Relic Tech (Crax War Chronicles) (67 page)

He turned to leave, but hesitated. “Oh, yes. Your friend, Tahgs. I worked with her. Charming girl. Didn’t have the inhibiting serum you did, so I only had to torture half the information out of her.”

“You,” I said. “You’ll rot in hell.”

“She dislikes lawyers too. Can’t imagine why. I’ll be sure to ask when I see her again.” His sinister smile returned. “That and a few new questions.”

He wheeled me under the lights. Two V’Gun and one Selgum Crax stood over me. I tried to move my hands. No success. I shook my head and bit as the V’Gun tried to stick a needle in my neck. The Selgum Crax held me. I felt the sting. Everything went fuzzy, then black.

Light shined
through my eyelids. The familiar sound of cooling fans mixed with the hum of computers. I braced for cold sleep nausea and pain from my wounds. I felt neither.

Good pain meds? A tightness and tingling danced within my abdomen. I didn’t have time to debate. Monitors would reveal conscious brain activity. My right index finger scraped against cloth and I could wiggle my toes. No oxygen tube. I listened. Breathing and footsteps coming toward me.

Loose restraints bound my arms above the elbow and across my chest. No time like the present to test their strength. They’d botched the memory erase, or had they? Only one way to find out. I relaxed and counted to three.

I opened my eyes and jerked my arms, pulling with everything I had! The restraints loosened. A lady doctor jumped back. I tried again, gaining more slack. I was in a rock-walled lab, still on Tallavaster?

“Specialist Keesay,” the short, gray haired doctor said in a soothing voice. She smiled, held out her hands and stepped closer. “Relax. You’re safe, it—”

Her mistake for getting too close. After my third try I broke free, grabbed a handful of white lab coat and yanked her toward me. “You’re going to help me get out of here.”

“Okay, Specialist Keesay,” she said, a hint of panic in her voice. “Anything you want from me, I’ll do.”

The room was small with two banks of overhead fluorescent lights and tons of advanced equipment lining the walls. One door.

“Don’t move,” I said before relaxing my grip. “You do and I’ll get out of here without your help.” I reached down, detached the slack chest strap and sat up, keeping my eye on the doctor. Something was wrong. I could sit up.

The doctor spotted my surprise. “Kra, you’ve already been rescued. You’re safe.”

A young Colonial Marine, followed by a tall woman, rushed into the room.

“Stop,” ordered the doctor without turning. “Specialist Keesay is having difficulty orienting. It is to be expected.”

I clamped onto the doctor’s wrist. “No tricks,” I warned. “V’Gun’s mistake for fixing me up too soon. Stand between me and that, marine.” I stared at the doctor. I knew her. “Dr. Goldsen?” Both eyes worked, no blurring.

“That’s right. I am Dr. Goldsen.” She turned slowly. “Special Agent Vingee. We are on Io. Remember?”

Their faces were familiar—from the past, a trial. “The Cranaltar.” I fell back to the bed. My stomach burned and ached. I couldn’t see any blood seeping through the white gown. Where? What happened?”

“You mean what’s happening,” Agent Vingee said, moving up next to Dr. Goldsen.

Looking up, Dr. Goldsen said to Agent Vingee, “Not now. I should have kept him sedated longer.”

“What do you mean?” I asked. “Longer? How long has it been?”

“Been?” Agent Vingee said. “You were hooked to the Cranaltar for weeks, and then under the medical care and recovery of the Umbelgarri for over a month.”

Dr. Goldsen looked at me over the rims of her glasses. “Now be still while I see if you have injured any regenerated organs. Private Mulldoag and Agent Vingee, if you will step out a moment.”

“Wait,” I said. “This could be a trick. Before I submit to anything, I want out of this room. I want another bed.”

“Why?” asked Dr. Goldsen with an annoyed look on her face.

“I had Crax acid in my blood. The V’Gun or Primus Crax would have the knowledge to cure that.” I eyed Dr. Goldsen. “The Cranaltar destroys the brain. This could all be a drug-induced hallucination, maybe combined with a holo-cast.”

Dr. Goldsen’s stood with a furrowed brow. “If you insist. I do not know how that will convince you.”

