Korie said bitterly, “Don’t you want the third fluctuator, the one we removed?”
Cinnabar laughed. “Cute. Very cute. The one that you booby-trapped? Don’t be silly. The two that remain in place will be sufficient for our needs.”
Korie sagged. He looked like a man who has just run out of options. Tor put her hand on his shoulder.
“It didn’t work,” she said.
Korie looked up. His eyes were hollow. “Will you promise to spare my crew? No more killing?”
“I promise nothing! You don’t have a choice. But . . . I will let your people live as long as it is to . . . our mutual advantage.”
Korie turned to Jonesy, Hodel, and Tor. “Do as he says.”
Hodel shook his head. He stood up and stepped away from his console. So did Jonesy. Tor followed them.
Korie looked from one to the other. Their expressions were resolute. Angered at their disobedience, Korie stepped past Hodel and started punching up the commands on the console himself. The evacuation signal sounded throughout the Burke and echoed in the corridors of the LS-1187.
The forward viewer flashed to show the interior of the Burke. The security squads were waving everyone out. The medical crews were removing the last of the bodies. The Black Hole Gang shrugged and walked away from the two high-cycle fluctuators in the engine room. Nakahari grabbed his portable terminal, yanked it free, and ran for the corridor. The security squad followed.
The screen showed them passing through the shuttle bay and into the LS-1187. The airlock doors slid shut behind them.
“HARLIE, are we clear?”
“Yes, Mr. Korie.”
“Stand by for separation,” Korie released the mating ring, then the docking tube, and finally the docking harness.
There was a soft thump and the two starships floated gently apart.
A Morthan Lullaby
The Burke floated farther and farther away from the LS-1187.
“Two kilometers . . .” Hodel said grimly. He sank back down into his chair and began marking vectors and intercepts.
“Keep your hands away from the targeting controls,” Cinnabar rasped. Hodel lifted his hands high off the board. “I’m a good boy,” he said, but his tone of voice wasn’t happy.
On the holodisplay, the Dragon Lord’s hyperstate ripple almost closed with the pinpoint representing the LS-1187, then unfolded and dissolved. The display expanded to show the locus of real space now.
They watched in silence as the huge warship began to close on the two Alliance vessels.
“I’ll put her on viewer,” said Tor. She stepped over to her own board and punched up a new angle on the main screen: a distant bright speck. She punched again for magnification, but the Dragon Lord was still too distant. HARLIE superimposed an extrapolated image beside the actual point of light.
Tor studied the screens on her console. “Nice piece of piloting. She trimmed her fields exquisitely.” It was hard for her to keep the envy out of her voice. That kind of precision was only possible with the expenditure of large amounts of power, something the LS-1187 didn’t have. Tor added, “She’s slowing to match course with the Burke. Deceleration—holy god!—fifteen thousand gees!” She shook her head unbelievingly. “That’s not possible.”
“Thank you,” said Cinnabar.
Korie’s expression was impassive. “ETA?”
“Give her five minutes, ten at most,” Tor said. She tapped at her board. The extrapolated image expanded.
Hodel swiveled to the holographic display and expanded that view as well. To one side, he put up a size comparison of the three vessels. “She’s big enough to swallow the Burke whole,” he said. There was bitterness in his voice.
Korie remembered the city-sized ship he had seen. It had been a wall of missile tubes and shield projectors, disruptors and antennae. And when it had swiveled around before him, he had stared into its mouth. The dragon could hold this ship in its teeth. But—
“Don’t be fooled,” said Korie tightly. “They have to build it that big. They don’t have the stardrive technology we do.” He almost believed it.
“We do now,” Cinnabar laughed. It was the sound of sandpaper on flesh. He stood behind the captain’s chair and wrapped his huge hands around the seat back. His claws cut deeply into the cushion. He rattled the chair gleefully in its mountings, almost ripping it loose from its frame. He leaned his head back, stretching his corded neck; he howled and roared and steam-whistled his triumph.
Tor put her hands over her ears and flinched. Jonesy pulled her back away from the center of the Ops deck. Korie and Brik held their positions angrily.
