Star Raider

by Vaughn Heppner

  Provided there ever is a next time, he told himself.

  “Ah,” Acton said.

  Tanner glanced up. “What’s wrong now?”

  “Notice the tunnel walls.”

  Tanner squinted as the light flashed on the metal bracing and rock. “What about them?” he asked.

  “They’re sweating.”

  Tanner saw it, then. Water slicked the rock. In places, droplets slid down the wall. He studied the ceiling. It was wet. Were they passing under a lake or maybe an underground stream? If the tunnel above collapsed, would a wave wash over them, smashing them onto the floor?

  “How far are we underground?” Tanner said.

  “Approximately a kilometer,” Acton said.

  “Why isn’t it hotter, then? I thought the deeper one went, the hotter it became.”

  “It is hotter, quite a bit, in fact. I’m surprised you haven’t noticed. Ah!” the Shand said. He tapped his board, studying it. “Cyborgs approach. Let me amend that. We’re approaching a cyborg battalion, or whatever they call the formation.”

  “Moving living breathing cyborgs?” Tanner asked.

  “That is correct.”

  Tanner cursed under his breath. “Should I ready my blaster?”

  “Negative,” Acton said. “I have a different surprise for them.”

  “Your surprise will work, right?”

  “We will find out shortly.” Without warning, Acton walked away from the control stanchion He went to a metal box, knelt, inspected the top and stood. He knelt at a second and then a third box. By this time, he was near the edge of the flying sled.

  That made Tanner nervous. “Do you want me at the controls?”

  Acton looked up. “On no account,” the Shand said. “You would tip us. They are delicate controls and take a master’s hand.”

  “Yeah? Well, how are we staying on course without you at them?”

  “Cease your yammering at once. I must concentrate and ready this before we reach the next bend.”

  Tanner shut up. He kept his hand on the blaster butt as it rested in his holster. His stomach roiled as Acton removed the box’s top. The lean alien reached inside, adjusting the equipment.

  “Acton!” Tanner shouted. “A bend is coming up. We’re heading straight for a wall.”

  “Yes, yes, give me a moment’s peace, will you. I hadn’t realized your need for useless chatter. It is quite annoying and at the worst possible moments.”

  “Acton! Hurry up, will you?”

  The Shand looked up. He hurried then, looking down and typing faster. At the last moment, he jumped up and ran back to the control unit.

  To Tanner’s horror, his running made the gravity sled wobble. He gulped down any noise he might have made.

  “Grab a bar!” Acton shouted.

  Tanner had already done so. Then, he remembered the sleeping Lithian. “What about your blue giant?”

  Acton clipped his suit to the control, and he manipulated fast. He looked up at Tanner, staring blankly. Then, he shot an agonizing glance at the sleeping giant.

  A line secured the Lithian. Would it hold during a tight turn?

  The gravity sled wobbled again, and it turned, leaning one way. Tanner felt himself slipping. He groaned, hanging on tight.

  The Lithian jerked to a halt, stopped by his line. Then, the line snapped. The blue giant shot toward the edge. He hit a bar, spun around it and shot off the sled against rock, smacking with a meaty sound before falling toward the floor.

  “We lost him!” Tanner shouted.

  “That will cost us,” Acton said. “That could cost us dearly. I’m going to need his strength before this is through.”

  “He just flew off,” Tanner shouted. This last death shook him. They were deep underground flying through sweaty walls with a possible lake over them and a cyborg battalion ready to kill them and more of the horrible Phazes plotting who knew what.

  “I miscalculated,” Acton said.

  Tanner laughed harshly.

  “Maintain your decorum,” the alien said. “It is critical.” They flew farther. The Shand cocked his head. “Why did you laugh just now? I do not understand.”

  “You bastard,” Tanner said. “You called it a miscalculation. What you mean is your mistake cost the Lithian—your man—his life.”

  “He was my creature. I am not convinced he was fully human.”

  “Whatever he was, he was your responsibility to protect.”

  “Are you accusing me?” Acton said.

  “Yeah! That’s right. That’s what I’m doing. Don’t you have any feelings?”

