The Lost Destroyer (Lost Starship Series Book 3) (40 page)

“No,” Keith said.

“Don’t be stupid,” Riker said. “Do as the captain tells you. If he’s worrying about us, he won’t do his job as well.”

Maddox didn’t wait to see if they obeyed him. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the sergeant set his blaster down on the spongy deck by his feet and back away.

Maddox picked up the second blaster. He had no idea how much of a charge these weapons had. Today, he would find out one way or another. Aiming at the first head, Maddox pulled the trigger.

A pencil-thin beam gushed out and burned the first head. He shot a second and a third. Oil gushed from neck trunks. Each of the machines collapsed and froze. More oil pumped onto the floor, soon sinking out of sight.

The seconds passed and Maddox continued to burn them down. He waited for the other bio-robots to turn around and attack. They never did. Each surviving creature continued to spike-step forward, following their programming without deviation.

Maddox felt a tug at his shoulder. He turned, staring at Riker.

“Stop, sir,” the sergeant radioed.

Maddox lowered the blasters.

“I’m thinking you don’t have to kill them,” Riker said. “They’re going after the others, right?”

“Right,” Maddox said. He should have already figured that out. He was tired and getting sloppy. “Where’s Keith?”

“I’m coming,” the ace said.

As the three men spoke, the remaining bio-robots continued to jerk down the corridor, ignoring the broken machines behind them.

“How much of a cushion should we keep between them and us?” Keith asked.

“We’ll hang back a little,” Maddox said. “I want to keep them in sight, though.”

The three men walked past the frozen robots. There was no sight of the spilled oil.

Ahead of them, the other bio-robots moved faster than they appeared to be going. Soon, the three men broke into a jog. Even so, the alien constructs gained separation.

Finally, the men ran after the machines to keep up.

More of the bio-robots joined the others until sixty or more seethed down the corridors.

Behind the machines, the three men staggered, barely able to see the robots anymore.

“We’re close to the control room,” Maddox said, glancing at the recorder.

“What’s that?” Keith shouted.

“What?” Maddox asked, hearing the worry in the ace’s voice.

“See that little ball sailing over the robots?”

Maddox looked up. As usual, Keith was the first to spot a flying object. Then, the captain realized what he spied.

“Down,” Maddox shouted. “It’s a pulse grenade.”

The captain hit the deck. Seconds later, so did Riker and Keith.

The small object landed and ignited, blowing away bio-robots, raining body parts and oil. Another grenade sailed and a third, fourth and fifth. Heat billowed down the corridor as concussions washed against Maddox’s vacc-suit as he lay on the deck.

Then, a thick man in an armored vacc-suit appeared down the hall. He held a blaster, and he burned the surviving robots. Afterward, the man seemed to inspect the destroyed constructs. Satisfied, or so it would appear, the man holstered the blaster and disappeared around the farther corner.

Keith turned to Maddox as they lay on the floor. “We’ve reached the others.”

“Yes,” Maddox said, climbing to his feet. “It’s finally time to finish this.”

-43-

Meta was bewildered by everything that had happened but most especially by what
was
happening. Deep in her mind, she tried to free himself from her immobility.

She stood in a small chamber, at least relative to things inside the doomsday machine. Crystal machines hummed around her, seven of them. They were tall like spires with mechanisms visible inside. At the top, flows of energy went from point to point. The energy lines continually changed color. It made her skin feel itchy.

In the very center of the chamber was a crystal cube machine. It was ten meters by ten. Swirling colors moved at random on the surfaces. If Meta looked at the colors too long, her thoughts faded away. It was like watching flames flicker but even more so.

At the top of the cube was an odd mechanical construction that seemed different in nature to everything else in here. It was shaped like an octopus with a bulbous section and eight cable arms. The ends of the arms were embedded in the cube.

At the moment, Oran Rva balanced on top of the cube. He manipulated the giant octopus machine, opening panels as if searching for something.

Just then, slots opened on the bulbous section. That part was bigger than Oran Rva. The bulbous section must have had five times the New Man’s mass. Those opening slots seemed to be vision ports. They focused on the New Man.

