Alien Wars

by Vaughn Heppner

  The next time Cyrus glanced back, fronds and leaves hid the elevator. He was in the Eich’s world, with its odd odors and gigantic insects. The pink sun made everything look wrong. In some ways, this was more alien than the atomic-blasted city. This was an alien world, or the memory of one.

  Here, the Eich, the psi-parasite, would be at its strongest.

  Several more steps brought Cyrus to a steel wall. He scowled and looked up. It curved inward. Was this a giant terrarium? Did the Eich live in a tiny slice of its home world? That might make more sense. Everything was in his own mind, after all.

  Cyrus moved along the wall. Then he heard a noise, a faint squeak. His heart rate increased. Sweat prickled his neck. He could feel the alien’s nearness.

  Swallowing a lump down his throat, he took out his vibrio-knife and moved inward, pushing aside fronds.

  A horrible creature slithered into view. It was huge and serpentine. The swaying made it difficult to focus on its mottling. A crest of bone like a crown topped its python head. Vestigial bat wings with claws gave it hands of sorts. Inhuman intelligence swirled in its flat reptilian eyes.

  Even here, the psi-parasite had to use a disguise, Cyrus realized. It rode a long-dead Steed.

  The Eich spread its wings and screeched.

  Pain exploded in Cyrus’s head. He moaned. As the creature glared, the pain throbbed so his eyesight blurred. Uncontrollable and unreasoning fear filled Cyrus.

  The Eich slithered closer as its gaze bored against him. Cyrus dropped his knife, clutched his head, and sank to his knees. Moisture oozed through the fabric over his knees from the damp soil.

  “You should have submitted long ago,” the Eich said in its reptilian speech. “Then you would have retained more of your personality. Now, rash human, I will take full control of your mind.”

  Cyrus clutched his head, trying to concentrate. “What . . .” His mouth had become dry. “What are you, really?”

  The snake-creature hissed triumphantly. “I am the Rider. I came to this star system many cycles ago in my ship. Yes, I realize you learned something about me. Our empire lies in the core of the Milky Way galaxy. There I will return, a long journey so I can heal from the damage I took eons ago. Your body will go there, but I will devour your mind.”

  “Did you . . . ?”

  “The Kresh almost discovered me several times,” the Eich said as it watched Cyrus with malevolent intent. “Their intelligence is amazing. Then you humans arrived, the first colony ship. Oh, what malleable clay your kind proved to be. I have molded the seekers for many cycles. Slowly, I readied the one who would revive my ship so I could go home again. But no, Cyrus Gant of Earth. Your Teleship crew and those vile cyborgs have upset my timetable. Now I will have to move quickly to survive.”

  The Eich struck his mind with a psi-bolt.

  “No,” Cyrus whispered. His mind shield strained under the assault. He had fought against Jasper and practiced with Venice until he’d gained better understanding of psi-shields. Klane had taught him even more.

  The Eich screeched, flapping its wings. The power of its attack grew.

  Cyrus’s vision faded. His mind throbbed with agony. He tried to shield, but the creature had immense strength. He saw it as a ball of pulsating energy. The thing was alien and slippery, sucking off the psionic power of others.

  “How . . . ?” Cyrus whispered.

  “Yes,” the parasite said. “Fight me. Let me feed off your enhanced strength. The glow of your shield warms me.”

  In that moment, Cyrus remembered a rule of knife combat. Trying to match strength against strength seldom brought the best results. Cunning, ruses, and tricks worked better. The Eich absorbed his power, feeding off it.

  The null. I need to use a null.

  As his vision darkened and his thoughts began to fade, he built a null, particle by particle. He shielded himself just enough to keep the Eich from controlling him.

  Cyrus could see the pulsating slippery thing. Then the Eich as a snake-creature appeared before him.

  The thing no longer flapped its wings. It didn’t screech with joy either.

  Cyrus completed the null, slipping the Eich’s attack to one side.

  “This is impossible,” the Eich said. “This is my fortress. Here, I rule.”

  Cyrus shouted the Latin Kings’ battle cry. He picked up the vibrio-knife where he’d dropped it. With a flick of his thumb, he turned it on.

