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Authors: B. V. Larson

Battle Cruiser (28 page)

BOOK: Battle Cruiser
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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.”

“So you withheld information? About a mutual enemy?”

She looked at me, puzzled. “I was not ordered to comply with the interrogators. Naturally, I withheld information.”

I let out a long sigh. “Who would you accept such orders from?”

“You, of course.”

Nodding and unsurprised, I recalled that Zye and I had been quickly separated after our return to Earth. They’d debriefed us separately, and quite politely. Apparently, their gentle treatment had been viewed with scorn by Zye.

“All right then,” I said. “From now on, Zye, cooperate with guardsmen. Answer their questions.”

“As you wish.”

The next hour consisted of an interrogation by House Astra security. I couldn’t blame them. I only wished Zye had been more forthcoming earlier.

The truth was we’d all been taken by surprise. Earth was only just coming to grips with the idea we were back in touch with other worlds. We’d thought of ourselves as singular and unique for so long…the colonies had almost faded into the status of myths.

At one point during the proceedings, Chloe came close to me, kissed me on the cheek and left. She wanted to go to the hospital on her estate, where her mother was in critical condition. It wasn’t the sort of ending to the evening I’d envisioned with her, but I urged her to go home.

I tried to plan my next step. Star Guard had to be informed about all of this. We’d thought someone on Earth had manufactured a robotic assassin and clothed it in human flesh—but we’d never suspected that colonist spies were the ones building these monstrosities.

“Captain,” I said, addressing the leader of the Astra security detail. “In my official capacity as an officer of Star Guard, I’m confiscating the corpse of the assassin. Please transport it to CENTCOM.”

She looked irritated, but nodded. “We’ll do it.”

“Zye, accompany me please.”

“Hold on,” the agent leader said. “We haven’t exonerated her as yet.”

“She’s a member of my crew. I’m not going to press charges against you for firing on her, and you’re not going to detain her and hinder our investigation. These creatures threaten our whole planet. That elevates the matter, and it’s officially under the jurisdiction of the Guard.”

Again, the captain looked annoyed, but she nodded.

Times were changing. Not too long ago, a personal security force leader might have stood up to a guardsman, confident that the machinery of government would back her up. The Guard had long been toothless and almost irrelevant.

Events were propelling us forward. Everyone could feel it. Earth had a threat from the skies again. Humanity needed to stand united, and we all knew we had to band together. Centralized authority was usually born from necessity, and this occasion was no different than countless similar moments in history.

“Zye, let’s go,” I said.

She loomed over my shoulder, and security people melted from our path as we strode from the scene. I was glad I’d turned on my blood filters some time ago. They were doing their job. By the time we reached CENTCOM, I’d only have a faint headache to remind me of my excesses.

We climbed into a hired air car. After a violent launch, I was impressed. The driver had taken my urging to rush seriously.

My implants buzzed in my head. Printed on my retina was the name of the caller: William Sparhawk, the Elder.

“Father?” I answered.

“William…” he said. “I hardly know what to say. How can you be involved in two tragic events within such a short span? The suggestion it’s all a coincidence strains credulity.”

His directness took me off-guard. A part of me had dared hope a congratulatory word had been earned. But my father wasn’t one to focus on the best elements. Instead, he tended to find the flaws in any effort.

“I take it you’re talking about two assassination attempts?”

“Yes, of course. Not to mention a rebellion in space. How is it you’re the center of this unrelenting sequence of disasters?”

The question annoyed me, but I had to admit he had a point. “Have there been any other assassinations of note? Any other signs of discord among the populace?”

“What a question…but of course, you’ve been out of touch. The answer is yes. We’ve had a number of labor riots. The cities are demanding better power rations, and the sea farming unions are on strike. Is that the sort of thing you mean?”

“Maybe. You see, according to the Beta colonist Zye, we’re under attack worldwide.”

“How so?”

I proceeded to relate Zye’s report on the Stroj. “These beings have shifted, according to her, from spying to sabotage. That indicates they’re prepping us for invasion.”

My father was the one who sat in stunned silence this time. He finally revealed himself to me, sending video to match the audio transmissions.

I was surprised at his appearance. He was still in medical garb. He was lying on his back in bed, staring up at the vid pick-up.

“You haven’t made a full recovery yet?” I asked.

“No…and keep the information quiet, will you? My rivals are already getting ideas.”

“Certainly. But what’s your condition, exactly?”

“There were certain toxins in the artificial being that attacked me. She injected me with mal-bots—nanites that are still rupturing cells throughout my body on a daily basis. Antibodies and surgical bots are doing battle with them in my guts at this very moment.”

“That would seem to indicate the assassination attempt came from a technologically advanced group,” I said.

“Connect me to this Zye person,” he demanded.

“I can’t,” I said. “She doesn’t have an implant.”

“Well then…can you forward your nerve data to me directly?”

“I’ll patch you into the feed.”

Performing this trick was a mental effort, but I was finally able to gain the attention of my implant’s processing core. It had a necessarily simplistic interface. Soon, the feed from my eyes and ears was being transmitted and reproduced with minor lag inside my father’s brain. Not everyone had an implant capable of such things, but being the heir to House Sparhawk did have its advantages.

Zye looked at me dubiously.

“Who am I talking to?” she asked. “You or your father?”

“Both, after a fashion,” I admitted. “We’re both listening.”

“So strange…” she said, clearly uncomfortable with the technology.

“Just forget my father is listening. Speak to me as if we were alone.”

“That’s not possible. You’ve just informed me we’re not.”

“I mean pretend—never mind.” I realized that she might not be imaginative enough to “pretend” anything, and besides, time was wasting. “Please make your report.”

“Very well. There are many colony worlds. Not all of them are in contact with one another. But one planet that has successfully attacked several others is possessed by a group known as the Stroj.”

“Tell me about them,” I prompted.

“They are no longer completely human. I think that’s at the basis of their difficulties with other human colonists. They don’t empathize with Basics such as you—or Betas like me, for that matter.”

“Basics?” my father said. Zye couldn’t hear his questions so I repeated query.

Zye looked at me quizzically for a moment. “Your father asked the question, correct?”

“Yes.”

“Bizarre… Basics are what colonists call Earthlings. You’re our basic stock. Some worlds still exist that are populated purely by Basics, but most have differentiated physically and culturally.”

“Go on. What about the Stroj?”

BOOK: Battle Cruiser
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