“Come with me,” Jon told Da Vinci.
The Neptunian squeaked something that sounded like, “Why me?”
“Sergeant, stay here,” Jon said. “Only fire if I order it.”
“Where are you going?” Stark growled.
“Stand watch, Sergeant. That’s your task.”
“Captain—”
“That’s enough,” Jon said, with more confidence than he felt. “Just do as I say.”
“Yes, sir,” Stark said.
“Da Vinci.”
The Neptunian had begun sliding away from Jon.
Jon grabbed a space-suited arm, yanking the little thief nearer. Then he magnetically attached the man to his battlesuit.
“Please,” Da Vinci said, with tears in his voice.
“Listen to me,” Jon said, sternly. He began walking toward the cubic pyramid with his magnetized boots. “I know you keep your wits about you. I know you act the fool and the coward in order to stay out of danger if you can. I want you sharp, thief. Do you understand?”
Da Vinci did not reply.
“Do you understand?”
“Is this for rigging the Brezhnev?” Da Vinci asked.
“Not in the way you think. I realize you’re a sneak. You see reality differently from me, different from any of the Black Anvils. I want to use that thinking to look for an advantage. That’s what you do best, I think—hunt for advantages. Well, if you want to keep living and keep off the conveyor, you’d better start telling me your bright ideas.”
“It’s watching us,” Da Vinci whispered. “Do you see?”
Jon focused on the head at the top of the cubic pyramid. He did sense scrutiny from it. Chills ran down his back. Was that a human head controlled by the alien, or something else entirely alien?
Gathering his resolve, Jon continued to clomp toward the alien monstrosity. All the while, the robots and conveyors continued their inhuman production.
-13-
The command pyramid reminded Jon of a painting he’d seen in a New London police station. The painting had been partly abstract, with multiple cubes piled one on top of another in a pyramidal shape, with deep shading in areas.
“What if the robots turn on us?” Da Vinci whined.
The Neptunian’s terror broke into Jon’s reverie. The thief meant the robots trundling around them. It did seem as if the mini-tank-like robots could turn on them at any moment and lower their metal arms for an attack. Jon recalled the repair bot just after he’d risen from the cryo unit. These bots presently seemed too interested in their tasks to bother with them.
“We should leave,” Da Vinci added.
Jon mentally shrugged. The thief lacked courage. A few words weren’t going to change that. The Neptunian’s instinct for survival would kick in soon enough, and that might resemble courage just enough for the man to prove helpful.
Besides, if the robots turned on them, Stark would give warning.
Jon took another calming breath. He wasn’t sure why he had come here. How could a head give him an angle against the enemy? One thing was certain. He wouldn’t know if he didn’t try.
Despite the horror surrounding him, the seeming senselessness of all this, Jon grinned tightly. Some of the bastards who’d deserved their broken bones in New London had seen a similar grin on Jon’s face years ago.
Surrounding the head on the top of the pyramid was a bubble of clear plastic. It seemed as if a thick clear liquid filled the bubble. The head in the solution did not seem human from this closer vantage point. For one thing, the skin was a light shade of green. The head was larger than a normal man’s would be, even allowing for magnification by the bubble. The hair was thick and dark green, and the eyes were also a dark green, lacking any white.
Dark green lips peeled back, revealing green teeth.
Jon shuddered as a sense of awe struck him. This was an alien, a humanoid. The humanoid had clearly originated in a different star system. That meant several things. It certainly seemed to imply that the giant starship had invaded a different star system before coming here. Or was the head a cybernetic creature? Was he one of the invaders? Or a being corrupted by the invaders?
The head—it appeared twice the size of a human’s head. It struck Jon then that the head resembled the ordinary idea of a Neanderthal’s head. This green head was wide, with a broad, heavy nose and low thick brows, and it lacked a chin.
Something crackled. It must have been a speaker unit turning on. The head spoke rapid-fire words that made absolutely no sense to Jon. How could the mouth form audible words from within the clear solution?
