by Chris Fox
39
Surprise, Bitches
Edwards had a real dilemma, probably the most confusing he’d ever faced. He watched as the Alphas pushed through the small Judicators, heading toward a shimmering energy field. The comically small defenders hopped about like crickets, and Edwards laughed, in spite of the problem.
What the hell should he do? He only had seconds to decide. Up till now, he’d gone along with the rest of the Judicators. That seemed to be what the Eye wanted.
Edwards knew the Eye had to die. He didn’t know what it was, other than butt-ass ugly. It was bad business though, and both Sarge and the captain would want it dead.
The problem was—and this was where Edwards was facing a new type of dilemma—he’d realized that discretion was, in fact, the better part of valor. If he attacked the Eye, he might be able to kill it—but, more likely, it would survive long enough for all the other Judicators to finish Edwards. Then he would be no use to anyone. So he’d waited. Now it looked like his window had passed, or at least he had another option.
He was in the rear of the pack of Alphas, and their fire was trained forward. They’d never see it coming. Edwards agonized for the world’s longest second, then the energy barrier went down. The defenders were in real trouble.
Edwards put his plasma cannon to the back of the Alpha in front of him, then melted its head. Even as it toppled he shifted his aim to the next Alpha. It fell just as the first had.
“All Judicators stop Alpha 226,” the Eye’s voice roared in Edwards’s head. He didn’t need a captain-sized brain to know who that was.
The other Alphas skidded to a halt, reversing course and taking aim in his direction. Again, Edwards was forced to make a split-second decision. The man he’d been before the 14th would have charged in, and gone down. But Edwards had learned a great deal about tactical worth, and his value had gone up when he’d become an Alpha.
So he ran like a little girl, screeching to the defenders: “Don’t shoot, I’m on your side!”
Edwards half-turned to face his pursuers, firing off a wild volley, then he was sliding forward, knocked to the deck by a plasma blast from one of the pursuing Alphas. He struggled to his feet, but another blast took him in the back of the right leg. He fell again, warning lights blooming all over his HUD. Both shots had done significant damage.
Then the defenders counter-attacked. Hannan was in the lead, closely followed by the captain. Out of the corner of his eye, Edwards saw a flash of white fur as Izzy glided into position to strafe the attackers from the side of the room. All three let out a volley of blasts, and the Primo joined them. They bounded from cover again, cutting into the Judicators around Edwards.
He got to his feet, shocked when a Primo landed on his shoulder. She was like a cutesy holo character, but with a badass rifle. “You’ve broken your programming? That shouldn’t be possible. Since it is, we’re making you a mobile defense platform.”
Another Primo landed on his other shoulder, and a third took cover behind his left leg. Edwards pivoted, and began firing at the last remaining Alpha. It had already taken damage from the crossfire that Izzy, Hannan, and the captain had set up. That left it ripe for Edwards, who targeted the groin area—not just because it was humiliating, but because it melted that entire area to slag. The legs gave a groan of protest, then broke off the main body. The Alpha’s torso spilled to the deck, and was instantly swarmed by little Primo.
“Captain, I don’t know where you found these little guys, but they…are…awesome!” Edwards yelled, firing at another Judicator. With the Alphas down, the tide was clearly turning. The few remaining Judicators were falling back, covering the Eye’s escape.
40
Consequences
Nolan slung his plasma rifle over his shoulder, still panting from the combat. Smoke curled from wreckage made up of both Judicator body parts and the Primo dead. It had been a near thing, even with Edwards’s surprise play at the end.
Only a handful of Primo defenders had survived, but every last Judicator had been destroyed. Reid had fled, probably making for Nolan’s harvester. They needed to gather the squad and get down there. Nolan moved swiftly to Edwards, the only Judicator standing. He still had a Primo on either shoulder, both now relaxing. One had even gotten out some sort of food cube and was munching happily away.
“I have never been happier to see you, Private. That was one hell of a stunt,” Nolan said, grinning up at the Alpha. “I don’t think we’d have pulled it off without your help.”
