Prosperine: The Adventures of the Space Heroine Hickory Lace: Books 1, 2 & 3 (The Prosperine Trilogy)

by PJ McDermott

  Jess gasped for air, and her sword drooped. “I don’t know how much longer I can keep this up. Have you any contact with Hickory? I can’t reach her.”

  Gareth spoke over his shoulder. “She’s still in the Ark, probably too far from the surface for our signals to penetrate. Besides, she’s got enough on her hands.” He laughed. “Torn to pieces and eaten by this lot or blown sky high by an atomic explosion. I don’t know which I prefer, Mother!”

  Jess grunted and straightened her sword arm. “I’ve told you before,” she said, slashing at the first bird to arrive, “don’t,” she grunted, slicing the head off another, “call me…” Her voice rose to a shriek. “Mother!” She wheeled the sword around her head and sliced at four reptiles within reach.

  Gareth laughed, and wiped at the blood on his forehead, smearing it over his face. “I love it when you get mad.” He chuckled, then spoke more soberly, “I guess the preliminaries are over.”

  The remaining reptiles regrouped, hovering over the heads of the primitives. The chieftain shook his spear and uttered a piercing ululation. His warriors stamped their feet, took three deliberate steps forward, then stopped. The chief repeated his war-cry and launched his spear into the air. It impaled itself, quivering, in the ground twenty feet from the defenders. The primitives and the reptiles leaped forward as one, screaming abuse, cheering and howling as they ran down the hill and across the sand between the shuttlecraft and their foes.

  “There goes our wild card out of here,” said Gareth, as the shuttle rose into the air.

  Jess spoke in a grim whisper to the remaining techs. “Sell your lives dearly, boys. Make your loved ones proud.”

  The uproar grew louder and more frightening as the primitives approached.

  The Riv-Amok swooped. It flew in from the sea, scything through the reptiles to reach the primitives, slashing with its talons, biting and beating them with its wings. Immediately, the remaining reptiles converged on him. He ignored their repeated strikes and maintained his attack on the primitives. Landing heavily, the Riv-Amok slid along the ground for twenty feet and crushed half-a-dozen natives beneath his belly. Catching another in his jaws, he flipped him into the air and swallowed him whole on the way down. He stood to his full height and grasped a foe with one talon, raised him high for all to see and tore the head from its body. The natives broke in terror, but the reptiles continued to attack.

  Finally, the Riv-Amok, weakened from hundreds of slashes and cuts, could fight no longer, and his legs gave way under the weight of his gigantic body.

  Jess and Gareth had watched the bloody conflict in horror. “He’s down,” groaned Gareth.

  Running out of Luck

  “The level of radiation and sub-atomic activity in this part of the ship suggests this is the central controller for the Ark. It’s an artificial intelligence unit that coordinates the functions of all the other systems on board.” Markhov spread his arms wide to encompass the virtual wall. It was dotted with portals, knobs, and black screens. “We have no idea where the best point of entry might be, so I suggest we spread ourselves out. Hickory, you start with that globular module at the left end. Kar, as your gifts are furthest developed, you take this panel in the middle here, and I’ll head over to the other side.”

  “What do I do with it?” said Hickory.

  “Frankly, I don’t know yet. Start with a simple approach. Place your hands on any of the features on the surface and reach out to the ship’s Artificial Intelligence. Then try to find Kar and me inside the machine. All four of us need to be linked for this to work.”

  “So, we project our thoughts into the computer, and search around until we connect up with each other, and—”

  “And in theory, we should establish a three-dimensional connection with every part of the Ark,” continued Markhov. “It should be simple enough to locate the self-destruct control from there.”

  “Simple?”

  Markhov smiled ruefully. “Relatively speaking.”

  Hickory took up her position and placed her palms against the panels. The material felt soft and warm and molded itself around her hands. Strange sensation. Like kneading dough, except my hands are the dough. She concentrated on making her mind receptive to the AI, and within a few minutes, she connected with Kar. Wow! That was fast. What did you do?

  The Teacher’s words were as clear as if he were standing next to her, even more so. The machine seemed to accept me instantly. It was as though it recognized me.