Jon shrugged. That seemed like a minor detail compared to everything else.
“No,” Da Vinci moaned, after the head quit speaking. “Go back, Captain. Get out of here before it’s too late.”
Jon ground to a halt before the cubic pyramid. It was three times taller than the battlesuit. He clicked on his outer suit speaker.
“Who are you?” Jon asked.
The green head inside the clear solution answered sharply and harshly, uttering more of its alien words.
“This is the Solar System,” Jon said. “That being the case, you can’t expect me to understand your language. As the invader, you’re going to have to speak to me in mine.”
The double-sized head closed its eyes. The head shuddered, and the cubic pyramid flashed with energy. That energy seemed to rise like hot air. It caused the thick, deep-green-colored hair to stand on end, waving like fronds in the clear solution.
Soon, the cubic pyramid dimmed.
The hair floated back down onto the head as the eyes opened. The mouth opened next and seemed to test its speech.
“Is…this…better?” the head asked through a speaker unit under the bubble dome.
“Much better,” Jon said, as he strove to contain his revulsion. “I can understand you. How did you do that?”
“Explain.”
“How did you learn our language so quickly?”
The green mouth twisted into a sneer. “The Order tapped into the vermin. No, wait, I can explain it better than that. Do you understand a brain tap?”
“What’s that?”
“Tap, squeeze, drain the…memories. Yes. The Order tapped vermin and inserted the electrical codes into my superior cortex. There was some initial confusion. Now, though, I have finished explaining the process. You must surrender at once.”
“Or?”
“No,” the head said. “No. ‘Or.’ That is the wrong process. You do not question the Order. You submit. I have submitted. Now, I have purpose. Before, my life consisted of chaotic meaninglessness. Be like me. Surrender and gain purpose.”
“Where’s the rest of your body?”
“I no longer need it. I have purpose.”
“Running this hell house is your purpose?”
“Hell…? Ah. I understand. That is a mythical place of torment reserved for those guilty of sin. This is not such an abode. This is an area of realignment. Vermin gain purpose by becoming part of the Order.”
“Can you resist the computer?”
“Computer? I do not understand. I—” The head looked about wildly. “No! Please! I have served you these many years. Let me remain my—”
The head howled in agony as the cubic pyramid glowed intensely. The head’s hair stood on end once more. Bloody tears trickled out, leaking into the clear solution. Such was the solution’s thickness, however, that the blood remained near the head. A tendril of what might have been smoke escaped the left ear, clouding that area of solution.
Abruptly, the pyramidal light dimmed as before. That allowed the hair to drift back onto the skull.
The head had changed. To be more precise, the eyes had become sinister with evil intelligence. It looked upon Jon.
He felt a vast weight pressing against him. He sensed age and monstrous desire. The eyes seemed like an abyss, as if they desired to swallow him.
“You have taken a misstep, vermin,” the head said. “Yo
u have come to a place you will never leave.”
Jon glanced around. The mobile robots no longer attended to their tasks. They had each spun around to regard him with their camera eye.
Jon wondered why Stark hadn’t radioed about the change. He looked back. The marines aimed their weapons at the robots. Stark tapped his helmet.
The thing had cut radio communications.
“Da Vinci,” Jon said.
The Neptunian didn’t answer.
“It is just you and I, vermin,” the head said.
Jon regarded the green head. As he did, the Neptunian hooked a direct line into his suit.
“My tablet is going crazy,” Da Vinci whispered. “There’s something odd going on here.”
“Submit,” the head told Jon. “You are causing harm to my interstellar voyager. That is wrong. Vermin must cease or serve. They must never harm the Order. I have much to do here, and you are delaying the normal sequence of events.”
“My heart bleeds for you,” Jon said.
“That does not equate,” the head said. “You spout contrition, but aim your weapon at my tools. That is inconsistent.”
“Figure it out,” Jon said.
