Battle Cruiser (29 page)

“They were one of the last groups to leave Earth. They were of Eastern European stock, as I understand it. Because of the Cataclysm, they weren’t able to find their way to their target world. They wandered, spurned by other colonies, until they found a dim red dwarf with a planet barely able to support life.”

“What kind of climate do they have?”

“The world is small and murky. Subtropical, I think you’d call it. But the climate isn’t the trouble. The planet was overgrown with organics when they got there.”

“Plants? Animals?”

“Yes, and they’re all highly toxic to Basics. The atmosphere was dangerous too, full of heavy metals due to frequent violent volcanic eruptions.”

“That does sound grim,” I said. “I suppose they adapted their bodies to survive.”

“Yes, drastically. They started off with cybernetic alterations. In time, the cybernetics became dominant, and their flesh became optional. Some don’t bother to grow it anymore, except for sensory organs and sub-brains.”

I tried to envision a race of cybernetic creatures that were partly human but mostly machine. They sounded unpleasant in the extreme.

“The key to understanding them is to accept they are all unique blends of machine and flesh,” Zye went on. “They design and redesign themselves to fit their missions. One Stroj might appear as a robot. Another might have only a few parts that are machine-based. They’re all slightly different in configuration. To them, flesh is like clothing to a Basic. Most importantly, they can subsume the flesh of a person and take it over—as you or I might put on a jacket.”

“I see…” my father said, and I repeated his words to Zye. “How are such strange beings operating in our midst?”

“They can mimic other races. No colony is safe from their spies. They’re masters of disguise.”

Lifting a hand, I stopped the conversation. “I’ve had a sudden thought,” I said. “Before Singh ordered me out on the deep-orbit mission to find the Beta battle cruiser, I apprehended a smuggler over Antarctica. Singh tried to stop me, but I persisted and caught the man. He behaved strangely, and he had in his possession a number of Beta embryos in tubes. He’d clearly stolen them from
Defiant
.”

Zye was upset. “Did you execute him?”

“No…Captain Singh didn’t even want me to chase him down. He said the embryos were to be sold to the miners. I was forced to let him go.”

“We must find him!” Zye burst out.

“We will, Zye. We will,” I said with all the certainty I could muster.

“William,” my father said inside my head. “I’m going to disconnect and make inquiries. I want you to come home immediately. We’ll talk face to face.”

“Father, I’m returning to CENTCOM. I report to Admiral Cunningham now, remember?”

“I’ll make inquiries,” he repeated cryptically.

The channel closed, and I turned to Zye. “He’s gone.”

“That’s a relief,” she said. “I find it disturbing to have two males looking at me with a single pair of eyes.”

Before we reached CENTCOM, Admiral Cunningham contacted me.

“Yes, Admiral?” I answered.

Zye looked at me and rolled her eyes. I was staring off into space again.

“Commander Sparhawk,” Cunningham said in an irritated tone. “There’s been a change of plans. I want you to proceed to House Sparhawk and brief Servant Sparhawk in person.”

I frowned. Clearly, my father had been throwing his weight around.

“Admiral,” I said. “I’m a guardsman first and foremost. I would like to report personally to
you
.”

“It’s a reasonable request, but it puts me in a delicate position.”

“How so?”

“Must I spell out the situation to you?” she asked. Then she sighed. “I see that I must. Your father is in charge of the appropriations committee. He’s long stood in opposition to the Guard, keeping our budgetary requirements from being met. If he were to change his mind on that topic, in light of these new developments…”

“I see,” I said, and I
did
see. My father had contacted her and either threatened or offered to reward her—it was one and the same among the political class. “The avoidance of this type of situation was precisely why I joined the Guard.”

“A noble ambition,” she said without an ounce of sarcasm. “But we’re all forced to live within the boundaries of certain realities. And as you, yourself have made quite clear, we are once again no longer alone in the universe.”

“Very well,” I said. “I’ll do as you ask. But first let me relay to you what I’ve learned.”

At length, I discussed the presence of the Stroj, their apparent violation of our star system, and their infiltration into our midst.

“I’m upset to learn these details,” Cunningham said when I finished, “but I’m not surprised. There have been a number of odd events. The idea that some kind of outside influence has been behind these incidents goes a long way toward explaining them.”

“Glad I could be of assistance, Madam. We must find a way to detect these Stroj infiltrators and catch them.”

