The Soldier: Escape Vector

by Vaughn Heppner

  His eyelids fluttered and then snapped open. Without moving, he stared at a—

  Claustrophobia struck. He was inside a narrow tube with pulsating sensations striking his body from all sides. He raised his head and bumped his forehead against the upper enclosure. He lowered his head, closed his eyes and concentrated so he didn’t howl and thrash like a madman.

  He was a soldier. A soldier did not lose his composure because the situation had become bleak. He waited for an opportunity to strike back. If that opportunity never came, then he died fighting like a berserker, taking as many of the enemy down with him as he could. To that end, Cade breathed deeply. He tasted his confinement, but he didn’t let that demoralize him. Instead, he exhaled and inhaled even deeper, filling his lungs and emptying them. He repeated the process until he sensed his panic fading away.

  Now, he—oh, his back did not throb or even smart. Was that due to numbing agents?

  There was a click, and the slate he lay on began to move. He opened his eyes, watching the white tube slide past. He listened intently for skin peelers, wondering if he’d entered the hated cyborg convertor that changed a human into a machine man.

  The slate slid into the open, into a white sterile room. He saw a window and a bald, black-robed skull-like Rhune staring back at him.

  That’s right, these half-cyborgs with godlike powers, floating in the air and pumping fireballs from their fists. He wanted to rip the thing’s guts out. One had zapped him on the sky-raft with a wand, doing it indifferently, callously.

  Cade looked away lest the creature understand his hatred and take precautions. He sat up. He was naked. Okay. He began assessing his body for battle damage. Everything worked and was whole that he could see. He twisted his head to peer at his back as well as he could. Then he strained to feel back there with his hands. He was supple, but too muscular to reach every area of his back as some could. As far as he could tell, his back was healed.

  The Rhunes must have done that. Damn. That meant—a feeling of sick helpless crawled up his spine. Had they inserted an obedience chip into his mind while he’d been under? Breathing became harder and his arms shook. Without looking at the watching Rhune, he began to massage his scalp with weak fingers, searching for a telltale scar. He felt the old one…felt more…but he didn’t feel a new scar or a line to indicate an insertion. Was he still his own man then? Could they have wasted the opportunity?

  You bastards just made a terrible mistake.

  A ferocious desire to fight to the death and get it over with began welling up inside him. If he could twist just one scrawny neck before he died—

  “Stand,” said the Rhune through a wall speaker in an emotionless voice.

  It took a half-second. He debated giving the thing the bird finger. No. Tactics, man, practice tactics all the way. Cade slid off the slate, standing as his gut seethed.

  “Exit through the door,” the Rhune said.

  Cade saw the door…and kept from turning and looking at the thing. He padded across the cold floor, desperately wanting a weapon. The door slid open before him, making him start. You’re too keyed up. Try to relax—or at least appear relaxed. He nodded and walked through the open hatch into a similar chamber. There was gray spaceman garb on a stand. He went to the clothes. There were his own, fully repaired. He put them on, noting the lack of a boot knife or energy gun.

  Once he was dressed, another door opened.

  They’re watching me. I bet they have machines recording my breathing rate, heart rate and other stuff.

  He went to the new door and peered into a long corridor. He waited for instructions. None was forthcoming. Muttering under his breath, he entered the corridor, walking for a time until he came to a side door. He tried it. Locked. He kept going, passing more doors and trying each, but they were all locked. Finally, one handle turned.

  He opened the door and entered a large library chamber. Books and scrolls lined three walls from floor to ceiling. A heavy wooden table was in the center of the room. On the table was a shallow bowl of water with yellow rose petals floating in it. A chair was there with the back to the table.

  Cade went to the chair and sat down. Nervous tension had made him tired.

  What do they want with me? Why have they healed me anyway? I hate these bastards. I just want to leave and—

  A different door began opening. Cade grew tense. A tall gaunt Rhune walked into the room. This one lacked any adornment on the front of his robe. The thing stared at him with inky eyes. It seemed to mock him with that still, narrow face. Maybe he should take a stab at screwing with it.

