“That’s how it’s supposed to work!” Dr McInness exclaimed, shocked at how rapidly machine and alien mind could interact.
Vamp fought to shake off her artificial sense of well being. “Hey, space monkey,” she called, stepping assertively toward the armored warrior. “You want to tell us what the hell is going on here?”
The armored warrior continued what it was doing, seemingly unaware of her existence.
Vamp rapped on the arm of the warrior’s suit as if she was knocking on a door. It made a dull thudding sound, revealing the extreme density of the armor. “Hey, Michelin man! I’m talking to you.”
She moved to step in front of the armored warrior, but before she could get another word out, she fell into a deep and peaceful sleep, floating gently to the floor.
They all did.
* * * *
The battloid surged forward. The passage through the containment sphere was just high enough to allow it to enter and wide enough to efficiently deploy its weapons and shields. Tucker scooped Conan off the floor and rolled to the left wall, coming up on one knee. He fired at the battloid’s anti-g sleds, but one of its shield arms dropped down to absorb the blast. Tucker braced, expecting to receive withering return fire but the battloid surged past, slamming him into the wall with one of its shield arms. He crumpled to the deck, still holding Conan in spite of several broken ribs.
It doesn’t want to risk hitting the crystal sphere! Beckman realized.
The battloid arrayed half its shields behind it, creating a defensive wall to protect the Command Nexus from Tucker, while it angled the rest forward. Once past Tucker, it could fire at him without fear of hitting the Command Nexus. It swung a weapon arm up high, targeting Tucker through a gap in the overlapping shields. Tucker fired first from the deck, smashing the exposed weapon and catching the upper edge of one of its shields. The battloid immediately rotated the depleted shield but refrained from firing again, choosing to keep its remaining weapons safely behind its shields in readiness for the final attack.
Beckman fired pencil-thin slivers of super heated plasma from his midget, only to see them spark harmlessly against the battloid’s reinforced shields. Nuke crawled towards the wall, trying to get out of the battloid’s path, as he fired his Tom Thumb, but its feeble particle stream was even less effective than Beckman’s weapon.
“Busted ass alien crap!” Nuke rasped through bloody lips.
The battloid swatted him with one of its shield emitters, knocking the tiny weapon out his hand. The Tom Thumb skidded across the deck toward the invisible bubble surrounding the miniature black hole. The silver particle weapon had almost stopped when it stretched like liquid plastic toward the black void. Beckman watched amazed as highly localized super gravity tore the weapon apart, sucking it up like water until it had been completely consumed. He stepped toward the dead black sphere cautiously, his hand extended before him, until he felt the repulsive pressure of the invisible bubble surrounding it. He didn’t know what it was, but the destruction of the Tom Thumb gave him an idea. He turned toward the Command Nexus, seeing his and the battloid’s splintered reflections on its faceted crystalline surface.
Come get me, he thought as he aimed his midget at the Command Nexus, stepping toward its protective field. He knew he couldn’t shoot through the field but perhaps if he was closer, he could do some damage. He felt the hairs on his arm stand on end as he entered the field’s periphery. To his surprise, he found he could slowly push through the field. He leaned forward and began to sink into it.
The battloid knew if Beckman got his weapon through the field, its high intensity particle stream could penetrate to the Command Nexus’ fragile core, doing irreparable damage. It lurched forward, lashing out with the long flexible arm that had thrown its cannon at Markus. The arm sparkled as it sank into the field and began coiling like a snake around Beckman’s chest. He struggled against the field to turn to face the battloid as the arm tightened on his chest and began to squeeze.
The battloid’s arm momentarily touched the containment field encasing the antimatter explosion. It tried pulling its arm free, but the long flexible tentacle was stuck fast. A tiny sliver of metal extruded from the arm and poured into the black sphere, then the arm itself sank into the blackness as blue force lines rippled back along its length. The battloid’s transport sleds went to full power as it fought vainly to prevent its arm being pulled into the blackness. Half of the arm stretched back to the battloid, the other half remained coiled around Beckman’s chest, while the black emptiness pulled both ends towards it.