If Meta hadn’t been frozen in place at Oran Rva’s command, she would have shrieked. The octopus thing up there seemed alive as it began to click and whistle in precise sequences that implied a language.

“Meta,” Oran Rva said, with a catch to his voice. “Throw me the square device. Make sure you pitch it high enough.”

Freed from immobility, Meta dug in the sling-pouch Oran Rva had given her before he’d climbed up the cube. She found the square device, a box with many controls. Gripping it with both hands, she judged his position and heaved upward.

It was hard to throw in the greater Gs. The box sailed up but not quite high enough. Meta readied herself, grunting as she caught it, nearly tearing off her fingers.

“Foolish woman,” the New Man said. “What’s wrong with you?”

“I lack sufficient strength,” she called up.

Oran Rva muttered something to himself before saying, “Gather your strength. Heave as hard as you can. The gravities in this chamber are greater than elsewhere on the vessel. It is part of the driving mechanism, a safety feature, I believe.”

Earlier, the New Man had worked harder than he should have to climb the cube. Now, Meta knew why.

Taking several deep breaths, she hurled the box upward, straining her muscles.

This time, it reached high enough. Oran Rva caught the box. For a second, it appeared he might lose his balance. Would the New Man break bones falling from that height in the higher Gs?

Meta hoped so.

Then, he regained his balance. Oran Rva looped a cord from the box around his neck. Studying the square device, he began to manipulate controls. Soon, clicks and whistles emitted from the box.

Incredibly, and surreally to Meta, the eight cables of the octopus machine shifted as if uncomfortable. The bulbous section emitted more clicks and whistles in a faster sequence.

Oran Rva had plugged a cord from the box to his helmet. For just a moment, Meta heard mechanical sounds through her headphones. Then words came through.

“It has been many cycles since I spoke the true tongue. You are from Rexes Seven from the Curator?”

The New Man must have shut off the radio link between them then, because Meta didn’t hear the strange words anymore.

An involuntary shudder swept through her. Did Oran Rva communicate with the mechanical octopus up on the cube? Was that a Builder construct? Is that what drove the doomsday machine?

After that, Meta’s thoughts drifted. In time, the radio link crackled back into life.

“Meta,” Oran Rva said. “Toss me the egg. It’s time.”

She dug the Builder egg out of the pouch, the one Ludendorff had brought back from the asteroid base in the Xerxes System. With a heave and a grunt, she threw the egg up to the New Man.

Oran Rva caught it, keeping his balance better this time.

Meta kept her head craned to watch the proceedings.

Oran Rva tapped the egg with his fingers as if playing a musical device. The metal egg split open, one part falling away to strike the floor.

Meta groaned in revulsion. A giant mechanical centipede crawled out of the other half of the egg, almost flowing as it crossed Oran Rva’s vacc-suited arm.

The octopus machine squirmed too, the cables beginning to thrash, although the ends remained embedded in the cube. The clicks and whistles were louder than ever.

The New Man must have forgotten to turn the radio link with Meta back off.

“Please, do not do this thing to me. I have served the Curator faithfully for many cycles of existence. This is—” A weird scream came through the headphones.

The mobile Swarm virus launcher flowed onto the octopus’s bulbous head. The centipede forced a slot to open and chewed into the machine. Then, the centipede thing quivered.

“It is attacking my processors. It is changing…changing…changing code. P-P-Please…”

Oran Rva slapped the bulbous head. “I am about to give you new instructions. You will listen to the instructions and implement them at once.”

“I am linked to the ancient machine. It is not as easy as you think to change protocols.”

“You will listen to my new instructions,” Oran Rva said. “I will not countenance any rebellion on your part.”

“You are failing to understand the ancient machine.”

“I will succeed at this,” Oran Rva said.

“The machine has safeguards. It will break the conditioning we installed long ago. You have injected a Swarm virus into me. It is too crude to use in conjunction with the machine.”

“You will do as I command,” Oran Rva said.

