by B. V. Larson
“But sir, we’ve got new procedures. A Stroj imposter could never make it down here again.”
I jerked a thumb in the direction of Vogel and his creations. “Well, that’s what I’m here to find out. If I’m wrong, you can court-martial me—or better yet, just execute me on the spot.”
“You better be right about this, Captain,” he said. “If it was anyone else…”
“I understand.”
We moved forward, and the variants scuttled behind us. We reached the security doors that led into the War Room. I turned to see if the commander would help.
I was shocked to see him sprawled out on the floor. All the others were sprawled with him. Most of them were dead, but a few crawled weakly, bleeding.
“I didn’t even hear a commotion—K-19, what did you do?” I demanded.
“I observed the enemy signaling to one another. Before they could act, I disarmed them.”
Staring, I could hardly believe my eyes. They were so fast, so accurate. The men had thought they could ambush us from behind, but they’d seriously underestimated their opponents.
Vogel stepped next to me. “You have a serious deficiency when it comes to knowing when you’re being lied to, don’t you?”
Unable to deny his words, I stepped up to the final door.
Together, we opened it.
-24-
Inside the War Room, two dozen staffers surrounded a half dozen high-level brass. They didn’t have sidearms. Someone had forbidden loaded weapons in the control center due to past incidents. Unfortunately for them, disarming the troops hadn’t made them any safer. We strode into the room unopposed.
Gasping, the officers fell back on all sides. One ran for the emergency exit on the far side, but Q-161 rushed forward and removed his left foot at the ankle. He fell, wailing, and the rest were cowed.
“Sparhawk!” boomed a familiar voice. “Have you lost your mind?”
It was Admiral Perez himself. I was glad he was here. That part of the plan had to rely on luck to succeed. He was highly ranked enough to make his own schedule. If he’d been late today or stepped out for an early lunch, our lightning strike would have gone differently.
“Admiral,” I said, walking toward him. “I’m sorry about this intrusion. I’m afraid there’s a traitor in our midst.”
“There certainly is, and his name is Sparhawk!”
“I can see how you might feel that way, but you must let me speak.”
“Why? If I don’t will you slice a limb off me using your robotic slaves?”
My face reddened slightly. I hadn’t known how things would go once we managed to penetrate Star Guard, but I’d hoped for an audience that would at least listen.
Taking a half-second to think about the situation, I came to a firm conclusion.
“You’re the one who I’m talking about, Admiral. You’re the enemy in our midst. I’ve dealt with your kind before.”
The officers swept their eyes toward Perez. He wasn’t popular, and they knew me. I could tell some of them at least had to be thinking I wouldn’t have pulled this mutinous stunt without good reason.
“Yes, you have dealt with admirals in the past,” Perez retorted. “You’ve bucked every officer in authority over you since you joined the service. You’re a disgrace, and I want you out of here right now! Report to the stockade. There will be a court marital, and I’ll wager it will be short and well attended.”
My eyes narrowed as I considered him. “You aren’t even curious about why I’m here, are you?” I asked. “You’re just trying to stall for troop support and to shut me up. That won’t work, Admiral.”
“No, I wouldn’t expect it to. You are a disgrace to the uniform. We should abolish the service of governmental heirs.”
He’d struck below the belt with that comment. I hated any mention of my parentage, especially when it was suggested it made me unfit for duty.
I took a step forward, and he brightened. That caused me to halt.
This was what he wanted, I realized. When I stopped coming, he snarled at me and a surprising thing happened.
He charged toward me. Scuttling forward faster than any human should have been able to, especially at his age, he climbed right over consoles, a railing and even a conference table in his desire to close with me.
The variants were vigilant. They slashed out with their odd, whip-like limbs.
Perez was stricken and thrown off his feet. He rolled, blood welling up from a dozen wounds. It looked as if he’d been beaten with a lash, but I’d only seen a few flashing touches.
