“Sure thing,” I said. “What does all this tell you?”
“Station 5 must be critical to battering down the white ship’s out-of-phase protection. The Starcore wishes to forestall that. Perhaps as interesting, it seems to have acquired teleportation technology.”
“Why’s that interesting?” I asked. “Didn’t the ancient Polarions possess teleportation devices?”
“I have been taught otherwise,” Rax said. “Still, if the Min Ve can force the white ship into normal phase that may give us an opening.”
“To do what?” I asked.
“Perhaps we could teleport an explosive device onto the white ship, one sufficiently powerful to destroy it.”
“You’re that frightened of the Starcore?” I asked.
“I am petrified of the Starcore. If it can repair itself with Rax Prime crystals, it might lead to an intergalactic war of immense proportions. Better to throttle the beast in its cradle, as it were.”
“More like drive a stake through its heart in its coffin,” I said. “This is a resurrected evil, not a newborn thing. It might have slumbered for the rest of eternity if American scientists hadn’t woken it up again with their nukes.”
“Whatever metaphor we use,” Rax said, “the point is to destroy it now while it is weak.”
“Got you,” I said. “But I can’t agree to that until we rescue Debby.”
“Logan, you are far too emotional. You must trust me—”
“Look, Rax, no offense. I like you. But you are a crystal. Emotions help make us human. I’m not a machine, and I can’t simply murder a friend of mine and hope to live with myself. I have to rescue her.”
“What if she has united with the Starcore? What if she used you earlier?”
I could see Rax’s point about that. Samson had loved Delilah and it had proven his undoing. Cleopatra led Mark Anthony down the road to his destruction and Paris kidnapped Helen of Troy and brought about the obliteration of everything he loved. Sometimes the chick was a deceiver. But sometimes she brought out the best in a man. I know modern mores hated the idea of the damsel in distress. But damnit, some things were more important than fashionable or unfashionable ideas. Sometimes the old ways were the real ways—they had gotten that way because of reality.
“What if Debby is the Starcore’s slave?” I asked. “What if it has tricked her all this time?”
“You barely met her,” Rax said. “You can’t risk your planet for a woman.”
“Debby came for me in the jail. If she hadn’t taken the risk, the sheriff would have taken me for a ride and shot me in the back of the head out in the desert.”
“Is that true or was that simply her story to make you trust her?” Rax asked.
The sheriff had beaten me up for no good reason at the diner. The killer robot had been coming back to the jailhouse as Debby and I had tried to escape.
“I can’t give you a definitive answer,” I said. “But I do know what my gut is telling me. I have to go back for her if there’s a chance to rescue her. Parker took a risk on me. So did Debby. I pay my debts, Rax. That’s who I am.”
“This is about choosing the best strategy,” Rax said.
“Jawing about this isn’t going to change my mind. Can we do it? That’s the question. It doesn’t seem as if the white ship has a shield as our ship does. Thus, you should be able to teleport me inside the vessel.”
“Your plan is too dangerous. My bomb idea—”
“I’ll compromise,” I said. “Give me a Guard weapon. Then teleport me into the white ship and give me thirty minutes to rescue Debby. If I fail by that time, send your bomb.”
“This is all theoretical,” Rax said, “as the white ship is still out of phase. If you’ll notice the screen, the spy-drone’s passive scan cannot penetrate Station 5’s shielding. So we have no idea what the Min Ve is trying to attempt from there.”
I sat stock still for a moment. I tried to think this through logically. We had a Guard-ship, an insertion vessel. We could not slug it out toe-to-toe with the orbital vessel. Our singular advantage seemed to be our advanced teleporting system. I had a plan that would use that, and would possibly help thwart the more dangerous of the two problems, the Starcore.
“I’m right,” I told Rax. “My plan is a good one. Look. Maybe Debby is conspiring with the Starcore. It would make sense after a fashion. Why is she so young after more than sixty years in that strange realm? The Starcore has been keeping her young for a reason. At the same time, I believe Debby was being genuine. If she is in league with the crystal, I’m betting it’s not on a completely conscious level.”