“Eh, just doing what you pay me for,” Edwards said, giving a robotic shrug that nearly unseated one of his guests. “But I was kind of a badass though, wasn’t I? What’d you think, Sarge?”
“I’d give you an eight out of ten,” Hannan replied, leaning against the bunker that contained the core. “It needed more flips, and at least one dead eye.” She fished an energy bar from her pants, then tossed a second to Izzy. “Plus you screamed like a little girl. But, you know, it wasn’t too bad.”
They all shared a laugh at that, one that carried their collective relief at shared survival. Still, Nolan knew it wasn’t over. They still needed to deal with Reid somehow.
“Where is Delta?” Nolan asked. He hadn’t seen the big man since the first few seconds of combat.
“Good question,” Hannan said, looking over one shoulder, then the other. “I haven’t seen him since we got into the thick of it. Izzy, did you see anything?”
“I was focused on combat. It’s possible he used his stealth belt to slip out during the fighting,” Izzy said, licking the fur behind her right wrist, then going back to grooming.
“Captain Nolan,” Manda interrupted, hopping onto the bunker a few feet away. Her concern was evident, and the surviving Primo picked up on it immediately. Gone were the smiles, replaced by grim determination once more. “Your harvester has just lifted off and is leaving the system.” She waved a hand, and a hologram sprang up in the air over the bunker.
Nolan’s arms slowly fell to his sides as he watched the vessel pull away. He winced as the Forge fired at his ship—or what had been his ship. Then he remembered Kathryn was safe. The shots went wide, and the harvester easily made it away and beelined for the Helios Gate.
“Atrea,” Nolan asked, turning to face the wizened woman. She’d just entered the room, flanked by a trio of tiny Primo in white robes. “Is there any way to order the Helios Gate to lock out that harvester?”
“Not that I am aware of,” Atrea said, shaking her head sadly.
“You ordered the Gate to obey that vessel?” Manda said, hands clenched and trembling. She gritted her teeth when she spoke. “If that vessel leaves with the Helios Gate, it will go directly to the Eye, and the Gorthians will subvert it for their own uses. The Eye will invade the Birthplace with a massive fleet, all because you broke the safeguards we put into place.”
Nolan couldn’t blame her for being angry, and the implications staggered him. He stared at the hologram, powerless to intervene. The harvester entered the Helios Gate’s protective field, disappearing from sight, then the Gate began to accelerate away.
41
Boom
Reid knew the battle was turning against him. Many of the defenders were down, but the renegade Alpha had effectively broken his rush. He didn’t have enough forces for another one.
He could join the fray more fully, and probably overwhelm the defenders—it was unlikely they could kill him—and had he still been human, that was likely the course of action he would have pursued.
But he was more now. So much more. Reid understood time in a way no human ever could. His perceptions were vast, his understanding pulled from billions of consciousnesses, all consumed by the Eye that had spawned him. There was a chance he could die here. Even if it was small, it was to be avoided at any cost. His primary directive was preserving his own life. In fifty thousand years, he’d still be growing, still be propagating the Gorthians throughout galaxy after galaxy—but not if he died here.<
br />
So Reid fled. He turned from the battle, ordering the last of his Judicators into a final holding action. His bulbous body shot up a corridor and zipped toward the hangar. He activated his communication organ, ordering the harvester to start its engines. It had to be ready to take off as soon as he reached it.
The cavernous hangar stood empty before him, no sign of any Primo. There had been some possibility that the Primo would have split their forces and left a contingent here to guard the ship and prevent his escape, but he saw no such sign, and as he glided up the ship’s ramp he detected no evidence of any tampering. It was possible some had slipped inside to set an ambush, but that too seemed unlikely.
Were he the commander of the enemy forces, he’d have arrayed them all at the core. The Primo had to know what would happen if Reid learned their secrets. The Eye would also know it, thus delivering the means to speed their domination of the universe.