Cinnabar ordered Hodel to move the LS-1187 off from the Burke then, and the next few moments were occupied with the maneuver. “I want you out of cannon range, out of torpedo range—far enough away that you can’t do any mischief. And from this point on, there will be no transmissions of any kind unless I authorize them. God, I love this job!”
Frowning, Korie sank into a chair by the holotable. Idly, he punched up a display of the three ships’ vectors. He studied it thoughtfully.
Cinnabar noticed what he was doing and stopped in mid-howl. “It won’t work,” he said. “Nothing you do will work. You have been outmaneuvered. You are obsolete. Why don’t you have the good sense to die quietly.”
“Why don’t you have the good manners to shut up?” Korie said without looking up.
“You don’t know how to lose,” said Cinnabar.
“On the contrary. You don’t know how to win.”
Cinnabar laughed again. “For someone who doesn’t know how, the evidence demonstrates that I’m doing quite well.”
Korie swiveled away and stared forward.
“There she is,” reported Tor.
The image was clear on the main screen now. The Dragon Lord was moving into position above the Burke, securing the much smaller vessel with a tractor beam. As they watched, the Burke was being drawn up into the gigantic enemy vessel.
“Shit,” said Tor.
“You said a mouthful,” agreed Hodel.
“You should be celebrating,” said Cinnabar. “This is the end of the war.” He grinned wickedly. “Ha. Perhaps we will build a statue to you—so that humans everywhere will know who to thank for their liberation.”
“Liberation?” Korie gave Cinnabar the raised-eyebrow look.
“But of course—” Cinnabar stepped around the captain’s chair and leaned on the forward railing of the Bridge. “Do you call this freedom? I promise you, under the Morthan rule, there will be no more useless dying. Humans will live at peace with each other and will accept their rightful place in the universe—”
“As slaves?”
“As servants,” Cinnabar corrected. “Service is the highest state of intelligent activity, you know that. Your own textbooks teach that a life is worthless unless it is in service of some greater good. Well, I offer you a world where your service will no longer be wasted. No more will you have the opportunities to act out of greed and lust and malevolence.”
Korie and Brik exchanged skeptical glances.
“Understand something,” Cinnabar continued. “We did not ask for this war. You did. Humans forced this war on us. You gave us no choice. So now, we’re bringing it back to you—to protect ourselves. We’ll create a domain that is safe from human depredation, and if that means the total subjugation of humanity, then so be it. But I promise you, we will be better masters of you than you have ever been of yourselves.
“Imagine it—no more hunger, no more poverty, no more inequality. You can’t, can you? Because you’ve never known a world that works, have you? A world where resources are efficiently managed, where people have a purpose, a place of beauty and freedom. Yes, freedom. Real freedom to be what you are—not what you believe. Give up your false perceptions, your oughts and musts and should-bes and I will give you the freedom that comes with truth!”
Cinnabar paused and looked from one to the other. The fear on the Ops dec
k had been replaced with uncertainty. “This wasn’t what you were expecting, was it?” He flashed an evil smile, and for just that instant, their enemy was back—and then, he was speaking directly and candidly to them again. “You were expecting fear and pain, terror and hate, not this.”
He laughed and returned to his place behind the captain’s chair, grinning almost good-naturedly now. “You don’t know what freedom is. You think it means that you are free of overriding authority—that isn’t freedom. That’s chaos and madness. I’ll give you real freedom, the kind that comes from knowing who you are and what your place in the universe is. I will give you freedom from want, freedom from fear, freedom to work, freedom to serve—I will give you freedom from the lies inside your head.”
There was silence on the Ops deck. No one spoke. Jonesy glanced at Tor; she was studying the deck. Hodel looked at his hands in his lap. Korie was impassive.
Brik snorted his contempt. It was loud.
Cinnabar looked at him pityingly. “The war is over. There will even be a place for you in the new domain—even for you. Even if you don’t want it. Morthans don’t waste.”
Brik snorted again.
