Battle Cruiser

by B. V. Larson

  I have to say that when she was properly attired and made over, her mother cut a fine figure herself. Her skin may have been parchment, but her trim body moved without the stiffness of age in a brilliant, sun-yellow dress. She was like an advertisement for the wonder and mystery of a dozen brands of longevity treatments on display. Her musculature and bones had been preserved, along with her critical organs, presumably. Only the skin on her face and extremities betrayed her great age.

  For my own part, I’d arrived early and taken up a station near the kitchen doors. As auto-waiters glided in and out of the doors and hurried through the crowds, I was presented with numerous chances to snatch drinks from their uplifted trays.

  By the time the Astra family was seated, I’d consumed five varied beverages that had been ordered, no doubt, by other people. These drinks hadn’t completely put my mind at ease, but they’d given me a glowing smile.

  Zye watched me with concern.

  “Are you inebriated?” she asked.

  “Direct and to the point as always,” I answered. “As a matter of fact, I am a little drunk.”

  She frowned at me for several seconds then turned her head to see where I was looking. Chloe was seated now, her dress shifting over her body with every motion as she smiled, nodded, hugged, and patted the dozens who clamored for her attention.

  “Why don’t you approach her?” Zye asked.

  “Do you want me to?”

  “No.”

  I laughed. “Then you should be happy I’m standing here, but I can see by your expression you’re not. Why’s that, Zye?”

  She stared at me for several long seconds, considering her response. “Our mission here is a social one. You’re not performing as expected.”

  I snorted at that. Leave it to Zye to urge others to follow orders, whether she disliked them or not.

  “You’re not even part of Star Guard,” I said. “At least, not officially. What do you care if I do what the brass wants or not?”

  “I—I’m tied to you,” she said awkwardly. “Your failure is my failure. I don’t like failure. No Beta does.”

  For the first time since the Astra family had entered, I turned to face Zye. “You are a puzzle, you know that?”

  “Why does this particular female disturb you so much?” Zye asked. “Is it her appearance, or are there hidden events between the two of you?”

  I could tell the question was asked in earnest, so I tried to answer it honestly.

  “Both,” I admitted. “We met under strange circumstances before I left Earth. I’ve thought of her often during my long voyage. She became lovelier in my memory each time I did so, rather than fading in importance.”

  “Strange,” Zye said. “When I look at her, I feel only antipathy.”

  Shaking my head, I found myself smiling again. In many ways, Zye was an innocent. “That’s jealousy, Zye. It’s a natural emotion. Come, it’s time to make our move.”

  I strode away from the kitchen door. The robot waiters flowed around me expertly. I was barely aware of them.

  But as I walked, I realized I was drunk. Sometimes sudden movement after holding still for a time proved this to a man. Narco-drinks are powerful, and I rarely drank them. I had no tolerance built up like these society types.

  Letting out a hiss, I fumbled with my implants, seeking to stimulate them with my mind. Implants were rather like organs that one could control directly with nerve-endings as one might control a muscle. Unfortunately, being drunk made the task more difficult, just as it made walking more difficult.

  Focusing on the task, I worked to increase my blood-filtering levels. I wanted to remove excess intoxicants. Probably, I should have done so before stepping forward on this quest—but then I might never have moved from my spot leaning against the wall.

  Unfortunately, before I could begin clearing my bloodstream, I was spotted and recognized by Servant Klieger. He was a portly man from the orbital habs. He approached me, carried by a robot that simulated a pair of walking legs. Like most people who spent the majority of their lives in zero-G, Klieger was unable to walk unaided in the grip of Earth’s gravity. I grimaced as he clapped his hands over mine.

  “I’ll be!” he exclaimed. “Sparhawk the Younger, isn’t it? Of course it is. The resemblance is uncanny—but then it should be!”

  He found this uproariously funny, and I managed to chuckle. I was glad for my intoxicants all over again.

  “The Hero of the Guard,” Klieger said. “That’s what they’re calling you, you know. Imagine it! Just because you chased off a swarm of rock rats with a captured ship or something.”

