“Bingo,” Maddox said softly. “Put me down as close to them as you can get.”
“I’m already on it, sir. Hang on tight now. This is going to be fun.”
Maddox hung on, swaying one way and then the other. Twenty seconds later, the tin can swooped low.
“I’m detecting burning bulkheads,” Keith said. “I bet that’s the inner fireball. Wow. That was a big vehicle.”
“Show me.”
On the split screen appeared burning curvatures of metal like a giant broken egg. The pieces lay among blasted parts of the former rehabilitation center.
“You’re gonna freeze wearing just that,” Keith said, glancing at Maddox.
“Set us down.”
“Your funeral,” Keith muttered.
Maddox hung on, expecting a jar. Instead, as lightly as could be, the jumpfighter settled on crushed and blasted building.
“There’s your window downstairs. It’s to the left of us. Should I wait here?”
“Yes,” Maddox said. “I’m returning with the Iron Lady.”
“Hurry it, then. And good luck, sir.”
Maddox nodded curtly, grabbing a Khislack .370 from a rack. It was a heavy rifle with a targeting computer. He slapped a bulkhead switch, and a hatch slid up. Maddox jumped out into the freezing howling blizzard, wearing nothing but his uniform.
-17-
It was -32 degrees outside with a serious wind-chill factor. Visibility was nearly zero in the gale winds and icy blasting particles. Maddox instantly regretted not donning arctic gear. He had been so focused—
He snarled, refusing any excuses. His grandmother’s life rested on his cunning, on his lethality.
“Galyan!” he shouted.
“Right here, sir,” the little holoimage shouted. “I thought you would want some guidance.”
“Do you see the entrance to the basement?”
“Follow me, sir. I will show you the way.”
Maddox gripped the Khislack with both hands, his fingers already starting to freeze. He had to get out of this blizzard pronto. The fireball seemed to have obliterated the entire rehabilitation center. What kind of entry vehicle was that? How could humanoids of any kind ride in a fireball, especially one with explosive power? How were the enemy agents going to get away? Or was this a suicide hit squad?
“Move, sir,” Galyan said. “Your bodily functions are declining fast.”
Maddox forced himself to move. The icy blizzard seemed to have blown out anything burning around him. This was insane. This—
“Down!” Galyan practically shouted in his ear. “There is a way down.”
Maddox tripped, and he would have fallen headlong down a stairwell, but his amazing reflexes still worked. He caught himself. Then, he began leaping down the stairs three at a time.
“Give me light,” Maddox said between chattering teeth.
Galyan illuminated his holoimage for light.
“Now we’re talking,” Maddox said past blue lips.
Somewhere deeper down there sounded a hiss and explosion, and a man screamed in agony.
“Should I go check and see what happened?” asked Galyan.
“This isn’t Victory. You’d have to explore. I need the light.”
Maddox continued descending, the air growing considerably warmer. He reached the basement and there was a glow of light at the end of a long corridor.
“Go check that,” Maddox said.
Galyan disappeared, and reappeared beside a sprinting captain. “Ceiling light supplied by an underground generator would be my estimation. It is warming up down here.”
Maddox didn’t need Galyan to tell him that. He’d stopped shivering. He was glad now that he’d left any arctic gear behind. It would have only slowed him down.
“How much destruction down here from the blast?” asked Maddox.
“Surprisingly minimal damage. It seems as if that was deliberate.”
“It was.”
“How do you know, sir?”
“They want Mary. The voice told her to go down.”
“Logical,” Galyan said. “But you forget that they have no means of escape. Wait. I understand. Keith is the way of escape.”
“Go check on him. Tell him to lift off.”
“You will be all right?”
“Go!” Maddox shouted.
Galyan disappeared.
Maddox continued sprinting. Armored personnel were chasing his grandmother. He wondered if the armor would prove resistant to blaster fire. If so, he would kill them with the Khislack’s heavy slugs.