The battloid, unable to determine what the blackness was, instinctively tried to protect itself. It angled its shields toward the artificial black hole, then they too became caught in the crushing grip of collapsing spacetime. Electric blue force lines flashed across each shield as they collapsed, then the emitters turned to silvery water. The battloid toppled forward onto the deck and was dragged by its arms toward the voracious black sphere.
Beckman felt himself pulled out of the Command Nexus’ protective field. He leaned back against the metal arm, now rigidly locked around his chest, but his boots slid across the deck. He jerked his midget free of the field and aimed it at the arm coils around his chest and fired. He suppressed a scream as a swathe of skin across his chest was instantly incinerated to the bone, then the arm coils broke apart. The arm segment connected to the artificial black hole slid into the black void, while the remaining coils clattered to the deck.
On the other side of the super gravity sphere, the battloid’s torso and upper arms flowed into the lightless void. A moment later its lower arms dissolved, then the transport sleds flashed in bright blue explosions that were themselves sucked into the impenetrable blackness.
Nuke coughed blood. “Ouch.”
Beckman staggered to the passage way wall, ignoring the line of searing pain across his chest, distancing himself from the featureless black sphere floating above the deck. He forced air into his lungs as he turned toward the Command Nexus. The blue light streaming from the crystal sphere began to dim and its spin rate decreased rapidly. When it came to a complete stop, the flickering glow at the center of the sphere began to wane.
Nuke saw it too. “What does it mean?”
“We won,” Beckman said.
“How?” Nuke asked.
Beckman shook his head slowly, then returned his gaze to the black sphere floating a few meters away. “I don’t know.”
“Major!” Tucker yelled through clenched teeth.
At the end of the passageway, more than a dozen armored warriors appeared, their camouflage fields shimmering in the dimming electric blue light of the Command Nexus. Tucker propped his back against the wall and slid his thumb towards Conan’s firing surface. A medical specialist floating near the entrance aimed his device arm at Tucker and directed a precise wave form into his brain. Tucker immediately fell into a deep sleep, unaware that tens of thousands years of meticulous research had revealed every secret of human anatomy, including the deepest mysteries of brain function.
The armored warriors swept past Tucker’s slumbering form. Beckman still had his special, but he decided there was no point raising the weapon to fire. More than a dozen warriors gave the black sphere a wide birth, flying between Beckman and Nuke as they glided towards the crystal sphere. The medical specialist paused in front of Nuke, aiming his device arm at him, quickly assessing his bullet wounds. A moment later, a soft yellow light beamed from the device arm, temporarily sealing the wounds to prevent him from bleeding out, then the specialist followed the others towards the Command Nexus. The protective field provided no obstacle to them, as they entered the narrow space between the crystal and the inner containment wall. Some floated up to the top of the sphere, others down to its base while the rest took up positions around its midsection.
It’s not us they want! Beckman realized.
The armored warrior’s camouflage fields glistened like thousands of reflected diamonds in the
dim blue glow of the dying Command Nexus, trying to self terminate before it fell under the control of its enemies. Once they were equally spaced around the crystal sphere, their faceted reflections wavered and vanished as they simultaneously deactivated their stealth fields. Their white battle suits had no visors or joints yet possessed the flexibility of silk. All were marked with a triangular insignia over the left breast, and had featureless bulges around the shoulder areas. Disks the size of ten cent pieces passed through the skin of their suits and floated into the crystal sphere, sinking slowly into it. The disks shrank in size as they moved deeper into the sphere, melding into the Command Nexus’ quantum structure. When all of the disks had dissolved, the blue light emitted by the Command Nexus stabilized. The weak flickering at the core strengthened to a stable illumination, a sign of the hypnotic state the Command Nexus had fallen into.