  “It was a bit more involved than that,” I said, trying to keep a civil expression on my face.

  Klieger sniffed. “The news reports were vague.”

  “I’m sorry about that. Now, if it’s not too much trouble, could you direct me toward the snack table? I’d be—”

  “Hold on,” he said, his eyes narrowing. His sweaty hands gripped mine like two wet balloons. “Why would a Sparhawk—any Sparhawk—be caught here? Don’t tell me you’re here to recruit! This is Centrist Party territory, after all. We’ll not have you poaching our junior members!”

  “Nothing like that, sir,” I managed. “I was invited by Lady Astra—the Elder.”

  “I see,” he said, rolling his eyes in her direction. “Have you seen her heiress? The comparison is stunning, isn’t it? You wouldn’t think age could do so much to a woman’s face, but there it is.”

  “Yes, well, if I might be—”

  “Hold on,” he said. “Lady Astra!” He cried out in a powerful voice that belied his noodle-like limbs. Apparently, his low-gravity lifestyle had done nothing to weaken his diaphragm.

  At this inopportune moment, Zye decided to intervene. Her powerful hands reached down and removed Klieger’s swollen fingers from my person. He boggled at her, noticing her for the first time. His auto-legs backpedalled, and I pushed Zye gently back.

  “What’s this?” Klieger asked. “A bodyguard? Is that a female, or do my eyes deceive?”

  “She’s a Beta, sir,” I said as gently as I could.

  Zye wasn’t helping. She glowered at the man with all the gentle demeanor of a genetically engineered attack-dog.

  Fortunately, Lady Astra called down, having recognized us. “This way, Sparhawk,” she said. “I’ve saved a spot for you at my table.”

  I walked away from Klieger in relief. Zye followed, looming over my shoulder.

  “Who is this…person?” Lady Astra asked in surprise, eyeing Zye with a mixture of curiosity, astonishment and alarm.

  Behind her a bodyguard team tensed. Like all important people, she maintained a private security force. After my father had been nearly assassinated, the higher ranking Servants in every party were on edge.

  “She’s one of my crew members,” I said.

  Lady Astra smiled. Her face crinkled like paper as she did so. “I get it. She’s your bodyguard. Impressive. No one else on Earth has a Beta following them around.”

  The intoxicants in my bloodstream had ebbed slightly, but I wasn’t in the clear yet. Possibly, if they’d been entirely absent, I would have restrained myself from making the remark I did next.

  “She’s no robotic assassin with breakaway arms,” I said, “but I find her most helpful.”

  Astra’s face tightened at the mention of the assassin. “Take a seat, Sparhawk, before you pitch onto your face.”

  I did so, and Zye sat beside me. Chloe turned in our direction then. She sat at her mother’s side, across the table from Zye and myself.

  Her face lit up when she saw me, and I couldn’t help but brighten in response.

  “William!” she said. “I’m so glad you could make it.”

  “Your mother insisted.”

  Lady Astra the Elder pushed back her chair suddenly.

  “Excuse me,” she said. “I must see what’s holding up the kitchen.”

  She moved away swiftly, her feet carrying he
r through the crowd with expert movements. She didn’t have to sidestep often, as most people darted to get out of her way when they saw who was approaching.

  “Introduce me to your friend, William,” Chloe said.

  I did as she asked, and explained that Zye was a Beta. This fascinated Chloe. The two attempted to converse, but the talk soon died out. Zye wasn’t known for chatting.

  In time, Lady Astra returned and in her wake came an army of serving robots. They piled food before every guest according to the menu choices we’d made via our implants during the social period.

  The entire affair struck me as artificially rapid and lockstep. Was this due to Lady Astra’s poor attitude? I wasn’t sure. She was in charge of the host political group, and therefore the party was hers to orchestrate—but it seemed odd that she would carry her agitation so far as to inconvenience important guests.