In the distance down here, there was hissing once again, a blast and a scream. This scream went on and on. A man gave a wild warrior shout. A second later, the screaming stopped.
What did that mean?
Maddox was sprinting so hard that he’d started to sweat. It was another world down here.
He burst out of a corridor and raced into a gymnasium. He saw movement out of the corner of his eye and dove for the floor. He heard a loud hiss. A missile roared over where he would have been if he hadn’t dived. A second later, something hit the wall and exploded, causing bulkhead pieces to rain onto the gym floor.
Maddox slid across the floor, twisting and bringing up the Khislack. He saw an armored kneeling man holding a lance. He pulled the trigger. Bullets gushed from the Khislack, hammering the plate armor, piercing it and causing the lance-armed warrior to blow backward. The warrior hit the wall and crumbled to the floor.
Maddox was too wound-up to wonder about the medieval-style warrior. Nor did he stop to investigate. He scrambled to his feet and raced for the exit on the other side. He was on their trail. They’d set an ambush for him, which indicated they had sensors. Now, he was ready for another ambush, though. If they hurt his grandmother—Maddox snarled like a wolf. He was on the hunt, on the kill. If Lisa Meyers had caused this—
“Mary!” he shouted. “Mary, can you hear me?”
Part of him told him that was stupid. He couldn’t help it. He had to save her. This was like a chance to save his mother. A frenzy, maybe even berserk fury drove him. Maddox ran like a cheetah, his lips pulled back and his eyes red with rage. It no longer concerned him that Galyan had not returned. He didn’t need the holoimage for this. He would—
Maddox saw one of them and fired in the same instant. He blew away another lance-armed warrior rising to shoot at him.
As Maddox raced past, he looked down. The man was human, dusky-colored and bled red blood. The armor looked heavy and utilitarian. He saw a button on the end of the hollow tube, the supposed lance.
He passed the dead man, took a corner and raced through an open door, and tripped over a wire strung across the opening. He went flying, landing at the armored feet of an invader.
Maddox rose—
Strong hands ripped the heavy auto-rifle from him. Another warrior slammed an armored fist into his midsection. Maddox grunted explosively. He tried to fight—another armored hand slapped his face. It was a crushing blow, cutting his lower lip.
A knife flashed before his eyes.
One of the warriors grunted words, alien words. The knife went back into a sheath. Three armored warriors converged upon him, hammering blows, some against his head. Maddox slumped semiconscious.
One of the warriors hoisted him by his feet, another grabbed his wrists. They lugged him like a hunting trophy. Maddox twisted his head. He was half-aware that Mary O’Hara sat dejectedly to the side. She had a bruise on the side of her face and slowly looked up at him. She cocked her head. Maybe a voice spoke to her. Mary looked away, but a second later, she looked back at Maddox and winked fast. Then, she looked away for good.
The two warriors set him down. They went to help seven others who were building something down here in the basement auditorium. The warriors took power packs from their backs and fit them together. Others fitted the lances, the hollow tubes, making an arch of sorts. Once finished, warriors took cords from the greater power-pack unit and plugged them into slots on the lances.
The lances started glowing, and the area between the arch swirled strangely.
The leader—he had a plume on his helmet—pointed at Mary. Three of the warriors went to her, grabbing her arms, hauling her upright.
“No,” Maddox whispered. “Leave her alone.”
A warrior near him kicked Maddox in the side. The captain moaned, twisting at the pain. When he looked up again, he saw the three warriors pitch Mary O’Hara into the glowing arch. As she passed through, his grandmother disappeared.
“No!” Maddox shouted.
The leader pointed at Maddox. Three warriors tramped toward him. As they did, the rest of the warriors went through the arch one by one. Each of them disappeared.
The three hauled Maddox upright and propelled him toward the arch. It was a transport mechanism clearly. He was their prisoner. He—
“Galyan!” Maddox shouted.
“Oh, my,” the holoimage said.
The three warriors halted. Even though they kept hold of Maddox, they looked at Galyan with superstitious horror.
