The holoimage stiffened as if insulted. “Driving Force Galyan wasn’t that kind of Adok.”
“I didn’t think so,” Maddox said, gently. “They wouldn’t have made you a commander if you lacked what Earth people call heart.”
The holoimage stared at Maddox. More normality filled the dark eyes. The thin arms no longer twitched.
“You desire my help?” Galyan asked.
“Most assuredly,” Maddox said.
“You have it, Captain.” Galyan spoke with more steel in his voice. “What can I do?”
Maddox heaved an inward sigh of relief. Maybe the gamble was going to pay off after all. “The professor picked up a small silver object in the Builder base,” the captain said. “Even with our best equipment, we haven’t been able to figure out what’s inside the oblong object. I wonder if you could do better.”
“This is the problem you were referring to?” Galyan asked.
“The first of many,” Maddox said.
“Yes. I would like to solve a puzzle. I would like to stop this world-killer. No one should have to go through what I did. It is horrible. I will never be the same because of it.”
“I wouldn’t think so.”
“Take the oblong object to Deck Three, Science Chamber Five.”
“I don’t know where that is,” Maddox said.
“It is time I showed you,” Galyan said. “It is time I engaged more of my functions to this new reality six thousand years from my own.”
“Yes. Let’s do it.”
-26-
Kane sauntered down a side street in Monte Carlo during the noon lunch hour. He did so as stage two in the commando raid extraction of the key.
The giant Nerva Conglomerate Tower soared before him. The glass edifice was massive at the base, tapering into a narrower spire the farther it stabbed into the clouds.
On the outside, the gray-haired agent wore a turban, dark sunglasses and a loose-fitting robe that hid his feet. Underneath, he wore the straps and bands of the enabler, although he hadn’t fitted the small energy ball to it yet. Three hours ago through a blank screen, he’d given the assassination teams their orders. They would be hitting their targets soon, creating the needed chaos.
Kane stopped at a kiosk, ordering a beer and a large soft pretzel. He sat on a stool, sipping the beer thoughtfully.
The Commonwealth was at war with, to these people, mysterious invaders called the New Men. Yet here in the heart of Human Space, hardly anyone cared about the battles raging on the rim of “C” Quadrant. It was amazing to Kane.
They walk in the shadow of death and don’t even acknowledge it.
Kane sipped a little more, noticing a young woman walking a small, hairless dog. She had a nice sway to her butt and delightfully ample breasts. Meta was better looking, but the woman might do for a quick mounting. The tiny predatory beast with its miniscule leash looked more like a rat than a canine. It came from the process of genetic manipulation gone wild and in the wrong direction.
Why breed for weakness? Kane did not understand the utility of a hairless Chihuahua.
With a grunt, he slid off the stool, leaving the soft pretzel on the counter with half the beer left in the bottle.
Kane continued toward the tower. His nape hairs stirred then as if someone watched him again. Stopping, he tugged at the robe around his hips and bent down, pretending to tie his shoelaces. As he did, he scanned the crowd behind him.
He spied two so-called giants, Nerva security clones in black. They didn’t feel like giants to Kane. The Nerva clones were much bigger than the surrounding weaklings, but he had no doubt about his ability to destroy them both man-to-man with his bare hands.
They stood seven feet tall and likely had greater mass than he did. Each giant wore a combat vest and carried a heavy caliber gun in a holster. They wore sunglasses, scanning the crowd. Because of the way the combat vests fit, Kane guessed the clones lifted weights and took steroids. None of that would make any difference if he should have to fight them. Kane had been born and raised on a two-G world. His muscles were denser and many times stronger than theirs were.
The sense of scrutiny did not come from the clones, though. One part of Kane was disappointed. He would have liked to walk up to them, punching each a sudden and debilitating blow.
Who among the crowd watched him so closely and exhibited a true threat to his person? Kane’s senses were honed and trustworthy; he knew that.
Can the target know I’m coming?