“Obedience is not the issue. Yes, I will certainly obey. What I am trying to warm you—” The octopus-shaped thing screamed once more.

Meta heard the agony as she watched the cables writhe. The Swarm virus centipede no longer quivered.

“I am losing coherence. There is danger here, grave danger.”

“You are about to receive your new instructions,” Oran Rva said.

“No, no, the ancient machine is growing aware of me. There is grave danger here for Rexes Seven and the Curator. If the doomsday machine should fully wake up again—”

“You will not change my mind,” Oran Rva said. “I am fixed upon my goal. You will be my steed in achieving greatness.”

“I will try. But I am losing coherence. Soon, I will not be able to subdue the ancient protocols. The Swarm virus is creating confusion in my processors. Danger, there is danger for Rexes Seven and the Curator. I implore you to listen to me.”

“No,” Oran Rva said. “You will listen to me.”

As Meta stood listening on the floor, she shuddered with revulsion. She hated standing here waiting for…for…

Meta looked around. Why hadn’t Kane returned yet? Wasn’t he supposed to be back by now? What was keeping him?

***

Maddox stared down at the force-webbed enemy. The blocky man couldn’t move, and it appeared he hadn’t been able to radio Oran Rva.

Going to one knee, shining a ray on the visor, Maddox saw Kane straining inside the vacc-suit. He should have known it would be the Rouen Colony agent.

“Let’s do this,” the captain said.

Keith knelt and manipulated Kane’s helmet, shutting down the shortwave radio link with the others. With a change in setting, the ace linked the enemy agent to their net.

“Kane, I presume,” Maddox said.

The other stared balefully at him.

“I’m Maddox,” the captain said.

There was a slight tightening of Kane’s eyes, but that was it.

“Has Oran Rva made it into the control room?” Maddox asked.

Kane said nothing.

“Should I just shoot you and get it over with?” Maddox asked.

Again, the enemy agent didn’t say a word. Kane kept staring with deadly intent.

“He’s hypnotized,” Riker declared.

“What?” Maddox asked.

“Look deep into his eyes,” Riker said. “He’s been programmed.”

Maddox studied the square-faced Kane. “Yes, I see it now,” the captain said. “What do you think about that, my friend? Your masters trust you so much they program you for obedience. Yes, I trust that side. Programming masters are the best people to serve. They treat you like chattel and toss you aside when they’re finished. You’ve clearly chosen well, Kane.”

Slowly, as the rest of Kane lay frozen on the deck, the big man shook his head. “You don’t understand. No one can defeat the dominants. Their victory is inevitable.”

“By dominants I take it you mean the New Men?” Maddox asked.

Kane said nothing more, although his glare became more baleful.

“Right,” Maddox said. “I’m not yet ready to kill you. I don’t know enough, but it’s time we moved on. Sergeant?”

“Here, sir,” Riker said.

“Hold the web-gun,” Maddox said. “I want to shackle him.”

Riker took the flat device, keeping it trained on Kane.

Maddox pulled out shackles. “Let’s do the legs first.”

Tucking the web-gun under an arm, Riker pressed a tab.

Kane’s feet rose minutely as he attempted to kick them, but the feet remained force-webbed. As the Rouen Colony man attempted to thrash his legs, Maddox shackled Kane’s wrists, securing them.

“You really do fall for the most elementary ploys,” the captain said. “Now stay still this time so we can get this done.”

Kane struggled, but it wasn’t fast or hard enough. Soon, the Rouen Colony agent lay on the deck, squirming in the shackles.

Maddox retrieved Ludendorff’s flat device from the sergeant. He was going to need it to trap Oran Rva. How lucky was it that Dana Rich had figured out how to use the professor’s high-tech gadgets?

“Oran Rva isn’t going to fall as easily as Kane did,” Riker said.

“I have no doubt you’re right,” Maddox said. “But we don’t have a choice. This is the moment, gentlemen. Are you ready?”

“I am,” Keith said.

Riker grunted his reply.

“Here we go,” Maddox said, leading the way to the control room.