“Agreed. Now, return to your father at House Sparhawk. That’s an order.”

Redirecting the air car onto a new course, we soon landed at House Sparhawk. My mother greeted me with enthusiasm on the pad—but she seemed alarmed by my apparent body guard.

“Who is this…?” she asked.

“Mother, this is Zye, a Beta. She’s a friend and a loyal crew member.”

After the introductions were made, I took Zye to meet my father in person.

The old man looked to be in bad shape. He was wearing an oxygen mask, and tendrils of tubing crisscrossed his prone form.

“You didn’t look this bad in the projections you sent me,” I protested.

“No, sorry. I edit all the impressions and even the nerve-feeds that I send out. I’d stand a chance of losing my chairmanship if I let anyone see how seriously ill I really am.”

“Poison?” Zye asked, leaning forward in concern. “Stroj poison?”

“Yes,” my father said, sighing. “That’s what it must be. Ever since that wicked machine cut me.”

“It’s not exactly a machine,” Zye said. “Not in the traditional sense. It’s a hybrid form. Alive and dead at the same time.”

“Yes, well, whatever poison it used is killing me.”

“Have you tried an EMP burst?” Zye asked.

My father nodded. “The nanites seem to be shielded.”

“Then you must move on to more extreme measures,” she advised. “Stroj poison is always fatal if unchecked.”

“What do you suggest?”

“Electric shock. Two thousand volts should be sufficient.”

“At what amperage?” my father asked dubiously.

“Five amps should be do it. A duration of approximately ten seconds is required.”

My father’s eyes widened. He looked in my direction.

“Is this your way of getting your inheritance early? I’ll surely die!”

“Resuscitation is generally needed afterward,” Zye admitted. “But tissue damage is minimal with proper grounding.”

My father suffered a bout of coughing after that. His coughs were wet and thick. I saw blood at the corners of his mouth when he finished. With a trembling hand, he reached up to wipe at them with a cloth.

“All right,” he said. “None of my physicians have managed to do a thing. They’ve prodded and irradiated me half-to-death. Their latest scheme was to attempt a reprogramming of the swarm by injecting fresh nanites to infect the rest.”

Zye shook her head. “We’ve tried that. Stroj poisons are resistant to such techniques.”

Father heaved a sigh. He summoned engineers and explained what needed to be done. After arguing with his medical staff, he ordered them all to leave until the procedure was over.

As engineers wired his pale wrists with cuffs and cords, he looked at me squarely.

“Sparhawk the Younger,” he said. “In a way, I’m unsurprised to find you in the midst of all this. I’d long believed you were a failed clone, a mismatch, but now it seems that you
are
like me. You’ve simply chosen a different organization to strive within.”

“Father, it sounds like you might come to accept my decision to join the Guard?”

“Never,” he said, “but I might learn to live with it eventually. We’ll need good men in powerful ships if even half the things this Beta has told us are true.”

At last, the engineers were finished. We were ushered to a safe distance before the transformer was connected to the contacts.

I nodded to my father, and he nodded back.

Then, they flipped the switch.

-40-

It would be fair to say that my father and I had never been close. But in that moment, as I watched him die thrashing about in agony, I felt kinship with him.

His face was very similar to my own, after all, if many years older. His mouth opened as the voltage hummed and surged, and some random frequency of the alternating current must have matched that which causes fine muscular movement. His eyes were blinking open and closed very rapidly, as if a machine were driving them.

“That’s enough,” Zye said.

“You said fifteen seconds,” I pointed out.

“Yes—but he’s already dead.”

They killed the power, and the technicians fled. In their place, a squad of scandalized doctors and nurses rushed to replace them. They cast glares in our direction.

“What was the point of that?” demanded the head physician. “You might have set his hair on fire!”

“It wasn’t perfectly done,” Zye admitted. “But he has either been cured or his death has been hastened. It’s up to you which it will be.”

I was too upset to speak, but I maintained a rigid expression. Nothing less was expected of a member of the Sparhawk household under such circumstances.

We watched as they worked on Father for several minutes. His breathing and pulse were reestablished, but they were artificially maintained. His brain wasn’t providing his body with nerve impulses. They were being delivered through emergency implants that sat here and there on his body like glimmering leaches.

“His internal implant has melted,” complained a doctor. “He’ll need a new one.”