Finished with the shoelaces, Kane stood. He gazed up at Nerva Tower. Did the target watch him through binoculars?
Don’t be paranoid. No one knows you’re on Earth. Who then is watching me—?
The feeling evaporated. With its cessation, Kane was doubly certain someone had been gauging him. That was odd. It felt just like the time aboard Cestus Hauler EV-3498-Z109.
That made no sense whatsoever.
Kane slipped down an alleyway, putting his back against the cool concrete. What was wrong with him? Why was he sensing someone powerful watching him? Was he losing his nerve? The idea made his neck hot with anger.
I must think. I must reason this out. I’m forgetting something, and I don’t know what it is.
He could abort the mission—
Pain stabbed in his mind. He groaned, dropping to one knee as nausea filled him.
I will enter the tower. I will find the key.
Abruptly, the pain stopped. It left afterimages on his irises. He felt numb, and Kane realized then what had happened. The dominants had used him. Oran Rva must have ordered the process. The commander had modified his mind. That angered Kane more than anything else could.
He nodded sickly as he realized the feeling of scrutiny must come from that. Deep within him, his subconscious must have known he was a human missile being guided to the target. The dominants hadn’t trusted him with the mission. Instead, they had added reinforcements to his thoughts.
Oran Rva has treated me as a sub-man. I have failed too often.
The bitterness of the thought made Kane’s mouth dry and his eyes burn. He could not turn aside even if he wanted to. The compulsion would force his feet into the tower and to the chief of Nerva Security’s inner sanctum.
“Very well,” Kane growled. “Let’s get this over with.”
He strode out of the alleyway onto the side street, heading briskly for the glass building. A glance over his shoulder surprised Kane. No one followed him. Yet it had felt—
He snarled. He would destroy anyone who got in his way. For the mission, he had unique weapons, one of them a broken-down blaster with the pieces scattered about his person. The pistol was composed of non-metallic material, difficult to trace. Since it didn’t use bullets, there wasn’t any gunpowder for a chem-sniffer to locate.
Kane squared his shoulders, heading for the tower. My moment of destiny has arrived.
***
Kane used his raptor identity card, passing each security check, climbing the floors of the Nerva Tower. Several times, black-clad clones eyed him suspiciously, waving a wand over him. Three times, they’d given him a pat down. Of course, they found nothing. They were too brutishly dumb to imagine a weapon in its various component parts on him. The other items were beyond their primitive sciences to comprehend.
He approached the fourth checkpoint, which was on the Twenty-sixth floor. The guards wore black power armor, aiming machine guns at his chest. He was nearing the heart of the security empire.
“Stop right there, mister.”
Kane glanced at the guard’s nameplate, the one who had spoken with a shoulder amplifier. The plate said BENITO.
Trying to practice obedience, wondering how to feign fear, Kane halted. He no longer wore the turban and robe, having stuffed them into a dispenser in a Nerva Tower restroom. In his gray suit, he looked like a businessman from one of the heavier planets.
“There’s something different about you,” Benito said.
The other guards stirred, th
eir exo-skeleton armor purring with power.
“My ID is sound,” Kane rumbled.
Benito motioned to a woman at a desk staring at a monitor. She stood. Her hair was in a bun, and she wore a knee-length dress. Opening a drawer, the woman took out a thin wand, approaching Kane.
“What is the nature of your visit?” she asked.
“To speak with Mr. Strand,” Kane said.
The woman glanced sharply at the one named Benito.
The seven-foot clone—made bigger in his bulky power armor—checked the palm of his glove. He nodded after a moment.
The woman stepped closer, beginning to wave the wand across Kane’s body. Nothing happened after the first pass.
Kane relaxed, shifting toward the direction he wished to continue.
“You don’t think it’s that easy, do you?” Benito asked.
Kane knew he should respond in a jocular manner. Normally, he would have done just that, easing tensions. This time, however, something clicked in his mind, causing his eyes to narrow and perspiration to dot his skin. The need to act made his stomach seethe. It is time to kill.
