by J. J. Green
Carl took a breath. He could do this. “Defense units...” His voice petered out as seven huge, identical heads turned to him with blank stares. The androids had always given him the willies. The only thing human about them, in his experience, was the way they looked. He’d always tried to avoid them as much as he could. “Defense units, arm yourselves...?” It was a simple request. A test to see if Lee was— He exhaled as the units’ thick forearms opened and weapons slid into their hands. The navigator was right. They really would obey him in the absence of orders from a higher-ranking officer.
In a stronger tone, he continued, “Follow me to the brig.” He waited, but the units didn’t move. Krat. Had he said it wrong? “Defense units, follow me to the brig.” Still no reaction. Then he realized what he was doing. He was an idiot. He’d told them to follow him, but he wasn’t going anywhere. They were waiting for him to leave. Carl went into the ship’s corridor, watching the units as he walked. They immediately left the room and came up behind him.
He led the way, and the units followed in single file, exactly equidistant from each other, weapons held at an identical angle. After a short while, Carl grew bolder. “Units, double-time to the brig,” he barked. He was forced to leap out of the way as they ran toward him, threatening to run him down. He sped after them as they drew away. So his follow me order had been superseded by the next order. Commanding the massive androids wasn’t straightforward.
At the brig, the guards didn’t seem to have noticed that Lee had remotely inactivated the locks when Carl and the defense units arrived. They must have been alerted by the thumps of the unit’s feet, however, for the two of them had run forward and were gripping their weapons and looking nervous as the units turned into the corridor. Carl stayed well back. He’d given the defense units their orders and was going to let them do their job without interference.
The guards’ eyes widened and their mouths grew to Os at the sight of the towering androids bearing down on them. One froze entirely. The other snapped out of his trance long enough to lower his weapon, take aim, and fire at a unit. He hit it dead center, and the unit fell back, smoking from a hole in its chest. Carl winced. Harrington wasn’t going to like that. Everyone knew how protective she was of them.
One shot was all the guard had time for before the rest were upon him and his partner. True to Carl’s instructions, they were careful not to hurt them. Their weapons were for intimidation only. The units didn’t even stun the guards, only disarmed and restrained them.
“Lingiari,” said a guard as Carl approached. “What the hell are you doing?” A defense unit stood behind him, holding him in a bear hug. The guard’s face was pink with exertion as he struggled to free himself.
“Sorry, but I’ve gotta get Harrington out,” replied Carl. “An alien’s controlling Loba, and it’s trying to take over the ship. He’s ordered the officers onto the shuttle and taken them planetside. We’re going to stop them from docking when they get back, or something, I don’t know. But we need Harrington.”
“Krat,” said the guard, ceasing his struggles. “That’s news to me. I tell you what, order this misborn to let me go, and I’ll help you.”
“I don’t know about that.”
“Come on, man. Seriously, I thought there was something up. Harrington’s been telling us all about it. She wouldn’t stop going on about how Loba wasn’t to be trusted. I didn’t believe her. Sounded like BF, but if you’re saying it too, I’m right with you. Come on. You’re going to need all the crew you can get.”
“Hmmm...okay,” Carl said. He looked at the unit holding the guard. “Let him go.” When the android didn’t respond, he reframed his command. “AX...” he peered at the unit’s breastplate, “...5, let go of the man you’re holding.”
The minute he was free, the guard stooped to pick up his weapon and lifted the barrel to aim it at Carl. A blow from the fist of the unit who had been holding him struck the side of his head, and he fell to the floor unconscious.
“Err...thanks,” said Carl. “AX5, could you—”
“Affirmative. I will restrain him, copilot Lingiari.”
Carl left behind the units and guards at the brig entrance and slid the unlocked door into the wall. It was reinforced plexisteel, but useless against Navigator Lee’s infiltration into the ship’s control center. The copilot wondered where she’d gone to gain access to the computer. Inside the brig were four cells, two on either side of the corridor, large enough to hold twenty or so people. The walls between the cells and the corridor were checkerboards of opaque and transparent cubes. All the cells were empty but one.
