Star Road

by Matthew Costello

  This crystal, with its alien control system, proved otherwise.

  To Kyros, it would bring immense, even dangerous power. The World Council would be weakened if not utterly destroyed.

  And in its place?

  Ivan knew he couldn’t let that happen.

  He glanced at Jordan, hoping the gunner knew what he was thinking.

  He had to hope that Jordan was ready to move.

  In a split second.

  Kyros raised his hands above his head, and everything changed.

  ~ * ~

  The gentle humming of the vines shifted to a higher pitch, like vibrating crystal, and then turned into screeching, mewling sounds as if suddenly awakened.

  And while Ivan watched—helplessly—a single vine shot down, elongating, and, before he could react, wrapped around Ruth Corso’s throat and yanked up.

  She had to stand on the tips of her toes and even then was barely able to keep the strangling pressure of the vine from hanging her.

  She opened her mouth, her eyes bugging out, as she tried to speak.

  She could breathe, but only coughlike gasps emerged from her mouth.

  “Let her go, Kyros!”

  “I will—for the data crystal,” he said.

  Ivan looked at Ruth, then the others.

  “And drop the gun, brother.”

  Ivan hesitated and then, slowly, placed it on the ground before him.

  “That’s better. Now ...”

  Sinjira stood below the floating console, looking all around it, down to the machine.

  Close to Kyros. But he seemed to register that she was no threat.

  Ivan wanted to tell her to get back, but he knew there was no telling her what to do.

  “Let her go, Kyros, and I’ll—”

  Kyros shook his head. “Do we have to make this so unpleasant?” He smiled. “Give me the data crystal now, and I’ll let her go. What is she to you, Ivan?” He laughed. “I thought you never had time for friends.”

  “Fuck you—”

  “Ivan!” Annie shouted from his left. “Don’t trust him. He’ll—”

  Ivan shot her a look that silenced her.

  He was hoping she, like Jordan, could tell what he was thinking, what he was planning.

  Hang in there with me, Annie. Let’s play this out so no one gets hurt.

  Ragged gulps were coming from Ruth as the vine pulled tighter, lifting her off her feet. She grabbed the vine, trying to pull it away and ease the pressure.

  “She won’t last long,” Kyros said. “These nodules are lined on the inside with an array of needle-sharp spikes. Any second now, they’re going to pierce her throat and head.” He paused and then added, “It won’t be pretty.”

  Another choking sound from Ruth.

  A long pause, and then—finally—Ivan said, “All right. You win.”

  “I always do, brother.”

  Ivan started boldly up the steps, moving closer to Kyros. At the same time, he dug into his pocket, reaching for the data crystal Annie had given him.

  He pulled it out slowly, making sure Kyros didn’t think he might have a weapon, other than his pulse rifle on the ground behind him.

  “Here it is.” He held his hand out. “Now let her go.”

  Reaching down to his side, Kyros pulled out a gun and waved it back and forth, sweeping from Annie on one side to Jordan on the other.

  “All of you. Drop your weapons,” Kyros said, still waving the pistol from side to side as if drunk.

  I’m missing something here, Ivan thought.

  Kyros reached out and grabbed not the data crystal, but Ivan. He snagged his jacket and yanked him close, placing the barrel of his own gun against the side of Ivan’s head.

  With his other hand, he reached down to Ivan’s hand holding the crystal.

  A whisper into Ivan’s ear.

  The moment primal.

  “Brother. You are such a disappointment.”

  Kyros yanked away the data crystal.

  The barrel pressed against Ivan’s temple so hard it hurt. Spikes of light and pain flashed behind his eyes.

  “Let her go now, Kyros. I expect you to keep your word.”

  Runners kept their word.

  Ivan had to hope that truth still held.

  With the cold metal at his temple, he turned his head enough to see the vine slither off and away from Ruth.

  She dropped to her knees, gasping and gagging. Pink-tinged spittle ran from her mouth to the stone floor.

  Rodriguez, who until now had been frozen, a stone statue near the entrance to this giant arena, came quickly over to Ruth to help her.

  Ivan rolled his eyes to one side, looking at Jordan.

  His gun was now tilted at a 45-degree angle.

  Their eyes locked.

  Ivan thought: I’ve grown to trust that guy, and they owe me their lives.

  And now Jordan has a chance to prove himself.

  Kyros extended his arm and held the crystal out, admiring it, letting its facets catch and reflect the blue light.

  Dragging Ivan with him, he moved back to the floating console and reached out toward a circular metal plate.