Breathing in a gargling fashion on the floor, he waved back the staffers who bent close to help him.
“Captain Sparhawk,” said K-19. “I sense that the creature at our feet is still dangerous. It has an explosive device stashed inside its body cavity.”
The effect of K-19’s words was dramatic. A dozen sympathetic hands recoiled. Officers scrambled away in fear for their lives.
“Where is it?” I asked.
“In his lower section.”
“Rip it out.”
The order did not need to be repeated. People screeched as two snipping, multi-jointed hands reached forth and tore into Perez’s guts. Exposed, a bloody string of wired-together explosives hung over the deck.
“Dammit Sparhawk,” Perez rasped from the floor. “You’re a fool to the last. You shouldn’t have stopped me.”
I was almost amused. “I should have let you kill me?”
“I was trying to get to Vogel, not you. Fool.”
Those eyes. They were still roving, still intelligent. They didn’t even look as if they had the glaze of shock in them. The Stroj were tough creatures indeed.
K-19 destroyed the bomb and moved after the officers who were trying to retreat.
“Let them go,” I said. “They don’t matter now. We have our monster. They all saw it. They know why I did this.”
Soon, the room emptied out. Only Director Vogel, Perez and the variants were left to keep me company.
Perez breathed with difficulty. He grimaced up at me with blood outlining each tooth in his mouth.
I knelt beside him. “Talk to me, Stroj,” I said. “Why do you want to kill Vogel so badly?”
“He unleashed these terrors on my people. He’s responsible for their creation.”
Glancing at Vogel, who looked disgusted but stayed quiet, I nodded. “He has a point, you know,” I told the Director.
“Nonsense. The variants just saved CENTCOM from this enemy agent.”
“Yes,” I admitted. “But they are also manning our ships out there, and there are reports they’ve gone rogue.”
“It’s true,” Perez rasped. “That’s why we had to move. That’s why I went for Vogel.”
Frowning, I shook my head in incomprehension.
“Think about it, Sparhawk,” Perez said. “Everyone says you’re a genius. It’s time to use that big brain of yours.”
“You wanted to kill Vogel, not me… You wanted to make sure he couldn’t make any more variants, or improve the ones he’s developed.”
“That’s right.”
“But why reveal yourself at all? Why not stand back and hope we’re arrested?”
“Once you showed up here, you tipped my hand. I had to support your theories. I had to demonstrate to everyone, publicly, that I’m a Stroj agent.”
Now he had my full attention. I sat beside him, making sure to keep beyond reach of his spit and his grasping, broken digits.
“You have me intrigued.”
“He’s playing you, Sparhawk,” Vogel said suddenly. “Next, he’ll claim I’m a Stroj.”
I glanced back at him. “Are you?”
“Certainly not!” Vogel exclaimed.
“He’s right, gargled Perez, sounding weaker. “Vogel is no Stroj. There’s no honor in him. No love for honest combat. He’s worse than any of my kind. He created his horrors to take over the cosmos. To kill all the humans he doesn’t like, Stroj and Basics b
oth!”
Vogel chuckled. “I’m surprised you’re listening to this monster, Captain. It’s clear he’s desperate. His last tool is guile.”
Both men had good points, and I was left uncertain who to believe.
“If you had killed Vogel, what would your Stroj brothers have done next?” I asked.
“We’d have kept a low profile, as we always do. Earthmen have very short memories. Eventually your kind will go back to a place of danger after a few months, or years. We would have hidden in that group.”
“For what purpose?” I asked. “The Earth fleet won’t wait so long. They’ll sweep your people from the cosmos.”
The Stroj bared his teeth at me, but he didn’t answer.
“You’re dying anyway, man,” I told him. “Why not speak plainly? It might help your cause.”
“Impossible.”
“Are the Earth ships, crewed by variants, damaging your empire or not?”
“Of course they are. I’m sure you’re relishing the reports!”