“You’re conceding my point,” Rax said.
“I’m not,” I said. “I’m saying Debby’s actions toward me are a tiny foothold for us. We have to exploit our one tiny advantage to the max.”
“What is this advantage?”
“She has feelings for me.”
It was Rax’s turn to think silently. “Perhaps you are correct,” he said at last. “She is an emotional creature like you. Yet, as I said earlier, this is all moot. We don’t have—”
“The Starcore sent those smaller hominids at Station 5,” I said. “The logical reason was to try to stop Station 5 from doing whatever it’s doing. The most rational course for Station 5 is to be doing something to batter down the Starcore’s camouflage protection—the out-of-phase cloaking. We should be ready to jump whenever an opportunity presents itself. If we’re wrong about Station 5’s purpose, we haven’t lost anything by being ready.”
“Your thinking is convoluted at best,” Rax said. “Yet, there is a modicum of reasoning behind it. Very well, let us attempt your plan, as there is some strategical sense to it. About that Guard weapon, though…”
-38-
Rax relented in one particular regarding the advanced weaponry. He let me take the Ungul raygun Z21 had delivered into our hands. To my delight, Rax also had a .44 Magnum in the Guard arsenal with plenty of big bullets.
Afterward, we kept watch of the Far Butte area. Finally, three hours and twenty-nine minutes later, something from the direction of Station 5 struck the Far Butte region.
“I’m detecting odd wavelengths,” Rax said.
I opened my eyes and adjusted the piloting chair, bringing it back to an upright position.
“What did you say?” I asked sleepily.
“Do you notice the screen?” Rax said.
I rubbed my eyes and concentrated. I didn’t see anything at first. Then I noticed the haziness.
“Can you tell me what’s happening?” I asked.
“You are observing advanced physics at play,” Rax said. “I doubt my scientific explanation would enlighten you to any degree, as those equations are above your head. That the Min Ve has such equipment suggests he knew about the out of phase ahead of time. The Canopus dig must have told him more than I realized.”
“Is whatever the Min Ve is attempting working?” I asked.
“To a degree,” Rax said.
“Do you see the white tower?”
“It is a spaceship,” Rax said.
“Fine,” I said. “Do you see it?”
“I detect a hazy imagine of what might be the ship. It is not yet concrete enough for me to risk your teleportation aboard it.”
I licked my lips. “Maybe we should try it anyway.”
“You might die if I don’t do it correctly.”
“I don’t want to die,” I said quietly.
“There!” Rax said. “The Mirror Effect is working. I see the ship. Notice, the Min Ve is attacking the ship directly. That surprises me, but I understand his greed.”
Big red beams shot down from space. Armed Unguls appeared on the ground in the circular area of the beams.
“Go!” Rax said. “Go to the transporter. I will put you inside the ship if I am able. Fortunately for us, the Min Ve’s transporters are much more primitive than my Guard equipment. I do not believe he can directly teleport his soldiers into the ship. That is w
hy he must attack it from the outside.”
I ran for the transporter, wondering if this was insanity. Who was I compared to Galactic privateers, ancient Starcore members, Polarions and the possible first people that had landed on Earth ages ago?
I stood on the transporter dais, panting, waiting.
“Rax,” I said. “Are we going to…?” I stopped talking as everything around me began to fade.
***
I appeared on a similar dais but in a different setting. This place had gleaming metal for the floor, walls and ceiling. A squat Neanderthal in a white smock stood behind a console. He had a broad, flat nose, a low forehead and a head full of hair that would have been the envy of any Hollywood movie star.
I wondered if there was something attracting in these teleporting pads. Did such a pad draw teleporting rays the way a tall spire would attract a lightning bolt or a magnet attracted metal?
The Neanderthal looked up, and crinkle lines appeared on his low forehead.
