Once inside, the AI completed its cartographic work. The wide, clean shafts had been carefully carved into the rock. The vault disappeared behind a web of thick and knotted roots, forming natural archways that supported the underground structure. From time to time, Widen perceived tanks equipped with pumps linked to tubes driven deep into the most voluminous stems, which made it possible to extract the sap.
Indifferent to the tunnels’ actual purpose, he crushed the creatures along his path without the slightest remorse. Taking sadistic pleasure as he scattered blood and broke his victim’s bones, he inexorably approached the heart of the colony.
The brutality of the assault took Hanosk by surprise. By the time he became aware of the intrusion, the trespasser had already gotten too close to the center of the facility. The cocig incubators risked destruction, in which case there would be no way to eradicate the Omsyn epidemic.
Immediately, the alien decided to send a squad of soldiers to oppose the aggressor. Following his orders, four warriors rushed to intercept him. Isolated and exclusively occupied by Vohrns, Stranda had few soldiers. Hanosk had determined that sending more would leave the living quarters vulnerable.
In constant communication with his squad, he decided to try to trap the intruder in an ambush. His subordinates took up positions at the intersection of three tunnels.
“The assailant will have to come through here,” he confirmed.
One of the soldiers put a box on the ground and popped the cover before upending it. A horde of miniscule decapods scuttled out, products of the Vohrns’ genetic engineering. Thanks to the navcoms firmly attached to their rostrums, Hanosk and the warriors received images captured by these insects, who would serve as scouts.
When they found the enemy, Hanosk forgot he was sitting in a chair and recoiled involuntarily. Through the decapods’ eyes, the six-armed machine looked like a monstrous predator.
The Vohrn leader acknowledged the evidence: the young human’s information was unfortunately accurate. Idernax had succeeded, at least in part, in mastering genotech. Combined with the Earthlings’ genius for designing weapons, this new knowledge could only lead to catastrophic results.
“Subtlety is pointless,” he said to his soldiers. “You’ll have to attack from the front to see if you can immobilize it.”
The subtext was clear: they had little chance of surviving the confrontation.
Nevertheless, not one thought occurred of asking for reinforcements or leaving his post. While they wanted to live, the Vohrns wouldn’t hesitate to put their lives on the line when their people were threatened.
Frozen like statues, they waited for the killing machine.
Continuing his murderous progression through the Stranda underground, Widen savored his modified body’s abilities. At his core, he knew he had been a pitiful creature, his comrades’ whipping boy. Now, he could effortlessly crush a human between his claws.
This feeling of power did not eliminate his need for jokal. From whence stemmed his impatience to kill Mallory Sajean, since a weak dose would be administered in compensation.
Vaguely conscious of having been a man, he didn’t care much about having been transformed into a cross between an armored vehicle and a slaughterhouse android. He was even very curious to feel the effects of the drug with his heightened senses.
In a shaft wide enough to serve as a hangar, Widen came across an elephant-like worm that the AI identified as a jufinol. The rainbow rings of color on its body and its wide, innocent eyes sent him, oddly, into a rage. Without telling him, the Artificial Intelligence had injected him with stimulant hormones in anticipation of combat.
“I’m going to cut you to pieces, you dirty piece of meat!” he spit belligerently.
When he had finished, the eviscerated animal’s fluids and organs were scattered over dozens of yards.
As soon as he located the four Vohrn warriors, he decided to kill them with blades. Folding down his gun-equipped limbs, he slowed near the intersection, leaving the initiative to the extraterrestrials.
The junction formed a circle whose center was occupied by a cluster of roots. They connected the ceiling to the floor in a twisted pillar.
The Vohrns opened fire as soon as the U-Barg came into the tunnel. The projectiles ricocheted harmlessly off his metallic carcass. Nevertheless, the aliens persisted.
A long blade with a serrated edge emerged from one of the cyborg’s intermediate arms. He advanced step by step toward the closest soldier. With his weapon raised high, he cut him down with such violence that he severed the Vohrn in two.
Despite his mass, he possessed feline dexterity. He pivoted abruptly and inflicted the same fate on the warrior positioned behind him. In stride, he cut the column of knotted roots, projecting shards of wood and blood against the walls.
Seized by an artificial fury, Widen screamed to himself, “Dirty headless lizards, I hate you!”
In despair, the survivors threw themselves at him. One of them managed to evade the blade. He got close enough to fire at the U-Barg’s armor at point-blank range, where two metal plates met. In compensation for his temerity, the cyborg crushed him in his six arms. The cracking of his bones rang out with a sinister echo in the tunnel.
The last soldier managed to hit Widen’s circular optical device before succumbing with twenty inches of steel driven through his body.
With a quick gesture, the U-Barg withdrew his weapon from the cadaver. In sacrificing themselves, the Vohrns had only managed to breach the cyborg’s carapace and to create a slight blind spot in his peripheral vision on the left side.
“Eight percent damage. Repairs recommended,” the AI indicated.
Ignoring this advice, Widen continued on his way. The tunnels yielded to hallways and the rock to concrete, which made the sensors’ task easier.