With hyper-awareness, Kane observed the woman changing the setting on her wand. She passed it over him again. To Kane’s amazement, it began to beep. Could the primitives have tech to sense his superior weaponry? It seemed preposterous.
With whirring noises in their sub-motors, the power-armored guards stepped closer. The woman backed away from Kane, fear exuding from her pores.
Benito’s visor whirled shut. “What’s it sensing?” the guard asked.
“An energy pack,” she whispered.
“On your stomach,” Benito ordered Kane.
The desire to kill pounded in Kane’s mind. Even so, he managed to say, “I think there’s been a mistake.”
“On your stomach or die,” Benito said, the words amplified by the suit speaker.
“Look, if this is the problem,” Kane said, reaching into his suit.
All around him, armored trigger fingers tightened. The machine guns would spew death in seconds.
Kane froze. “I get it. You’re nervous about something. I’m not going to move.”
“Onto your stomach,” Benito said.
“Of course,” Kane said, lowering himself to his knees. “Can I move my hand out of my suit?”
“Slowly,” Benito said.
Kane slipped the silver ball into the plug, activating the enabler. The silver bands around his muscles buzzed in a delightful manner. He dove onto the floor with his heightened speed.
Three fingers pulled triggers. The machine guns spat bullets, tearing carpet and the flooring underneath. Kane was no longer in their line of impact, though.
The machine guns clicked empty. As the power armor suits swiveled toward him, Kane rolled onto his back. He took out a different, larger silver ball, pressing his thumb into an exact spot. The ball flashed with blue sizzling lines, each writhing to a different power suit.
The guards froze, their motors burned out.
Kane got up fast. The woman tried to run. It seemed like slow motion. Kane stepped near and slapped the back of her head. It launched her off her feet to slam face-first against the carpet, knocking her unconscious.
Kane put the silver ball away. Then, he took out small black discs. He pressed one onto the chest of each guard. Each disc stuck where placed. Tiny green numbers flashed on miniscule screens. Lastly, Kane picked up the unconscious woman, carrying her with him. The commando sprinted down the corridor, moving like the wind. Explosions behind him meant the death of Benito and his fellow armored clones.
As Kane continued to run, he slung the woman onto his right shoulder. Three times, he slapped her butt. “Wake up,” he said with the last hit.
She cried out in dismay, lifting her head.
“Hang on if you want to live.”
She did, clutching his gray suit in desperation.
Relieved of the problem of having to hang on to her, Kane took various innocuous pieces from around his person. He assembled them as he ran, producing the blaster. The heft of it felt good in Kane’s shooting hand.
“You’re crazy,” the woman said. “You have no idea of the security procedures. You can’t win. I suggest you surrender while you can.”
Kane slapped her butt harder than before, making her cry out with true pain. She no longer boasted about Nerva Security.
In a half minute, Kane reached a selected elevator, using the raptor ID to make it ping. Seconds later, the doors opened. He deposited the woman within.
She looked up at him with fear.
He touched her with a special device, causing her to slump onto the floor. He put a disc on the floor with her, activating it before stepping back.
The elevator closed and began to rise. The disc would short-circuit any security readings except that a life form was inside.
Kane strode briskly down a new corridor. A crump of an explosion told him Nerva Security had blown the elevator. It was possible they thought the intruder dead. But they would wonder why their security cameras no longer worked on this floor.
Let them wonder. The silver ball had taken care of the problem.
Soon, Kane reached Door 26-123. First, he unplugged the energy ball. The buzzing in the enabler bands stopped.
Exhaustion swept through him. Kane’s cheeks felt numb. He panted, waiting for the worst of the weakness to pass. He had become accustomed to the enabler on the scout, practicing every day, gaining endurance with it. Still, this was the difficult moment.
Finally, he used the raptor ID on a slot, opening the door, stepping past cleaning equipment. A furnace sat in back. He opened a small panel, tapped in the code and stepped back. The furnace opened, revealing a ghostly stealth suit and climbing gear.