  “You must be Magister Uldin?” Cade said, while standing.

  The Rhune raised an eyebrow before dipping his long head. “How do you know my name?” the question asked in an emotionless voice.

  Cade debated lying, but that wasn’t his way. When all else failed, he liked straight shooting. “Graven Tarvoke spoke about you.”

  “I see. Logically then, Tarvoke was on the sky-rafts we destroyed.”

  Cade thought about the flickering holoimages, about his predicament. He could tell the truth but still lie. “Yes,” he said.

  Uldin continued to stare at him.

  I can do this all day—the soldier stared right back. Suddenly, he felt the force of the other’s personality, a pressure against his face. He’s the big shot, the chief. If I kill him, I kill their leader.

  “You’re impertinent,” Uldin whispered. “If I desired, I could blast you apart with a gesture.”

  Talk is cheap, cyborg. All I have to do is get near you.

  “Do you feel so superior to me then?” Uldin asked.

  “What?” Cade asked.

  “What causes you to stare at me as you do?”

  “You’re a cyborg,” Cade said thickly, his hatred bubbling to the fore.

  “And that means what to you?”

  Cade struggled to contain his rage. He knew cyborgs. The old ones were so deadly, so quick and metallically strong. He’d seen them rip apart Ultras with their bare hands. Cade hated his fear of the thing. But…a Rhune was a cyber tech, and they were different from cyborgs. He needed to think, to control his rage so he could act wisely, effectively. The thing wanted him to talk, so he should talk.

  “I-I realize that you mean to use me,” Cade said, feeling dizzy talking to it like this. “How you’ll try to use me, I don’t know, but that’s not critical. Since you’re going to use me…how can crawling or acting frightened help my cause? It can’t. So I stare at you however I want.”

  “You’re different from the fighting thralls,” Uldin said in his metallic whisper. “They’re all muscle and might. You appear to exhibit a little intelligence as well.”

  Cade couldn’t help sneering.

  “Are you deliberating trying to anger me?”

  The words clicked a switch in Cade’s mind. What was he doing? Acting like an angry dog, showing how terrified he really was. He needed some calm here, some perspective.

  “Could I?” he asked.

  “You could certainly try—no, that wasn’t your question, was it? Could you successfully anger me? No, as Rhunes do not feel emotions the way humans do. We expunged our emotions, devoting ourselves to logic and other purely mental stimulations. We are superior to humans and even Ultras.”

  It was weird listening to it as he might listen to Halifax speak. At first, the words had been gibberish. Now, they were beginning to make sense. The thing was superior to him, huh?

  “If you’re superior, why do Rhunes only have a single base on Coad?”

  Uldin’s inky eyes swirled with something sinister until he gave the barest of nods. “A logical question, I commend you. The answer is that we’ve experimented upon ourselves in order to achieve greatness. It was a harsh process. But nothing worth having is easily acquired.”

  “There was a plague, I hear.”

  “Velia must have told you that. She’s dead, by the way. Does her passing distress you?”

  Cade put
a hand on the table to steady himself. Was that true? Was the thing lying to him? If she was dead…maybe he should have treated her better. Would that have been so hard?

  “I suppose you believe that you’re being stoic,” Uldin said. “It’s an illusion, I assure you. Clearly, you like to grandstand, but you’ve learned some style in doing so. You must consider yourself a hero.”

  What if I do? No! Don’t let him toy with you like that. He’s playing you. You have to play back, get his goat.

  “Uh, what kind of plague was it?” Cade asked.

  Uldin waited a half-beat before saying, “The worst kind, self-inflicted. You see, we improved upon the ancient design. By that, I mean grafting various utilities into ourselves. The method can be excruciating, so much so that some die during the surgeries. I sought to improve the Rhune genus and succeeded. Unfortunately, that success bred a virus. The virus raced through our bases, killing tens of thousands until genocide threatened extinction. During the time, we worked to develop a cure.”