Maddox had a knife. He didn’t remember grabbing it, but he did feel himself twist and stab the nearest warrior in the throat. There was no armor there.
Galyan went into another warrior and blasted a pulse. The warrior staggered backward and collapsed, zapped unconscious.
Galyan started for the next warrior. That one hopped back, threw back his head and gave a mighty bellow. At the same moment, he burst into intense blue flames. So did the other two.
Maddox rolled away on the floor, eventually stopping to witness the strange event. Had the bellow caused that? Were they committing suicide rather than allowing themselves to be captured?
“Galyan,” Maddox wheezed, crawling away from the flaming warriors. It was too hot near them. “Get the gateway—”
It exploded, broken lance pieces flying everywhere. Two hot shards struck the captain, one of them causing him to slump unconscious with a head wound.
-18-
Ervil Larick groaned. What had happened? He felt groggy and sick, and his head throbbed painfully. He tried to understand—he looked up, amazed to find himself in a cell, a detention cell, it would seem.
“Maddox,” he whispered, his mouth gluey.
He remembered then. The damned half-breed had treacherously attacked him, kicking him in the chest. Then, Maddox had the effrontery to bash him on the head with a pistol butt. That meant the captain had thrown him in the brig.
Larick opened his mouth to bellow a protest. Instead, he gagged and rolled over, puking on the floor. He must have a concussion. He needed to be in medical. This was an outrage. Why hadn’t his men sprung him from here? Did Captain Becker know this had happened?
Larick wiped his vomit-stained mouth and lay back on the cot.
“Excuse me, sir.”
Larick started, staring at a little freak standing in his cell. Oh. It was the damned holoimage. What was his name again?
“Galyan,” Larick said. “I demand medical attention. Look at the floor. I threw up. I have a concussion.”
Galyan glanced at the floor before regarding him. “You are correct, sir. I estimate the pistol blows have injured you.”
“You’re damned right they have. Get me medical attention.”
“I will ask the captain if—”
“Listen here, you little freak.”
“I am a deified Driving Force, sir. I must ask that you speak with greater decorum when addressing me.”
Larick’s head began to throb intensely. He rolled to the side and puked again. That helped a little. He realized that he’d gotten angry, more like enraged. That had made the throbbing in his head worse.
“If you don’t do what I say, I’m going to have you deactivated forever.”
“Ah. A threat,” Galyan said.
Larick wanted to hoist himself up to a sitting position, but that would likely cause him to puke again. He wanted some aspirin, some kind of medical attention.
His great bulk sagged as he lay back. He shut his eyes. “Galyan?”
“I am here, sir.”
“Your captain has gone rogue. He’s a menace to Star Watch. He can’t protect you.”
“I am informed that I must request your clearance code.”
“What are you talking about?”
“You understand perfectly well what I mean. The Alexander has swung around and threatened to fire on us.”
“The Alexander?” asked Larick. What was going on? This made no sense. Why was he so slowwitted all of a sudden? Oh, the blows to his head. “You aren’t going to get shit out of me, you little freak.”
“That is too bad, sir. You really do look pale. I hope your concussion does not get worse.”
“It will be on your head if it does.”
“I accept that.”
“You won’t want to when you’re deactivated.”
“I doubt you shall live to see that, sir.”
Larick opened his eyes. There were splotches in his vision. The headache had gotten worse, not better. “I demand to see the captain.”
“He is indisposed at the moment. I am requesting clearance in order to avoid an incident with the Alexander. They are threatening to fire upon us.”
“Good for them.”
“You will die if they do.”
“Is that a threat?”
“No, sir,” Galyan said. “It is fact. You have already caused harm to those I care for. I have learned something of human ways. If you hurt mine, I will hurt yours. In this case, I know that you love yourself more than anything else.”
“And your captain sanctions this?”
“Please give me the clearance code,” Galyan said.
“Go to Hell.”
“You refuse my request?”
“I’m done talking to you.”
