“Then I will endure.”
I lowered the volume some anyway.
“That is more agreeable,” he said. “Perhaps if you gave it another few taps…”
I did as he requested.
“I can begin to self-rationalize now,” he said.
I laughed. “Are you telling me you can’t think if I have the music on too loud?”
“Ah. I believe I have finally inferred your reasonableness concerning the radio. You wish to interrogate me and are attempting to lighten my mood.”
“You and the Unguls,” I said. “Questions aren’t necessarily interrogations.”
“What is your question, Logan?”
I nodded. “What do you know about Jarnevons?”
“Are you referring to the Organizer’s comm officer?”
“I guess so,” I said.
“Did you find her attractive?”
I raised an eyebrow. “Do you know about that?”
“If you are referring to sexual liaisons, yes, I am aware of the mammalian male attraction to a comely female. However, a Jarnevon is not human, although there are many similarities. If you are asking about their sexual nature, I believe it is quite similar to yours. Some have theorized that Jarnevons and humans are descended from a prototype humanoid. I suppose that is possible, but it would negate the evolutionary theory presently maintained by your world’s educational personnel.”
“I didn’t realize until this moment what an egghead you are, Rax. But I guess that makes sense. What else does a sentient crystal do but think all the time?”
“Is that an insult?”
“No,” I said. “It’s an observation. But you were telling me about Jarnevons.”
“First, let me collect some data,” Rax said. “Did you enjoying staring at the comm officer?”
“I did.”
“Would you like to mate with her?”
I laughed. “Are you a prude, Rax? Would that bother you if I wanted to?”
“According to my briefing, humans form attachments to those that they sexually engage with. This special bonding lessens if the lover engages with multiple partners in a short time period. Are you a sexually aggressive male perhaps?”
“I like the ladies, if that’s what you’re saying.”
“No. Do you engage in repeated liaisons with multiple partners in short time spans?”
I shifted a bit on the seat as I said, “I’m not a player.”
“Then I suggest you forgo any thoughts concerning the Jarnevon. As a comm officer, she is highly ranked aboard the privateer. That means she is a thorough opportunist. According to my data, the correct saying is, ‘She would eat you alive.’”
“I don’t know about that,” I said. “Are Jarnevons sexually active with other species?”
“Jarnevons are highly aggressive and often engage in mercenary actions. She is likely combat trained, psych-ops certified and predatory to an unusual degree. If she used her sexual charms to arrest your attention, it would be solely for reasons of gaining an advantage over you.”
“Sounds like a challenge,” I said.
“I am sorry. Have I offended your vanity?” Rax asked. “It is simply a correlation of species parameters. Jarnevons use whatever they can to advance their social rank. Humans appear capable of love and forming lasting commitments. The Jarnevon would only let you fondle her if she thought it would gain her an advantage.”
“Okay, forget about it. She was easy on the eyes. Let’s leave it at that.”
I readjusted the seat, switched stations to old hard rock music and watched the monotonous desert terrain. As I did, I kept thinking about the Jarnevon and her intense green eyes.
How alien where Jarnevons? It sounded like they had more in common with humans than with Unguls. What was the real scoop on human origins? Maybe our old ideas needed some readjustments.
“Quick,” Rax said. “Stop the jeep.”
I slammed on the brakes so the vehicle swerved. “What’s going on?” I shouted.
“Get out of the vehicle and run. Do it now, Logan.”
We were still moving, but I didn’t hesitate. I opened the door, barely remembered to unbuckle and heaved myself out. I hit the ground rolling around twenty miles an hour, spinning over gravel.
The jeep kept going. I looked up from on my back, and barely saw what looked like a dark streak come from the sky and slam against the jeep with a crunching roar.
The Chief Cherokee exploded, with metal flying everywhere, some of the pieces slamming against the ground around me.
“Rax!” I shouted.
“I am aware of the danger,” he said.
Another dark streak flew down leaving a luminous trail in the sky, this one heading straight for us. The sky lost color as I watched. That wasn’t the worst. I saw the thing in an instant of time. It looked like an iron rod half the size of a tetherball pole. It had a needlepoint, maybe to slice through the atmosphere the way it did. The thing slammed into my chest at supersonic speed and exploded with unleashed kinetic force against the ground.
I’m dead, I thought. Then I wondered how a dead man had the ability to realize he was deceased. What was going on here?
-25-
The answer should have been obvious to me. Rax had used the teleportation machine, bringing us back to the Guard-ship.
“Why didn’t you teleport us out of there in the first place?” I asked. “Why did you have me leaping out of a moving vehicle?”
I’d torn my clothes, gained several bruises and my left elbow had become stiff. I’d dusted myself off for several seconds after stepping off the transporter dais.
“I did not have enough time for an immediate transfer,” Rax said. “I detected the guided rod too late in its descent. In other words, the attack surprised me. In retrospect, I should have been more alert. If they had attacked us while I was in meditation mode, we would both be dead.”
“Thank God for the radio,” I said. “By the way, what in the world is a guided rod?”