  “Not if I can help it,” Acton said. “I am on an eternal quest to expunge them.”

  “What’s that mean?”

  “I rid myself of emotions because they hinder my success.”

  “Why did the Phazes control the Lithians’ minds? I thought you had something to block that.”

  “I already told you I do.”

  “Apparently your device was as useless as your emotions.”

  Acton scowled. “That is incorrect. The unit is still aboard the Dark Star. I have already told you as much.”

  “A fat lot of good the unit does us up there. We just lost a Lithian because of your forgetfulness.”

  “On the contrary,” Acton said. “The unit is critical to our survival. Without it onboard, your friends would possibly succumb to Phaze mind suggestion. We would not have a means of leaving this place if the Phazes succeeded on the raider, causing it to crash on the planet, for instance.”

  Tanner stared at Acton, the Shand’s words sinking in. “This is a hellhole of a planet.”

  “That is an apt description.”

  “Why did you think the Lithians could out-stubborn the Phazes like me?”

  “That was my miscalculation. Now, desist from your accusations. We’re nearing the cyborgs. Tell me if you spot one.”

  “Can’t your sensor see them?”

  “The general vicinity of them,” Acton said. “There could be a few—”

  Before Acton could finish, a bullet smashed against the control station. They were under attack.

  -49-

  Tanner threw himself flat onto the gravity sled. He slid a pair of goggles over his eyes, adjusting them. Immediately, he saw a silvery humanoid creature down the vast corridor. It had shimmering garments and bounded across the floor at them.

  The thing moved fast like a machine, and its eyes glowed with an eerie red color. Each bound took it twenty meters or more. Nothing manlike should be so quick.

  “Shoot it,” Acton said. “But grab a rifle. Don’t use the blaster.”

  Tanner slid to a duffel bag, tearing it open. He slid a heavy combat rifle from it. It was a Remus rifle from the Dark Star’s gun locker.

  The cyborg fired more shots. It had a long-barreled pistol, the barrel lifting at each shot with flames shooting out the end. The exploding slugs whanged off the bottom of the gravity sled.

  Acton had begun taking evasive action, lifting the front from time to time.

  Tanner cursed, telling the Shand to keep it level a moment. He targeted the bounding monstrosity and fired in rapid succession, missing each time.

  “I’m going to have to get lucky,” Tanner shouted. “It can actually dodge my bullets.”

  “Fire!” Acton shouted. “It’s jumped. It’s airborne. It can’t dodge now.”

  Tanner had looked back at the Shand to complain. Now, he whipped his head around. In the wash of powerful beams, the centurion saw the cyborg. It had leapt off the floor thirty meters below and sailed toward them. How could it do that? It was better than a powered-armored space marine was.

  Something happened to Tanner then. Something cold and urgent washed through him. He targeted the approaching cyborg, and he fired. His bullets smashed against armored body parts, shredding metal and graphite muscles from it. Unfortunately, that didn’t stop the cyborg. With a clang, it landed on the sled.

  Tanner instinctively raised his ai
m, shooting rapid-fire at the brainpan. The head snapped back at each slug. Finally, the steel braincase cracked open, and a slug tore into the human gray matter, the brain inside.

  Abruptly, the cyborg lost coherence, toppling from the edge of the sled and dropping toward the floor.

  “Excellent shooting, Centurion,” Acton said. “I congratulate you.”

  Tanner used the back of his hand to wipe his dry mouth. His heart was hammering, but his mind was clear with combat intensity.

  “I’ve spotted two more,” Acton said, as he studied his board.

  “These guys are creeps. I need something better.” Tanner slid on his belly to the duffel bag. This time, he extracted a grenade launcher.

  In seconds, he peeked over the edge of the sled. He didn’t have long to wait. Two more cyborgs bounded into view. Like the first one, they fired long-barreled pistols. Tanner didn’t launch any grenades just yet. Instead, he let Acton manipulate the disc, using it as a shield. Tanner worried about one of those shots doing something critical to the sled’s underbelly. If the sled began to drop, he’d realize the cyborgs had succeeded.

  “Now,” Acton said.