  After our meal, I took a gamble. I asked Chloe to dance.

  She lit up with a smile that I found more than entrancing.

  “I thought you’d never ask.”

  I took her hand, and while her mother and Zye watched disapprovingly, we moved to the dance floor. Throughout the dinner, gentle, rhythmic music had been playing. The musicians were living clones trained in classical era music but given the freedom to be creative with the works of that time. Dances akin to a complex waltz were the rage these days and quite exclusive. Leave it to Lady Astra to spare no expense.

  We joined a half-dozen couples who were from various Houses and began an organized series of practiced steps. Modern dance was more staid than it had been in the past. There were no wild gyrations or exposing of flesh during a state dance in this day and age. Many of the oldsters referred to the complex processions of the young as overly stuffy yet still enjoyed them. I suspected that throughout history, the courtship of the dance was thrilling to most participants, no matter the details.

  “You dance very well,” Chloe told me. “But I would expect nothing less from a Sparhawk.”

  “Your instructor is to be congratulated as well,” I said formally.

  The music shifted a moment later, and she suddenly ducked close to me. We found ourselves in a clutch. I felt a rush of both embarrassment and excitement at her nearness. She was warm and vital in my arms. I could feel the rippling of her intelligent dress as it sought to slip between exposed spots of her bare flesh and my hands, no doubt following its programming.

  The other dancers had moved closer now as well as the current composition had entered its fourth movement which was meant to be slower and more intimate.

  “I’m finally in your arms again,” Chloe said in my ear.

  “It’s been too long.”

  “Do you think we might slip away together?”

  Startled, I looked down into her face to see if she was serious. I could see by her eyes that she was.

  My heart pounded. “I…we can try.”

  “Here’s my plan,” she said in a husky voice. “I’ve been thinking about it all day. Mother will never take her eyes off me—except when she starts to make her speech.”

  “She’s going to make a speech?”

  She looked at me as if I were simple. “She always makes a speech. Doesn’t your father?”

  “Yes. Yes, I suppose he does.”

  We made our plans as the fourth and fifth movements waxed and waned. I’d thought gripping her person would be the highlight of the evening, but now I realized that was just the beginning. Neither of us brought up what we might do after we left the party together—but that part was easy to imagine.

  Whatever misgivings I might have had about coming to this social event had long since faded. I was certain I’d made the right decision.

  Events took an unexpected turn, however, as we returned to the dinner table.

  Our hands were clasped, but we were trying not to look conspiratorial. I’d been so enamored with Chloe that I’d never thought to look back at my hostess. I’d never thought to check on Zye’s activities, either.

  That’s why when Lady Astra the Elder pitched forward onto the table croaking like a gigged frog, knocking over after-dinner drinks, I was taken utterly by surprise.

  Her eyes were shockingly wide, and they bulged in a manner that was difficult to believe. The back of her lovely yellow dress was splashed bright red. In the center of the red region were three dark spots—puncture wounds.

  Zye was standing tall over the dying woman. A gun was in her hand.

  For a brief, horrible moment, she was like a giantess amid a gaggle of stunned, screaming children. Then she aimed her oversized pistol into the crowd and fired repeatedly. The reports were deafening.

  -39-

  Although my understanding of the situation was incomplete, I knew what had to happen next.

  Lady Astra’s private security force was nearby, wearing formal black suits and watching the crowd. It was always easy to pick out security personnel—they were the ones that weren’t eating, drinking or talking to anyone.

  Three rapid strides brought me to the table, where I jumped onto Zye’s back, my cloak swirling around her form.

  A storm of gunfire erupted. My cloak unfurled like a banner, generating my personal shield. I’d switched it on as soon as I’d seen Lady Astra fall. It was reflex, just as was the surge of adrenaline and other stimulants which now oozed from my implants.

  Why did I seek to protect Zye? Because I knew she would surely die if I didn’t. It wasn’t a matter of thinking—it was instinct. When moments like this came, there was only has a second or so in which to act. If I’d stood by blinking in confusion, they would have shot her down.