At the end of the passage way, another two diminutive forms appeared. Their suits were skin tight, one-piece silver jumpsuits much less bulky than the armored battle suits of the first wave. At first glance, they appeared to wear no helmets, but a glint of blue light against a highly translucent surface revealed the near invisible bubble that surrounded their heads. Slightly under one and a half meters tall, the gray skinned pair had large black almond shaped eyes, tiny noses and slits for mouths. Unlike the battle armor equipped infantry, the two Zetas showed an interest in Conan, cradled in Tucker’s lap. One of them stopped in front of the gravity well bubble and took readings from a small device mounted on his forearm. The other stopped in front of Beckman, floating at eye height, and looked down at the recovered weapon in his hand. The Zeta lowered its hand to a small silver bubble seamlessly attached to its hip and produced a silver weapon that perfectly fitted its delicate hand. The Zeta held its weapon up for Beckman to see, then Beckman raised his, seeing they were identical.
“We have a match,” Beckman declared.
The Zeta held out its hand, palm up.
“Looks like he wants his toy back,” Nuke wheezed.
Beckman sighed, and placed the weapon in the Zeta’s hand. “Indian giver.”
The Zeta examined the recovered weapon with no apparent expression, yet the tightening of skin around its eyes indicated a response akin to surprise and curiosity. While the weapons appeared similar, to the Zeta, Beckman’s special was an antique, as far removed from its weapon as a flintlock was from an M16.
A hissing sound overhead caught Beckman’s attention. He looked up to see a circular hole appear in the corridor’s ceiling, directly above the super gravity well. There appeared to be no visible force creating the hole, it just appeared. Daylight filtered down through the hole, cut by one of the great ships in orbit. The Zeta monitoring the gravity well drifted away from it, then the black sphere floated up through the shaft cut in the ship.
“What are you going to do with that?” Beckman asked, gazing up after the black sphere as it climbed away through the ship.
The Zeta watched him through dead black eyes. He found its expressionless face unnerving. He’d seen many classified photographs, but realized he wasn’t quite prepared to meet one face to face. “I guess you guys really screwed the pooch this time, letting those fish heads down here. What were you thinking?”
The Zeta heard a perfect translation, but rather than respond, it transmitted an irresistible wave form that sent Beckman and his companions into a dreamless sleep. It was as simple as turning off a light bulb. Earth’s gravity was counter balanced around Beckman and the others, letting them float comfortably. Nuke even began to snore.
While the humans slept, the blue light emitted from the crystal sphere began to increase in intensity. Dazzling white flecks appeared again, deep within the crystal’s core, marking the forced return to life of the Intruder mothership’s guiding intelligence. Soon, the crystal sphere began to spin again, very slowly.
The Command Nexus had become a prisoner of war.
CHAPTER 24
Laura climbed to the top of the rock cleft overlooking the steaming pool of black metal marking the remains of the striker. She was alone now that Mapuruma had vanished into the narrow cave leading to the base of the plateau to search for her parents. Laura dreaded the prospect of reaching the summit where she expected to see a massive crater in the distance where her husband and Beckman’s team had died. She’d mistaken the pealing thunder of the bombardment for the detonation of the torpedo, and had now all but given up hope of ever seeing her husband again.
She clambered onto a rocky outcrop where she could see over the trees of the plateau to the Goyder Valley. To her astonishment, the scarred hull of the mothership lay intact. Fear overwhelmed her anguish as she realized they had failed. Tiny silver dots floated above the mothership, like insects above the carcass of a great beast. Slowly, the dots began to rise in unison, while beneath them, the great beast floated upwards, its massive sides rising like an endless wall out of the trees. Even at that distance, it seemed hardly possible such a massive object could glide so effortlessly into the air. She mistakenly thought it was flying under its own power, unaware that the ship was now under tow by its victorious enemies.