  As soon as the crystal came into contact, the machine started scanning it. The Star Road map above began to twist, turn ... reacting to the new data.

  The massive polyhedral shapes that surrounded them on the walls began to vibrate and move.

  It’s now or never, Ivan thought.

  He threw his weight to the right. The gun barrel slipped away from his head. He knew Kyros would move fast. He might be insane, but he also was as well-trained as Ivan.

  But now was his best—and only—chance.

  He clenched his fist tight and he swung with every ounce of strength he had.

  The instant the blow connected, Ivan knew something was wrong.

  It wasn’t like punching air, but there was so little resistance that Ivan’s body swung around ... more than he had expected. The roundhouse kick he had intended to follow up with turned into a lurching step to regain his balance. The momentum almost brought him down.

  And before he could react, a thunderous concussion slammed into the side of his head like a clap of thunder.

  Ivan rocked back on his heels as a spray of white lights shot across his vision. Through his pain and confusion, a deep, crazed laugh filled the sudden vacuum.

  “Nice try, brother,” Kyros said. “I’m happy to see that you haven’t gone totally soft.”

  Ivan’s ears were ringing. As he twisted around and reached for his brother’s throat, it felt as if he was fighting with an illusion, a hallucination.

  The dark form in front of him swelled and roiled like a rapidly descending storm cloud.

  Another hit like that, and I’m done, Ivan thought as he shook his head, struggling to clear it.

  No doubt about it.

  One shot left...

  No panic ...just a cold, hard assessment of where he was and what was happening.

  But in a flash, he saw another opening.

  Whether on purpose or by mistake, Kyros had dropped his left shoulder, lowering his guard.

  And Ivan struck hard, his clenched right fist striking fast, catching Kyros on the edge of the jaw.

  Although it wasn’t much—it didn’t feel like punching a person—it had an effect.

  A stunned look of surprise crossed Kyros’s face, and he staggered back.

  And fell.

  Now reflexes took over, and Ivan lowered his head and slammed his shoulder into his brother’s chest. They went down together.

  Like brothers should, Ivan thought.

  And Ivan hoped that—just like when they were kids—he could always beat his brother in a fistfight.

  Grunting like an animal, he piled his weight onto Kyros to bring him down. But even as he did, he knew something was wrong.

  There was no substance beneath him.

 
Straddling his brother’s chest, Ivan cocked his fist back for another punch to Kyros’s face, but he hesitated when he saw his brother looking up at him.

  The weird smile on his face—placid, unconcerned—was unnerving... like this was all a game.

  “You can’t beat me, Ivan,” he said. “It’s not like when we were children.”

  Can he read my mind? Ivan thought.

  Ivan brought his fist down hard, but before it connected, something shifted beneath him.

  And then—somehow—Kyros was ... gone.

  Ivan couldn’t check his punch, and his fist skinned against the hard, bare rock floor of the chamber.

  He cried out with pain even as he raised his head and saw Kyros looming over him. A commanding smile was still plastered on Kyros’s face as he raised his pistol and calmly aimed it at Ivan.

  “It’s all over,” he said. His eyes seemed to glow with hatred. “You lost, brother.”

  Ivan got onto his hands and knees, shook his head as he began to stand up, but then, from far off—faintly—he heard someone.

  Is that Jordan?

  “Stay down!”

  He must have a shot, was Ivan’s one, clear thought as he dropped to the floor.

  And Jordan took it.

  He fired.

  Once.

  The blast caught Kyros on the shoulder, spinning him around. The gun fell from his hand. He staggered backward, slamming against the floating console.

  “Sinjira!” Annie screamed.

  The girl was apparently oblivious to what was happening around her. She was standing so close to the floating console ... to Kyros.

  Jordan fired again, although Ivan didn’t think it was necessary.

  The first shot had been perfect. It should have blown a hole in Kyros’s chest.

  Instead—

  Nothing.

  Kyros appeared slightly stunned but perfectly unharmed. No gaping wound.

  As he got to his feet, Ivan wondered if Kyros was even there at all.

  This has gotta be an illusion... a holographic projection.

  But then Kyros spoke as Ivan backed up and scooped his own gun off the floor. Ivan knew holograms couldn’t grab people and hold them.

  “The tendrils,” Kyros said. “The traps, the Star Road above—that’s not all this machine can do. Not by a long shot.”

  Kyros spread his arms out wide, a crazed Christ-like gesture, as if he was embracing—or blessing—everything this place was.

  Annie and Jordan moved closer to Ivan, standing with him, shoulder to shoulder now.