  “Get away from the alien, Mr. Sparhawk!” ordered the security chief.

  I couldn’t answer right away. Zye had reached up and wrapped thick fingers around my throat. They were squeezing, and the world was going rapidly black.

  “William?” she asked in surprise.

  She let go of me.

  I rasped, coughed, and managed to speak. “Zye, drop your weapon. That’s an order.”

  Her pistol clanked heavily onto the table beside Lady Astra, who was still squirming. I was vaguely surprised. The woman should have been dead by now.

  The security people rushed Zye.

  “Let them arrest you!” I ordered, feeling her muscles tense up.

  “I’m innocent. I shot the killer.”

  “She shot one of my best men!” the security team leader said between clenched teeth. She was angry and there was murder in her eyes.

  “Surrender, Zye,” I said.

  Switching off my shield, I let them approach and disarm us. That was when I saw Chloe. She was draped over her mother, weeping and trying to help her. A medical crew came into sight soon afterward. The Centrist Party seemed much more alert than my father’s party had been when an assassination attempt had been made upon his life. Quite possibly, my father’s experience had caused them to anticipate such an attack.

  The room around us had mostly cleared by now. The initial panic had subsided into a rapid retreat. Soon, only security people, Zye, and the two women of House Astra were present.

  Zye and I tried to explain what had happened to the security team leader, but she paid no attention. Holding up a hand for silence, the head of Astra’s security unfocussed her eyes and stared into the distance.

  “I’m reviewing the video,” she said. Several long seconds passed, during which I waited tensely.

  “It was Thompson,” she said. “I can’t believe it.”

  “Check the body,” Zye said. “It’s not flesh. Not all of it, at least.”

  The security people did as Zye suggested, frowning.

  “A robot?” one of the security agents said incredulously. “Polymer bones wrapped in flesh?”

  “They grow flesh over mechanical components to hide them,” Zye said, “and they dispose of the original, in most cases. Your Thompson is most likely dead. I’ve seen it many times.”

  I turned to her in astonishment
. “You have?”

  “Yes,” she said. “That thing I shot is a Stroj agent.”

  “A Stroj?” I said, stunned.

  The security people demanded an explanation. I gave them the information I had learned from Zye.

  “They come from a colony,” I said, “one that was established after Earth was separated from her fledgling worlds.”

  “This proves that Stroj ships disabled mine,” Zye said. “I’m not surprised they’re here.”

  The series of revelations left me speechless. Chloe came to me then, and she touched my uniform with bloody hands. She’d walked her mother to the flying ambulance outside while we’d spoken with the security team.

  “She has to live,” she said. “Mother has to pull through. They say she has a chance. She had alterations made—internal alterations.”

  I nodded, unsurprised. The woman was a tough old bird. One that had demonstrated she was fixated upon long term survival.

  “I’m glad it wasn’t you, or Zye,” Chloe said. Her eyes were brimming with tears, as I tried to comfort her.

  “Zye,” I said, “you need to help us hunt down these Stroj creatures and eliminate them. What do you think they’re trying to do here on Earth?”

  “Stroj agents are commonly dispatched to a new world before conquest. They infiltrate, learn critical intelligence, then move into their secondary stage.”

  “Which is?”

  Zye shrugged. “To foment strife and rebellion. To make every woman mistrust her own sister. They’re methodical and often successful.”

  “I take it they came to Beta Cygnus. How did you stop them?”

  “We examined every member of our population. Those that failed to meet the norm were easily isolated and destroyed.”

  “But…” Chloe said. “Surely, you must have killed innocent members of your own population in such a sweep.”

  Zye shrugged disinterestedly. “We excised the cancer. That’s the most important detail.”

  I turned to Zye. “Why didn’t you tell us that the Stroj were here? Weren’t you debriefed?”

  “Yes,” she said. “I waited for appropriate techniques to be applied, but your intelligence people are quite lax. I was never tortured, threatened or otherwise coerced.”