STAR HOUNDS -- OMNIBUS (62 page)

A
s soon as Zarpfrin arrived on Mulliphen, all the clones got to work.

It was as if they were driven by pure instinct.

Which, in fact, wasn’t far from the truth. Obeying the programming installed in them by the Jaxdron, the brain activities within their emotional centers kicked in, and the clones began rebuilding all the broken equipment from the first Jaxdron attack. One thought was constantly on all their minds.

Find Calspar Shemzak. Be one with the Alpha.

Of course, Zarpfrin himself was culpable for the situation. It was his clandestine work with the Jaxdron that had allowed them to enter Federation space and walk off with Calspar Shemzak in the first place.

However, the tables were now turned, and Zarpfrin wanted nothing more than the opposite of past machinations—namely, to gain access into Omega Space. With that knowledge, he would reengage with the Jaxdron, they with their insane love of games. He would rewrite the secret alliance, and use his knowledge of Omega Space to bridle their actions tightly. If all went well, Zarpfrin might not only rule the Human Zone, but the Alien Zone too. That thought bubbled pleasantly through him as a call arrived.

Leaning over to his control panel, he spoke Captain Urnsur’s name. He had put Urnsur in charge of the clones, and charged him with hands-on supervision. Probably another status update, Zarpfrin imagined.

Activating the holocomp, Urnsur’s ghostly blue image rose from the display board. Urnsur saluted.

“Yes … what is it, Captain?”

“Sir, I’ve just received a report from the lead clone. The old work by Shemzak was more intact than they originally estimated. With the knowledge gained from the
Starbow
’s escape, they believe that they might be able to test soon, and see if a portal to Omega Space can be opened.”

Zarpfrin sat up. “Already? It’s only been a day and half! This is excellent news, Captain. Good work!”

“Yes, sir. However, we still face some challenges.”

“Such as?”

“Power is our main concern.”

Zarpfrin puzzled over this briefly. “I don’t understand.”

“The Mulliphen lab doesn’t have enough power, or so the clones have explained.”

“Ridiculous,” scoffed Zarpfrin. “It’s equivalent to a class ten jump-stasis drive, enough to power a Federation dreadnaught!”

“True. But the clones say that the original calculations were wrong, and that we need at least three times that amount of power.”

“Three times?” Zarpfrin bit his lip. “Can we have more engines installed?”

“It’s possible, sir. It will take time, though. However, if I may make a suggestion?”

“Permission to speak freely.”

Urnsur scratched his head and looked back towards the clones for a moment. “In my opinion, sir, this facility no longer provides much value. We have similar equipment on most of our larger ships, and it would certainly be easier to get three dreadnaught class ships to jump into our orbit. If the clones can effectively combine the power from those ships, we can then attempt to open the portal from a safe location in space. We’d even have the option of moving the operation closer to the Fault. The clones say that might be required.”

“Excellent, Captain!”

“Thank you, sir.”

“I’ll give the orders to re-route the closest dreadnaughts here. Have the clones begin work on a concentrator of some kind, and tag any odd bits of equipment you may need transported.”

“Right away, sir.”

“And I want you taking control of the operation, Captain.”

“Sir?”

“Three dreadnaughts and their crews need to be managed. I’m assigning you as mission lead. However, we must ensure that our objectives are not revealed to the other captains.”

Urnsur looked troubled by the last request. “Yes, sir. But it’s normal protocol to brief the other captains and their senior staff. What shall I tell them?”

“Just tell them this is a science experiment. No, better yet, just tell them this is a test of a new weapon, something special for the Jaxdron enemy who just murdered our beloved Council.”

Urnsur didn’t appear convinced, nor did he care for Zarpfrin’s tone. “As … as you order, sir.”

“If anyone aboard those ships gives you trouble, just report them to me. I’ll take care of it. In the meantime, get the clones to work. Zarpfrin out!”

Urnsur’s blue holocomp image faded away while Zarpfrin leaned back in his chair. Things were going so smoothly now. It almost seemed too easy.

However, there still was some uncertainty troubling him. For instance, once the portal was opened, someone would have to go into Omega Space and hunt down the
Starbow
. As Supreme Overfriend, he’d be expected to assign someone to the task. Urnsur, perhaps?

Another option, though, would be to contact the Jaxdron and convince them to do this dirty work. With the secret of Omega Space in his hands, he could make them do anything. After all, they certainly were hungry to get there. That’s what drove the original bargain.

But Zarpfrin wasn’t certain he wanted to outsource the task to anyone. He had so much anger pent up. Northern had embarrassed him countless times now, and more than anything he wanted to go after that man himself. The pi-merc was too tricky, and too slippery for Zarpfrin to entrust the job to another.

