City of Phants (Argonauts Book 6)

by Isaac Hooke

  “Military grade,” Rade said, nodding toward the explosive brick.

  “Of course,” Bourbonjack said. “I still got my contacts on the Teams.”

  Rade smiled. “I hope the poor bastards who sold you these don’t get caught.”

  Bourbonjack shrugged. “If they do, I’ll just hire them when they get out of prison.”

  “You really have changed,” Rade said.

  “For the better,” Bourbonjack said. “I’m free of all rules and regulations now. And don’t you try to act all holier than thou. You’re wearing military-grade jumpsuits. Accompanied by two military-grade Centurions. I wonder where you got those, perchance?”

  “Not from the Teams, but your point is taken.” Rade turned his gaze on the Acceptor. “So is there anything in particular you want us to do while we’re out there?”

  “Not really,” Bourbonjack said. “Find the rogue Green. Capture her. Bring her back. Go free. Never see me again.”

  “What about Noctua?” Rade asked.

  “Who?” Bourbonjack said.

  “The little bitch!” Bender said.

  Bourbonjack’s brows drew together in confusion.

  “The robot owl,” Rade clarified.

  “Ah,” Bourbonjack said. “Falon told me about that thing. My client can extract the Acceptor linkage codes from the host Surus is using, so if you can get the owl, great, but if not, it doesn’t matter.”

  “You do know,” Rade said. “That once Falon has the linkage codes, he’ll be able to summon Phants from all over the galaxy, right?”

  “He’s assured me the Greens want the Acceptor only for safekeeping,” Bourbonjack said.

  “Phant assurances,” Rade said. “Those have proven hollow in days past. If you’re wrong, this could be the start of the next Phant invasion. Seven hundred years early.”

  In answer, Bourbonjack merely beckoned toward the Acceptor. “Whenever you’re ready.”

  “None of your bitches are coming with us?” Bender said. “They yellow or something?”

  Bourbonjack pursed his lips. “If your team arrives with any unknown members, Surus will know something is awry.”

  “Awry,” Bender said. “The Bourbonjack I know would’ve never used a word like that. Awry. That’s a word for pussies. And I still say your bitches are yellow.”

  “Ah, Bender,” Bourbonjack said. “I’ve missed you.”

  “And my asshole has missed you,” Bender said, flashing that golden grille.

  “You used to bend over and take it hard from me, didn’t you?” Bourbonjack said.

  “You were so very good at it,” Bender said. “But now it’s my turn!”

  Bender jumped on Bourbonjack and began dry humping his backside.

  Some of the mercenaries trained their weapons at the duo in shock, unsure of what to do. Others merely looked on in amusement.

  “Now now,” Bourbonjack said. “Down boy. Down.” He gently, but forcefully, made Bender dismount.

  “I’ve always wanted to do that,” Bender said. “One of the pluses of not being on the Teams anymore: I can mount my former master chief.” He glanced at one of the nearby mercenaries. “What are you looking at, bitch? You want some of my mounting magic, too?”

  The mercenary in question quickly dropped his gaze to his boots.

  Bourbonjack chuckled heartily, “Ah, damn, but I really miss some of the more colorful personalities from back in the day, like good Bender here. By the time military men become mercenaries, most of the humor has been drained out of them. But not your men, apparently.”

  “Oh, the humor, and the life, was drained from us fairly well when we left, don’t you worry,” Rade said. “It’s been a long road to recovery, and we’re slowly getting back to our old selves. It helps that we don’t do this work only for the money. Unlike some other mercenaries we know.”

  “Present company excluded, right?” Bourbonjack said.

  “Sure.” Rade glanced at the Acceptor. “So we just step on the device? Don’t you need a Phant to operate it?”

  One of the mercenaries stepped forward. He looked like any of the others—a tough man with a square-jawed face that was all hard angles—but when he spoke, it was with a note of command.

  “I will operate the Acceptor,” the mercenary said.

  According to the man’s public profile, he was an Artificial.

  “You’re hosting a Green?” Rade asked.