Jas Harrington’s face was pressed against a transparent cube, which distorted her nose somewhat. Carl thought she still looked great.
“Lingiari?”
“Call me Carl, hey?” he said in a rush of excitement and pride. This must be how it felt to be a hero. “Come out, Jas. It’s open. Your door’s unlocked. Lee’s deactivated every lock in the place.”
Harrington pushed the door and looked at it wonderingly as it opened. “I didn’t hear a thing. How...?”
“Dunno. I’m just doing the grunt work. We had to get you out. Loba’s got most of the officers on the shuttle, and he’s taken them planetside.”
The chief security officer’s expression was grim as she stepped into the corridor and moved toward him. Carl half-lifted his arms toward her. The chief security officer gave him a puzzled glance as she passed him on her way to the exit, saying, “What happened to the guards? And what’s that lump in your shirt?”
Carl’s arms dropped to his sides, disappointedly. He followed her. “Your defense units took the guards out.”
Harrington spun to face him. “What? How come? What did you do?”
“Lee said they’re programmed to obey the orders of the highest ranking officer. So I went and...what?” Harrington’s expression was unnerving him.
“You commanded my units?”
“You say that like it’s a bad thing. What did you want me to do? We had to get you out somehow.”
“Did any of them get hurt?”
“One of them got...one of them got a bit singed.”
Harrington ran the rest of the way to the entrance of the brig, where the defense units were still restraining the guards. The guard who had been knocked out was coming around. The unit was holding him upright. His head was slumped forward, but it lifted as Harrington approached. His eyes immediately sought his weapon, but it had been kicked well out of his reach.
“You’ll regret this, Harrington,” he said. “You never were mentally ill, were you? I know what this is. It’s mutiny. But you won’t get away with it. We’ll hunt you down, and when we get back to Earth you’re going to jail.”
Ignoring the guard, Harrington went straight to the defense unit who had been hit. Carl followed her. The unit had retreated down the corridor and around a corner, and it was standing motionless, a wisp of smoke eddying up from its chest wound.
“Why are you always the one that gets hit? AX7, damage report.”
“Grade 5 internal damage affecting temperature regulation, gross motor control, and energy distribution, C.S.O. Harrington. Injury repair initiated.”
“Can you make it back to storage by yourself?”
“Affirmative, C.S.O. Harrington.”
“Return and repair.”
The defense unit obeyed. Harrington went back to the guards. “You’re lucky I don’t know which one of you shot my unit.” She sighed and passed a hand over her eyes. “I know how this looks, but believe me, there’s something on that planet that’s got control of Loba. He isn’t himself. I’m going to find out what it is and destroy it, and then we’re getting out of here. If you’ve got any sense, you would avoid the master and the officers as best you can. And, whatever you do, don’t go down to the planet, even if it means disobeying a direct order.”
She addressed the units holding the guards. “AX5 and AX10, put these men in the brig, secure the doors and ret
urn to storage. All other defense units, return to storage now. Let’s go,” she said to Lingiari.
After they were out of hearing range of the guards, she asked, “What are we going to do?”
“Me and Lee kinda hoped you would know.”
Chapter Sixteen
First Mate Jack Haggardy rubbed his graying stubble. Around him, in the passenger cabin of the shuttle, sat most of the Galathea’s officers. Eight defense units stood at the edges of the cabin, as many as the space accommodated. The rest of them had been left behind on the ship. The units were unseated, and their weapons were fixed on the officers. No one was speaking.
Haggardy certainly wasn’t going to attract any attention. Not rocking the boat had been his MO for his entire career aboard prospecting ships, and it had served him well. Always following orders to the letter, no matter what, never gainsaying superior officers in public or private, never back-stabbing, being constantly congenial and easy to work with, and so on. He was no one’s enemy, and everyone thought him their friend. Over time, Haggardy had risen steadily through the ranks.
