“This, my fine fellow,” Strand said blandly, “is a little surprise for the Emperor.”
“You must be more explicit,” Lark said.
“Oh, must I?” Strand asked.
The commander’s eyes flashed. “Are you threatening us? If so, why?”
“Come, now,” said Strand. “This is improper. You—”
“A moment,” Lark said, as he held up a preemptory hand.
The commander turned his head as if listening to someone unseen on his bridge. Lark nodded curtly to the hidden someone and stared like a predatory beast at Strand.
“You are the Methuselah Man,” Lark said coldly.
Strand barely concealed his surprise. He finally managed to ask, “Do I look like the—”
“Enough!” Lark said, interrupting. “State your intentions, Methuselah Man.”
“Sir,” Darius said. “The Silver Tangier’s targeting systems are locking onto us.”
“Take your weapons offline, at once,” Strand told the commander.
“You are a traitor,” Lark told him. “Prepare to receive a traitor’s reward.”
“You fool. I’m here bearing gifts.”
“You are a notorious liar,” Lark said. “I have no intention of ending my days as part of your heinous crew.”
“Sir—” Darius said from the gunner’s console.
Strand couldn’t believe it. On the main screen, the triangular-shaped star cruiser opened fire. A red fusion beam speared from the hull-damaged vessel, heading straight at Strand’s precious Argo.
-6-
The fusion beam struck the electromagnetic shield with greater energy than Strand had expected. This must be a new-and-improved fusion beam.
“The shield is absorbing the strike, Master,” Darius said. “What are your orders?”
Behind his holo-mask, Strand scowled. He did not like Darius asking him anything. It indicated a struggling will that was attempting to free itself from bondage.
“Keep bearing in,” Strand finally said.
There was a stir among his bridge crew. Strand noticed, and he almost quailed inside. What was going on here? He settled a forearm onto his lap. On the wrist was a dark pad with various buttons. He let the fingers of his other hand rest against those buttons. Several coded taps would send a signal to the embedded mini-bombs in his crew’s skulls. That would instantly quash any rebellion, although it would also deprive him of his trained bridge personnel.
The fusion beam grew hotter. The shield kept absorbing, darkening in the area as it did so. Bit by bit, the darkening bled into more of the curving shield.
“I will hammer your shield into submission,” Lark boasted on the screen. “The Emperor will reward me for ridding the Dominants of your plaguing presence.”
“I have not come to fight,” Strand said. “The fact that I refuse to open fire on you should prove my good intent.”
“Why did you sneak up on my ship then?” Lark demanded.
“I turned off my cloaking device, did I not? That was meant as a sign of my good intentions.”
“Sir,” Darius said. “The shield is at forty-three percent capacity in the targeted area.”
Strand appeared to ignore the information. The truth was otherwise. He did not like this.
“Why won’t you believe me?” Strand said.
From the main screen, Lark studied him. The New Man cocked his head a moment. Someone unseen seemed to be urging him to a course of action, or to remain on the course he’d already chosen. Abruptly, Lark chopped a hand through the air.
Several moments later, the fusion beam died away.
Strand wanted to heave a sigh of relief. He wanted to mop his sweaty forehead. He did not allow himself to do either of those things.
“Thank you,” the Methuselah Man said.
Lark studied him. What did the Dominant think behind those intense eyes?
“Perhaps I spoke hastily,” Lark said. “I thought you were Strand. Yet, you do not speak as he does. Still, the Methuselah Man controls your vessel. If your intentions are peaceful, I must hear it from his lips. I will give you thirty seconds to get him. After that, I will renew my attack until his vessel is destroyed.”
Strand seethed at these admonishments. Who was in the shadows over there, advising Lark?
Strand stood. “As you wish, Commander.” He headed for the hatch. As he did, he felt an itch between his shoulders. Did that come from Lark studying him from the screen, or from his own New Men?
As soon as Strand stepped into the hall, he shut off the holo-mask. He composed himself, waiting several seconds. This was about buying time to work in close enough. Finally, Strand reentered the bridge, moving to the command chair, settling into it before looking up at the watching Lars Lark.
There was something unseemly in the New Man’s gaze, and Strand realized two things that bothered him. Lark had free will. Worse, the New Man’s free will permitted him to stare at Strand with revulsion.
“So, you are the Emperor’s toad,” Lark said in a sneering manner. “I have never seen you in person. I am awed, and I am sickened that such intellect as yours should reside in such an inferior body. Do you not tire of existence as such a small, weak old man?”
“I do,” Strand said, deciding he wanted more than anything to make Lark part of his crew.
“If I were you,” Lark said, “I would strive for bodily improvement or consider a glorious battle death. Living as you do, century after century in such a mangled form…”
“You tread on dangerous ground by insulting me.”
“Why should you say this?” Lark asked. “You have spoken well of the Emperor. You have given me your word of peaceful intention toward my vessel. You have accepted my attack and pleaded for mercy. How then could I fear you?”
“I concede your point,” Strand said stiffly.
At the gunner’s console, Darius’s eyes seemed to widen fractionally.