“I’m almost there!” he noted with malicious joy.
Among the information projected by his navcom, two lifeforms stood out: the humans he sought.
XXVIII
ADOPTION
WHEN the Vohrn base’s sirens began to blare, Mallory was sitting at a table in the galley, finishing a light meal with Laorcq and Torg.
The sound was strange to her but didn’t leave any doubt: it was obviously an alarm. Her navcom vibrated: she was getting a call from Hanosk.
“Good timing,” she said to him. “Can you tell us why the sirens are shrieking nonstop?”
“Morsak reacted more quickly than we expected. We may lose the work we have done together.”
After a weak of moping around while the extraterrestrials developed the vaccine, the pilot thought she was done. She planned to go to the Eridane-E system on the following day to recover the information left by her father. Or, possibly, to take care of Lebrane first, with the help of Laorcq and the Vohrns. Always the realist, she mused: after all these years, she could continue to wait for a few more days.
Overcoming her impatience at the alien’s cryptic language, she asked, “Can you tell me exactly what’s going on?”
Hanosk sent a copy of the video transmitted by the scout insects. While Mallory and her companions watched the images projected by her navcom, the alien commented, “A combat cyborg has penetrated the underground harvest network. My warriors are powerless before him. To complicate things, the cocig eggs aren’t developed enough. If we leave now, we won’t be able to treat all of the Vohrns on Kenval, to say nothing of the populations of the other worlds. We need another four hours to obtain the minimum amount.”
With curiosity, Mallory replied, “I’m shocked. You don’t have enough in stock to defend yourselves? That doesn’t seem like you.”
“We don’t have many soldiers on Stranda. Apparently, this machine has genotech characteristics that make him resistant to our weapons. We can’t destroy him without damaging our facilities, so I need you to draw him outside.”
“To be clear, you’re asking us to be bait.”
Hanosk confirmed, “You have no choice. Given his traj
ectory, it’s obvious that the machine is targeting you. At the speed he’s traveling, you won’t be able to take off in the Sirgan before it gets to the hangar.”
“What? For fuck’s sake!” she swore as she hung up.
Torg and Laorcq hadn’t missed a word of the exchange. The scarred man reacted quickly. Given the urgency, his military reflexes took over. Asking Mallory and her bodyguard to follow him, he ran to his cabin.
His only luggage was hanging securely on the wall: a steel briefcase about five inches thick.
With nimble and sure gestures, he detached and opened it. It contained a pair of handguns and a dismantled rifle, as well as ammunition. Mallory noted two tubes: the receptacles for the combat suits.
“Torg doesn’t get a bulletproof outfit?” she reproached Laorcq.
“No. In any case, they aren’t designed for his build.”
He grabbed the two pistols. “No time to put the large-caliber together. We’ll do without.”
He held one of them out to her. She took it apprehensively. This time, it wasn’t a toy that would just knock out a potential aggressor.
He slid the cartridges into his jacket and spoke, “I was saving this equipment for dealing with Morsak. Don’t judge it by its size: it’s as effective as the Vohrns’ weapons. And now, let’s go. Your ship isn’t designed to withstand a cyborg assault, so if we stay here, we’re done for!”
The cybrid left the vessel first to make sure the coast was clear. Covered by the blue protective suits and with their revolvers in their hands, the humans followed in his footsteps. Mallory saw that thick armored panels now blocked every entrance except one. Apparently, they were being provided an itinerary.
She contacted Hanosk again, who confirmed, “You just have to go straight. I ordered the other passages closed. When you arrive at the end of the tunnel, the surface will be accessible.”
Interrupting the conversation, shots rang out at the other end of the hangar and bored into the rock. They shook one of the doors with amazing violence. The steel deformed like a cheap piece of aluminum and gave way little by little. A first arm came through, a second, then a third, each equipped with claws that would make a collector of daggers pale with jealousy. In no hurry to meet the owner of those cutting blades, the Sirgan’s crew fled through the only open tunnel.
Mallory heard a last sound of crumbling metal: the cyborg had just penetrated into the hangar to continue his pursuit.
The tunnel designated by Hanosk proved to be a good choice. Narrow and winding, it slowed the killing machine better than any warrior could. Nevertheless, it was gaining ground…
When it became obvious that they weren’t going to make it to the exit before being overtaken, Laorcq ordered the cybrid and Mallory to go on ahead. Worried for him, she protested vigorously. “That thing is going to tear you to shreds! It’s not a mutant that can be liquidated with a bullet between the eyes,” she added, referring to their expedition through the wastelands of Kenval.
“Don’t worry, I’m not suicidal. I just want to slow it down. Go on, get out of here! I’ll catch up to you easily.”
With these words, he positioned himself in the middle of the shaft and brandished his pistol. Holding the weapon with both hands, he fired at the ceiling, where the roots were the least numerous. Dust filled the passage. After the explosions in such a confined space, his ears rang. He was trying to crack the archway in order to collapse part of the tunnel, but nothing really happened.
With his suit partially deactivated so he could retrieve a cartridge from his pocket, he studied the situation: if the machine on their tail trapped them underground, they’d never escape alive. On the surface, they could split up. Here, they’d all be taken down in one fell swoop.