It didn’t bother him that he’d never made master. A master’s bonuses were attractive but not worth the additional responsibility. First mate was as high as you could go while still being able to pass the buck when a mission was unsuccessful, or people died, or if there were a governmental inquiry into claiming a planet inhabited by intelligent species. Making first mate but not master was, in Haggardy’s opinion, a great success. The current mission was supposed to have been the final one before his retirement.
But this latest turn of events had put everything in jeopardy.
Judging from the looks on the other officers’ faces, they were shocked and scared, but none of them seemed to be up to saying or doing anything. Haggardy was not going to be the first to resist. He’d seen people ruin their careers or even die that way. Let others take the risk. He had too much to lose.
Stealing a glance at Loba from the corners of his eyes, he noted that the man’s face was expressionless. The geo-phys woman sitting next to the master looked the same. Though he hated to admit it, there was clearly more than a little truth to what Harrington had been harping on about. Physically, the master was unchanged, as far as Haggardy could tell, but his behavior was unfathomable. He’d offered no explanation for the trip to the planet, and his use of the defense units to force the officers to comply was barbaric.
So, Loba and the scientist were possessed by aliens. Haggardy had heard of stranger things in his long career. Reluctant though he was to act, if he didn’t do something to save himself, he would end up the same.
If only he’d paid heed to Harrington’s warning not to go to the planet. He’d been taken by surprise as he was relaxing in his cabin, and before he knew it, he was forced into the shuttle. But maybe the security officer had said something else that would help him. He frowned as he tried to remember her rant, which he hadn’t paid much attention to at the time. She’d mentioned something about the structures on the surface. They had something to do with it. He had to try to avoid going into them.
“Haggardy,” murmured Javek, the resource assessment chief, in the next seat. Haggardy could barely hear her. Her voice was so low, in fact, that he felt confident in ignoring her as if he hadn’t heard her speak. But he couldn’t possibly ignore the elbow Javek thrust in his side a few moments later. He stifled a grunt. Loba glanced in his direction, but he failed to locate the cause of the noise. The master returned to staring ahead.
“This is madness,” continued Javek. “What are you going to do?”
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. Loba’s been infested by something, just like Harrington said. You have to do something about it. You’re first mate, next in command. It’s your responsibility.”
“We must follow the master’s orders. Failure to do so is cause for dismissal and—” He sucked in a breath as Loba turned and stared directly at him. Haggardy clamped his lips together. He didn’t speak again for the rest of the trip. His thoughts were focused on how to avoid entering the structures on the planet when they landed. Perhaps he could get away somehow while the others were forced in, but he couldn’t think up a plan.
Touchdown was heavy. The shuttle bounced when it hit the ground, eliciting gasps and a few small screams from the terrified passengers. The ship’s pilot, Grantwise, was clearly out of practice with small ships.
Loba commanded the officers to leave the vessel, and under the threatening weapons of the defense units, they silently obeyed. The scene was dreamlike. The officers knew they were going to a terrible fate, yet none of them seemed able to do anything to prevent it. Haggardy was reminded of a herd of cattle walking obediently to the slaughterhouse.
A keen, cold wind swept his long hair into his eyes as he reached the bottom of the shuttle’s ramp. He brushed the hair away and saw that among the uneven scrub of the planet surface, one of the structures sat ominously near. If he was going to do something, it had to be soon.
It was another officer who broke first. Javek.
“Sir,” she exclaimed, her cheeks flaming red. The master stopped. He was at the front of the line that had been threading its way slowly toward the structure. The defense units brought up the rear. For a moment, only Loba’s back registered that he had heard. He turned, his expression inhuman. The master stared and did not speak.
Javek continued, “I must protest, sir. Bringing us all down to the planet in this manner is unacceptable. Why are we here? You must allow us to return to the ship immediately. If any harm comes to the Galathea’s crew, the armed forces of Earth will respond. What...what are you?” She swallowed. “Your kind, whatever you are, whoever you are inhabiting our master and Stratton, you will not survive.”