  Seemed. Hickory considered what the Teacher had said. He didn’t make speculative comments.

  The Teacher’s laughter tumbled through her mind like a bubbling brook. Believe it or not, I don’t know everything, Hickory. I admit to being just as puzzled as you.

  Hickory felt a strange salty taste at the back of her tongue.

  That’s the AI connection. The professor is reaching out to us now. It would be rude to make him wait longer.

  Instantly the three minds connected. Markhov’s delight was boundless. It worked—fantastic! I confess I didn’t expect us to connect quite so quickly. It’s a strange feeling—joining with two other minds at the same time, and…wait a second. There! That’s the AI, yes? I haven’t used my neoteric skills very much, so this is very new to me. It’s like there are three people in my brain, and I’m in yours at the same time.

  Hickory placed her hands over her ears as though she could shut out Markhov’s babbling. Calm down, Professor. You’re shouting, and it’s painful. You need to project more quietly. Try to control your excitement. Pass on only the key points and keep everything else to yourself. You can do it if you concentrate.

  Sorry. Give me a minute to get the hang of it.

  After a few moments, Markhov relaxed. I’m okay now. It’ll take a second to find what we’re looking for. Can you both focus on my location, please, and I’ll bring up a virtual map of the ship’s systems.

  The three-dimensional schematic filled their minds. Markhov manipulated it to home in on the area of interest, which resolved into a cuboid, the edges of which pulsed redly. Damn, there it is, but it’s not accessible from here.

  The Teacher spoke calmly. I have memorized the whereabouts of the self-destruct control. I can take us to it now.

  The three disengaged from the console. “What an experience,” said Markhov.

  Hickory wondered briefly how deeply the professor had penetrated her thoughts.

  Markhov glanced at the personal body computer on his wrist. “Wait, that’s…that’s not possible.” He frowned and tapped the instrument.

  *

  Temloki groaned, quivering with pain, but he offered no resistance as the Solakah screeched and yelped in triumph, tearing pieces of flesh from his body. What was a little pain to one who would soon feel nothing at all? He’d had a long life, a wearisome and lonely existence, for the most part, an object of terror feared and hunted by lesser beings. It felt fitting somehow that the Riv-Amok would be brought undone in this manner by such as the Solakah.

  He could feel the scavengers settle on his body, squawking their victory chorus. But in the end, he would triumph. At last, he would join with his mate, Ka-Varla, in the realms of eternal sleep. The name Riv-Amok would disappear from memory, forgotten by all but a few old foes until they too passed into the unknown.

  Ka-Varla whispered in his ear. He opened his eyes, and she stood before him, magnificent, sleek, shining with vitality, her four nymphlets nestling by her side. She sang a song of welcome, of reunited lovers, of peace. Gradually, Temloki sank deeper into his drowsy lethargy, but then he became aware of change. Try as he might to keep her with him, the image of Ka-Varla faded to nothing. Abruptly he felt his pain return, and Ka-Varla’s song become a scream.

  Temloki raised his head and gazed about him in confusion. His kinfolk, all of them scrawny, many barely able to fly, some almost toothless, had come to him. He wondered for a moment whether they would feast on him, then to his joy and pride, they charged into the smaller Solakah.
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  Seeing this new enemy, the primitives turned to the East and fled.

  A fierce fire burned in Temloki’s chest. Diminished they might be, pathetic representatives of a once great race, but they were still his people, still had the iron will and determination to fight the enemy to the death, and they had come to aid him.

  They died by the score. Skewered by the smaller, faster, more agile enemy. Their bodies littered the ground, an occasional desultory flap of a wing the sign of one creature holding on to life. But still they persisted, and in the end, amid the stink of blood, shredded sinew, muscle and spilled guts, with eyes flapping from sockets, ripped wings, and dripping strips of flesh, they overcame their enemy and honored Temloki.

  *

  “According to this, we’ve already spent an hour inside the machine. It felt like just a few minutes.”

  Hickory checked her SIM. “I’m the same. Something happened when we were linked with the computer. Time must flow faster when we’re in the machine.”

  “That’s disturbing, but we can’t deny the evidence of our own eyes. We need to find that self-destruct. Let's go, Kar.”