“I can promise you greater pain and sorrow if you continue this senselessness. I have marked you, vermin. Unless you lay down your weapons and submit, I will cause you agony for many cycles of time. Is this what you desire?”
“Sure do,” Jon said. “I love pain.”
“That does not equate.”
“I love it so much,” Jon heard himself say. “That I’m going to find you, rip off your head and piss down your freaking neck.”
“You dare to threaten me?”
Jon lost it as he shouted an obscenity, an impossible action for the head to do to itself. Then, he fired his gyroc, sending a rocket shell through the bubble dome into the head. The shell exploded. That rained thick, gloppy solution, and brains, bones and electrical circuitry everywhere.
The robots churned toward him, their clackers opening.
Stark’s right arm flashed down. The marines opened fire, and in less than thirty seconds, the last robot lay on its side, sparking and shutting down.
“Listen to me,” Da Vinci said.
“Talk,” Jon said.
“There’s something in the pyramid. It came on during each transformation.”
“What?” Jon said.
“Each time the head received data—well, just before that.” Da Vinci tapped his tablet. “I read a strange power…I’m not sure how to say this. The alien device seemed to shut something down. You have to dig it out of there.”
“Where is it?” Jon asked.
Da Vinci pointed at a cube near the blasted head.
Jon detached the Neptunian from him. Afterward, he unhooked a tungsten-headed axe from his battlesuit. With exoskeleton power, Jon hacked at the cubes around the selected one. Sparks flew. Power surged from electrical discharges. Jon hacked more. Finally, he climbed partway up the pyramid. With gloved hands, he bent metal until he exposed a chest-sized machine with glowing crystals amidst complex circuitry.
“Is that what you want?” Jon asked.
“Yes,” Da Vinci said. “But be careful. If it’s going to help us, I need it intact.”
“Roger that,” Jon said softly.
For the next three minutes, he pried here, tugged there. He swung the axe several more times, chopping a power line. Finally, he pulled the unit free.
“The sergeant is getting insistent,” Da Vinci said. “I think it’s time to leave.”
“Couldn’t agree more,” Jon said.
With the unit under one arm and Da Vinci under the other, he hurried to Stark. Halfway there, the short-link started working again.
“I got a bad feeling, sir,” Stark said. “What is that you’re carrying?”
“I don’t know yet. Maybe nothing.” Silently, Jon said to himself, I hope it’s something. “Use two plasma satchels in here.”
“What about the other hatches?” asked Stark.
Jon made a quick recalculation. “You have a point, Sergeant. Use one plasma satchel in here. Once we’re outside, send men to some of the other hatches. Rig up plasma satchels there, too, so we can take down the entire area. We’re going to blow this part of the ship. I think they use this area to convert their captives.”
“The people are going die, too,” Stark said.
“Would you want to stay alive as alien drones?”
Stark cursed.
“Right,” Jon said. “Let’s hurry. I want to get back to the regiment before the aliens hit us again.”
-14-
The commandos were halfway back to the regiment when the timers went off. The plasma charges caused bulkheads to shake and deck plates to shiver under their boots. Then, a greater roar sounded. It brought the worst shaking so far. No doubt, the many drone bombs ignited in the plasma inferno. The blasts and shaking lasted longer than seemed probable.
Jon couldn’t stop grinning. The aliens must be grinding their teeth about now, if they possessed any.
A second thought wiped away the grin. He’d just slain hundreds, possibly thousands of people. Maybe he could have figured out a way to save them. Maybe surgeons could have removed the alien devices implanted in their skulls. Maybe, but Jon seriously doubted it. Still, it was one thing to talk about doing hard deeds. It was another to actually do them.
The colonel had talked to him before about a stained conscience. Graham had told him that some battle decisions could come back to haunt Jon in his old age.
Well, this decision was already haunting him.
But could I have let the drones live, increasing the possibility of losing the Solar System to the aliens forever?