“No,” said Agent Vingee. “It fits. I watched most of the Cranaltar’s,
Documentary
.”

“Documentary?” I asked.

“That’s what your recorded experience is referred to,” explained Agent Vingee. “Its official run for the trial is nearing completion. But I’ve been privileged to preview the ending. Would you like to see?”

“You are not going anywhere,” Dr. Goldsen said. “Not until I examine you. You could have damaged the new tendons or caused internal bleeding.”

“I’ll risk it,” I said. “Once I’m convinced I’m on Io.”

The doctor crossed her arms over her chest. “The Umbelgarri were gracious enough to heal you once. This is foolishness.”

I looked around, spotting one obvious surveillance camera above a cupboard. “If what you say is true, the Umbelgarri will appreciate my caution.”

Agent Vingee nodded. Dr. Goldsen frowned.

The door slid open and everyone turned to watch a Bahklack enter. Dr. Goldsen stepped aside as the thrall clattered to my bedside. It raised its claw, presenting the color-shifting area. I watched the colors pulsate. And comprehend it!

“Human resistance fighter,” it began. The colors continued to shift but, without the associated sound, the communication was bereft of emphasis and emotion. “You are witnessing reality. Your unrelenting hostility toward our mutual foe, your loyalty to your race, and your willingness to safeguard the Masters’ breeding ponds without question gave reason for extraordinary action on your behalf. As assigned, I have assisted in the assemblage, organization and restoration of your higher brain function. It was successful. I was instructed to infuse the ability for you to comprehend the Masters’ visual and graphic communication. I provided technical assistance to your physician and her subordinates in detoxifying your body fluids and tissues and in cultivating the regeneration of damaged organs.”

The Bahklack paused. It took a second to place proper emphasis on the string of merging visual images. “Understood,” I said and signed.

Dr. Goldsen placed a hand on Vingee’s arm, telling her not to interrupt.

The colors shifted again. “The images of your locating the breeding pond have been omitted from the record. Do not reveal this. Those that are authorized to know, do know. A suitable sequence was inserted.”

Understood,” I said and signed.

“The deep message of hostility and resistance to the yellow-tie worker classification administered by my kin has been eliminated. You retain your innate dislike of the yellow-tie classification. You must now follow your physician’s guidance. This revelation session has delayed my assigned tasks. I must go.”

“Thank you,” I said and signed.

It held up its claw as it moved toward the door. “Your actions indebted the Masters.”

“Well?” asked Dr. Goldsen.

“Well,” I said, lying back down. “I don’t like the fact that my thoughts and actions have been accessed, then manipulated and reloaded. How will I know what I think are really my own thoughts? Especially the infusion of Umbelgarri language.”

Agent Vingee and Private Mulldoag eyed each other before following the alien thrall out.

Dr. Goldsen frowned. “I monitored the process. It was primarily an Umbelgarri program and procedure. The language bridge was necessary to ensure proper connections to recover your memory and thought processes.”

“So, I think like an Umbelgarri? How they want me to?”

“No,” said Dr. Goldsen. “Agent Vingee deems your action upon awakening as consistent with previous behavior.”

“I don’t like the way the Bahklack referred to the Phibs as its master.”

“I think you just answered your own question,” Dr. Goldsen with a knowing nod. “If your thought processes were altered, would you refer to them as Phibs?” She finished hooking up the equipment and stepped over to the computers to run the tests. “Would you accept their dominance over the Bahklack?”

I looked down. Round fleshy scars covered my stomach and side. My leg had numerous white linear scars.

“They’ll fade,” she said. “But never disappear. The leg wound occurred, I understand, from shrapnel due to an explosion of your own making.” She examined the results. “And your eye was damaged by the haste of the V’Gun in severing part of your conscious memory. It was surgical in nature and easier to mend.” She returned and removed the attachments. “And I personally saw to repairing your damaged hearing. Firing archaic weapons in confined areas is not wise.”

“I suspect explosions not of my own design and front line combat contributed.”

“Nevertheless, I hope that you will be more careful in the future.”

“Do I check out?”

She pulled an old-style stethoscope from her lab coat pocket and listened to my heart and breathing. “Mr. Keesay, in ten days, you should be fit for duty.” She spoke into her collar. “Special Agent Vingee, Specialist Keesay checks out.”