  They all fired—

  To no effect.

  Sinjira started backing away, staggering. An expression of fear or pure terror and amazement on her face.

  But she didn’t move fast enough, and they all got to see exactly what this machine could do.

  ~ * ~

  42

  NO ESCAPE

  The giant polyhedral cogs on the walls began to turn one way, then the other, as if unlocking a combination to the inner workings of the machine.

  The noise was deafening.

  Annie turned to Ivan, shouting, “We have to get the hell out of here! Now!”

  Ivan looked at Sinjira backing away but moving too slowly, back from the machine she had been looking at with such intensity.

  And Kyros stood there, a man who should have been blown to pieces, unharmed, his eyes closed, his arms still outstretched.

  While from the back of the machine, a filmy cloud arose and swirled around the machine, dancing, circling, engulfing Kyros.

  Ivan—totally confused by what he saw happening to his brother.

  Dark spots appeared on his flesh as the machine-made cloud twisted and writhed around him.

  The small dots crawled and spread all over his body, some vanishing under the skin like fading tattoos while others emerged on his face, neck, and arms ... popping up from the skin in rising bumps and ridges.

  Only one image came to mind ... one slim point of reference.

  Road Bugs.

  The way they moved, the machine-meets-organism way the Road Bugs scurried, but here they were moving over a human body instead of a machinery-littered section of the Star Road.

  Sinjira finally snapped to and started running now, but she was knocked down by the rapidly expanding outer edge of the cyclonic cloud.

  Knocked down, but crawling, she then scrambled back to her feet.

  “Ivan,” Annie said. The urgency in her voice was chilling.

  Jordan quiet... looking ... taking it all in.

  But then Jordan went over to Sinjira, coming close to the cloud himself. He reached out, grabbing the Chippie’s hand, and she staggered forward as if she had been suddenly propelled by the front end of a fast-moving truck.

  “Now!” Jordan shouted.

  Rodriguez was already running out, away from this madhouse with Ruth, supporting her as she still gasped to catch her breath.

  Ivan started backing away as Jordan and Sinjira came up next to him. He aimed his pulse rifle.

  Directly at his brother’s head.

  And then he started firing, at Kyros, at the cloud, blast after ineffective blast.

  A head shot—amazingly—seemed to turn his brother’s face into an ashen stump, but only for an instant.

  In seconds, his face reappeared, smiling insanely.

  With each shot, a hole would appear for a moment in the swirling cloud. Then swarms of the tiny black dots gushed out of it, and the holes would vanish.

  As the shimmering storm cloud swirled even more wildly around Kyros, his face twisting, reacting to the shots for a moment, and then—as if waking from a dream—his body, maybe not his body anymore, effortlessly repaired itself.

  With Annie in the lead and the others running away as fast as they could, Ivan kept firing his useless blasts, and then his brother’s eyes locked on him.

  This creature before him—who Ivan knew was no longer his brother— started walking slowly toward them.

  The black storm cloud swirled around him, growing larger and wilder with each step.

  He had said: “That’s not all this machine can do,” Ivan remembered.

  Ivan ran, his arms pumping hard. His single, clear thought was that they’d be lucky to escape alive.

  ~ * ~

  Ivan joined Jordan and Sinjira. She was hurt, but he couldn’t see where. Maybe contact with that energy cloud had done something to her nervous system.

  No matter what, she was seriously slowing them down.

  They stopped, and lowered Sinjira to the ground as gently as they could.

  “What’s wrong?” Ivan said.

  Jordan held her hand. Squeezed it.

  But when Sinjira turned, her eyes were narrowed, like those of a little girl who’d gotten hurt playing in the park.

  She looked sad ... frightened ... desperate.

  She held out her other arm, and Ivan saw flecks of shimmering light that looked like minute flakes of metal covering her forearm.

  And they were spreading ...

  Like a frost, an icy morning leaving a crystalline sheen on a window, the first signs of a brutal winter to come.

  Ivan looked from her eyes to Jordan and to the arm again.

  The growth—whatever it was—was slowly spreading.

  “Jordan,” Ivan said.

  Both of them saw the obvious.

  Jordan pulled out his handgun as this insane moment played out and, with his other hand, gave Sinjira’s untainted hand a tight squeeze.

  He leaned forward to her and whispered something to her tenderly. Jordan, the man who said little or nothing and never betrayed emotion.

  Sinjira heard and nodded, biting her lower lip to keep from crying out.

  “Is the pain bad?” Jordan asked softly.