  Uldin shook his head. “We never did. I believe because…well, never mind about that. In the end, we’re leaving the virus behind by leaving Coad, the planet that almost became our graveyard. This virus, you might be interested to know, was the primary reason the Eagle-Dukes on Coad and Tarvoke’s pathetic space fleet have been able to thrive. We were too busy battling the virus to bother with them. Did they slay us in our tens of thousands? No, we succumbed to our own mistake as we sought and achieved a new greatness. Yet, like the ancient Thinker once said, ‘That which does not kill us makes us stronger.’ For us, that has literally proven true.”

  Get his goat. Bust his damn smugness. We hurt ourselves, not others. Yeah, right, I bet. “I’m curious about something else,” Cade said.

  “I know. The reason we healed you and why you’re still free and alive?”

  “No. I was thinking about the cyborg mobile base orbiting Sarus. It chased you, I’m told.”

  “You were told wrong.”

  “Uh…chased your ancestors,” Cade amended. “The mobile base attempted to destroy the original Rhune vessels. My question is why.”

  Uldin stared at him.

  I think I’m doing it. Cade allowed a hard grin to slide onto his face.

  “Is that your specialty?” Uldin mused. “You constantly seek for weakness, a soft spot. If you lack physical weapons, you use words. Your designers knew their business when they made your type.”

  “You’re right, as the cyborgs lost the war.”

  “Did they lose? Are we not the ultimate cyborg refinement? The original models sought to use physical means to dominate. We use both the physical and mental.”

  “So…uh, why did the regular cyborgs attempt to eliminate the cyber techs, the Rhunes?”

  “Jealously would be one reason. Another was a sense for survival. Why would Neanderthals hate Homo sapiens? The reason should be obvious, as the Homo sapiens caused the extinction of the Neanderthals.”

  “Rhunes are a new cyborg genus that would have eliminated the old?” Cade asked.

  “Can you doubt it?”

  “I have no idea.”

  “Rhunes are individual champions, praying mantises as opposed to ants. The cyborgs attempted mass assaults but failed for reasons I cannot intellectually fathom.”

  “I can,” Cade said.

  “Oh?”

  “We were better.”

  A wintery smile touched Uldin’s lips. “In the end, the reason doesn’t matter. We’re here, and you’re going to help us return to our rightful space-time continuum.”

  Here it comes. Cade balled his hands into fists, readying himself. “How will I help?” he asked hoarsely.

  “Ah,” Uldin said, holding up an admonitory finger. “That is a secret for now. But I will tell you that we’re doing this the Rhune way. If you can decipher that—”

  The tension became too much, and Cade exploded into action, hurling himself at Uldin. Before he reached halfway across the room, a force caught and propelled him back so he grunted as he hit the wall and slid down onto his butt. Cade shook his head, looking up, wondering what to do now.

  Uldin stared at him, perhaps with a glimmer of evil humor in his eyes.

  Right. I’ve been acting like an idiot, a new ensign fresh from military training. Let’s start over, using guile to guide me.

  “How did you do that?” Cade asked, while standing.

  “Through applied intellect,” Uldin said as he folded his hands within the sleeves of his robe. “We’re done here.” He turned to go and then seemed to think better of it. He faced Cade again. “I do have one other question before I go. You spoke to Tarvoke, yes?”

  Cade nodded.

  “Why did Tarvoke come down to Coad?”

  Despite the soldier’s resolve to remain calm, his heart rate quickened. “Tarvoke—never told me.”

  “Any guesses?” Uldin asked. “It was a great risk for the free trader to lead the sky-raft assault against our base.”

  “If you’re asking why he risked it, I might have a reason.”

  “This should prove interesting.”

  “Tarvoke struck me as an essentially dishonest man,” Cade said. “Being so, he distrusted his allies and wanted to be at the captured base in person. With the Rhunes dead, who would get your high-tech items? Logically, the man on the spot could grab what he wanted, collecting more than his fair share.”

  “You mean he wanted to cheat Lord Magnus?”

