Deadly Dream

by Gray Lanter

  “Sometimes looks can be deceiving.”

  She put her hands on her hips. “I wonder who brought it here.”

  I raised my eyebrows. “Beg your pardon?”

  “The thing is slow. So I’m wondering who brought it here. It couldn’t have wandered from a nearby galaxy. The distance is too much of a factor. Natural question: who taxied it to our piece of real estate?”

  I looked at Haldran. “It wasn’t a natural question for us. We thought it simply took a long, long time to get here. Looks like the thing could last forever just floating in space. Well, actually I thought that. Think Jerry was non-committal.”

  “If that’s what happened, where are the navigational controls? Taking a trip that will take millions of years in a big universe... It’s very easy to get lost. One slight error and you are hundreds of millions of light years away from your target. Not an effective way to wage war.”

  “So a thousand-mile long spaceship traveled near the outskirts of the galaxy, emptied its cargo and... went back home?”

  Cajun nodded. “Possibly. Here’s a theory. There is a civilization in the next galaxy, a civilization that is composed of not-very-nice people. They are not like the folks in... say Tennessee in 1900. You know, going to church on Sunday, walking the park, going to ice cream socials. Let’s assume their not-so-nice counterparts in the galaxy beyond us have the technology to peek into the next galaxy down the street. We actually have that technology, but just haven’t bothered yet. Warp-speed probes. But they went exploring and discovered the next block over teems with life. But instead of being delighted, they are upset, murderously so. So they build a killing machine. But the problem is the darn thing can’t do warp speed; can’t even do light speed. It’s destructive, but it’s slow, much too slow to be of any use to them. But they have other talents besides creating death machines. They can build really, really big ships. A ship that could transport their death machine. So they do and they bring it over here and let it go. They have unleashed a weapon that they believe can’t be stopped, so they just sit back and wait for the destruction. We have ships that big, just in case.”

  “Just in case of what?” I asked.

  “Planetary evacuation. Haven’t had the need to use them yet, but we have them ready. The Federation has to make all type of contingency plans. I think we have three of them; our titanic class of vessels. So are you going to offer me a drink?”

  I walked to the bar again, mixed her a drink and brought it to her.

  “Brilliant,” I said. “A very good analysis.”

  “One that we were too stupid to think of,” Haldran said.

  “I think that could be expressed in a more diplomatic way,” I said.

  “OK. Cajun showed our mental incompetence by her utter brilliance.”

  “Yes. That sounds much better.”

  “Thanks. It’s a theory, but I think it’s one that fits the facts,” she said, sipping the liquor. “But if you’re going to ask me how to stop it, I don’t know that yet.”

  “Frankly, I was going to wait until tomorrow for that question. I’m taking one thing at a time.”

  “That’s wise. When do we leave to get a closer look at it?”

  “In about a week. Belen’s engineers are building us a new ship, the George S. Patton. They're tinkering around a bit, but it should be through in about seven days.”

  “Will we have all our people here in a week?”

  I nodded. “Never missed a deadline yet.”

  Chapter 5

  Rab was exercising with an android. Well, not really exercising. They were beating the pulp out of one another. The android was slender, fast and, of course, incredibly strong. Rab’s head snapped back as a pale blue fist – as quick as blue lightning in a Florida hurricane – swept within an inch of his nose. Rab’s kick was blocked and knocked away. A blue leg swung around, but Rab jumped over it. While in the air, his kick bounced off the android’s chest, knocking him off balance. He recovered quickly – androids do that – and slammed a fist into Rab’s gut.

  Rab grunted, whirled as fast as a tornado and grabbed the blue arm, lifted the android and tossed him over his shoulder to the ground. The crash to the floor would have stunned any man, but not the alloys the android was made of. He bounced up... or tried to. As he turned and lifted his head, Rab’s huge military boot smashed his face. The blow stunned the blue opponent for two seconds – which was all the time Rab needed to lift the android and slam him to the ground again. As hefty as he was, Rab made a NFL punter kick that lifted the android from the ground. He rolled over and, amazingly, didn’t jump up as quickly. He was a millisecond slow. When he stood up, Rab drop-kicked him. Rab dived, but the android rolled away. His kick missed the android’s jaw by a half-inch. They both jumped up and circled each other. Then Rab saw me and raised his hand. The android straightened and stepped back.