  It took twenty minutes for the Teacher to lead them to the section of the Ark housing the self-destruct systems.

  It was cylindrical in form, and Markhov paced round the outside. “It’s about fifty feet in diameter, and at least a hundred tall, I’d guess,” he said, looking up.

  Kar placed his hands on the wall. “There’s a door, almost invisible,” he said, tracing the outline with a finger. “And a latch, here.” He pushed, and part of the wall slid silently to one side. They went inside, and after a few seconds, the doorway closed behind them.

  Hickory’s breath came hurriedly. The inside of the cylinder was sooty black with inlaid sections of orange, red, green and blue that glittered and shone in an ultra-violet light emanating from the ceiling. Only dim outlines of Kar and Markhov were visible against the radiance.

  “Interesting.” Markhov clicked his torch on, but it glowed dimly for only a few seconds then faded to nothing. “Hickory, do you have a flashlight?”

  Hickory reached into her side-pack and took out her torch. “It doesn’t work either,” she said.

  Markhov’s voice shook with excitement. “The walls absorb all the visible light in the room.” He pointed to the ceiling. “That’s a black light, emitting long range ultraviolet waves. It produces the striking fluorescence from the high mineral content of the inlaid rocks. Beautiful, but it gives us a problem. With no visible light in here, our eyes will have trouble working out what if anything we’re actually seeing.”

  “Wait here a second,” said Hickory, as she felt her way around the circumference of the room and back to Markhov and the Teacher. “There’s several sharp projections at waist height around the perimeter. They could have a similar function to those on the central controller.”

  Markov’s voice sounded close. “I don’t believe the lighting in this room is purely decorative. We need to complete our business quickly. Extensive exposure to this level of UV is deadly.”

  The Teacher nodded. “Yes, there is danger here for you, but I sense less so for me. You must remain outside while I seek the self-destruct mechanism. When I find it, I will call, and we can do what is needed.”

  Neither Hickory nor Markhov wanted to leave, but both realized the sense of the Teacher’s proposal.

  “Don’t forget time passes more quickly when you’re connected, probably by a factor of sixty, so every second you’re in there is a minute in our reality,” said Markhov.

  After they had departed, Kar felt his way around the wall until he came to the first protrusion. He laid his hands upon the shards. They parted and then enveloped his hands. A few seconds later, he withdrew and pursed his lips. He reported telepathically to the two waiting outside the walls. “Not here, I think. The next one, perhaps.”

  “One hour forty-five to go,” said Markhov. “We don’t have time for too many more wrong guesses.”

  It took three more attempts before the Teacher said, “This is the one. Hurry.”

  Hickory and Markhov returned to the room. “Okay, let’s link up,” said Markhov. “Remember, this will be like the Segniori recordings we’ve seen. When we’re inside, anything alien will present itself to our minds as something familiar. We’re looking for a key or a button or a lever or some kind of switch.”

  They linked their minds, put their hands into the nodule, and felt an instant connection with the AI.

  Hickory stood in a cold blue spotlight. She could see Kar and the professor standing far away. She became aware of dozens of twisting, translucent vine-like tubes extending from the wall and looping themselves around her body, slipping between her legs, around her neck, circling her waist, arms, and legs. Her heart beat furiously, but the vines seemed to pose no harm to her. She peered closely at the tubes. Each contained a swirling gas or liquid. She saw deep red streaks like blood speeding through the spotlight in one direction, while star-shaped orange nodules swam lazily to and fro. They stopped momentarily in front of her face before passing by. Are you seeing what I’m seeing? she whispered.

  Yes, we all share the same images, said Markhov, but we don’t have time for sightseeing. We need to find that switch. Just over an hour to detonation.

  Hickory drew in her breath. I think I found it. Over here on this console.

  Tell me what you see, Hickory, said Markhov.

  It looks like a dead-latch. There’s a key broken off in the lock!

  I was afraid it would be something like that. This can only mean the self-destruct is jammed in the on position. It can’t be turned off.

  Hickory heard Markhov sob. There must be a way to disable it, she said.

  Not in time. And we don’t have the technology. Remember that what we see here is merely an allegory, a symbol representing alien technology. The real thing is infinitely more complicated. I’m afraid we’ve run out of luck and time.