That made me sit up straighter. “Reports? From the lost fleet?”
“Yes—and it’s not lost. We don’t know its exact position, but the fleet is dropping com-pods in every system when it exits a bridge. The variants have been maintaining protocols even after they mutinied. We’ve been picking them up and tracing their progress.”
This was news to me. I was intrigued.
“Tell me about it,” I asked Perez.
The Stroj’s eyes became cagey. “Will you nurse me back to health if I do?”
“Yes,” I said, “if I’m able.”
“He plots,” Vogel said suddenly. “He’s not dead yet, so he’s still churning up evil plans. Don’t listen to him, Sparhawk.”
“You…” spat the Stroj. “I should have known you wouldn’t want the truth to come out. To think you people call us monsters. These variants have no soul, and precious little individuality. We’re your enemies, certainly, but we’re not genocidal.”
“You’re not?” I asked. “You wouldn’t kill us all if you had the chance?”
“Of course not. You should know that by now, you of all Earthers. Where would the glory be in an enemy erased? We want dominance. We like the thrill of the hunt and the wriggling of our prey. How could we take trophies from people who’ve been turned to ash?”
“Is that what they’re doing?” I asked in a hushed voice. “Reducing worlds to ash? I’d hoped it wasn’t so.”
“You’ve been to the stars, you’ve met the colonists,” the Stroj said. “You’ve even befriended some of them.”
My eyes had been unfocussed, seeing my past voyages, but now I turned to him more fully. His face was gray now for lack of blood.
“You’re talking about my friend Zye. You remember her, don’t you?”
He rasped and his fingers fluttered. “Of course. We’re immune to your government’s purges of the mind and spirit.”
“Talk to me,” I said, reaching out to help staunch his wounds. “Vogel, get a medical kit.”
“He’s not worth saving, Sparhawk.”
“Get the kit. You have medical training. Save him.”
Shaking his head, Vogel did as I asked. Perez watched with interest.
“I want to kill that one. I still will if I get another chance.”
“He’s not to blame,” I said. “He may have invented the variants, but he doesn’t control them all.”
The Stroj looked at me curiously. “You claim it was the ones we call the ‘others’ then? It is the ones who edit your minds whenever it pleases them?”
I nodded. “It could be.”
“That does make sense. We might have a common cause, Sparhawk, you and I. Have you ever wondered why we keep coming back here?”
“To finish the job? To conquer us like the rest?”
“Partly, yes. But there’s more to it than that. We share an enemy here. The others are not like the rest of you. We suspect they are alien. They’re too cunning to be normal humans.”
I chuckled at that. “That’s where you’re wrong,” I said. “Basic humans can be the most cunning of them all.”
The Stroj stared at me as Vogel worked to save his life.
“You know them,” he said suddenly, with certainty. “You’ve met them! That’s how your mind remains intact. Are you claiming you’re one of that shadowy group? Are you one of the others, Sparhawk?”
“No,” I said, “I count them as enemies, just like you.”
A tongue darted out and vanished again. It was bluish in color.
“My fluids have left me. Give me a stylus.”
Frowning, I handed him one. He began to write on the floor with his unbroken hand. I watched, but of course, no symbols appeared. The stylus was connected electronically to my computer scroll.
Taking the scroll out of my pocket and unrolling it, I saw what he was writing. The symbols amounted to a series of numbers in sets of three.
“Coordinates?” I asked.
The Stroj didn’t answer. He didn’t even look up. He wrote with a fury.
While I puzzled over the digits, Vogel stood up and shook his head. His hands were slick with blood.
“I don’t completely understand his anatomy,” he said. “He’s lost too much fluid. He’s almost gone.”
The stylus trembled and then clattered onto the marble floor. I stared at the shivering corpse, then at the scroll.
“Director,” I said, “you did what you could—at least I think you did.”
He looked at me sharply. “What? Do you think I shoved the wrong kind of needle into him or something?”