  “Magnus must have known this and joined the assault to stop Tarvoke from implementing his theft.”

  Uldin stood perfectly still before he said, “If you’re correct, they would have to believe they could find the base and defeat us.”

  “That was my understanding,” Cade said. “They were hoping to gain surprise by following the automated Rhune craft back to base.”

  “I can hardly fathom that as their motive,” Uldin said. “Tarvoke knows more about Rhune capabilities than anyone else in the star system. Lord Magnus should also have known better. If I were to hazard a guess…” The Magister’s eyebrows rose. “No…” he whispered. “I cannot believe I’ve overlooked the obvious. Neither man was altruistic. I doubt either of them was so puffed up with hubris to lead a direct assault.” Uldin’s black eyes seemed to glow. “Tarvoke must have employed deceit within deceit. We never found his or Lord Magnus’s bodies, although we found many others in the sea. Velia’s form allowed us to hear what transpired in the control cabin. Tarvoke must have known that would happen. But there’s something more.” Uldin tilted his head, his eyes hooded, as if he spent all his energy thinking.

  “My ancient enemy…” Uldin whispered. “Do I detect your will in this? If so, that means—” The Magister looked up. “Wait here while I check on a matter.” So saying, Uldin strode for an exit, almost seeming to hurry.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Cade counted to thirty before trying the door Uldin had used to leave. It was locked. He went to the other doors, trying them too. Each one was locked.

  I’m a rat in a trap. He went to the table, glaring at the petals floating in the bowl of water. You have to think, to make a plan.

  He touched one of the wet petals and then took it between thumb and forefinger, mashing it into paste, rubbing the substance off against a pant leg.

  Breathe. Get your balance.

  He nodded. He was late to this game, the various sides. Each chess master wanted to move him like a pawn against the others. Tarvoke. Uldin. Magnus.

  Who’s this ancient enemy? That must be the fourth player I’ve sensed.

  Cade turned abruptly, stepping to one of the floor-to-ceiling shelves. He glanced at book spines, the titles, but they were written in a foreign language, proving useless in helping him understand.

  He returned to the table and put both hands on it, closing his eyes. The ancient enemy. Who had trapped and destroyed the cyborg mobile base orbiting the gas giant Sarus? Were they the same beings that had created the pocket univers
e? Cade breathed deeply. I think I’m onto something. Was it rational to believe that the Descartes would simply arrive at a place where others desperately needed its Intersplit engine? Was that mere coincidence? Cade shook his head. But if it wasn’t a coincidence…then who had maneuvered them and how had they done it?

  Cade opened his eyes. There was another thing. How had the Eagle-Dukes with their lesser technology maintained their independence against the Rhunes all this time? Had the virus allowed them to do it, or was it something else?

  He cocked his head. There was an answer. He could feel it.

  “How can I feel it?” he whispered.

  He looked around. No one looked back. Then why does it feel as if someone is staring at me? He’d felt snipers targeting him before. There was something about staring at someone that made their hackles rise. Was that telepathy, empathy, a different sixth sense?

  Cade made a fist. He wasn’t going to be anyone’s pawn. He’d survived The War. Now, he was going to rescue his wife and any brothers-at-arms that had survived into this future time. That was his goal. That was it.

  His neck grew itchy, so he rubbed it. He could almost feel someone laughing at him. It was spooky—

  There was a click and a door opened behind Cade. He whirled around and stopped short. A fighting thrall regarded him. This one wore a chrome collar, a breechclout and nothing else, not even slippers. He had the long dangling muscled arms of his kind and ugly bruises on his hairy body.

  “I’m Skar 192,” the thrall said in a gruff voice. “Just so you know, I’ve spoken to Dr. Halifax.”

  Cade thought about that and sneered. Does Uldin think I’m going to fall for such an obvious ploy? Does he think I’m an idiot?

  “You do know Dr. Halifax, don’t you?” Skar asked.

  “I do,” Cade said. “So you saw him, so what?”