  “I am Falon,” the mercenary replied.

  Bender stepped forward, humming softly as he pretended to amble off to one side; some of the mercenaries followed him with their rifles. When Bender was well behind Falon he spun around to get a good look at the nape of his neck.

  “Yep!” Bender said. “Bitch is a Green. Must be a big fat one, too. Never seen so much condensation.”

  “What? Let’s see.” Manic rushed over and rudely stared at Falon’s neck. “Yeah, that’s a lot of condensation. Boss, you should see this.”

  “That’s all right,” Rade said. He walked onto the Acceptor. “What kind of environment will we be dealing with?”

  “I’ve looked up the destination in the archives,” Falon said. “The planet has gravity similar to Earth, however the atmosphere is extremely toxic to human beings. If your suits are penetrated, your lungs will dissolve in around thirty seconds.”

  “Wonderful news,” Manic deadpanned. He took a place on the Acceptor beside Rade. “I’m always so very excited to explore lung-dissolving environments. They’re my raison d’être.”

  “There will be aliens,” Falon said. “Descendants of those who survived the Phant invasion five hundred thousand years ago. I am uncertain whether they will resemble their forebears, genetically. Nor if they will be friend or foe. Likely the latter. Frankly, I am surprised Surus chose to enter alone.”

  “And what, precisely, did the forebears of these aliens look like?” Harlequin asked. All of the Argonauts were standing on the Acceptor by then.

  “Perhaps it is better if I don’t tell you,” Falon said.

  “What?” Bender said. “Tell us, damn it! Damn Green bugs and their withholding of information...”

  “Let me just say, if you must fight one of them, it’s probably best if you don’t let it get too close,” Falon said. “Not unless you wish to find yourself unceremoniously split in half.”

  “Are you sure you don’t want to take along jetpacks?” Bourbonjack said. “Or HS3s to help with the scouting?”

  “No,” Rade said. “We didn’t have them with us in the storage unit. Jetpacks and HS3s would tell Surus something was amiss just the same as one of your mercenaries tagging along in escort would.”

  “You could tell her you managed to smuggle them in,” Bourbonjack insisted.

  “No,” Rade said. “Again that could arouse suspicion. I agreed to do this. My mission. My rules.”

  “As you wish,” Bourbonjack said.

  “There is a time limit,” Falon said. “I’ll give you four hours to return with Surus.”

  “Well this is new,” Rade said. “Tell me, what happens if we don’t make it in time?”

  “I’ll assume you are plotting against us,” Falon said. “And I will take over your ship, then begin executing your crew members. One for every hour you are late.”

  “Come now, Falon,” Bourbonjack said. “Be reasonable...”

  Falon glanced at Bourbonjack. “Perhaps you would like me to begin executing your men first, instead?”

  Bourbonjack looked away.

  “I thought the Greens were our friends,” Rade said.

  “We are your friends,” Falon replied. “Just as long as you do what we ask. Now prepare to transport.”

  “One thing, how are we going to get back?” Rade asked. “Unless Surus agrees to operate the Acceptor from the destination?”

  “I will continually scan for occupants from this side,” Falon said. “As soon as your team gathers on the disk, I will bring you back. Now, if you don’t mind...”

 
“Faceplates,” Rade said.

  The Argonauts shut their faceplates.

  “Wait,” TJ said via his external speakers, extending a hand toward Falon. He glanced at Rade, and switched to a private line, something he could do now that the faceplates were shut. “What about the enhanced holographic emitters? If there are aliens at our destination, as is suspected, the emitters will certainly help to conceal us, especially if we’re dealing with a race that has been reduced to Tech Class II or I.”

  “I agree,” Bender said. “Invisibility suits work like a charm for those bitch classes.”

  “Again,” Rade said. “We didn’t have the emitters with us in the storage unit. If we have them now, the devices could tip off Surus.”

  “Tell her we sent someone back to the ship to get them?” TJ said.