  The Eich focused on him. Cyrus grunted as something hit his mind, but he kept moving forward, setting his feet on the damp soil one ahead of the other. Perhaps the Eich increased whatever its attack did. Cyrus exhaled sharply and stutter-stepped as he almost lost his balance.

  Then Cyrus used the stubbornness that had helped him survive in Level 40 Milan. He burrowed deep into himself. He kept the null in place even as pain throbbed in his head. He howled like a Berserker. Sweat glistened on his face. He regained his balance. With leaden steps, he closed the distance between them.

  The Eich slithered back. It screeched as if in mockery.

  Cyrus moaned as his head slumped forward. It seemed so heavy. He could no longer breathe and realized he’d black out soon. In a last attempt, he leaped at the Eich.

  Instead of retreating, the creature slithered at him. It tried to enfold Cyrus in a leathery winged embrace. Cyrus stabbed straight. The vibrio-blade hummed and shrieked, and the point exploded out of the Eich’s back. The knife man from Milan went wild, hacking so gore jetted as if in a slaughterhouse. In moments, the Eich was smoking meat and pools of body fluid.

  The psi-parasite was dead. He had done it.

  Around him, the strange plants and fronds faded from view. Then the bloody Eich parts vanished. Cyrus roared in agony as new memories flooded into his mind. He saw the Eich piloting its special craft. It was unlike Kresh, Chirr, cyborg, or human craft. It ran off psi-power and possessed unique weaponry.

  Much of the Eich memories were too strange and too detailed. They flooded into his mind nonetheless. As that happened, other memories slammed into him. Past seekers, other Eich, even the Saurian slaves of the star-spanning race of psionic parasites rammed home into his mind. The Sa-Austra, the vat-changed humans—everything poured into his conscious and subconscious. He understood new ways of using psi-bolts and psi-shields.

  How long have I been inside my own mind?

  In his mind, Cyrus saw himself flying upward through the darkness of his id. He sailed for the light, for consciousness—

  And he opened his eyes in time to hear the Battle Fang’s klaxon ringing its alarm.

  32

  “Cut acceleration,” Cyrus said. He sat in the control chamber with Skar and Yang, having raced there from medical.

  “I don’t trust Dagon Dar,” Skar said. “He might use one of the Tal drones and just take us out.”

  “I’ll be able to tell,” Cyrus said.

  “Tell what a warhead is going to do?” Skar asked, sounding skeptical.

  “It’s not that hard really: a smattering of TK and telepathy to put me there at the warhead. But I’ll know if the Kresh sends a radio message or uses a laser link.”

  “You finally figured out how to use your extended powers?” Skar asked.

  “Enough for now, I hope,” Cyrus said with a grin.

  It felt wonderful to be out of his mind and back in reality. He never wanted to go down there again. The darkness, the aliens, the weirdness—no thanks, he much preferred normality.

  His thoughts strayed to Jana. He would attend to her soon. This was the moment to act, though. The Prime Web-Mind of the Conquest Fleet had made his move, and they needed to counter it.

  Cyrus remembered Klane’s mental voyage to the cyborg fleet. With Klane’s memories and his own past Earth knowledge of cyborgs, Cyrus had a good idea what he faced. The big vessels seemed familiar—like Doom Stars from on
e hundred years ago during the era of Marten Kluge. The kilometer-huge warships even had collapsium plating. The defeat a century ago must have stung pretty badly if the cyborgs copied their enemy’s greatest weapon system.

  He put everything out of his mind: the Teleship crew in confinement on High Station 3, Jana, past history, all of it. If he didn’t act fast enough, High Station 3 would become either cyborg booty or charred pieces of debris. He had to do something now to save his Earth friends, his Fenris friends, and the Kresh warships in the Pulsar system. Even with his enhanced psionics, he didn’t know if they had a chance against the combined foes.

  Would the Eich ship in the cyborg vessel still work after all these centuries? Could he make it run for him? Those were big ifs. He didn’t even know if the Battle Fang could reach it.