  “A fine match. You are getting better,” the android said.

  Rab nodded. “Yes, it was a good match, Andy. You never slow down. Wish I could say the same for humans.”

  Rab walked over and smiled. The cragged face had some nicks. The hair had some gray in it, but the mustache was all black. He had seen events almost incomprehensible to the average man, but the dark eyes still had a flash of humor and merriment in them. The humor showed when the gray-uniformed courier from the Federation walked into the gym.

  “Are you Master Sergeant Rabelais?” he said.

  “I am. There’s only one in the universe, son, and it’s me.”

  “We need to proceed immediately to Nassau Mountain.”

  “The headquarters of Ms. Morganthal. She likes mountains, but doesn’t care much for the beach.”

  “Yes, sir. Your squad is waiting for you.”

  “When you say ‘my squad’ you mean Ryvenbark’s Raiders, the finest military unit in all of space?”

  “Yes, sir. We’ve tried other methods of contacting you, sir, but you were not available.”

  “No, I was hiking. Two weeks in the wild with no electronic equipment. No ringing, no buzzes, no noise whatsoever. It’s a very peaceful existence. Often, a time of peace and quiet does you good. You get to contemplate nature and meditate upon the finer things of life.”

  “We need to leave now, sir.”

  Rab gave a wry frown. “Enough with the contemplation. Guess I need to get back to killing people.”

  The young courier did not smile at what Rab thought was a funny line.

  When Clint Lamour saddled in, boots and all, he gave a huge Texas yell. When Clint talks, sometimes you need earplugs. I was surprised he wasn’t wearing spurs as his boots clamored on the floor.

  “Howdy, major. Been a month of Sundays since I’ve seen you.”

  When I shook his hand I flinched. Some people have nerves of steel. Clint has hands and arms of steel. Flesh and blood, but they feel like steel. Charisma and dynamism flow from him like water over Niagara. When he gets wounded he just yells at the blood cells not to bleed and they obey him. He has dark green eyes, a huge smile and tough, brown, leathery skin. Linage goes back to the sixteen hundreds in the Lone Star State — which means one side of his family came from the Apaches and the other side from tough men who wore the gray during the Civil War. The grit can make you forget he is an expert in engineering and weapons.

  “Good to see you again, Clint.”

  “We have a little mission?”

  “That we do.” I pointed to the screen with the sphere. “We have to take care of that.”

  “Doesn’t look too hard. Just blow the dang thing up. Pick up the pieces and shout hooray!”

  “It will be more difficult than it looks. Speaking of hard, the thing is a lot harder than it looks.”

  “I figured it must be. Didn’t think you’d call me in on an easy mission.”

  “The easy ones anyone can achieve. For the tough ones we need Texas and especially one Texan named Lamour.”

  He showed his huge smile. “I enjoy flattery, major. I don�
��t believe a word of it, but I enjoy it. Makes me feel like a Bluetick Hound after a possum.”

  I laughed. In our high-tech culture, many people don’t know what a Bluetick Hound is. They are hunting dogs with very amiable, friendly personalities and are also very intelligent. The ‘tick’ is not an insect parasite but the ‘ticking’ black coloration on most of the breed which, on a white hair background, can give the impression of navy blue. Back on Earth Clint owns a few of them, which is one reason he has picked up the name ‘hound dog’. A few people might not consider that a compliment, but Clint does.

  He blinked with interest and lowered his voice to a hurricane yell. “Have a read out?”

  I hit a couple of buttons on my computer and the sphere disappeared from the screen; in its place were black numbers and blue equations. Clint took about ten seconds to scan the screen.