  “Actually, that’s another thing the security forces would confiscate at the entrance tubes,” Harlequin said on the same line. “Projection-based holographic emitters of any kind are listed as banned items on the boarding policy. It’s a strange rule, because localized emitters in helmet faceplates are allowed. In any case, I’m sure Ms. Bounty has a cached copy of the policy, and she would wonder how we got the devices through.”

  “There you go,” Rade said. “No emitters.”

  “Are we good?” Bourbonjack asked; Rade’s external microphone picked up the words and retransmitted them to him via the helmet speakers.

  “We are,” Rade replied.

  “I wish I was coming with you,” Bourbonjack said. “Actually, on second thought, I don’t. Best of luck to you all.”

  “Luck has nothing to do with it,” Rade said on reflex. He pointedly touched the barrel of the rifle he carried.

  The cargo bay winked out.

  twelve

  Rade stood in darkness.

  “Argonauts, do you read?” he asked.

  “Affirmative,” Manic replied, along with a chorus of others. He could see them in the darkness beside him, their outlines represented in blue, thanks to the data transmitted by their Implants. They stood in the same positions around him as they had inside the cargo bay aboard the Corsair only moments ago.

  He checked his overhead map. While he could see the blue dots representing his companions crowded around him, there was no indicator for Surus—she was currently out of range.

  “I’m going to send out a LIDAR burst,” Rade said. “Sharing on Channel B11.”

  He activated the burst, and a wireframe representation of his surroundings came into view. The data would have been transmitted to his companions on the aforementioned channel.

  The team stood in a wide cavern, about the size of a small amphitheater. Several boulders scattered the cave floor around them. It did not appear that there were any exits.

  “Looks safe to activate headlamps,” Rade said.

  He activated his headlamp, as did others among the squad, and illuminated the red-grained rock around them. The team stood on an Acceptor that was the mirror image to the one they just left.

  He swept the cone of light produced by his headlamp across the cavern. A small path wound upward along the left wall of the cave to a sand-clogged passageway near the ceiling. Like the rock, that sand was reddish in color, and spilled down onto the cave floor below, forming a small pile twenty meters in front of the Acceptor.

  “Algorithm, Brat, get up there,” Rade said. “Start digging out that opening.”

  The two robots obeyed, swiftly clambering up the path until they reached the passageway. Then they utilized their forelimbs in a blur, tunneling away. Sand was sent flying down to the pile on the cave floor below.

  “Look at those bitches go,” Bender said. “They’re like jackrabbits jacking in a ditch or something.”

  “Ever jacked a jackrabbit?” Manic asked.

  “All the time,” Bender said. “Work out with me at a space station on liberty sometime, and I’ll show you how it’s done.”

  “Just like you showed us how it was done with that mercenary back there?” Manic said.

  “Just like that,” Bender agreed. “The gym bunnies, when they see me workout, they can’t help but start jackin’ away.”

  “I don’t know how you got gym bunnies out of jackrabbits,” Tahoe said.

  “Did you know jackrabbits were originally called jackass rabbits?” Harlequin said.

  “I’m not in the mood for your lip, jackass.” Bender said.

  “No, I am serious,” Harlequin said. “They were called jackass rabbits because of their long ears, which were reminiscent of a jackass. The mule, I mean.”

  “And here we have Harlequin,” Bender said. “A fine specimen of the black-tailed jackass, known for spouting inanities at a moment’s notice simply to satisfy the moronic whims of his bitchin’ AI.”

  “Bitchin’!” Manic said.

  “Ma donna,” TJ said.

  “We’re through,” Algorithm announced.

  From the uncovered passageway overhead, bars of purple-tinted sunlight now speared into the cave. The pile of sand on the rock floor below was larger than a few moments ago, due to the efforts of the robots.

  “Argonauts, we climb,” Rade said. “Tahoe, lead the way.”

  Rade followed Tahoe up the narrow trail along the cave wall. Near the top, the height was about two stories. Even though Rade didn’t have a jetpack, he wasn’t afraid because he knew the strength-enhancing exoskeleton in the jumpsuit would easily break his fall.