  Cyrus exhaled. In those few seconds of psi-contact, the Eich had done something to the captive on the cyborg vessel. What was her name: Senior Darcy Foxe? It had been a brief connection. Through it, the subtle Eich had begun a process that had brought the cyborg warships from the outer asteroids to the Pulsar gravitational system. The Eich had wanted its ship, of course, the sooner the better. Cyrus had to get there so he could win this war.

  Skar finally cut acceleration. The ship noise immediately changed to something friendlier, not so fraught with high-pitched whines. The vibrations in the bulkheads lessened as well.

  “The Tal drones will reach firing position against us in ten minutes,” Skar announced.

  “I’m going to need quiet,” Cyrus said. “This is all new to me and I have to concentrate.”

  The control chamber members shut their mouths, including Yang and Skar. Cyrus could feel their fear. They knew the Battle Fang was in an impossible situation, and yet it was in the perfect position thanks to the Eich.

  A tight grin spread across Cyrus’s face. The Eich had been the hidden hand behind much of the Fenris System’s history. The Eich had been clever and subtle. The parasite had guided the psi-seeker breeding program on Jassac. The alien had even been the unseen hand behind human resistance against the Kresh.

  Cyrus had all the parasite’s memories, although he still worked on deciphering the majority of them. The Eich had feared the Kresh intellect. With enough clues, the mighty raptor aliens could possibly have deduced his existence.

  Cyrus took a deep breath, holding it before exhaling. He did this several times, slowing his heart rate. He needed a relaxed state. There would be time enough for frantic action.

  I am the null.

  “The Tal drones are five minutes from firing range,” Skar said quietly.

  Cyrus frowned.

  “Shhh,” Yang said. “What are you thinking? Let him concentrate.”

  No one spoke again.

  Cyrus allowed his body to relax against the back of his chair. He gathered his psi-ability. The altered part of his brain was now at balance with the rest of him. Fortunately, he had practiced during the inner journey. If he hadn’t—

  Don’t think negatively. Let your mind flow. Let it gather resolve.

  He did, and like a man exhaling air from his lungs, Cyrus Gant let his consciousness lift from his body. He saw the material form resting in the control chamber. The rest of the crewmembers sat stiffly at their stations. Yang and Skar glanced at his body from time to time. They looked nervous, frightened, and, because of that, angry.

  I can’t blame them. The old laws bind their thinking. I mustn’t judge their actions, but help them in this incredibly dangerous universe.

  In many ways, it was inconceivable humanity had gotten as far as it had. He had to become their protector against the threats waiting out there for them.

  With his consciousness, Cyrus readied himself. The solar system and Fenris had become his Level 40 Milan. Humanity was his gang, and he would do everything in his power to protect his people.

  Don’t get arrogant. Don’t let the Eich’s memories take over your personality. You’re just a man with a talent. Remember that, and practice humility. Pride goes before the fall, and I want to keep standing, baby.

  With psionic power, he began to weave a modified null around the Battle Fang. This one would be hard to pierce. It wouldn’t last forever, but it didn’t need to. He had to reach the cyborg vessel, the Prime’s craft. Then he had to reach the Eich vessel. He was going to need every fighting man and woman aboard the Battle Fang to do it, too. Cyborgs were terrible foes, more than a match for humans in face-to-face encounters. And yet, he had to do it this way. With the Eich ship, he could win. Cyrus was certain of that. Getting to the alien vessel was another matter.

  We’re going to have to board like pirates. First, we’re going to have to survive a fight.

  Cyrus put the final changes on the Battle Fang. He examined his handiwork and declared it not bad. It should work.

  As Cyrus looked around in space with his psi-vision, he noticed the Tal drones. He’d forgotten about them. One of the big missiles activated its warhead.

  No! Dagon Dar lied! He’s targeting the Battle Fang. Why didn’t I sense his treachery? Cyrus sent his consciousness racing at the drone, wondering if he’d reach it in time.

  Each Tal drone had an advanced AI targeting-flight computer.

  Four of the AIs had accepted the radioed change in targeting data from the main Kresh hammer-ship. They reconfigured their flight paths, ignoring the sensor blip representing the formerly targeted Battle Fang. None of the four reacted as the hijacked vessel disappeared from the sensor feeds.

