement. Assisted by two people whose assassination Morsak had already planned to avoid any possible indiscretions, Lovaert set to work.
Sitting comfortably at the doctor’s desk, the CEO watched through the cameras mounted throughout the building. Widen’s flesh was cut and modified; parts derived from Vohrn genotech were inserted into his limbs and his abdomen.
During the third operation, it became difficult to associate the reconstructed body’s angular silhouette with that of a human.
By the seventh, it looked like a mass of steel, cartilage, and bone.
The doctor removed his gloves and contemplated the results of his work. Apparently satisfied, he went out to take a break.
Morsak descended to admire the completed U-Barg with his own eyes. Through the window separating the hallway from the operating room, he examined the form stretched out on the stainless-steel table. Impressed by its appearance, he whispered, “Too bad its lifespan will be so limited, but I can always make more.”
With regret, he went to the Idernax headquarters. Current affairs required his presence. Among other things, he had to visit a health center for the poor financed by his company. With these chores taken care of, he granted himself a few hours of sleep.
First thing the next day, he returned to the clinic. Lovaert was going to completely break Widen’s mind in order to transform him into a submissive creature. He didn’t want to miss a thing.
In the doctor’s company, he entered the operating room. Lovaert roused the junkie by giving him an injection that would wake the dead.
When he gained consciousness, the guinea pig felt lancing pain in his back, arms, and legs. Forced to endure this sharp agony, he noticed that it had been forever since his senses had provided him with such clear information.
He opened his eyes with difficulty and discovered that he was lying down in a white-tiled room. The air smelled of disinfectant. From the ceiling, a bright light hurt his eyes until a dark curtain intervened to his relief.
Adding to his confusion, he was tormented by an intense need. His nervous system demanded a dose of jokal. He tried to think: given what I took last night, I can’t be jonesing yet —it’s impossible!
Images came back to him: the sordid spot where he had hidden after having been beaten up, Lebrane, the leather-covered interior of a luxury car. He remembered sensations. Glacial cold running the length of his nerves and the relief that had followed the injection. Finally, he remembered the discussion about an operation and the promise of a regular supply of jokal.
The purring of an electric motor could be heard, followed by
the sound of footsteps. He tried in vain to turn his head or to move. The table on which he was strapped tilted vertically. In front of him stood a man whose hidden face marked him as a surgeon, although his hands were stained with a dark brown fluid. He held out his arms and roughly manipulated parts of Widen’s body, increasing his pain. Without realizing that he could no longer speak, he asked inaudible questions: “What did you do to me? Why am I paralyzed? Answer me!”
The surgeon fumbled in his lab coat. As if to ensure his “patient’s” attention, he stared straight into his eyes. Taking a little flashlight from his pocket, he pointed it at his right eye, then the left.
Despite the glare, Widen could see another man, bearded and wearing an elegant suit. A stranger. Still unaware of his muteness, the druggie spoke to him, “Who are you? Where’s Lebrane? He promised me he’d take care of everything.”
The doctor moved away and stood near the large window at the end of the room, where he activated a switch. The glass panel transformed into a mirror. The guinea pig descended into insanity when he saw his reflection: A steel-covered monstrosity.
XXVII
ASSAULT
MALLORY opened her eyes in a ship’s cabin as a sharp pain shot through her skull. She carefully turned her head left and right. Recognizing each scratch on the wall, she realized she was on board the Sirgan. This abrupt return to normalcy disoriented her. She wondered if this was another side effect of the Vohrn method of interrogation. With a groan of anguish, she rubbed her temples. This gesture only provided a moderate level of relief.
She forced herself to put her feet on the ground and stumbled to the shower. The scorching water did her a world of good. Her muscles relaxed, and her migraine receded a notch. Deliberately overdoing it with the soap dispenser, she ended up covered with a thick layer of foam. She savored the contact of the bubbles on her skin for a moment.
I finally got my ship back! As soon as Hanosk and his researchers developed a treatment for Omsyn, she could leave for Eridane-E. After all this time, she was going to exonerate her father. The idea was enough to restore her energy.
She completed her ablutions and dressed, donning a black flight suit and a solid pair of boots with pleasure. Her hair still damp, she nimbly climbed the passageway to the cockpit.
In the co-pilot’s seat, Laorcq was absorbed in a book projected from his navcom watch. He seemed unaware of her presence. On tiptoes, she slipped behind him. She reached out her hand and grabbed his neck. “Hello!”
Her effort to surprise him failed miserably: he didn’t bat an eye. He stopped reading and rose to face her.
“Mallory. Your big boots are not subtle.”
“I should’ve been able to do better,” she replied, shrugging, “but I feel like someone ran my brain through a tenderizer.”
A familiar voice gushed from the on-board loudspeakers: “Me too. My neurons hurt!”
“Jazz! Who reactivated you?”
“Laorcq. Besides, your buddy isn’t very talkative.” He continued in a falsely plaintive tone. “I dragged a few sentences out of him about your adventures since your cowardly withdrawal on Kenval with great difficulty.”
She bit back a smile. Bickering with Jazz would have to wait until the Vohrns were out of danger.
Accompanied by Torg and Laorcq, she went to find Hanosk. He had taken up a position in a long room where ten of his compatriots were at work. The place was overflowing with genotech equipment.
“Captain Mallory Sajean. Thank you for delivering Nanesil’s memories to me,” the extraterrestrial declared in place of a greeting.
He then anticipated the pilot’s question. “We will be ready in seven of your days.”