  Rade reached the sandy passageway and wormed through the opening the Centurions had tunneled through the upper portion. He emerged into the open, and partially rolled down a dune before climbing to his feet.

  Rade found himself standing amid a desert. Purple sand dunes undulated into the distance around him. The sky, and the air in front of him also seemed violet-hued, likely because of the atmospheric contents. Rade wondered what the natural color of those dunes was.

  “A desert world,” Tahoe said.

  “I hate desert worlds,” Manic said.

  Rade had a certain haunting memory regarding a similar world, and he suppressed a shudder.

  “Headlamps off,” Rade ordered. “Best to save power.”

  Though it was daytime, judging from the bright pinpoint of light that represented the sun in the sky, the purple coloration tinting everything evoked a sense of twilight.

  Overhead, a ringed gas giant dominated the skyline.

  “Not sure how much I like that gas giant up there,” Tahoe said. “We all know how much radiation those things usually put out.”

  “More than Tepin puts out, I’m sure,” Bender said.

  “Leave my wife out of this,” Tahoe said.

  “How are we doing on radiation levels, Harlequin?” Rade asked.

  “Moderate,” Harlequin replied. “The suits are providing adequate protection, but we may need to inject a few anti-rads when we get back. If aliens truly live here, the mutation rate would be high. Any survivors of the Phant invasion from five hundred thousand years ago would likely have evolved into a far different species by today.”

  Rade once again checked his map for signs of Surus. Still nothing.

  “To the south...” Algorithm said.

  Rade turned toward the combat robot, which stood beside Brat. Like the others, the two Centurions were garbed in jumpsuits, as per Rade’s request. They were both staring at something on the southern horizon.

  “Those definitely aren’t natural,” TJ said.

  Rade zoomed in. From the sand, he saw large, conical crystalline structures protruding; they were like giant, half-buried pine cones. Their exposed surfaces scintillated in the purple sunlight.

  “Ancient alien ruins?” Manic said. “Or something more recent?”

  “I am unable to perform radiometric dating until we get closer,” Harlequin said. “Though if they are ancient, they could hardly be described as ruins, considering how intact they appear.”

  “They’ve certainly held up to the test of time, haven’t they?” TJ said.<
br />
  “Much like Phooey Lui’s face,” Bender said. “Damn, I forgot he’s not here. A wasted jibe.”

  There were thin, circular crystals of varying widths looping each structure, similar to the rings around the gas giant above. They didn’t seem to be physically joined to the main cones.

  “What do you make of those rings?” Rade said to no one in particular.

  “It looks almost like they’re floating in place,” Tahoe said.

  “That’s my impression, too,” Rade said.

  “It could be that this race once mastered gravity, much like other Tech Class IV races whose technology we’ve seen hints of,” Harlequin said.

  “Well, they’re definitely alien in nature,” Tahoe said. “I’ve never seen anything like this.” He was quiet a moment, then added: “You see this? All of this? You’re looking at the future of Earth, brothers, if the Phants succeed.”

  “By capturing Surus, we could be ensuring that very outcome,” TJ said.

  “No,” Rade said. “I refuse to believe that.”

  “One person can change the course of history,” Tahoe said. “Or one entity. We’ve all seen it.”

  “Now’s not the time for second thoughts,” Rade said. He surveyed the surrounding sand. “There are no footsteps leading away from the opening. If Surus came this way, something erased her path.”

  “I’m not detecting any wind...” Manic said.

  “Not now, maybe,” Rade said. “But look at those dunes. They weren’t created by the gas giant’s gravity.”

  “How do you know?” Manic said. “Tidal forces can be powerful things. Especially if those forces change over time. It all depends on the material properties of this sand.”

  “If there wasn’t an atmosphere, and the current planet’s gravity was far lower, I might agree with you,” Rade said. “But as it is, I’m going to assume powerful winds occasionally assail the surface.”

  “Manic, you moron,” Bender said. “Tidal forces.”

  “I’m actually detecting wind,” TJ said. “It’s very weak at the moment. Little more than a breeze.”