At the same time, Commander Lark fingered his mouth.
Suddenly, Strand knew what was going on. The New Man was trying to lure him into a trap.
Strand made a bland gesture.
Gunner Darius’s back stiffened. A moment later, with practiced skill, he began to target the enemy.
On the screen, Lark’s head moved as if he were reading something before him. He looked up sharply at Strand. “You are powering up your disruptor cannon.”
“For one reason only,” Strand said, “in order to forestall any treachery on your part.”
“Do you declare our truce to be at an end?”
“I’m afraid so,” Strand said. “You’re not going to believe what I have to say in any case. Thus, here is a quick lesson in decorum. It is unwise to insult such a man as I.”
An energy build-up whined throughout the Argo. Seconds later, a powerful disruptor beam slashed from the vessel. The beam reached across the closing distance, darkening Lark’s shield.
Belatedly, a red fusion beam struck back.
It was an uneven contest. The more powerful and technologically advanced disruptor beam relentlessly battered the enemy shield. Soon, it was a black semi-circle before the star cruiser. By that time, Strand’s shield had turned a cherry-red color, nothing more.
“Their shield is about to collapse,” Darius said.
“Be ready to divert power from the beam,” Strand said. “I wish to disable their ship, nothing more.”
Darius swiveled around. “That could prove to be a difficult task, Master.”
“I did not ask you how hard the process would be,” Strand said. “I informed you of my desire. Your responsibility is to see that it happens. Or do you lack such skill?”
Darius seemed to struggle with the answer. His innate New Man superiority no doubt attempted to assert itself. Finally, he said, “I do not know, Master.”
“I am not interested if you know,” Strand said. “I am interested that you do.”
A warning from other bridge personnel caused Darius to swivel back to h
is board. His golden fingers moved furiously across the gunnery panel.
Abruptly, the enemy shield collapsed, breaking under the hellish assault. The full-powered disrupter beam smashed against the armored hull. The beam began to chew through heavy armor plates. At the same time, the vessel’s shield tried to reform. That proved impossible with the bar of destructive energy in the way.
Now, the disrupter beam chewed into ablative foam behind the breached armor plates. The beam broke down bulkheads, smashing into the vessel’s living quarters.
Abruptly, the disruptor beam quit. It changed targeting vectors as it reappeared and began plowing into engine compartments. It was a delicate attack compared to a few seconds ago. Instead of merely battering down the armor and roving at will, Darius tried to use the destructive force like a scalpel. In truth, it was a fifty-fifty proposition that he could succeed. If the beam hit the wrong chamber, it could cause a massive, ship-wide explosion that would kill everyone aboard.
On no account did Strand desire that.
He fumed on his command chair. Strand’s plan had been to close-in and use the stasis field against the enemy vessel. That would have proven so much easier, without this useless destruction. He needed the star cruiser intact. He—
“There,” Darius said, with a flourish at his board. “I believe I have given you your wish, Master. I—”
“May have spoken too soon,” Strand said in annoyance.
An explosion on the other ship blew away armor plates as well as the main thruster nodules. The debris tumbled away end over end.
Strand froze in harsh anticipation…would more of the star cruiser blow? Would he lose the prized vessel?
Several seconds later, after nothing more happened, Strand exhaled with a rattle in his throat. He coughed for some time afterward, struggling to repress it. He detested such signs of weakness.
Finally, he wheezed and took a drink of a thickened liquid. That helped soothe his sore throat. He noticed that the enemy star cruiser was still relatively intact.
Darius waited at the gunnery console. Did Strand detect pride in the New Man’s eyes at his accomplishment?
Strand debated tapping his wrist control, ridding himself of this new source of vexation. Yet, that seemed wasteful. Darius had just proven himself as a skillful soldier, and Strand needed a skilled crew. Still, he wondered if Darius had developed a modicum of free will. Maybe that was why the New Man had handled the disrupter cannon so well.
Strand decided he had some questions that needed answering. First, though, he needed to secure the enemy star cruiser.
-7-
Fifty minutes later, Strand’s highly modified Argo matched velocities with the drifting vessel. A mere two hundred kilometers separated the star cruisers. No doubt, the survivors over there were prepared for a valiant defense. It was possible that some of them were surprised that he had not yet called on them to surrender.
Strand would not ask them anything yet, nothing that allowed them a choice. He was going to make all the decisions now.
“Begin,” he told the new gunner.
Strand had confined Darius to his quarters. He had to think about that one a little longer.
A strange emanation began throughout the craft as a stasis-field generator sucked up the ship’s power. Outside, a triangular-shaped field spread from the locus of the Argo. The stasis field encompassed the enemy vessel.
At the same time, space commandos spewed from special ejectors. The New Men sped toward the stricken Silver Tangier. Each commando soon activated his thruster-pack, each applying terrific thrust in order to slow his velocity. The commandos wore special suits so they could move within the stasis field.
Strand watched from his command chair.