  “So bombs and lasers won’t work. Doesn’t appear any of our weapons will damage it. An interesting piece of rubble,” he said. “Did I see two ships around it?”

  “You did. But I don’t know why they are flying protection, because the sphere doesn’t need any.”

  “Any opening in it?”

  “Doesn’t appear to be.”

  “Background?”

  I hit a few keys again and the little history we had on the sphere came up on the screen. Clint shook his head.

  “A planet killer,” he said.

  “Yes, and somehow we have to stop it. I’d like you to work with our scientific team. The current theory of Federation scientists is we have to get into the sphere to blow it up, but we don’t know yet how to get inside.”

  “In times like this any current theory is useless. We need a lot more information.”

  I smiled. “Which is one reason I wanted you to come with us. I figured you might help in that task.”

  His laughter bounced off the ceiling. “That’s what I like about the Raiders. There’s never a dull moment... Is Lt. Alvarez coming with us in this trip?”

  “I’m about to go see her right now.”

  “She’s as cute as a speckled hound, and down in Texas that’s cute.”

  Carli Alvarez, in non-Texas slang, is a lovely woman. When I saw her, she was grunting on an exercise machine. Sweat formed on her tan skin. Her brown hair was tied into a pigtail. The long legs moved back the weights in time with the grunts. I picked up a towel and wiped two beads of sweat that rolled toward her eyes.

  “By the way,” I told her, “you’re as cute as a speckled hound.”

  She roared with laughter. “Some women might be puzzled about that, but I know it’s a compliment. Clint must be coming along with us.”

  “Yes, he is. And he asked about you.”

  “I’m glad he remembered me.”

  Like most men, he could never forget you, I thought. She pushed the weights back one more time.

  “Getting in shape for the mission?” I asked.

  “Yes. I read your report. Usually we fight living, breathing adversaries. Never fought a rock before, even if it is a big rock.”

  “A first time for everything,” I said.

  “You have a plan yet?”

  “Not a plan to take out the sphere. Still muddling that one over.”

  She did one last bench press, then sat up and grabbed a towel. “I read all the background material — not that there was much of it — and it seems there’s very little for a military unit to do. This is more of an aerial battle. You blow up the sphere and you have accomplished your mission. No ground troops are needed for that. So why do you want me to sign up?”

  “I always like to be prepared, although I concede your point. But there are too many unknowns on this assignment. There may be a place for troops on the ground, or in a sphere as the case may be. And if we do well, the Federation will be forever in our debt.”

  “No way. I don’t want the Federation in our debt. I want to be paid. No outstanding balances.”

  “I'm sure that can be worked out.”

  “I assume we’re charging our usual rates.”

  “Yes. Our fee won’t bankrupt the Federation but, if we succeed and survive, the mission will be very profitable.”

  Chapter 6

  We were one day away from leaving when the the newest squad member checked in. The tall, blonde woman, dressed in a blue uniform, saluted as she walked to my desk.

  “Geneva Alesong reporting, sir.”

  “Ms. Alesong. Ryvenbark’s Raiders are taking a small trip and I’d like you to drive.”

  “It will be my pleasure, sir.”

  “I’ve read your resume and the comments about you from other officers. Are you as good as they say you are?”

  “Slightly better, sir.”

  I grinned. “You’ll fit right in. I see you volunteered. Did you want to be a part of the Raiders?”

  She smiled. “Every military man or woman wants to be a part of the Raiders. They’re the finest. Para-military, but still the finest. It is said that with time and with a little cash incentive, there’s nothing they can’t do.”

  “I hope that’s true. This mission may test that statement. Glad to have you with us, Ms. Alesong.”

  I offered my hand. She shook it.

  “Alesong? Did you have a relative in the military? A... Ben...?”

  “Barry, sir. My brother. We come from a military family.”

  “I recall meeting him. How is he doing?”

  “Very well. Like you, sir, he’s a major now.”

  “He’s young for a major.”

  “So are you, sir.”