“That can wait,” I said.

The head physician approached me with an expression of distaste. “As strange as it may seem, you’re in charge of the House now, William the Younger. What are your orders?”

“Revive my father,” I commanded without hesitation.

“We’re trying. We might succeed, or fail—or he might turn out to have been reduced to a vegetative state. In any case, as long as he’s unconscious you’re the Servant of House Sparhawk.”

My face tightened. This was a moment I’d never looked forward to, and I’d certainly never expected it to come so soon.

Zye looked confused. “You’re taking over for your father? I expected there would be a new election.”

I regarded her quizzically. “Elections for open seats are extremely rare. Ascendancy to power as a Public Servant is a life-long appointment.”

“Your system of governance is hereditary?” Zye asked. “I hadn’t learned that in my studies.”

“You’re mistaken,” I said. “My father was
elected
, not born into the position.”

“And what about you? What’s your claim to power based upon?”

“Our legal scholars reasoned long ago that since I’m a copy of him, I was essentially, by inference, elected as well.”

“But you’re not even a pure clone!”

“Pure clones are illegal here.”

Zye stared at me for several seconds, then she did something I’d never seen her do before. She laughed. It was an odd, clipped sound. Almost as if she were imitating a person laughing.

“What’s amusing?” I asked.

“You Basics are delusional,” she said. “Your governmental system is hereditary, but you hide behind technicalities.”

I shrugged, losing interest in the topic. “In any case, that’s how it works on Earth.”

“What about your mother?” she asked. “Isn’t she the head of the House before you?”

“My father was elected as a Public Servant long ago,” I explained. “My mother never ran for that office. As I’m my father’s heir, the duty falls to me. My mother has her accounts and properties—but no political power.”

“Bizarre,” Zye said under her breath.

“Let’s go. We must inform Mother personally.”

We left the bustling medical people to their grim work. They were poking fresh needles into my father’s gray flesh, and I didn’t want to watch any further.

Mother was understandably distraught. At least she didn’t blame me.

“It was the only way? Shocking him to death?”

“Yes,” I admitted, “he did die. But if we can revive him, he should begin healing.”

She shook her head. “It’s so horrible. Who are these Stroj creatures? Why do they want to come here and bother us?”

“They’re predatory,” Zye said. “They believe in a strict evolutionary doctrine. As they’re masterful adapters, they consider themselves superior forms of sentience.”

“Superior? According to whom?”

“The cosmos. If they can slay or subjugate all others they encounter, they feel they will have proven their point. We Betas, however, have thus far beaten them back.”

There was a certain note of pride in Zye’s voice. My mother looked her over closely.

“You stopped them—but other worlds haven’t. Is that right?”

“Yes.”

“How many other worlds have been conquered?”

Zye shrugged. “The Stroj aren’t forthcoming. They tell us nothing other than lies and platitudes. We have directly witnessed three worlds fall to their aggression, however.”

“What happens to these worlds?” I asked. “When they surrender?”

Zye stared at us. “Isn’t that obvious? The civilians are consumed by the Stroj, after the fighters die. The fallen are like clothes of flesh for the Stroj. They dress themselves with the dead, as a hunter might clothe himself with the skins of animals.”

My mother nodded. She looked worn and beaten. I embraced her, and she returned the hug with feeling. It was a rare moment for both of us.

Zye watched us in quiet curiosity. Betas clearly didn’t hug one another.

“You must excuse our emotionalism,” Mother told her. “We’re not accustomed to such grim circumstances.”

“Yes,” Zye agreed. “I’ve noticed that. Basics seem to have become soft and indolent due to years of isolation.”

“You’ll find the Guard is ready to defend Earth,” I said with a certainty that I didn’t feel. “We’ll rebuild. We’ll recruit. We’ll fill the skies with ships. We have more population than all the colonies combined, I’d bet.”

Deciding there was nothing further I could do at home, I headed for the roof. Numerous air cars awaited my orders. It was strange, not having to ask anyone’s permission to take whichever one I wanted.

I climbed into the back of the finest vehicle in my father’s fleet. It was a Duranto-95, in excellent condition. Zye climbed in beside me, and I ordered the driver to lift off.

“Where to, sir?” he asked.

“CENTCOM. We’re going to the offices of the Admiralty.”