  Tanner tracked and fired, launching a grenade at an airborne creature. The grenade struck an armored chest, destroying it in the blast. The blast also knocked the cyborg off target just enough. As a lifeless husk, it went sailing past them to slam against a rock wall.

  The next cyborg fared no better, the grenade blasting off its head.

  “You are a rare soldier,” Acton said.

  “I’m a legionnaire of Remus.”

  “Yes,” Acton said. “You are, and a splendid one, I might add. Few humans could have bested three cyborgs in a row. Now, we’re approaching the battalion.”

  “How many do you think that is?”

  “A little more than six hundred cyborgs,” Acton said.

  Tanner paled. “That’s great. How are we supposed to kill six hundred of those things?”

  “We are not,” Acton said. “I am.”

  Tanner studied the Shand, finally grinning. “You’re a royal pain in the ass; do you know that, Acton? But man alive, you do have style. You’re all right despite what everyone says about you.”

  “You have no idea how much that gratifies me hearing you say so.”

  Tanner’s grin grew into a genuine smile. “Not a bit, huh, Acton?”

  “Correct.”

  “Okay. I’m watching you. Let’s see what you have, old son. Show me how it’s done.”

  Acton closed his eyes, and it seemed to Tanner that the alien mumbled low under his breath. This was interesting. The Shand bowed his head, and the mumbling increased in speed and volume. It was in a language Tanner had only heard once before. That was when Acton had spoken to the other Shand in the weapons shop. Finally, his eyes snapped open. There was a new intensity to Acton. It made him seem like a lord indeed.

  “What was that?” Tanner asked. “What did you just do?”

  Acton ignored him.

  “Did you just pray?” the centurion asked.

  “What else should I do when nearing the possible end of my long existence? Now, please, I must insist, give me silence.”

  Acton hunched his head, and his long fingers played on the controls. The gravity sled angled toward the floor, zooming lower. Soon, they skimmed the surface by a bare meter.

  Tanner heard the ground rushing past. They were going faster than at any time earlier. The rushing wind brought tears to the centurion’s squinting eyes. He’d shoved up the goggles so they sat on his head. Because of the increased speed, he pushed them back over his eyes.

  Acton stood tall as he moved from the controls to the open box. He paused there, knelt and pressed something. Then, he fairly leapt back to the controls. With a fixed gaze, he watched their progression.

  The disc flew into a large cavernous area. With his special goggles, Tanner saw the waiting cyborgs. Some gripped long-barreled pistols. Others cradled heavy rifles. Still others stood by crew-serviced weapons, heavy machine guns and plasma tubes.

  Tanner kept watching as the gravity sled slid toward certain destruction. Any second, he expected a devastating barrage to blast them out of the air. Instead, nothing happened. The battalion of machine-men waited in perfect poise.

  “Why aren’t they attacking?” Tanner finally asked.

  “They cannot,” Acton said. “They are caught in a stasis field. My nullifier is old and worn, but it is still working. I doubt its capacity, however. All we need is a few more seconds and we shall be past them.”

  “What about the return voyage?” Tanner asked. “Will the stasis field work then?”

  “It is not called a stasis field. That is what a nullifier projects.”

  “Got it,” Tanner said. “I have to tell you I like the name.”

  The gravity sled swept past the frozen battalion of cyborgs, heading deeper underground.

  The box began to beep, and a flashing blue light emanated from it.

  “What’s happening now?” Tanner asked.

  “The nullifier is reaching its limit. Quick, turn it off. I cannot leave my station now. You will see a big red button. Press it three times in quick succession.”

  Tanner got up and did just that. After the third click, the blue glow stopped shining from the freaky gauges.

  “Hang on,” Acton said.

  Tanner dove, hitting the deck, wrapping his arms around a bar.

  The gravity sled sped out of the giant cavern back into a large hall. It moments, the sled slowed as if trying to pitch the centurion off. He wouldn’t let go of his bar.

  “We have reached the great entrance,” Acton shouted. “Now, we shall descend for a time.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Instead of hearing Acton’s answer, Tanner felt the sled dropping fast, plummeting. They no longer sped parallel with the floor, but dropped down what appeared to be another hole, this one much smaller than the original. As they dropped, the temperature rose rapidly.