Zarpfrin stewed, and imagined squeezing the life out of Northern with his bare hands. Ah … just a dream. It would be far easier, and more reliable, to shove a proton missile into the heart of the
Starbow
itself. Then he could just watch as Northern, Lasster, and the Shemzak twins turned into plasma.

With glee, he’d watch them all fade into the void.

T
he blast whooped past his auditory sensors, just centimeters short of deactivating them, and then buried itself into a furrow in the ground. A rank smell spumed up, accompanied by the harsh taste of burnt carbon.

Since when, wondered General George Washington, did I have such human-like perceptions?

The answer came immediately.

They had arrived at about the same time as his human-like fear appeared.

Another bolt slashed past him, with even more devastating results. A chasm opened, exposing some type of molten material in its depths. The General dodged, avoiding certain obliteration, wobbled dizzily and then bolted pell-mell in the opposite direction, adopting a zig-zag path at speeds beyond those of his robot self.

But all was not lost. Fear, as it turned out, had its purpose too. It filled him with fire, and a new will to survive. It was all very confusing as he found himself struck with the most unnerving panic. Fear? The thought of it blared through him like thunder.

Robots should have no fear!

ROBOTS SHOULD HAVE NO FEAR!

Ahead was another outcropping of rock. He dove for safety there, rolling and tucking behind a suitably large boulder. A streak of energy zinged off its top. A spray of broken pebbles showered down upon him.

Get a hold of yourself, George! he thought, while shaking debris from his hat. This was overwhelming, yes, all of this. But he had a sense of duty as well, one that would have to act as his guiding light.

If he could actually breathe, the General would have inhaled deeply. He did allow a limited amount of time to gather his neurodes about him, as it were, and scurried back up to the opposite side of the outcropping.

No further shots were fired. Several minutes passed, and with no approaching tracks or further explosions, he peered around the side of the rock. The alien tank was exactly where it had been before. The turret of the cannon now pointed once more at the
Starbow
. Beyond, the aura of the alien starship shifted, its nimbus now changing colors like a demented swirling whirlwind.

Okay, then, what to do next?

General George desired to wipe his face. He patted himself down, looked in all pockets for a handkerchief or facsimile, and—Wait a minute! He was a robot! Robots didn’t sweat. Not in the usual way humans did, anyway. He really was anthropomorphizing. Or something was. It was terribly unnerving.

Only what about this fear? He wasn’t supposed to have the adrenal glands necessary for this reaction. And yet it spread through him now, burning his circuitry like glowing red coals.

Now that it wasn’t so fierce, however—now that he could reason (and he still had ample facility for that)—he recognized that something strange was going on. He had not only attained some level of awareness, he was achieving some true sense of humanity.

This was no gift, especially not under these circumstances. Nonetheless, General George knew his duty. Fighting back this new, strange thing called fear, he stood and started stepping, slowly at first, back toward the tank from which he had so recently fled.

Robot versus tank? This was highly irrational, true. However, he had seen the torn hull of the tank and the exposed circuitry. There was a very strong possibility that he could disable the thing. And with that possibility came duty.

Washington knew well that a sense of duty, along with one’s adherence to discipline, were the keys to true freedom. After all, he was General George Washington, was he not?

Step after careful step, he was surprised by how smoothly his body performed, how easily he slunk up to the mammoth metal creature. And perhaps, just perhaps, he might pull off what he had in mind. What was this feeling that he was experiencing
now
? Something different was making itself known inside him, but it was not pride, honor, or fear that welled up within him. It was something new, something thrilling … and he dared allow himself to feel the full flush of something that he’d never felt before.

Hope.

And so it was, as General George Washington experienced something that perhaps no android in the history of the universe had ever experienced before, that the tank’s turret swung directly toward him and unleashed the full fury of its weaponry at exactly the point where he stood.

L
aura carefully steered the mech along the fuselage of the unknown vessel. It showed signs of heavy damage, there was no doubt about that. Collision lights and portholes were all dark. And, using the mech’s onboard scanning array, she noted fluctuating EM readings every now and then. The ship wasn’t dead, but it was hard to tell how badly damaged she truly was.

Laura’s sensors also detected a small tank-like vehicle moving around on the other side of the ship. What exactly was it? It didn’t have much firepower compared to the mech. That, at least, was a relief.

Laura reminded Cal that engagement was forbidden, so the tank had to be avoided for now. Instead, they began to scan for any identification markings that might be visible. It didn’t take long. As they approached the rear thrusters, a name could be seen on the stern hull plating. It read,
Prometheus
.