I shrugged and rolled up the scroll, tucking it back into my pocket.
“Sorry,” I said, “I have issues with trust these days.”
-25-
Eventually, Star Guard troops made it down five hundred meters into the Earth and stormed into the War Room. We were waiting for them, weary but thoughtful.
The variants were handled very delicately. K-19 and Q-161 agreed to be escorted back into their crates and stored. Director Vogel was instrumental in this negotiation, using a soothing voice as one might with a reluctant pet.
After the variants had left, we were arrested and harshly debriefed, but I felt certain we’d eventually be released. We’d acted without orders but with what had to be acceptable reasons.
After all, hadn’t a Stroj agent managed to work its way into Star Guard and take a commanding position? Who could be angry with the men who had revealed and destroyed it? Yes, good men had died, but if we’d not taken action all of Earth might have been lost.
Sitting in the brig far under the Earth for three days, I began to become concerned. Surely, they knew I’d done the right thing?
But doubts lingered in my mind. What if there were more Stroj about? Reason dictated the odds were high. If Perez had been replaced by another of his kind, how could I expect that individual to be pleased with me?
It was on the fourth day that my cell door finally rattled open. For the first time since my interrogation, a person came through instead of simply leaving a steel tray of cold food.
“Stand back!” said a querulous voice. “I’ve got a writ!”
“My Lady,” said the jailor. “He could be dangerous. He stands accused of killing fifteen men.”
“Nonsense, Warden. My nephew didn’t kill them—those automatons did it. He’s entirely innocent, as I intend to prove. Now, step aside!”
My heart dared to feel hope. It was my Aunt, the Lady Grantholm. She was a powerful figure in government and a confidant of the Chairman. If anyone could get me out of this, she could.
After arguing her way past the warden, she swept into my cell and looked around with a wrinkled nose.
“This is an unsavory habitat for a Sparhawk,” she said. “Unacceptable.”
“Lady Grantholm,” I said, “good to see you.”
“I wish I could say the same, but I can’t. Why am I always being summoned to cleanse messes left behind by o
thers?”
“Perhaps it’s your calling.”
She glared at me. “Being a smart aleck won’t endear you to anyone, William. You should have outgrown that by now.”
I sighed, tired of banter. “What are you doing here? Can you help me or not?”
She put her fingers to her lips. “Not here,” she said. “Warden!”
The door swung open quickly.
“You must escort us to a private meeting room. This one is bugged and unsanitary.”
She handed the man an order with a stabbing gesture. He took the computer scroll, looked at it, and then sullenly handed it back.
Without a word, he led us out of the dungeons. I followed with curiosity. My aunt was a wily woman. She’d made sure I was in her presence before she served her warrant. Perhaps if she’d attempted to deliver papers without seeing me, the warden would have tried to delay her. This way, he had no choice but to comply immediately.
More guards followed us warily. I had the feeling they thought I might turn into a Stroj myself and strike them all dead.
When my Aunt was at last satisfied we were alone and able to talk freely, she slammed her open hand into my face.
It was a hard slap, and it had come without warning. My teeth cut into my cheek with the force of the blow, and I tasted a trickle of blood.
“What was that for?” I demanded.
“For making me take action I didn’t want to take. For talking to a Stroj about things no man on Earth should be discussing. And most of all, for this!”
She held out another computer scroll. I took it and examined it.
The device was mine. On it was a series of scrawled numbers.
Shrugging, I tucked it into my pocket.
“Thanks for returning my property,” I said, “but I hardly see how a few numbers—”
“Those numbers lead somewhere, William,” she said, “and I think you know where they go.”
“Uh…” this was tough spot for me. I didn’t want to lie, but I didn’t want to make a misstep and send my aunt back to her mansion with no reason to help me. I had no idea as to the significance of the numbers—but I could make a shrewd guess.
“They’re coordinates,” I said at last.