Jon knew the answer to that. So why did he feel so soiled then? Maybe because even with the best of intentions and no perceivable alternatives, he still had innocent blood on his hands. That stained his soul. He was going to have to ask God for forgiveness. He would do that when he had time for reflection. Right now, he was too busy trying to stay alive and keep the regiment alive long enough to defeat the aliens.
***
The commandos moved fast, regaining contact one-third of the remaining distance to the regiment.
“Any more attacks?” Jon asked the Centurion.
“Nothing so far, sir. But the scouts are sensing something stirring out there. The regiment should move.”
“Give us five minutes,” Jon said. “But get the men ready to move.”
Eight minutes later, the commandos reached the regiment. Da Vinci took the alien device with him, reentering the supply vehicle.
Jon was reluctant about that. What if the device was a trick? But they weren’t going to win by playing it safe. To defeat the interstellar menace, they’d have to take long shots. Besides, this kind of thing was Da Vinci’s specialty.
Jon summoned the sergeants for another powwow. The three dinosaurs agreed that heading straight down the corridor for the ship’s center would be the wrong move.
Five minutes later, the sergeants had their orders. They returned to their companies. Soon, more charges roared. More bulkhead breaches appeared. The regiment sidestepped as a whole. They advanced along the new corridor and blasted another left turn, taking the regiment into yet another corridor.
As Jon walked beside the supply vehicle, Gloria informed him that the regiment was moving slower than before. The radiation had begun to take its toll on everyone. Sick and wounded marines took turns on the supply vehicles. Healthier marines helped the sick to keep moving.
Jon kept glancing at Da Vinci. The little thief was working on the alien device. He unscrewed parts, fiddling with this and that. He had a tester, accidentally shocking himself with it twice. Soon enough, Da Vinci screwed the parts back onto the whole. Jon noticed he had left one part off. Afterward, the Neptunian made more tests.
Jon saw the scrawny man speak in low whispers to the mentalist. Did Da Vinci need her opinion? The mentalist didn’t
reply. Soon, Da Vinci went back to experimenting on the thing.
Jon couldn’t take it anymore. The regiment needed a miracle. He was counting on the Neptunian. He plugged his phone line into the supply vehicle. Once he had the connection, Jon realized he shouldn’t pressure the thief. Pile on too much pressure and it could cause Da Vinci to fold. The thief seemed like the type, a folder. He had to give the Neptunian time and some room.
Both Da Vinci and Gloria looked up at him from under the canopy.
“Ah…” Jon said, stalling. “What does the green head tell you?” he asked Gloria.
“Just what you told me earlier,” she answered. “This vessel has been to at least one other star system. I believe it took captives there, those green-headed aliens. The aliens did to those people what they plan to do here to us. The patches you saw before we landed, the ones on the outer hull, testify to fighting in the previous star system. I doubt anyone willingly submits to the Order.”
“Can you give me any hint at all as to what the Order is?”
“Nothing other than what we’ve already deduced,” Gloria told him. “We—”
“More people—drones,” the Centurion radioed. “My scouts are retreating from them. This time, there are a thousand or more heading our way.”
Jon unplugged from the supply tank. “Back up,” he ordered the Old Man and Stark. “We have to give the Centurion’s men maneuvering room.”
By fits and starts, the regiment started backing up.
“Captain,” the Old Man radioed several minutes later. “Spheroids are coming into position in our rear area. It looks as if the aliens are trying to bracket us.”
“Right,” Jon said. “Stark, are you listening?”
“What do you need?” Stark asked on the command channel.
“I want a huge bulkhead opening in your area,” Jon said. “We’re going to retreat through that opening, and we’re going to do it under pressure.”
“That could get messy quick, sir,” Stark said. “There’s bound to be a delay somewhere during such a maneuver.”
“Then we’re going to have to pull off the perfect retreat,” Jon said. “No excuses, do you understand?”
Cybership Page 20