“Wait a minute … ,” Cal said, taking a look at his on-board database. “That name sounds familiar to me.”

Laura strained her neck to see more as she thrust them further down the hull. “Well … it doesn’t look like any kind of Federation military vessel, that’s for sure. Maybe it’s a cargo vessel of some kind.”

“Uh oh,” said Cal, looking at some screens.

“What?”

“It’s not for cargo. It’s a scientific research vessel.”

“Well … that doesn’t sound so threatening.”

Cal hit a few vu-screen controls and read down a long page of text. “I
do
know this ship. It’s the research vessel of Dr. Harla Zox, a rather infamous character in the research for Omega Space.”

“So … you knew the guy?”

Cal tried to remember. “I ran into him years ago. He was quite old and sick, but had lots of attitude. Called me an idiot.”

“You? About what?”

“For starters, the name of Omega Space. He called it Gamma.”

“What do you mean?”

“We named Omega Space based on papers published by some stuffed shirt GalFed researchers. I didn’t get very far with Zox. After using the name Omega, he said some rather unsympathetic things about my intellect and then hobbled away.”

“That’s funny. What happened afterwards?”

“Nothing,” Cal replied, gazing at the hull for more clues. “He became very quiet after that, and no one saw him at any conference since. Some think he just died.”

Laura chuckled. “Hey, maybe he just succeeded. Got here before us and then got trapped. Or maybe he’s just laying dead somewhere inside. Rotting.”

“Hmmm … it’s certainly possible. And that would explain the bad shape the
Prometheus
is in.”

Laura frowned. “Maybe. We could check it out.”

Cal pointed toward the ship. “I see a manual entryway high up on the starboard side, near one of their primary sensor arrays. Let’s try to open it and take a look. It would be easy to get answers if I could jack into their system.”

Laura considered that a few moments. “I don’t know, Cal. Northern said absolutely no engagement.”

“But there’s no other way to be sure.”

“We don’t actually know what’s waiting for us in there.”

“Look, at this point we don’t have much more than a few images and a name. We have to at least try and extract some hard data. That sensor array is the safest source. Don’t you agree?”

“I don’t know … ”

“Just one quick peek, Laura. If I can’t download any data, then I’ll give up and we can came back later with more equipment to do the job.”

Laura checked her heads-up tactical vu-screens and reconfirmed any activity along the hull. The small vehicle was still on the other side of the ship and seemed to be stationary. Other than that—nothing. On top of that, Cal did say it was a research vessel. How dangerous could that be?

Seeing no immediate threat, Laura pulled next to the door and used the mech’s articulated finger tips to pull up the emergency release lever that opened a large entry hatch.

Once inside, the airlock cycled—luckily it still worked—and allowed them access inside. Looking around the dark access corridor, Cal began searching for sensor array ports.

“This will only take a few moments,” said Cal, using the mech’s second set of smaller arms to open wall coverings.

Laura was on alert. Her gut feeling was to assume the worst. And even though the
Prometheus
seemed inactive, she had a strange suspicion that things might just change. She just couldn’t prove it.

I
t was hard to tell if Frin’ral were angry. Shontill had learned to do it in a way that his human crewmates couldn’t understand. But as Tars Northern, Chivon Lasster, and Dr. Michael Mish stood before the Frin’ral Council, they felt rather small and uncertain about the reception they were now getting. More than one hundred of Shontill’s kind sat motionless in a partly lopsided auditorium. All their eyes—and other sensory organs—were riveted on Northern as he spoke about their investigation of the other ship.

“Why did you do this without consulting us first?” said the lead Frin’ral, speaking from a raised pedestal.

Northern was frustrated. “It’s just a reconnaissance mission.”

“We cannot allow you to endanger our peaceful existence. Our solitude within Omega Space has guaranteed our safety, but we cannot risk—”

Mish stepped forward. “But solitude is exactly what you don’t have anymore.”

All the Frin’ral looked at Mish, his stoic face looking over the audience for sympathy as his voice reverberated off the walls of the auditorium.

Mish continued, “Since you were not able to ascertain the entry of another vessel into Omega Space, it is clear you cannot guarantee your borders with Normal Space. It was only a matter of time before the Jaxdron and/or the Federation developed the technology to enter your space. We are nothing more than messengers of your inevitable future.”

Murmurings wafted throughout the hall, along with some rather odd smells. The Frin’ral were not happy with Mish’s unwelcome news, though prophetic they may have been. Nor did all agree that Omega Space could be penetrated so soon. The leader spread his long tentacle-like arms to gather the attention of all. When the hall was again silent, he looked at the three humans, in what seemed to be an unhappy state.