  Wait. The Teacher’s voice sounded soft, yet insistent. I see something different.

  Instantly, Hickory realized that a deadlock would be meaningless to the Teacher. He came from a different culture. What do you see? she asked.

  I see a sword stuck fast in a rock. The hilt of the sword is broken off.

  Hickory’s head swam. Surely this too was an allegory for something incredibly complex. Connat-sèra-Hagar’s sword was created by the ones who built the Ark. She communicated these thoughts to Markhov and the Teacher. Is it possible? Could the sword be a replacement key for the auto-destruct? Oh God, the sword is the answer after all.

  Markhov spoke urgently. Both of you, de-link now. We need more time to think this through.

  Spilling Blood

  Gareth and Jess watched the Riv-Amok take once more to the skies, this time surrounded by his brethren. The huge creatures circled the battlefield and with a screech of triumph headed home.

  “Looks like he’s found someplace to belong at last,” said Jess. She looked at her hands, covered in blood, and absently wiped them on her jacket. When Gareth didn’t respond, she glanced at his face, then followed his gaze. “What’s that?”

  “More trouble,” said Gareth.

  Jess ran over to where her pack lay on the ground and rummaged around for her spyglass. “It’s a fishing boat,” she said, lowering the instrument. “It seems to be heading for the Ark.”

  “As I said, trouble. We need to warn Hickory and the admiral we’ve got visitors. Hickory, come in… Hickory, can you hear me?”

  *

  As the three de-linked from the AI, Markhov checked his watch. “We’ve got forty-five minutes to come up with an answer.”

  “What devilry are you involved with now, witch?”

  Vogel’s rasping voice hit Hickory like a cold shower. She stared at the figure silhouetted in the entrance to the dark room. His massive frame almost filled the doorway, and the sword glowed fiercely in his hand.

  “Vogel?” Hickory blanched at the change i
n the Bikashi. He was a colossus.

  Thurle, his lieutenant, and four nervous Avanauri came from behind him to stand by his side.

  Vogel sneered. “I have a mind to kill you, Earth-woman, you and your companions.” His eyes played over Markhov and alighted on Kar-sèr-Sephiryth. He inhaled sharply and took half a step back. “You!” A long tongue emerged and swept back and forth across Vogel’s lips, then disappeared. “You are hard to kill, magician, but you will not escape this time.”

  One of the soldiers uttered a cry. “Teacher!” He spun towards Thurle and hissed. “You did not tell me the Teacher was our quarry. I will not lay hands on this naur. He is blessed by Balor.”

  A murmur of agreement rose from the other three, and they lowered their swords.

  Thurle cringed. “Nor did you tell me, Bikashi.”

  Vogel roared. “Would it matter if Balor himself stood before us? I will take what I came for. I will have my revenge against the Earthlings and my treasure.” He glared at Thurle and the others.

  The Teacher’s eyes locked onto Thurle. “I can help you,” he whispered.

  Thurle sneered. “And how would you manage that? By turning me over to the peacekeepers?” He laughed hoarsely.

  “I will plead your case with the admiral, although I fear it would mean you leaving Avanaux, forever.”

  The soldier shook his head slowly. “Why should I trust you?”

  “Because there is no one else.”

  Thurle’s lips trembled. He glanced at Vogel, then back at the Teacher. He straightened his back and thrust out his chin. “I will take my chances with the Bikashi.”

  The Teacher sighed. “Very well, but let these others go. There is no point to spilling their blood.”

  “Those who are not with me are against me,” roared Vogel. He raised the sword to strike down the cowering soldiers.

  The Teacher raised his voice. “Let them be. They have done you no harm.”

  Hickory drew her sword and stood beside the Teacher. She had no hope of overcoming the Bikashi. The sword had wrought a huge change in him. He had grown two feet taller and his chest and arms rippled with muscle. The sword always enhanced the bearer’s strength and natural abilities while exploiting their weaknesses. Vogel had been a champion, a highly skilled soldier with the Bikashi. Now his martial abilities would be awesome. She could not recall the commander having shown any weakness. There was no hope, but she would not abandon the Teacher.