Like space mites, the commandos reached the stricken star cruiser’s hull. They used magnetic boots to walk to various hatches. No one on the other side was awake to give them trouble. That was the beauty of the stasis field. The trick was to work the Argo in close enough to use it, as the stasis-field generator was an extremely short-ranged weapon.
Strand relaxed as the commandos entered the enemy starship. The Methuselah Man checked his chronometer to see how much time the crew captured by the stasis-field had left to live. If his commandos could not secure the star cruiser in time, those caught in the stasis field would die.
Strand looked around at his bridge crew.
“Sir,” the comm officer said sharply.
Strand almost slid out of his chair in surprise. He got to his feet and raised his right hand to touch the control pad on his left wrist. The officer had startled him. On no account should the New Man be able to speak first.
“What is it?” Strand asked in a raspy voice.
“One of the enemy personnel has greeted your commandos. They have the greeter in custody.”
“Someone is awake over there?” Strand asked in amazement.
“Yes, Master.”
“How did the greeter find the correct sort of suit in time?” he wondered aloud.
“May I speak, Master?”
“Speak, speak,” Strand said.
“The individual was not wearing a suit.”
“And he’s moving and talking within the stasis field?” Strand asked.
“Yes, Master,” the comm officer answered.
Strand blinked several times. He didn’t know what to say. This was impossible. How could…? Ah.
“My commandos have no doubt captured an android,” Strand said. “I can conceive of no other possibility. Yet, what is an android doing on the Silver Tangier?”
“I do not know, Master,” the comm officer replied.
“A mystery,” Strand said to himself. “Tell the commandos to use restraints. I want the android alive. They must secure the star cruiser, and… Yes. They will bring the android to the retrieval shuttle. I have a feeling this creature wants to speak with me.”
***
Strand waited until the stasis field went offline. He waited until his teams had secured the enemy star cruiser. By this time, the entire Silver Tangier crew was in their starship’s brigs. The only person belonging to the enemy craft who was aboard Strand’s vessel was its Commander, Lars Lark. Strand had not yet decided how to deal with him. The insults had been too savage for him to brush aside. Yet…if he hoped to lure the Emperor’s people here—
“Come,” he told his guard.
The five of them marched down a ship’s corridor, soon reaching their destination. He allowed the guards to take up position in the scanning room. He sat in a chair and reflected for a moment on what he knew about the android.
His instruments told him this was a genuine Builder-made android. That made the construct incredibly dangerous. There was no telling why it had been aboard the Silver Tangier. The android was wise enough to know that greeting the commandos would have made Strand instantly suspicious. The construct was trying to tell him something by the action.
Strand had not survived the centuries by taking unneeded risks. Builder-made androids often possessed great intellect and could be exceptionally cunning. A small part of Strand’s hindbrain was telling him to destroy the construct, to have nothing to do with it. And yet…sometimes risks brought fantastic rewards. He had not remained alive for so long by eliminating every risk.
Strand felt as if this were one of those moments to accept a dare.
He raised a clicker and pressed it. The big wall screen came on, showing him an android standing absolutely still in a cell.
Strand leaned forward, studying the construct.
They were not on the same deck. While his instruments had not detected a bomb on the thing, that didn’t mean it lacked one.
The android was tall, with long silver-blonde hair and handsome features. She wore a gaudy reddish and slightly reflective uniform with a long cape and stylish boots. The android looked to be a woman in her thirties, but that meant less than nothing. The construct could be weeks old or it could be a thousand years old.
S
trand pressed another switch on his clicker, opening communications between them. “Do you have a name?” he asked.
The construct moved, blinking, twisting around. It did not smile. The face lacked any emotion at all. It was more like a wooden mask. Did it lack the proper protocols for human behavior?
“You may call me Ms. Rose, or simply Rose if you prefer,” the android said in an emotionless voice.
“How old are you?”
“That is an indelicate question and shows a decided lack of breeding,” Rose said. “I will tell you that I am much older than you.”
Strand drummed his fingers on an armrest. He did not care for her cheekiness. What was the thing’s reasoning for it?
“Did you counsel Commander Lark during our confrontation?”
“I gave him information, if that’s what you mean.”
“What was the nature of this information?”
“That you were the Methuselah Man Strand.”
“Why would you tell Lark?”
“I desired a cessation of hostilities between your two vessels.”
Strand debated the idea. “No,” he said. “That does not ring true. We were not yet engaged in hostilities at that point. Your knowledge created the tense situation.”
“It appears I made an error in judgment,” Rose said.
“That also rings false. You must have known the commander would not…hmmm…regard me fondly.”
“I know that now. The commander hates you, if you will allow me to be blunt.”
“Maybe I hate him,” Strand said, nettled.
“That is quite possible. By the way, I think you might like to know that I suspected you would employ your stasis field.”
Strand rubbed his mouth. “How could you have suspected that when the stasis field is a secret weapon?”
“Oh,” Rose said, somewhat vaguely. “That does seem to contain an error in logic, doesn’t it?”
“Are you attempting to anger me by your manner of speech?”
Rose did not answer, but waited.
The Lost Planet (Lost Starship Series Book 6) Page 4