He changed tactics and concentrated his fire on a root that seemed to be acting as the keystone for the natural archway. He was finally rewarded: the rocky ceiling gave way with a deafening din and a cloud of vegetable debris. A heap of twisted stems and stones completely blocked the passage.
Without wasting time contemplating his work, he set off again. He could already hear the screech of steel attacking the screen. The cyborg wouldn’t be impeded for long.
To his great dismay, Laorcq found Mallory and Torg not much further along, dazed and immobile. The pilot was crouching. She watched an animal writhe on the ground.
Approaching, he discovered a rainbow creature as long as his arm with wide, cocker-spaniel eyes: a baby jufinol. “I don’t know why this beast is here, but I’m sure that this isn’t the time for sentimentality,” he muttered.
With a slap to the shoulder he drew the cybrid’s attention. “Torg! Why did you let her stop?”
The colossus grumbled while hopping from one foot to the other. “I don’t have the slightest influence over my captain.”
“One second, it’s okay!” complained the party in question.
Mallory had thought the big worms would be smooth and sticky, but she discovered that their fur was as soft as angora.
Burbling as if calling to its parents, the newborn reminded her irresistibly of a multicolored puppy. She couldn’t abandon it to certain death. Putting her revolver on the ground, she clasped the jufinol with both hands.
A strange feeling came over her. A shiver ran through her and agitated her sensitive tattoos. Roses, cherry blossoms, and brambles appeared simultaneously on her skin, while the cold energy ran the length of her shoulders and neck. Mallory understood immediately, “Telepaths! They’re telepaths!”
Terrorized, the small animal drowned her in fear. She almost fell to her knees. Instinctively, she figured out what to do. She sent it a reassuring feeling in response, projecting how she felt with Torg at her side. The jufinol stopped wriggling and calmed down.
She wedged it into the crook of her left arm and pressed it against her chest. She was surprised by the warmth of its body and the slight odor of chamomile it gave off. Comfortably situated, the baby chirped with satisfaction. She picked up her weapon and stood.
Laorcq reprimanded her. “Mallory! Are you kidding? This isn’t the time to play house!”
The respite offered by the tunnel collapse allowed them to make it to the end of the shaft: a section of rock with protruding metal bars. Mallory realized they formed a rudimentary ladder, leading to a circular opening through which she could see Stranda’s orange sky.
She and her two companions had just climbed up when the cyborg appeared behind them. Too large for the narrow passage, it was widening it using machine gunfire. The hail of lead created a geyser of granite. Mallory saw it emerge from the tunnel while stone chips continued to roll around on the ground.
Hunter and prey surfaced in a clearing. Around them, Mallory, Laorcq, and Torg found trees with spherical trunks. They had thick black bark and were topped by a plume of yellow leaves. By mutual agreement, the humans and the cybrid hurried to the shelter of the largest among them.
“We should split up!” shouted Laorcq.
He brandished his weapon and added, “I’m going to empty a cartridge into it. Meanwhile, you and Torg get out of here.”
“Out of the question!” refused Mallory. “That will only delay the inevitable.”
Opening fire again, the cyborg didn’t give them time to continue. The bullets easily penetrated the ball of wood. Laorcq got hit but his combat suit managed to absorb it.
Suddenly, Mallory realized Torg had left them. He was pushing into the forest, hidden by the vegetation. Her heart tightened as she realized that he wanted to come at their pursuer from behind.
Laorcq had also understood. He added, “If we want to give him a chance, we have to keep the monster’s attention on us!”
Matching his words with action, he briefly exposed himself in order to fire at the cyborg. Mallory followed his example. Unused to real firearms, she handled the recoil badly and missed her target. “Shit!” she cried.
“Doesn’t matter,” Laorcq commented. “My bullseyes aren’t having any effect.”
Designed to kill, the U-Barg observed the being he had just repelled with curiosity. He recognized his opposite, created for defense. His AI informed him that it was a cybrid.
Almost as imposing as the U-Barg, his already robust anatomy sported steel reinforcements, forming an exoskeleton. Only his large, round, entirely blue eyes attenuated his dangerous appearance.
Widen was pleased with this adversary, whom he judged to be an equal. His reason was cracking under the effects of the lack of jokal and the modifications carried out on his body. Pain and imposed withdrawal prevented him from thinking clearly. The Artificial Intelligence integrated into his body should have injected a dose to calm him, but the emergency program had taken over.
Inside the U-Barg, the AI gave priority to processing an unexpected reaction: the genotech components were interacting with the Earthling’s biology.
Burning an unbelievable number of calories, human and synthetic tissues fused. Flesh growths developed, organs divided in two, bones thickened. Vertebrae fused together, and their nerve branches connected to the mechanics of the war machine.
Insensitive to pain, Widen didn’t even realize his teeth were lengthening to the point that they became intertwined, obstructing his jaws and perforating his palate. His kidneys tripled in volume. With each contraction, his heart’s ventricles enlarged.
The Kenval Incident Page 24