“I am surprised by the question. Your own country has devised similar technology, although they have failed to deploy them yet.”
“What are you talking about?”
“In your country it is called a THOR missile,” Rax said. “In essence, it would be a space pole waiting in orbit, initially guided onto target by small maneuver rockets. Seconds before impact, a terminal guidance sensor searches for the targeting parameters, steering the rod onto the objective. The Organizer used a more advanced version of that to demolish the jeep. One pound of metal moving at orbital velocity unleashes a twenty-pound equivalent of TNT. The rod aimed at us was at least twenty pounds.”
“That’s crazy. The rods were launched from the alien orbital vessel?”
“That would be my guess,” Rax said. “The second rod was there to kill any survivors. It was insurance. That shows the Organizer is taking us seriously. That is bad for us, but shows wisdom on his part.”
“You said it’s a rod. It came down from orbit like a meteor?”
“Precisely,” Rax said. “It is another Class IV violation. This is my error. I thought he would believe us dead and thus forgo such extended precautionary measures.”
“Why didn’t he use the rod on us in Vegas? Why did he wait until we were so close to Station 5?”
“You have answered the question by asking it. Like anyone, the Organizer has a limited amount of time, equipment and personnel. He must have decided on a particular area around the station. Anything entering that zone would have to endure a scan. He must have detected me, as I doubt his scanner could be so refined as to pick out a particular human.”
“If you’re right about that,” I said, “it proves Station 5 is still important to him.”
“That is a logical assumption. Yes. Logan, we must go to the science chamber. Once you exit the transfer chamber, it is the second hatch to your left.”
I exited the chamber and entered a larger room. It had several seats and screens with var
ious consoles against the bulkheads.
“Please sit down on the first chair,” Rax said.
I did.
“We will use a tiny spy drone,” Rax explained. He teleported the drone into position and turned on its directional sweep.
“You’re allowed to use the drone and scanner?” I asked.
“That is self-evident,” Rax said. “While I am not allowed to pilot the ship, under the Antares Clause I can use the transporter and other devices.”
I nodded.
“We shall attempt a passive scan first,” Rax said.
I watched the screen, soon seeing the drone’s view of the blacktop road leading to Station 5. About a mile from the site, everything went fuzzy.
“Is that due to enemy interference?” I asked.
“That is correct,” Rax said. “The extent of the anti-scan leads me to believe they have set up a force screen at the station. That makes sense given the convertor you destroyed in a basement.”
I recalled the pulsating gray cube I’d shot. “What did the thing convert?”
“The stored solar energy, of course,” Rax said.
“Was the convertor alive?”
“Not in the sense of you and me. It was more akin to a mechanical plant.”
“Like a cyborg plant?”
“That is an apt term. But back to the force screen. I could attempt an aggressive scan and possibly break through. Such a scan would alert the Organizer to the spy drone. He might be able to track the drone’s signal back to our hidden location.”
“Maybe he’s already spotted the drone and is actively doing as you suggest,” I said.
“The drone is difficult to spot, as it is minuscule and sheathed in radar-resistant material. Once the Organizer spotted the drone for what it is, the backtracking of the signal would be easier. Thus, if he had spotted the drone, we would be facing another hell-burner or possibly a massed rod bombardment. Since neither has occurred, I believe the drone is still hidden from him.”
“Unless that’s what he wants us to believe.”
“That is over-subtle,” Rax said. “If the Organizer could, he would kill us.”
I nodded.
“How badly do we need to see what’s behind the force screen?” I asked.
“It would give us greater illumination concerning the Organizer’s thoughts, but the fact of the force screen shows us that he is still using the station. That is interesting. It must be a staging area, which implies that the excavation zone is nearby. Let us see if we can find tank tracks.”
I watched the desert terrain on the screen. Rax went back and forth in a broad sweep for about ten minutes.
“I am ready to concede defeat regarding the tank tracks,” Rax said. “I believe someone has swept the tracks from view.”
“That means we have no idea about the location of the excavation site.”
“Untrue,” Rax said. “It must be near the base camp—Station 5. Besides, I am not thwarted from an object so easily. Let us consider various possibilities. What direction did the tanks go last night?”
“East,” I said.
“We will begin with an eastward sweep.”
Time ticked away as the screen showed the Nevada terrain. Slowly, it changed, climbing a mountain range, entering valleys, up, down, up, down…
I grew drowsy as my eyelids became heavy. My chin soon rested on my chest. I might have snored. I definitely snorted, blinking sleepily.
I raised my head. “Did you say something?” I asked.
“I beg your pardon,” Rax said.
“I dosed off,” I said. “I thought I heard you say something.”
“Oh. I did. I said, ‘This is odd.’”
“What?” I asked.
“Excuse me?”
“What’s odd?”
“Oh, yes,” Rax said. “It is a little thing, but it is interesting nonetheless. Observe, please.”
I studied the screen. It showed a low mountain range with brownish grass and some clumps of flowers sprinkled about. Clouds drifted in the sky. I saw a road, more of a dirt track, really, with grass growing between the wheel tracks.