  Just how deep were they going to go?

  -50-

  As they dropped, the air began to shimmer strangely. Tanner noticed motes of pulsating light. It reminded him of the wounded Phaze. He pointed, trying to bring it to Acton’s attention. For some reason, the centurion found that he couldn’t form the words. He wanted to, he thought them, but he couldn’t shape his mouth to eject them.

  The motes became thicker and the air itself seemed hazy. Tanner no longer noticed any heat. Instead, it cooled, soon becoming cold and then frigid. It didn’t seem to be just his imagination. Mist jetted from his mouth or nostrils every time he exhaled.

  Tanner flexed his fingers. They had become stiff as if with disuse. That seemed more than odd. Why would they stiffen right away? He scratched his cheek, trying to figure it out. To his shock, his fingernails scratched more than stubble, but an actual growth of beard, almost several days’ growth. That made no sense whatsoever.

  That stirred Tanner’s mind. The motes had thickened again. He could feel stabs of heat every time his skin moved through a mote. That quickened his energy.

  He looked around, and he noticed the tunnel had changed dramatically. They didn’t plunge through a hole in the earth, but through a vast energy field. This energy didn’t have walls. Instead, it felt as if the gulfs of interstellar space spread out in all directions around them.

  Now, Tanner stared significantly at Lord Acton. The Shand stood frozen. Was the alien in a stasis field? If that was true, was it their stasis field or the enemy’s field?

  Tanner swallowed, moving his fingers again. They were even stiffer than before. He checked his face. His beard had grown. In some fashion, time moved differently in the hole in the ground, in the energy flux between galaxies, if that’s what this was.

  Eyes widening, Tanner wondered if they had entered the transporter. That must be it. What had he expected an interstellar transporter to be, a disc on the ground that would shimmer with light when someone crossed over? S
omething that brought photon-electrical Phazes from the Triangulum Galaxy would have to be quite different, right? This fit the bill of weird. Did that mean he was correct in his assessment?

  The gravity sled shuddered, and the motes of light vanished in a flash. The frigid chill evaporated in a blast of heat. It made Tanner choke, unable to draw a breath.

  “We’re inside,” Acton said in a wheezing voice. “Quickly, Centurion, draw your blaster. It is time to hunt Phazes.”

  “Did we just go through a time warp or something?”

  “We went through something,” Acton said. “I wonder if we are still on Planet Zero.”

  Fear stabbed Tanner in the heart. “Where else could we be? Why is it so hot, then?”

  “Yes, yes, you are correct,” Acton said. “We are on Planet Zero. Look, you, do you see that over there?”

  The gravity sled had slowed considerably. Below them spread out a vast panorama, a giant cavern. A lava stream flowed past pulsating energy fields. Inside one field was a large dome with brain sheets and green computing gels. Cables of various colors and sizes snaked from the dome to eccentric machines of bizarre, hexagonal shapes. The machines hummed and pulsated with squiggles snaking across them at weird intervals. There were even larger machines there, but they were black as if they no longer ran.

  “That is the heart of the transporter,” Acton said. “It is run by the Web Mind. We have arrived. This is the transfer node. The Phazes must defend it or we shall destroy their bridge, destroy their link.”

  Tanner found it hard to move. He was sluggish and stiff. It felt as if his body fought to betray him. He wasn’t sure if it was the time warp or if hidden Phazes tried to manipulate him.

  Why resist? something said in his mind. It is useless. Turn your weapon on the alien traitor. He means to cheat you. Surely, you realize that.

  With his hand on the blaster butt, Tanner glanced sidelong at the traitorous Shand. The alien had screwed with them from the beginning.

  Yes, that’s right. He is a cheating Shand. He pretends to be your friend. In the end, he wants the treasure all for himself.

  Treasure? That didn’t seem right. Tanner scowled. The treasure was a nullifier of his own. If he had one, he could go back to Remus and defeat the Coalition, the socialist meddlers that had killed his sister during her wedding.