He said, “There is much doubt that the Federation will ever achieve access.”

Chivon took a step forward. It was clear that she was needed.

“I’m Chivon Lasster, formerly a Friend of the Federation. I worked closely with Overfriend Arnal Zarpfrin, and can assure you that the Federation was getting very close to the creation of an Omega Space portal.”

More murmuring erupted. The leader, with some effort, once again calmed the group.

“But that isn’t your greatest fear,” Chivon said, her voice forceful and unrelenting. “Having left the Federation, I feel that an unholy alliance between clandestine groups of both Jaxdron and Federation are now working together to invade Omega Space. If you have assumed that Humanity’s war against the Jaxdron will slow the pace of discovery, you would be very wrong. I urge you to consider arming yourselves, as a defense against trespassers if nothing else.”

The leader looked at Shontill and said, “Is this true?”

Shontill stood from his seat. He wasn’t formally part of the Frin’ral Council, but did enjoy an honorary position as distinguished guest and person of exalted reputation.

“Yes,” Shontill said. “I believe Friend Lasster and the others are telling us what they believe to be true.”

Nodding, the Leader looked back at Northern. “We will reconvene later and consider the testimony that has been given here today.”

“Thank you,” Northern replied.

“But we must still insist that you remain in our space until we provide you permission to leave, and do not take any aggressive action without first addressing the Council. I must ask for your assurance that your reconnaissance team will not provoke any hostility.”

“I have given the mission lead strict orders,” Northern replied. “I can assure you—they will not engage under any circumstances.”

Standing before the Leader of the Frin’ral, Northern understood that trust was forged between captain and crew under these types of circumstances. He had every faith in Laura to carry out the mission. She wouldn’t let him down.

But even as Northern stood confidently before the Leader, Chivon and Dr. Mish leaned furtively toward him from either side and whispered:

“I wouldn’t bet my life on that,” said Chivon.

“I estimate a high probability of error,” said Mish.

Looking askance at both, Northern sneered. “Oh ye of little faith … ”

“P
owering up weapons,” Laura said, her hands quickly flipping off all the safeties on her screen. “I’ve got a bad feeling about this.”

Cal continued to play with exposed wiring from the sensor array access port. “Relax, Laura. I’ve almost got it … ”

Laura looked around the cold, dark corridor. True, nothing showed up on her scanner to alert them to danger. But for some reason she just couldn’t get the nagging feeling out of her head that there was some other presence …

… watching them.

Maybe, she thought, her instruments were faulty. Nothing beats a good pair of cybernetically enhanced eyes. She turned the mech to get a better view down the corridor and activated the high-intensity lights.

Nothing.

Laura sighed. Maybe she was just imagining things, as Cal suggested. But just in case, she unslung one of the big rifles, and pointed it around herself in a 360-degree sweep of the room. It was a 500-megawatt multi-phase proton rifle. Very nice, she thought, and just the thing one uses to say “Howdy Doody!” if things get hot.

“Almost there, Laura,” Cal reminded her. “I’ve just got to get some power into the local interface and then see if I can download anything from—”

That’s when the first burst of proton fire hit them. The beams struck the clear plating that covered their translucent cockpit, and plasma burst around them like grenade eggs slamming against a wall.

Laura brought the rifle down and took aim, but to her astonishment nothing showed up on her sights. Damn! Where were the attackers? Laura took a few shots just for the hell of it, but to no effect.

More fire ensued, and it was clear that things weren’t improving.

Cal yelled, “I thought you weren’t supposed to engage!”

“It’s a little late for that!” Laura spat, pulling out a plasma grenade launcher.

The fire became more intense. It almost seemed like the unseen enemy was testing the mech’s armor with increasingly heavier artillery, just to see what it would take to bring them down.

“Move away from the fire,” Cal ordered, frantically looked for an escape route. “Let’s use the access door we came in!”

Laura turned the mech and began a full-out dash down the small dark corridor. She didn’t like doing this because it was probably just what the enemy wanted, but what was the choice? Cowering in a corner waiting to be smoked out by plasma grenades? Looking to her left, she scanned the wall to see if there was space on the other side that they could somehow cut their way to. But it was too late! Just ahead, the dark corridor began to glow. She realized instantly what it was: the barrel of a large cannon.

“Uh oh,” said Cal.

Laura looked down, angrily. “You know, you’ve been saying that a lot today.”

The muzzle flashed, but they never heard the blast.