Before the mothership had cleared the trees, a shadow passed over her. She turned sharply to see an elliptical craft floating above her, its mirrored silver surface reflecting the forest and sky. She gasped as she saw her image reflect off its pristine hull, then a flash momentarily blinded her. She blinked, finding herself floating in a large circular room, dark except for a feeble light in the ceiling. Nearby was a group of men she didn’t recognize, Slab and his companions. They were awake, and surprisingly comfortable with their floating confinement, then she realized her fears had vanished, replaced by an inexplicable calm.
“Look,” Wal exclaimed, nodding toward Laura, “Another one!”
“G’day luv,” Slab said amicably. “Welcome to the mad house!” He glanced meaningfully down at his feet, floating a meter above the metal floor.
“Don’t mind us,” Wal said cheerfully, “We’re just hanging around!”
Slab tried to swipe Wal with the back of his hand, but the smaller man leaned back, dodging the blow. The action sent Slab turning slowly for a few moments until he came to rest facing in the opposite direction.
“Laura!” Dan called, craning to see past Bill.
She hadn’t seen him, masked by the other men. “Oh my god! You’re alive!”
Slab looked at Dan curiously, who explained with a beaming smile. “That’s my wife.”
Laura reached out toward him, but he floated too far away. “I thought I’d never see you again.”
Bill’s eyes passed from Laura to Dan in realization. He caught Dan’s hand and pulled him in, then once they were close, he pushed Dan on towards Laura. Dan drifted a short distanced through the inertial dampening field which gently brought him to a halt. Cracker, floating closest to Laura, took her hand, and pushed her gently towards Dan, sending himself tumbling backwards and finishing face down.
“Uh oh!” Cracker said as he flailed his arms uselessly trying to right himself, to his companions amusement.
Floating in the centre of the chamber, Dan and Laura reached out toward each other until their finger tips met, allowing them to pull themselves together through the treacle-like dampening field. Laura threw her arms around her husband as tears welled in her eyes while Dan stroked her hair, unable to speak.
The darkened room flashed, then Djapilawuy appeared on the far side of the chamber. Her face was a mask of terror until the neuroelectric waves bathing the compartment dissolved her fears.
“Hey,” Wal declared with a grin, motioning toward Djapilawuy, “There’s another one!”
* * * *
A wave form ended the sleep programming in Beckman’s primitive hominid brain. He opened his eyes and squinted against the bright white light that flooded the room. Instinctively, he raised his hand to shield his eyes, but the intensity of the light diminished to a tolerable level before his hand was in place.
<
br /> We prefer more light than you, the Biologist explained with a thought that was warm and soothing, yet strangely detached.
Beckman sensed someone standing to his left. He turned toward the being, expecting a diminutive Zeta, but finding instead a slender humanoid two and a half meters tall. His large circular eyes were luminescent green with no whites and a triangular iris in a slightly oversized head. The nose had considerable vertical length but protruded very little, while the mouth was too small for the head. Beckman remembered one of his orientation courses: if their mouths are small, they’d see our mouths as too large. He made a mental note to try to keep his mouth small while speaking.
Unnecessary, a single perfect thought assured him. The Biologist knew of millions of species across the universe, all physically different from each other. He could not be offended or repulsed by any physical appearance.
“Where am I?” Beckman demanded, glancing around the room. The walls glowed a soft white, while the metallic floor and ceiling did not. There were no doors or windows, although directional lights were aimed at an empty space in the room. It was then he realized he was floating, with his feet just out of reach of the floor.
The Biologist, sensing his unease, issued a telepathic command that gradually returned gravity to the three dimensional area Beckman occupied. He drifted like a settling feather to the floor as his weight slowly returned to normal.
Move slowly, the Biologist informed him. If you leave your personal gravity field, your weight will increase eighty three percent.
“Personal gravity field?” Beckman said curiously, sticking his arm out in contravention of his instruction. For a moment, his arm felt heavy and started to sink, then the gravity field refocused around him, returning his weight to normal.
They told us your species would disregard guidance.
The Mothership Page 42