“Ship, get us out of here. Contact the Helios Gate, use the interface to order it back to the star we came from,” Reid ordered, drifting through the hangar. The bridge was the most defensive part of the vessel, so he made for that. As he passed the empty corridors, a troubling possibility emerged. The Gate had been ordered to listen to this vessel, but what if that directive had changed or expired? Reid would be trapped in the Birthplace, easy for the Forge to hunt down.
The engines rumbled as the ship lifted from the deck. Reid willed his senses into the ship’s sensors, monitoring them as it departed. The harvester passed through the airlock, then sped from the Forge. It grew larger and larger, filling his field of view on that side. Cannons began swiveling in their direction, but they were sluggish.
“Evasive maneuvers,” Reid ordered. The ship obeyed instantly, dodging several clumsy blasts. He watched as the Forge began to dwindle, his relief more muted than it would have been as a human. He watched as they moved toward the Gate, tensing as he waited for the Gate’s reaction.
He sensed its acquiescence, and was relieved again as the Gate moved to envelop them. Then it accelerated for the golden horizon lining the edge of the Dyson sphere. Reid still thought of it that way, despite the fact that humanity was the seven hundred and forty-second recorded species to have discovered the concept.
“Hello, Reid,” a voice said from behind him. A panel clattered to the floor as a figure climbed from an air vent.
Reid whirled, his pupil widening as he identified the speaker. It was subject Delta, the man who’d once been Captain Edison. Delta carried no weapon, and his hands rested comfortably in the pockets of his cargo pants. He seemed unconcerned about Reid, which was puzzling. Reid spun off several dozen thoughtlines, but none provided a satisfying answer. The only conclusion that made sense was that Delta believed he could somehow kill Reid. Without a weapon, that was impossible. What did the man hope to gain?
“Hello, Delta,” Reid said, drifting closer. He knew the answer, but asked the question anyway. “Have you come back to the fold then? To serve me?”
“Nah,” Delta said, giving a very white smile. His chrome eyes were surrounded by laugh lines. The man could not have looked more different than he had under Reid’s employ. Interesting. “I’m happy to see what you became, Reid. Now your outer body really matches the inner. You’re a monster. You sold out your race, and now you’re going to get your justice.”
“How?” Reid asked, mirthfully. He drifted closer to the impertinent human. “There’s nothing you can do to harm me. I am impervious to plasma fire, and to all conventional human weaponry.”
“Yeah,” Delta said. He pulled a hand from a pocket.
Reid’s gaze focused on what Delta held—a small black cylinder with a red sigil on the top. It could be a detonator of some sort, if it were human. It wasn’t, though. Reid recognized Primo technology when he saw it, so he shifted the spectrum of light he was viewing. His pupil widened again when he recognized the device.
“Yeah, that’s right,” Delta said softly. “You know what this is now, don’t you? Goodbye, Doctor Reid.”
Then he pressed the button.
Reid had an eternity to contemplate it, spinning off thousands of thoughtlines as he sought any way to survive. There was none. The device hummed, then burst into a black ball. It crackled with intense energy, sucking Delta away in an eye blink. Then the micro-singularity expanded. Reid felt a moment’s weightlessness, then nothing.
He didn’t feel the wave of energy that pulled the entire harvester into the same singularity, crushing it instantly.
42
Caught Napping
Fizgig turned around on her bed, then turned around again. It took three tries to find a comfortable spot, and she gave a contented purr as she settled into the mound of pillows. The days had been getting longer, and no matter how many fires she doused there were always five more waiting. She longed to set the burdens down, but there was no one else to take them up.
Khar had proven too impetuous, his transformation into an Alpha rippling through the Tigris forces. Dozens of warriors had followed suit, then hundreds. The old and wounded were only a small fraction. Many were warriors in their prime, who simply wanted an advantage in the battle. The fact that they were giving up their ability to sire offspring didn’t seem to bother them in the least.
Izzy was coming along nicely, but she was still inexperienced. Time with Nolan would help remedy that, and he could teach her things even Fizgig could not. She expected that Izzy would one day be her successor, and had the potential to be a greater leader than Fizgig ever could.