Cinnabar focused on him. He spoke with contempt now. “So quick to judge—so foolish. You have spent too much time studying the wrong teachers. Never mind. I will give you a world where you will not be subservient to humans.”
Brik began to straighten.
Korie recognized the implication of the gesture and did something stupid. He stepped between Brik and Cinnabar. “Don’t do it, mister. That’s an order.”
“You see?” said Cinnabar, over Korie’s head. “You let humans choose your battles.”
“Don’t be stupid,” said Korie, swiveling to face Cinnabar, trying to keep his voice even. “We’ve seen your bioscan. We know what you’re capable of.” Turning back to Brik, he said, “Listen to me, Brik. There’s no honor in this fight—”
Brik considered the thought. After a heartbeat, he relaxed. So did Korie.
Hodel broke the silence. He was frowning at the forward viewer. “There’s a problem on the Dragon Lord.”
Korie turned to look. So did Brik.
Cinnabar glared over their heads.
The huge forward viewer showed it all. A bright red glow was spreading across the hull of the Dragon Lord. Its center was the hatch where the Burke had been swallowed up. The glare turned brighter and whiter—Hodel decreased the magnification—they could see the flare of brilliance as it enveloped the entire Morthan warship.
“It’s disintegrating!”
There was the briefest flash of color—of fragments coming apart, of horrific energies expanding suddenly outward—
And then the whole screen went white. The glare was so bright it hurt Korie’s eyes.
For an instant the viewer was dark; the forward cameras had gone blind; then another camera swiveled into position and refocused. There was a flickering cloud of gas and lightning and expanding debris where the Dragon Lord had been—
Hodel’s eyes were wide with terror and hope. Tor stood up, stunned. Jonesy, still uncertain, stood by her. A smile spread across Brik’s face.
Korie turned to look at Cinnabar.
The Morthan assassin was frozen in disbelief. He was grasping the captain’s chair so hard that he was bending the frame out of alignment. He opened his mouth and his breath sucked in with a ghastly sound. When it came out again, it was a bloodcurdling shriek of rage. His scream went on and on and on. It rattled the ceiling cameras in their sockets.
Korie allowed himself a single moment of triumph. “Ooh, that feels good,” he said to himself. A peaceful smile spread across his face. “That was for Carol and Timmy and Robby.”
Tor bent to her console. “We’ve lost all our active forward sensors. Burned out. Auxiliaries are coming online—”
Korie couldn’t contain his glee. He let it spread across his face and shouted up at Cinnabar, “You’re not the only one who knows how to set a booby trap. That’s what it looks like when you invert a singularity field inside a ship.”
“You made the mistake,” Brik said softly. “You should have killed us.”
Cinnabar was visibly struggling to regain his self-control. “Yes. It would be appropriate to rectify that error immediately. But it would be premature. You forget—or perhaps you remember very well—that the third piece of the stardrive is still aboard this ship. That will be enough. This ship is going to Dragonhold. Commander Tor—set a course.”
Tor stood motionless.
Cinnabar looked to her. “I gave you an order.”
“I only take orders from my captain.”
“I can vouch for that,” Korie said wryly.
Cinnabar stepped off the Bridge. He came toward Tor slowly, with a calculated display of rage. He circled the Ops deck, pulling consoles off the wall at random, tossing crewmembers out of their chairs with one great hand, turning equipment over, punching in screens, and roaring like a tornado. Korie noted, with detached professionalism, that Cinnabar was very careful in what he was destroying—only weaponry and ancillary systems; nothing that would impede the operation of the vessel in hyperstate.
“You don’t understand!!” Cinnabar roared at Tor. “You have no choice! I am a Morthan assassin!! I am your worst nightmare come to life!”
“So much for the promise of freedom,” said Korie dryly.
“Freedom for those who choose it!” the Morthan bellowed at him. “This is not choice!” Cinnabar turned back to Tor. “Your only hope is to obey my commands.”
“You don’t get it,” she said. “The answer is no.”