The door slid open. Agent Vingee handed me a pair of gray-green security coveralls, along with socks, boots, undershirt and an unusual synthetic I-Tech pair of briefs. “Get dressed, quickly.”

“You might assist him with the socks and boots,” said Dr. Goldsen. “The monitors indicated you are experiencing pain despite the medication.”

They politely turned their backs. Agent Vingee talked while I dressed.

“They’re almost to the part in the Documentary where the Bahklack breaks free and kills the two V’Guns. After it ends, things should get interesting.”

I buttoned the coveralls. “Thanks for the R-Tech touch. If I recall, much of my, uh, Documentary was interesting. At least to me. Help with the boots?”

“You’re one lucky security specialist,” Vingee said while sliding on my socks and then my boots. She finished with a double knot.

“I can’t argue with that,” I said. “The
Kalavar
, the quarantine planet, combat on Tallavaster. It seems somehow, distant. The trial, the destruction of the
Iron Armadillo
, you and Dr. Goldsen. More like a dream.”

Agent Vingee helped me up. Steadied me. I was stiff, sore, and weak.

“All those people dead,” I said. “They were real. They were my friends. Are any of them alive? What happened on Tallavaster?”

“No over exertion,” interrupted Dr. Goldsen as Agent Vingee assisted me into the gray stone corridor, followed by my Marine escort.

I waved before switching to a salute. “Understood, Doctor.”

“You’ll be briefed,” Vingee said. “Soon.”

I stopped, hands going to my belt and pockets.

Vingee asked, “What’s wrong?”

All my pockets were empty. No belt, no holster or equipment.

“Feeling somewhat naked, Specialist?” She pulled out a small firearm and handed it to me. It was an old .22 semiautomatic. Blued steel, rosewood grips.

“This is Inspector,” I started before correcting, “Deputy Director Simms’s.” I checked the clip, safety, and slid it into its holster before pocketing it.

She urged me forward. “Promise not to shoot anybody.”

“Not without cause. I’ve enough on my conscience.”

We took a secluded route too narrow for cart access. I had to rest, which annoyed Agent Vingee, but not the marine. He looked green. “Seen any combat, Private Mulldoag?”

“None yet, Specialist. I’ve applied for transfer of duty twice.”

I stood with his assistance. “You’ll get your chance.”

“Scuttle-butt has it, Specialist, that you’ve killed your share of Crax.”

Vingee frowned. “Can’t confirm that,” I said. “But you appear to have good ears.”

We made it to an elevator. Private Mulldoag stepped in first. We went down. He was the first out, checked the corridor, and signaled all clear.

After we exited, Private Mulldoag re-entered the elevator. I nodded to him before Agent Vingee steered me toward a set of doors guarded by two armed and armored marines.

They watched as Agent Vingee scanned her hand chip and eye. I scanned my eye and fingerprint. I needed to rest again, but pressed on.

“Does Falshire Hawks know I survived? I’d like to see his face.”

“No,” said Vingee. “You won’t get to see him. A week after the Documentary began he departed. Since then a trio of subordinates and support staff have been in attendance.”

I tried to hide my disappointment. “Anybody I’d know?”

“I doubt it. You need to rest.”

There were no chairs in the corridor, so I leaned on her for a minute.

Agent Vingee said, “Deputy Director Simms might be alive.”

“What? How do you know?”

“Intelligence doesn’t know for sure. We believe that the Crax and their CGIG allies are holding prisoners. If he survived he’d be an important captive.”

“What about Janice Tahgs?”

“I don’t know, Specialist. Maybe. Tallavaster was retaken. Administrative Specialist Tahgs is listed among the missing.” Her tone didn’t inspire confidence.

“Let’s go,” I said. “Guess your security clearance has improved.”

She grinned.

“At least someone benefited hanging around me.”

“A lot of people benefited.”

“It’s going to take some getting used to,” I said through pursed lips.

“What is?”

“The fact that my life, my thoughts and actions have been downloaded and viewed.”

Agent Vingee slowed our pace. “I see what you mean. But I think very few people will ever see the Documentary.”