The snowy-furred cat was quiet and reserved, but she was intelligent, and acted swiftly. She’d shown signs of cunning, and was an excellent sniper. Her piloting skills were top-notch. The only area she’d not yet mastered was command, and that would come in time.
Fizgig cracked an eye, staring balefully at the door. Her ear twitched, straining to pick up the approaching footsteps. They were unhurried, someone coming to deliver a message perhaps. That irked her, as she’d given instructions not to be disturbed for the next six hours. She needed her rest, now more than ever.
The footsteps grew closer, and Fizgig tensed. The steps were furtive, slowing as they approached. That could mean one of two things. Either it was a subordinate justifiably afraid of waking a superior who’d left orders not to be disturbed, or it was an assassin. The latter possibility was unlikely, but Fizgig was still alive because she planned for the unlikely.
Both eyes opened, and Fizgig rose soundlessly from her pillows. Her plasma rifle was within reach, but she left it atop the pillow. If this were an attack, it would be close quarters work. That meant the plasma blade was the most efficient weapon.
The footsteps stopped outside the door, and three polite scratches sounded. Exactly what she’d expect of a subordinate. Fizgig threw back the bolt, and pulled the door open a crack. She kept it wedged closed with one foot, her body weight resting on her rear leg in case she needed to retreat.
The figure was dark-furred. A Jaguara, but not full-blooded. That impurity was probably what had driven the woman to join Pride Fizgig. Fizgig recognized her on sight, but couldn’t recall her name, so she waited until the woman spoke.
But the woman didn’t speak. Instead, a pistol came up. It was of human design, and Fizgig knew immediately what it was. A tranquilizer, a silent weapon that could render her unconscious.
Not dead; unconscious. There was only one reason for her enemies to keep her alive, and that was to turn her.
Fizgig ignited her plasma blade, shifting behind the door. Something thunked into the metal on the other side, right where her chest had been a moment before. The door was kicked open, the force launching her into the room. Fizgig tumbled across her bed, pillows scattering as she scrambled to her feet.
Her assailant had already entered the room, already lining up another shot. Fizgig lashed her tail to the left, elated when it drew the Jaguara’s gaze. She used that distraction to hook her right foot under the nightstand, flinging it at her
opponent. The Jaguara was quick, easily ducking the hastily thrown furniture, but the tactic bought Fizgig time.
She glided forward, slashing low at her opponent’s belly. As expected, the Jaguara hopped backward to evade. That move forced her into the corner, with a war chest on one side and a dresser on the other. She now lacked the room to maneuver.
Fizgig leapt into the air, seizing her exercise bar in one hand. She used her momentum to swing her feet up, catching the pistol and knocking it away. Then she released the bar and dropped, bringing her humming plasma blade down in a wicked slash. The Jaguara was good; the instant she lost the pistol she reached for a knife belted at her side, and somehow got that dagger up to block.
Fizgig’s plasma blade sliced through the metal, the force of her descent carrying the weapon to its intended target. It caught the Jaguara in the eye, and Fizgig rammed it forward into her skull. Her opponent collapsed, a spray of greenish blood drenching Fizgig’s fur.
“Ugg,” she said, flicking her foot in agitation. The movement flung most of the greenish blood into the wall, but she’d still need to bathe later.
Fizgig raised her blade defensively, keeping an eye on the body as she moved to the door. She closed it carefully, listening for other assailants. Nothing. They’d only sent one. Fizgig smiled grimly. That had been a mistake.
She knelt next to the corpse, checking the Jaguara’s pockets. She found a tiny vial, clear with a black plastic top; within, a pale green-yellow larva wriggled. Fizgig rose to her feet, moving to stand before the view screen on the far side of her quarters. “Computer, execute connection alpha-bravo-two.”
A human Quantum logo appeared, pulsing for long moments while Fizgig waited. It was possible that Nolan was unable to speak, but this news couldn’t wait. After 10 seconds the logo disappeared, and asked if she’d like to leave a message.