“Did you notice the oddity?” Rax asked.
I closed my eyes tightly, opened them wider than before, and searched the screen. “What am I supposed to notice?”
“I will replay it,” Rax said. “Watch closely.”
I did, not seeing anything different. I saw a dirt road, grass, flowers and jackrabbit moving around. There was nothing here to get excited about, unless you were a crystal, I suppose.
“Do you not find it odd?”
“Rax, I’m not tracking you. It looks like Some-place, Nevada. So what?”
“Did you not notice the sparrows? I will replay the scene again.”
“Sparrows?” I asked. “What do they have to do with anything?”
“Just watch,” Rax said.
I saw a small flock of sparrows. They flew up from a clump of grass, winging it for some sage bushes.
“Hey,” I said. “Where did the sparrows go?”
“Precisely,” Rax said. “That is my question, as well.”
“Replay it again,” I said.
The scene shifted once more. I watched the sparrows fly up, maybe twelve of them. They flew fast and abruptly disappeared from sight. It was as if they simply flew off the edge of reality to somewhere else.
“Rescan the area,” I suggested. “See if you can find the sparrows.”
“I suggest a different approach,” Rax said. “This is the first anomaly I have found. It is the first clue that something is amiss. It was a slight thing that possibly only a Rax Prime crystal would have noticed.”
“You did well, if that’s what you want to hear. What do you think is causing that? A Min Ve force screen?”
“No, I would have sensed such a screen. This is something completely different, something…beyond Min Ve science.”
“Are you suggesting this has something to do with Polarions?”
“Notice what happens,” Rax said. “The sparrows fly, moving to a place where they simply cease to exist. They are not flying under a force screen or a camouflage screen.”
“How do you know that?”
“Because I would detect a slight distortion as the sparrows slipped under such a field. What we are seeing is something of a different magnitude.”
“Do you have any idea what could do that?” I asked.
“I am uneasy seeing this. It strikes me as magical, and we Rax Prime crystals do not believe in magic.”
“So this is another of your incongruities?” I asked.
“That is so.”
“What do you suggest we do about it?”
“We must explore the area in person,” Rax said.
I raised my eyebrows.
“That doesn’t seem smart,” I said. “The Organizer will probably detect you like before and rain more rods down on us.”
“That is a possibility, but I doubt it. There is no sign of tank tracks, no sign of any activity, space pirate or human. This seems like a desolate region of desert. There is certainly no sign of an excavation site. Yet, the place has this strange occurrence. We should explore it in person for a short time, teleporting back with our conclusions.”
I nodded slowly. “I’m game if you are. What do you think we’re going to find?”
“I hope for a clue. Otherwise, we will have to resort to riskier endeavors.”
“A clue it is,” I said.
Rax brought the drone back onto the Guard-ship. I shut down the science station and headed to the transfer chamber.
-26-
We materialized beside the dirt road with grass growing down what should have been the centerline.
I looked up, shading my eyes from the sun. The ball of light was almost directly overhead, meaning it was nearly noon. I did not spy any rods, but that didn’t mean much. The Organizer hadn’t had time yet to spot us and launch an orbital assault.
I looked around. We
were in a valley with low mountains on either side. The northern mountains were bone dry, with plenty of naked boulders and shale. The southern mountains had yellow grass blowing in the breeze. I did not see any telephone poles, buildings or other signs of civilization. The road was the only marker that humans had ever been here.
I saw a jackrabbit eying me. There were more sparrows, while high in the sky drifted a vulture or hawk.
“Which way do we go?” I asked.
“Cross to the other side of the road,” Rax said.
“Are you sensing any anomalies?”
“None,” he said. “And that frightens me because it lends credence to the idea of the Polarions. The sparrows disappeared earlier, but nothing I know or can detect explains what I saw.”
I drew my .38 and started across the road. I stopped midway, crouching to inspect the dirt.
“What do you see?” Rax asked.
“Tire tracks.”
“Is that unusual?”
“It’s comforting,” I said, “because it means someone has used the road since the last time the wind blew strongly or it rained.”
“Logical,” Rax said. “Let us continue.”
I stood, looking up at the sky again. It held the lone vulture or hawk and a vast blue expanse. With a shrug, I moved across the road and headed north.
I increased my pace, listening to the crunch of my boots on the ground. Nothing extraordinary happened. Dust rose in some places. In others, I stepped on dry grass. I walked steadily, waiting for Rax to say something. The crystal kept his own counsel. After a quarter of a mile, I figured he should have said a few words by now.
“Well?” I asked.
Rax did not respond.
“Hey,” I said. “What’s the prognosis? Is this a rabbit trail, or have you figured something out yet?”
If he had, Rax did not want to say.
I scowled, deciding it was foolish holding my revolver for no reason, and shoved it back into its shoulder holster.
After clicking the strap into place, I looked up again. The sky was empty.
“The vulture or hawk is gone,” I said.
Rax remained silent.
“Okay, I’ve had enough of this. What are you thinking?”
Rax refused to speak.
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