Not having any desire to spend a week dawdling in the Stranda underground, she suggested to the Vohrn, “With a dozen of your fighter planes as an escort, I could go to Eridane-E. Their presence would stop the Orcants from attacking the Sirgan. I can get the proof I need and come back to help you.”
“I understand your haste. However, we must first deploy the treatment in Gloria City. Its efficacy will have to be confirmed before we can part with several ships.”
For once, Laorcq shared Mallory’s impatience. This setback thwarted his plans. “The survival of your people is the priority, I admit. However, if you continue to take this level of precautions, Morsak will be able to protect himself by quietly covering his tracks!” he said, losing his temper.
“Don’t let your worry blind you. He has gone much too far in his efforts to exterminate us. He will persevere, I’m sure of it.”
Mallory remarked that Laorcq was clenching his fists so tightly his knuckles turned white. She understood that he was boiling inside. After years, he finally had a chance to avenge his family’s massacre. The delay was actual torture for him.
“I would like to be as confident,” he snarled. “Morsak is wilier than you think.”
“This interruption won’t change anything,” Hanosk insisted. “We have to cure our people before they die by the thousands. Symptoms have already appeared among the earliest infected.”
Laorcq made a visible effort to get control of himself, as if he had suddenly remembered that vengeance wouldn’t bring his wife and son back. He once again became the calm and professional veteran that Mallory had learned to like. “Millions of Vohrns are contaminated by Omsyn. How can they be cured fast enough to keep it from spreading?”
Hanosk’s explanation left the two humans and the cybrid stunned. “We will use cocigs, micro-organisms with which we live in symbiosis. They are born and die in an aquatic environment, but they primarily live in our bodies. To treat a contagious illness, we inoculate cocig eggs with the vaccine. We then add them into the drinking water supply. As they develop in our digestive systems, these symbiotes will transmit antigens that will allow us to fight the virus.”
Mallory recalled her trip to Mars on board the Lyoden’Naak. Stoically, she murmured, “Now I know why the water had such an aftertaste!”
While the aliens were completing the strange vaccine, a ship violated Stranda’s airspace.
On board, Lebrane sighed with relief. Crossing the distance between Earth and the Procyon system had only taken a week. Despite the prohibitive cost, renting such a fast cargo ship had turned out to be a good decision. Fortunately, Morsak was unaware that he had financed the crook’s flight; otherwise, he would have put a price on his head. In a flash of insight, Lebrane had made sure to follow the rest of his boss’s instructions to the letter. Obsessed with his Vohrn hunt, Morsak would soon forget about him.
Lebrane went to the bridge. The captain, a fiftysomething man with craggy features, welcomed him coolly. “I knew I should have checked the cargo!” he said angrily.
Pointing to a screen, he added, “If I had known what kind of crap you were hiding in that container, you would have delivered it yourself!”
The image showed the hold where the rest of the crew were preparing to launch the package.
In the center of the monitor, Lebrane saw a bipedal cyborg, ten feet tall and seven feet wide. Metal alloy and composite plates covered him with a black carapace. His six arms were adorned with blades and a pair of machine guns. Glowing with pulsing red light, a ring encircled his massive oval head: a 360-degree optical device. The tips of a yellowish skeletal structure protruded from the killing machine’s torso and shoulders.
Lebrane looked away from the nightmarish vision transmitted by the video and fastened his green eyes on the captain’s. “You thought I was offering you a bonus for fun, maybe?” he said mockingly. “Launch that thing and pump the gas in the direction of the Capella system.”
The man with the furrowed face grumbled assent and relayed his patron’s orders from his control pad.
As if aware they were doing dirty work, the warehousemen took care of their task a bit too hastily. While the cargo ship fled, the U-Barg dove into Stranda’s orange sky at an angle that was too steep for entry.
The violent entry into the atmos
phere mangled the steel and ceramic panels. Although they vibrated and turned red, Widen was unaffected. In his new form, he could have withstood a much worse trajectory.
Only his next dose of jokal preoccupied him. Inside his body, he found a receptacle containing enough of the drug for two lifetimes. Implanted in place of his left lung, an Artificial Intelligence managed the U-Barg’s advanced functions. It made sure he didn’t stray from his main objectives. Once his mission was accomplished, it would inject the precious liquid.
Displaying pictures of a brunette with tattooed arms and a man with a scar on his temple in his field of vision, the AI reminded him of his orders. “Find these two people. Mutilate and then slaughter them. Conserve the man’s head. No restrictions on weapons use or potential damage. Track and eliminate the Vohrns. Destroy their facilities.”
The cyborg’s memory barely went back a week. It seemed to him that events had occurred prior to that. Here again, though, his desire for jokal drowned out these questions.
The ground was approaching dangerously fast. Deploying two of his metallic arms, he used them to influence his trajectory. He dodged the top of a rocky peak and oriented himself toward a plain. In a cloud of dust, he carved a deep furrow and came to a stop.
His carcass gave off the characteristic clinking of rapidly cooling sheet metal. He stood and used the numerous detection tools at his disposal. Having scanned the surrounding area carefully, he turned toward the vegetation spreading out in the distance.
“Contact. Multiple life forms underground,” announced the AI.
A diagram appeared, superimposed over Widen’s circular vision. The Artificial Intelligence endeavored to recreate a map of the network of caves under the forest.
After his first few awkward steps, the U-Barg quickly gained self-confidence and accelerated. He arrived at the edge of the verdant clump. His sensors located a tunnel running just a few feet under the trees. With a salvo from his machine guns, he ripped open the ground and jumped down.
The Kenval Incident Page 23