Stripping off his jacket and garments, Kane donned the stealth suit. It covered his head and body. He waited five minutes, finally feeling normal again. Activating the stealth suit, he became invisible, circuits in the suit bending the light to “see” what was behind him.
Taking the climbing gear, he moved deeper into the room. He opened a bigger panel. Cold air whipped within.
Kane eased himself to the opening. It led to the outside of Nerva Tower, the glass exterior. With care, he reached out, attaching the suction grips to a glass pane.
In moments, he climbed the tower like an invisible spider. Monte Carlo spread out far below. In the distance, he spied the Mediterranean Sea.
Kane exuded strength. He always felt immensely powerful on Earth, a weak, 1-G world. No doubt, Nerva Security scrambled to hide Octavian Nerva, Strand and other Methuselah People. His training had indicated the old humans worked at making themselves difficult to hurt, let alone kill. They must be wondering how an intruder could have gotten so deep into the tower structure. It was patently obvious that Strand would rush to his security lair, which was where Kane needed him to be. Minutes before all this, the assassination teams had begun to spread chaos to outer Nerva Security in Monte Carlo. The Methuselah People would be panicking.
Soon enough, Kane reached the Fifty-seventh floor. He found a hidden opening, crawling inside the building to safety. With the stealth suit giving him invisibility, Kane opened a janitor’s door. He strode briskly down a corridor, heading for the target and the key.
Nineteen doors later, Kane used his raptor ID for the last time. The door slid aside, and he stepped into a small corridor. The door slammed shut behind him, and gas billowed into a sealed chamber.
For a stunned second, Kane stood in shock. This wasn’t supposed to happen. He pulled out his blaster, firing at the locking mechanism. While holding his breath against the knockout gas, Kane lowered his shoulder and smashed through the barrier
Three power-armored guards stood before him. Each clone held a tube. They all pulled the triggers at the same time. Each tube made a popping sound.
As fast as he could, Kane plugged the energy ball to the enabler. The buzz began against his muscles. This time, it was too late.
Three tangle pods exploded against Kane, wrapping him in strong, sticky strands. He struggled to no avail, toppling onto the floor, webbed within the strands.
The clank of power armor told Kane it was over. He ground his teeth together with rage. This couldn’t be happening. A second later, a stun wand shocked him into unconsciousness.
***
“Finally, you’re awake,” a creaky-voiced old man said.
Kane peeled his eyes open. The grim reality of his failure slammed home. After all he’d done, this old man had outfoxed him. That was unbelievably galling.
Kane lay naked on a frame, his ankles and wrists heavily shackled.
A bent old man watched him. Strand held onto a cane. He had quivering, wrinkled hands. The old man raised the cane and tapped the end against Kane’s chest.
“Your assault wasn’t altogether unexpected,” Strand told him. “I had my doubts anyone could get so far, but I see I was wrong. Did the Throne World order this?”
Kane said nothing.
Strand chuckled. “Of course it did. You would never have attempted it on your own, would you, Kane?”
“I’ve come for the key,” Kane said.
Strand’s blue eyes seemed to burn. “Don’t tell me they unleashed the doomsday machine. Who could have been so foolish?”
“It doesn’t matter what you say. Release me and give me the key.”
Strand’s withered lips drew back. “It all matters, my over-muscled brute. But maybe you can’t understand what I’m saying. Do you realize they programmed you?”
“No,” Kane said.
“Ah, you dislike the idea. Good. Maybe I can deprogram you and learn what has transpired out in the void. Tell me, Kane. Did Oran Rva destroy the Fifth Fleet? Is that wretched Adok starship still intact? I desire knowledge.”
Kane struggled against his bonds.
Strand sighed, snapping his fingers. Two seven-foot clones approached. They held pain inducers.
“We are about to enter a new relationship, Kane. Your old loyalties are about to be severely tested. What do you wish for most, my brutish friend?”
The Lost Destroyer (Lost Starship Series Book 3) Page 23