We were whisked away into the sky with alarming acceleration. I was reminded of the power
Cutlass
had exerted when I’d pressed her.

“I feel compelled to point out, sir,” my driver said, “that everyone at CENTCOM is likely to have left for the day.”

“I’ll check,” I said, noting the westering sun outside the tinted windows.

After trying to contact Admiral Cunningham directly for several minutes, I sighed. The central office was open, but Cunningham had retired for the night. At least that indicated there weren’t any further emergencies.

“All right,” I said. “Head for the city.”

“Where are we going now?” Zye asked.

“I thought we might have dinner in Capital City.”

“Aren’t there kitchens at your home?”

“Of course. But you haven’t been able to enjoy much of Earth yet. I thought we could see the town.”

She thought that over. “Your father is on his deathbed. Don’t you care?”

My jaws clenched. “Of course I do,” I said, “but I can’t do anything about that. Do you want to see the city or not?”

“No,” she said.

This caught me by surprise. “You don’t? You aren’t curious about it?”

“I’d rather go back to our ship. I feel more at home there.”

Nodding, I thought I understood. Betas were ill-equipped for the spice of life. She might well be experiencing cultural shock. After all, for the last several years of her life, she’d been locked inside a cell in that ship.

“Okay, I’ll—just a moment.”

My implant was buzzing. With trepidation, I answered the call. Was my father dead or in a vegetative state? I didn’t think it could be possible that he’d recovered so quickly.

“William?” came a familiar voice.

I felt a wave of recognition and well-being. The voice belonged to Chloe.

“Chloe? Where are you?”

“I’m home.”

“No visuals?”

“Mother left the com system in a partially disabled state. It’s all I can do to get word out to you.”

My mind raced. “Chloe,” I said gently, “you do realize that with your mother disabled, you’re the head of House Astra.”

She was quiet for several seconds. “I hadn’t thought of that, but you’re right,” she said. “It’s strange, I’ve spent years being groomed for this moment, and yet now that it’s here, I don’t feel ready.”

“My point is you can bypass your mother’s security today—if you wish to.”

After a few moments, she appeared to me. She seemed to be in the back of my air car, sitting to Zye’s left.

“What’s your mother’s status?” I asked her.

Zye looked to her left, frowning. But of course, there was nothing there she could see. She crossed her arms in frustration. I wondered if she’d learned that gesture from Earthlings. I’d never seen her do it before.

“Mother’s condition is grave but improving. She’ll probably be conscious by morning.”

“What about nanites?” I asked. “Have they discovered an infection of microscopic bots in her bloodstream?”

“They did say something about it. But our physicians are very competent. Some might even say ruthless. They excised the affected organs. New ones are being grown and grafted.”

I gave a little shudder. It was horrible, but I now wished we’d had the foresight to do the same. If we’d done so, my father would not be on the edge of death now.

“My father is in a similar state,” I said. “There have been attacks on other Houses as well. I’ve been studying the news feeds. All over the world, Servants are being assassinated.”

“It’s the rock rats,” Chloe said with vehemence. “We should never ship them seeds again. Let them die out there when their hydroponics give out.”

“I’m not so sure the miners are the source of the problem,” I said. I proceeded to explain about the Stroj. Now and then, Zye threw in details, even though she couldn’t see or hear Chloe. She was learning.

Throughout the explanation, Chloe became increasingly apprehensive.

“Come see me,” she said at last. “I’ll let you in. Tonight, no one can stop us.”

I thought about that, and I realized she was right.

“All right,” I said. “We’re on our way.”

I closed the channel and directed the driver to House Astra. He said nothing, but merely veered onto the appropriate course.

Looking at the back of his head, I thought I noticed a familiar cant to it. The way his hair shone—it was almost a glossy black.

“Miles? Miles Tannish?” I asked. “Is that you?”

“It is indeed, sir,” he said.

“Why are you playing the part of a chauffeur?”

He shrugged. “You’re the Servant now, sir. You must be protected—whether you like it or not.”

I nodded and sat back in the plush seats, defeated.

“Where are we going?” Zye asked suspiciously.

“To the House of a friend,” I said.

“Chloe Astra?”

“Yes. She needs comforting.”

Zye glowered, but she didn’t ask any more about my goals. She probably knew what they were.

When the mountaintop mansion came into view below us, I reflected that being in charge of one’s own destiny now and then was a pleasant thing.