Instantly, Cinnabar backhanded her sideways against a wall. She slammed against it with a thud that made Korie wince. Jonesy leapt at Cinnabar—”Hey! Leave her alone!”—Cinnabar picked him up and tossed him clear across the Bridge at the forward viewer. He hit it square in the center. It shattered, pieces flying in all directions, leaving a gaping blank wall. Jonesy fell to the deck, gasping and groaning. Tor crawled toward him. He was bleeding profusely. She reached a hand to comfort him.
“Don’t anyone touch them,” warned Cinnabar.
“Very smart,” said Korie. “You’ve just disabled the only two people on this ship who know how to set a course for Dragonhold.”
Cinnabar turned coldly to Korie. He was almost polite. “You will notice that I only disabled them. That was a warning. Do you think I’m such a fool that I don’t know what I’m doing?”
Korie replied just as coldly. “Actually, I think you’re a malignant thug.”
Cinnabar snorted. “What you think is irrelevant.” Then he advanced on Tor again. “I will kill your crewmates one by one before your horrified eyes. I will kill that child you are so attracted to. I will pull him apart, one limb at a time. His screams will haunt your nightmares. There will come a moment when you will beg me to let you set a course for Dragonhold.”
—the beam struck Cinnabar in the back. Nakahari stood in the door of the Bridge, holding a rifle and spattering energy across the Ops deck. The crackling fire splattered off the Morthan like water off a wall. Colored lightning flashed around him, spraying across the Bridge in a stunning shower of sparks. He stood there, grinning nastily at Nakahari—
Nakahari stopped firing, astonished.
“Now, throw at it me,” said Cinnabar. “That’s what they usually do.”
Nakahari took a nervous step backward.
Cinnabar shifted into overdrive. He flowed across the Ops deck to Nakahari, plucked him out of the air, and lifted him high over his head. Nakahari struggled. Cinnabar turned slowly with his captive—” Set a course for Dragonhold!” he roared.
“Don’t do it—!” Korie said.
Brik stepped forward. “Put him down. Fight me instead—”
Cinnabar snorted. “Don’t be silly. You’re just food.” He flexed his arms. Nakahari’s spine went cra-a-ack! Nakahari was cut off in mid-scream. He went limp.
The assassin tossed the body
aside, like a used rag. He turned back to Tor—“Set the course!”
He stalked back across the Operations deck, knocking Goldberg out of his chair and ripping the auxiliary weapons console off the wall as he passed.
Tor flinched. She let go of Jonesy’s hand and tried to pull herself to her feet. She fell back with a grunt. Korie moved toward her protectively. Brik moved in front of Korie. He bared his teeth and growled.
Cinnabar snorted skeptically at Brik; he pulled a console off its base and hurled it aside; he snarled again at Tor. “Set a course for Dragonhold!”
Korie interrupted. He spoke in tones of quiet resignation. “I’ll do it.” He added, “We don’t believe in senseless killing.”
Cinnabar merely grinned. “We do.” But he stepped out of the way as Korie stepped over to the astrogation console. He ignored the shocked and angry looks of both Tor and Hodel and began laying out the course. Abruptly, the console went blank—
“I thought we fixed this, Mike,” Korie slammed his hand down on the console—hard—and it flickered back to life.
“Technological superiority! Ha!” Cinnabar ripped a chair from its mounting and tossed it at the broken forward viewer. He stepped back up onto the Bridge to look out over the whole Operations deck. “You have no idea who you’re fighting, do you? This isn’t about your machines. It never was. Even without your so-called superstardrive, we will win the war.”
Korie felt his neck burning, but he didn’t look up from his work.
Cinnabar was savoring the moment. “You are apes. And we are the next phase of evolution. We are more-than human. And we will do what life always does. We will eat you alive. Of course, you will fight us—that’s your destiny; to die resisting the inevitable. You will fight us until the last of your children dies in our zoos.”
“Right. So much for freedom and service—” said Korie to no one in particular.
Cinnabar ignored him. “You had your moment. It’s over. Your battle is hopeless because history is on our side. You are food.”
The Voyage of the Star Wolf Page 25