I pointed the raygun at him. “Where’s Debby?”
“This section is off-limits to you.” He spoke in an Ungul-like monotone without any odd accent. In fact, he sounded like a machine. Could the Neanderthal be another robot like Walt? “Remain where you are,” he told me. “I will transport you outside.”
“Do you see my raygun?” I said, as I jumped off the transporter pad.
“I do,” he said. “You must immediately set the weapon on the floor and step back onto the dais.”
“I’m going to kill you unless you do exactly as I say.”
“The Starcore would disapprove,” he said. “Thus, your threat is illegal here. Step onto the dais as I have instructed you—”
I beamed him in the chest because I couldn’t see his hands, and I feared others would come charging through at any second. Besides, I’d given him fair warning.
The Neanderthal glowed and turned into the appropriate pile of fumy ashes soon enough. I stopped beaming and staggered around the console where he’d been standing.
The panel had colored tabs, screens and controls. On one of the screens, I saw Unguls setting up artillery-like cannons outside the white ship. A door opened in the white tower—in the spaceship—and Far Butte people with shotguns and lever-action Winchesters charged the aliens. Parker led them as red disintegrator beams began cutting down humans.
I took a second look. Yes, it was the old biker. Parker was alive, blasting away with his pump shotgun. What had happened to Walt the Sheriff Robot? I shook my head. I didn’t have any more time to ponder this. I had to find Debby before my thirty minutes expired.
I pressed an important-looking tab. The screen showing the Unguls and Far Butte humans went blank. The lights on what I took to be the teleport dais went dark, as did the majority of the console’s lights.
My palms were slick with sweat as I looked around. There was a hatch behind me. I wiped sweat off my forehead, took a deep breath—and began coughing from the stink of the disintegrated Neanderthal.
I headed for the hatch, found a lever and moved it. Cautiously, I opened the hatch, peering out.
I spied a gleaming steel corridor. There were hatches everywhere along it. I stepped out with the raygun ready. Slowly, I approached the closest hatch. It had a similar lever to the first one. I turned it, pushed open the hatch and peered into a room full of humming machinery. A smell of ozone hung in the air. I kept staring, but found nothing insightful.
I closed the hatch, moved down the corridor and looked into the next chamber.
Three more Neanderthals stood at various controls. One made adjustments. The other spoke in clicks and whistles, while the third seemed to be asleep on his feet.
I must have been more nervous than I realized. With hardly a thought, I began beaming them, starting with the one making the clicks and whistles. I thought he might be summoning reinforcements.
I killed all three in short order, feeling guilty doing it. I told myself they were the Starcore’s minions. I had no choice in this if I wanted to save the Earth.
An alarm sounded as I closed the hatch. My heart started beating harder than ever, and I found myself short of breath. Where was Debby?
I wanted to roar with frustration. Instead, my lips were frozen into a snarl. I ran to the next hatch, yanked it open and cut down two furry hominids. Each was in the process of slipping a harness clinking with tools or some type of weaponry over his torso.
I’d become like a blood-maddened weasel in a pigeon loft, killing because I knew no better. Something was wrong in my brain. Maybe there were alien pheromones in the air affecting my memory and my intellect so I couldn’t remember anything that happened while I was in the white tower—the spaceship.
How could one fight something so strange and preposterous as the Starcore and aliens? It all seemed too huge and complex for one security officer to defeat. Instead of wilting, instead of curling into a corner and whimpering, I got furious. I shouted and swore as I yanked open one hatch after another.
At the seventh hatch, they were waiting for me. I yanked it open, saw them and fired. The red disintegrator ray stopped a centimeter short of a Neanderthal’s white smock. He wore a glowing pendant from a chain around his almost nonexistent neck. I let my beam hose him, hoping I could batter down the personal shield. Instead, the shield possessed a secondary quality. A blue blot beginning at the shield traveled along the beam toward my gun. I barely recognized what was happening in time. At the last second, I pitched the raygun into the room and slammed the hatch shut.