It was an empty threat, and Haggardy knew it. The officers looked fearful. Some were openly weeping. They were a long, long way from home, and the Global Government had little interest in the fates of prospecting crews. The employees took their chances and reaped their rewards or suffered the consequences of their deep space voyages.
Loba made no sound. He pulled a hand laser from his jacket. Javek backed away. The officers barely had time to scatter before he fired the weapon. Screaming, Javek fell. She crumpled to the ground and continued to cry out and writhe. Loba approached her. Was he going to finish her off? Haggardy was horrified and fascinated. But the master only inspected the injured officer. He spoke to a defense unit. “AX9, bring her.”
The unit lifted the groaning Javek and put her over its shoulder. Loba’s shot had scored a blackened line across the woman’s right hip. Enough to incapacitate but not kill her. Haggardy guessed that Loba must want them alive.
His mind was working furiously. He had to think of an escape. He wondered if there was any residue of the master’s original personality left behind. Could he appeal to the inner Loba? If he tried, maybe he would meet the same fate as Javek, who was being carried, sobbing, at the back of the line. In a few moments they would be at the structure.
Haggardy dropped back to the end of the line with Javek, acutely conscious of the weapons held by the units behind him. He could do nothing now, but perhaps, once they were inside, his options might open up. He’d read Harrington’s reports thoroughly. As they entered the structure, the plain gray walls and lightless rooms were no surprise. No alien life or artifacts. Nothing. He wondered how the mechanism for alien infection worked. Were they already being taken over?
“Press your hands to the walls,” Loba said.
Cowering before the defense units, which had followed them, most of the officers obeyed immediately. The unit carrying Javek lifted her hands and pushed them against the wall. Haggardy hesitated, but Loba pointed the laser gun at his temple. He had no choice but to touch the cool metal/crystal amalgam with his open, bare palms.
As Loba turned to check on the other officers, a young cadet swung violently round and knocked the master to the floor. His weapon fell from his
hand. Another officer immediately pounced on it and fired at a defense unit. Another officer tackled Margret, but she brought a weapon up to his throat.
“Units, wound, don’t kill,” shouted Loba from his prone position. The cadet disappeared out of the door. Simultaneously, a unit fired on the officer who had picked up the master’s weapon. The man shrieked as the laser beam severed his arm. Smoke and the scent of burnt flesh filled the enclosed space, and one or two officers gagged. Though the beam had partially cauterized the injured officer’s wound, it steadily dripped blood. The man sank, gasping, to his knees. Loba plucked his weapon from the frozen fingers of the amputated limb.
Haggardy was loitering near the exit. He could see the cadet running back toward the shuttle, flinging dust from his heels. He would never make it. The defense units were too fast and accurate. Haggardy hesitated, then pointed at the young man. “Master,” he said, “someone’s getting away.” His comment drew curses and exclamations of disbelief from the other officers.
Loba was out of the entrance in a trice. He instructed a defense unit to disable the cadet. The unit fired, hitting his shoulder. The man fell, but was quickly up and running again, though more slowly.
“AX15, retrieve that human,” Loba said.
The named unit set off after the cadet, and Haggardy and the officers watched. AX15 was closing the distance to the racing man easily, despite being twice his bulk. But the cadet had a good lead. If he made it to the shuttle and locked himself in before being caught...if he knew how to fly the shuttle back to the ship...Haggardy began to sweat. The news of what he’d done might be passed on to the wrong people. His fingernails bit into his palms as he willed the unit to run faster.
“Come on, Arkady,” murmured a voice. Other officers echoed the words. At the range and from their viewpoint, it was difficult to tell how far apart the unit and cadet were, but it looked like the man might make it. “Come on, hurry, please,” whispered a voice nearby.
The unit stopped. Haggardy held his breath. Had it given up? Had it received a counter-command radioed from the Galathea? It was drawing its weapon. It fired, and the beam hit Cadet Arkady square in his back. The officers cried out.