  I laughed. “A member of the squad told me recently that he enjoys flattery. I guess I do to. Welcome to the Raiders, Geneva. We’re glad you joined us.”

  “Thanks. I am very happy to be here.”

  “The first thing you need to do is acquaint yourself with the Patton. We’ll be heading out in a day. Will that give you enough time?”

  “More than enough time.” She gave an impish smile. “That’s because I’m slightly better than my reputation.”

  “I don’t doubt it. The trip shouldn’t take that long. The excitement comes when we get there.”

  Two thousand miles away from the sphere I stared at it on the ship’s screen. It hadn’t change an iota from the last time I had looked at it. Silent and deadly. Moving steadily but slowly through space. Oblivious to everything around it. Stars shone behind it; flickering spots of white and light blue in the blackness of space.

  The red sun of the solar system also shone in the distance. For a moment I wondered if we could somehow push the thing into a sun. No matter how hard the outer shell was, the fury of a sun would destroy it. Nothing could withstand a solar explosion. The builders would have to start again and I guess it had taken a long time to build the first one. The problem was I had no idea how the Patton and Greene could edge the sphere into the sun. There was going to have to be another way to stop its relentless progress.

  Two hours later I took my first inspection of the Patton. As I roamed down the spotless, shining corridors, I told myself I’d send a compliment to the engineers. But to be honest, one starship looks a great deal like every other one, both inside and out. I had a comfortable chair on the bridge and a good crew. But I did find the last member of Ryvenbark's Raiders in the medical office.

  “Where have you been, major? I’ve been expecting you,” Dr. Charlotte ‘Cricket’ Longmount said.

  ‘Been expecting you.’ Sort of sneaked up on me.

  “I passed by your office earlier today and you looked so busy I thought I’d say hello later. Hello.”

  “I hope we won’t need your services on this trip.”

  “Hope so too,” she said. “But it’s always good having me around.”

  Charlotte is a tall lady. Almost six-three with ragged black hair and a bedside manner that would drive more traditional doctors up the wall. Although in her case, she uses her battlefield manner more than bedside manner. No one ever wants to get shot or lasered or suf
fer from any of the other infinite ways of getting wounded in space. But we know it can happen. All the Raiders get a profound sense of security knowing Dr. Longmount is traveling with us. A few of us are fair to middling singers. The good doctor doesn’t sing, but she did attend dance school while also in medical school. When she’s not mending bodies, she looks like beauty personified when spinning on a dance floor.

  “We take off in two hours?” she asked.

  “Yes, we’re heading out. The trip shouldn’t take long. It should be very uneventful. But when we arrive at our destination we may see a little action.”

  “I’m ready,” she said.

  Chapter 7

  The Patton came out of warp drive about a thousand miles from the sphere. I sat in the captain’s chair and gazed at the sphere for what seemed the thousandth time. It hadn’t changed a bit. It flowed through space like a luxury ship on the ocean, seemingly oblivious to anything around us.

  “Let’s get a little closer, Ms. Alesong. Mr. Jones, any readings of defensive weapons?”

  “No, sir.”

  “How close do you want to be, sir?” Geneva asked.

  “Oh, seven hundred and fifty miles. That ought to get the attention of the jets. We should not waste time accomplishing our mission. The sooner they come the sooner we can blast them out of the sky.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  A minute later, the two silver jets came into view, flying out from behind the sphere. One veered right and headed for Nathaniel Greene and the other zoomed toward the Patton.

  “Mr. Murdock, stand ready. Ms. Alesong, stand ready with him.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  The silver ship came at us as smoothly as a swan gliding across the water. The configuration was roughly the same I’d had seen on ships from a dozen different worlds. Nothing to distinguish the structure.

  “Let’s move away, Ms. Alesong. Let them chase us for a bit. But before we go, tell them hello, Mr. Murdock. An atomic hello,” I said.

  “Yes, sir. But the ship is difficult to lock unto. It’s a type of defense I’ve never seen before. We will have to recalculate our scans. So the atomic will be hit-or-miss,” Murdock said.