  The fifth AI had other ideas. It received the radio message. A long burn and high acceleration had damaged a linkage in the main AI core. Backup systems reacted as if enemy jamming had struck. The altered AI regarded the new targeting data as enemy sabotage.

  The AI held a microsecond’s debate with itself. It applied mathematical weights to each possibility, ran calculations, and realized the truth. It had to launch an immediate attack—the vanishing Battle Fang had upset the targeting certainties. So it had to strike fast if it was going to hit.

  The AI reconfigured the situation and realized the enemy ship possessed an advanced cloaking device. After a swift assessment, the AI concluded, obviously—why cloak unless the pilot was an enemy? That meant a new heading for the Battle Fang. Yes, yes, the AI realized it had to outwit the crafty pilot.

  Before the warhead could ignite, however, the AI knew it had a battlefield obligation to give its sister drones a greater possibility of survival. The Tal drone AVR-312 braked.

  At this range, the Battle Fang couldn’t flee fast enough to escape. But if it—the AVR-312 drone—decelerated . . . one, two, three, four, five, six, seven seconds . . . that would allow the other Tal drones to gain enough distance to avoid the negative effects from the coming nuclear blast.

  At the cone tip of the warhead, AVR-312 thrust its targeting rods into possible cones of probability. Each rod pointed in a slightly different position. What the AI didn’t do was waste one rod on the Battle Fang’s former heading. It would need every rod to ensure a higher hit probability.

  The AI did not possess common sense, but weighted numbers and odds.

  A strange sensation burst through the neural net. The AI recognized the sensation as enemy interference. Thus, it speeded ignition.

  The warhead exploded its nuclear core. The atomic blast destroyed the missile. Before the heat vaporized the targeting rods, speeding gamma and X-rays reached the rods. That concentrated them in a deadly beam. At the speed of light, the gamma rays and X-rays speared into the void. Then the thermonuclear blast annihilated every particle of AVR-312. The AI had fulfilled its reason for existence.

  Cyrus’s consciousness wailed in despair. To have come so far, to beat the Eich, and now to lose to Kresh treachery—it sent him spinning in defeat back to the Battle Fang. Better to die in his body than live like the Eich had.

  In seconds, Cyrus opened his ey
es. He expected anything but what he found.

  Skar, Yang, and the others in the control chamber laughed wildly.

  “What happened?” Cyrus asked.

  “The Anointed One is back!” Yang shouted. The big man rose to his feet, rushing near, pounding Cyrus on the back, propelling him forward with each strike. “Well done! You just saved our lives!”

  “But I—”

  “That was amazing,” Skar said. With both of his, he shook Cyrus’s right hand. “I’ve never seen anything like it. Dagon Dar betrayed us, but your psi-power proved greater. Clearly, there has never been anyone like you.”

  “I don’t understand,” Cyrus said.

  “The Tal drone exploded and the atomic pulse sent X-rays in every direction but ours,” Skar said. “Once, I would have called this a miracle. Now I know that you engineered the event.”

  Cyrus nodded woodenly. He wanted to know how this had come to be. Is there something I’m missing?

  “The other drones are heading for the cyborgs,” Skar said, resuming his seat. “Does that mean we’re invisible to them?”

  Cyrus wasn’t sure about anything now. This didn’t make sense. Standing, shaking his head, he figured he’d better wake Jana while he had a chance. Too many imponderables still made this an iffy proposition.

  33

  Sometime later, Cyrus smiled as he walked back into the control chamber with Jana. They had spent two hours together, talking, making love, and touching afterward.

  The situation had changed considerably since Cyrus had left the bridge. The Tal drones approached the cyborg warships. The five mighty vessels had accelerated for a short time, and then seemed content to drift toward the Pulsar gravitational system.

  The Pulsar Kresh fleet had come out from behind Jassac—in relation to the cyborgs. They also accelerated slowly, at two Gs.

  Skar had counted the Kresh, watching on the passive scopes. The Battle Fang appeared to be invisible to the Kresh and cyborgs.

  “I count seven hammer-ships,” Skar said, “fifteen Attack Talons, twenty-six Battle Fangs, and forty darters.”