Something exploded inside the chamber. I grabbed the handle and jerked my hand away from the intense heat.
“Consider them scratched,” I muttered.
I almost continued in my frenzy. The interior explosion had helped clear my head, though. I stood there blinking.
I had to get to the main control area.
I forced myself to run down the corridor. There was a hatch at the end. I opened it and almost jumped through to my death. A small balcony like the kind Benito Mussolini used to make his speeches to Italian crowds was high above a cylindrical expanse.
I stepped out onto the balcony. This must be the top of the ship. I looked down upon many levels that abutted the central shaft. That made me dizzy, so I pulled back.
The hatch lever moved behind me. I squeezed to the side so I would be hidden behind the hatch when it opened. It did so now. A squat Neanderthal with short bowed legs and a long torso stepped onto the balcony, moving toward the rails as the hatch closed. He turned around at the last moment.
I had already begun my bum-rush. Using my right shoulder, I hit him hard, catapulting him over the rails. He was silent as he fell. There were no screams, no curses. He just plummeted down, down, down.
I pulled out the .44, yanked open the hatch and regarded three furry hominids.
Four terrific booms—four shots to the head put down two of the hominids. The last one, I forced back down the corridor.
He watched me closely. He no doubt saw the smoke curling from the barrel of my hand-cannon and realized I held his life in my hands.
“Do you understand my words?” I said.
“You are a demented creature,” the hominid said in a monotone. “Surrender your weapon to me. We will apply balm to your mind so you can enjoy the remainder of your life in serenity.”
“Thanks for the offer,” I said. “Now, I’m going to counter. Show me how to find Debby.”
“That is impossible. You must put down your weapon—”
With my thumb, I cocked the hammer, cutting off his speech. “I’m making it possible.”
“You lack authority to do so,” he said.
What was wrong with these hominids? Had the endless centuries in stasis made them dull-witted?
“Does it bother you that you’re about to die?” I asked.
He blinked a few more times as if contemplating the idea. “There is no reason to kill me. I will give you Debby.”
“You know who she is?”
/>
“She is a worker you wish to see. More I do not know. Come, we will find Debby. You will go to her, and I will continue in my task.”
“Now you’re thinking. But I should warn you, if you double-cross me, you will die.”
The furry hominid didn’t appear to hear me as he turned around, heading along the corridor.
I followed, opening the revolver, taking out the spent cartridges and reloading with new ones from my pocket. I felt marginally better with a loaded gun.
He stopped and pointed at a hatch. “In there. You must go in there.”
I remembered the room as having a hot handle. The raygun had exploded in there, or something had gone wrong.
“Open the door,” I said.
“You must go in alone,” the hominid said.
“Yeah, right,” I said. “I don’t think so. You open the door and lead the way.”
“I am not authorized to enter.”
“I’m giving you new authorization.”
“You lack the proper certification to do so.”
“Then say good-bye to life, buddy-boy,” I told him.
He cocked his head as if hearing a message. “I will go in. You will wait out here.”
“What’s wrong with your thinking? Don’t you realize I can kill you at any moment?”
“I know this, yes.”
“So don’t try my patience. Do exactly as I say when I say it, and you might go home to your Starcore tonight.”
He opened the hatch, and an awful stink billowed out. He appeared unfazed by the smell. There was gore splashed against consoles. There were smoking pieces of hominid meat on the floor. Some of the consoles were plastic and had melted like candle wax.
He stopped to study the damage. “This is impressive. You have powerful weaponry. This changes the dynamics of the situation. Perhaps you would like to negotiate with the Starcore.”
“Maybe after I’m done,” I said. “We’re finding Debby, remember?”
“This is more important. The power of your weapons—the Starcore is impressed. It could use the weaponry in its struggle against the—” He made a weird sound that made absolutely no sense to me.
“Quit stalling,” I said. “Show me Debby.”
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