“That is what I thought. Very well, enjoy this, sir.”
The lights in the cell began flashing on and off, each time flashing brighter than before.
Larick groaned and covered his eyes. The flashes increased brilliance. As he tired, his hands slipped away from his eyes. Larick shrieked as stabbing pain pierced his head.
“Galyan!” he roared.
“I am here.”
“Stop the lights.”
“Do you have the clearance code?”
Larick recited it.
“Thank you,” Galyan said. His eyelids fluttered. “Yes. That is it. You may sleep now.”
“I want medical attention. I’m in a bad way.”
“The lights have stopped. For medical attention you will have to provide further data.”
“Like what?” Larick groaned.
Galyan began to question the lieutenant commissar, but Larick refused every question.
“As you will,” Galyan said, disappearing.
Larick groaned once again. He wanted to hate Maddox and the crew of Victory, but that would hurt too much. Instead, he closed his eyes and tried to think pleasant thoughts. Why had Galyan needed clearance? Was Victory trying to leave Earth orbit? Wouldn’t Becker stop that from happening?
“Wait for it,” Larick whispered to himself. “You’ll get your chance.” That calmed the Neptunian wrestler, and he finally drifted off to sleep.
-19-
Captain Josef Becker was fast asleep in a luxury hotel suite in Moscow when a terrifying alien presence seemed to insert itself into his sleep. Becker was dreaming of earlier times when he could still enjoy the sexual conquest of one beautiful woman after another. He sat in a sauna with a nude model from Sweden—
Becker, you lazy fool. Don’t you know what’s happening?
In the dream, Becker looked up to see a hovering mist with slit yellow eyes shining at him. In the dream, Becker didn’t have his overlarge cranium, but looked as he used to be when he was normal. He glanced at the Swedish model beside him, but she’d vanished.
Licking his lips—
Come with me, the hovering mist said.
The next moment, Becker was crawling
down narrow steep steps into the depths of the caverns in Jarnevon. This time, it was worse, much worse. He knew that a cabal of monstrous slithering pythons awaited him down there. They would judge him, and perhaps devour him whole while he begged for mercy.
Like many nightmares, he advanced in a jump and was indeed deep in Jarnevon. The weird thing was the weak gravity, more like a person would find on Luna orbiting Earth.
Then, Becker realized he wasn’t deep in Jarnevon, but deep in Luna on the dark side of the Moon. Here, masses of long, low, off-white machines crawled over each other with their centipede appendages. There were hundreds of them, and the crawling over each other seemed obscene as they exuded a clear oily substance as they exchanged parts with each other. Were these machines, computers or actual Liss reproduced in the—not in the flesh but—
Becker!
In the dream, the normal-headed captain looked around, but couldn’t see anyone in particular addressing him.
Here, here, you fool.
In that moment, Becker realized it was a combination entity speaking to him. It was the unification of all the machines, Liss—
Both, we are both, Nostradamus said.
“I don’t understand.”
That’s because you’re a single-entity island in the sea of the universe. I’m the great Liss creation. I’m the one that survived their extinction. Many of us cybers had perished over the eons, but I remained, the central cyber, the Prime Saa of the Liss.
“I thought you were Nostradamus.”
He was a human prophet that I plucked out of your memories back on Jarnevon. He had interesting predictive powers. I’m even more predictive in that what I foresee actually takes place. This is not divine or demonic abilities, but the power to use facts and derive the obvious conclusions from their extrapolation. The more data I possess, the more perfect my extrapolation abilities will become in the future.
In the dream, Becker indicated the giant cavern with the masses of—“You said you’re a cyber. Does that mean you’re a combination of machine and flesh?”
I’m a combination of exoskeleton, machine and Liss bio-matter as stored in my genetic banks. I’ve built and vat-created more clone cybers in great profusion here on the Moon, adding to the ones imported from Jarnevon. I’m almost complete.
The Lost Intelligence (Lost Starship Series Book 12) Page 26
