“What the fuck you mean?” Kincaid said, “Nobody else fucking has it. If Earth gets it first, then the rest of those creepy crawlies out there will have to start bowing down to us.”
“No, another race discovered it first,” I said, “And they had a working prototype, too.”
Kincaid snorted. “Yeah, right. If there was such a ship, the SixUnion aliens would be all over–” his voice trailed off, a faraway look in his eyes. “Shit.”
I nodded. "Yeah, smeared on the side of a mountain in New Mexico."
Forty-Two
We stopped by the side of the road to argue where to go. While the Grum’s diesel engine rattled and filled the cabin with fumes, Kincaid insisted we should go back to the base. No one else agreed with him. The problem was, no one else could agree on any place else. The goon said we should head for Nevada and go to Las Vegas. Amber thought we could go to Portland, Oregon. There’s lots of strange people there, she said, you’d fit right in.
There was no safe place to go. Either the military or the aliens would find us eventually.
Clair finally spoke up. I hadn’t noticed her sitting up front beside Liz. She had stayed silent while the rest of us bickered. In a rare spot of silence, she spoke up.
“We need time to think,” she said, “And a place to do it.”
Amber and Liz looked at her expectantly. It hit me that quiet Clair was the leader of their little group.
“You got a fucking place for that?” Kincaid asked.
Clair strummed her guitar. Somehow she had hung on to it. "As a matter of fact, I do."
Forty-Three
Two hours later we were grinding up a steep grade in the Sacramento mountains east of Alamogordo. It had been a nerve-wracking drive. The sun had come up and we were out in broad daylight by the time we reached Alamogordo. The goon told me to calm down. People in the town were used to seeing Grums running around.
We stopped briefly to fill the Grum’s giant fuel tank. The goon grudgingly gave us a wad of cash to pay for it. Amber ran over to a restaurant and got a huge bag of breakfast burritos.
I tore into the first burrito like I hadn’t eaten for days. I barely tasted it. By the third one, I could slow down enough to appreciate the spicy Chorizo mixed with eggs, potatoes, and of course, fresh green chilies. I sighed, closing my eyes and savoring it. I love New Mexico food.
After the fifth burrito, my dizziness faded and I let out a huge belch. Everyone was looking at me. Where is he putting it? Liz asked. What’s a dead guy eating for? the goon asked.
We headed for the mountains and Liz’s secret hideout. As we went up the dusty dirt road, past juniper bushes and spruce trees, I thought of the last time I was in these mountains. Had it only been a couple days ago? I hoped there wouldn’t be any hoverjets or Stickmen around this time.
“There, take that road,” Clair said. She pointed to a narrow gap in between some juniper bushes.
Liz maneuvered the big Grum into the gap. It bounced and groaned over the rocks.
“Is there a fucking road here?” Kincaid asked.
“Sort of,” Clair said.
“Where are we going, Clair?” Amber asked.
“You’ll see.”
I started to get a bad feeling about this. Was she leading us into some kind of trap? Was she an alien in disguise?
I pushed those thoughts aside. Her friends would have known if she was an alien, right?
Liz steered the Grum around a large rock outcropping. Dead ahead was a big stand of tall spruce trees. Nestled underneath them, against a sheer rock wall was a small, stone cabin.
“What is this place?” Liz asked.
“It’s where my grandfather lives,” Clair said, “Park the truck in the cave over there.”
Liz backed the Grum into the mouth of the cave. It was just barely tall enough to fit the large military vehicle. Liz turned the engine off and crawled over the seats into the back.
“What do we do about him?” she asked, pointing to the goon.
“You better take me with you,” he said, “Otherwise I’ll escape. Oops, I already have.”
He moved fast. His hand shot out to grab Kincaid’s neck. Kincaid yelped. His fingers clawed at the hand around his neck.
“Give me the blaster, or I’ll break his neck,” the goon said.
I yawned. “Whatever,” I said. I looked to Clair, “So why does your grandfather live up here?”
“Hey!” the goon said, “Didn’t you hear me?”
“I heard you, I just don’t care,” I said.
“You little fuck,” Kincaid said, his voice barely more than a gurgle.
The goon’s eyes went to each of us in turn. He let go of Kincaid and eased back into his seat. “I had a bad feeling about this job from the beginning,” he said.
I let out a slow breath. The goon couldn't see it, but my hands were shaking. Liz and Amber had the goon's plasma pistols. The one Amber held had been pointed at the back of the seat. Right where the goon had been.
I don’t think the goon would have regenerated.
“My grandfather doesn’t like people,” Clair said, “Or aliens. Or the military. He thinks they’re all out to get him.”
I thought about that for the moment. “So you brought people, in a military truck, who have been working with aliens up to his secret cabin?”
“It’s okay. He loves me,” she said.
“Does he have weapons?” I asked.
“Some. Don’t worry, he’s just a big teddy bear when you get to know him,” she said.
“Maybe you should get out first,” Liz said.
Clair rolled her eyes.
But she got out first.
We watched her go up to the cabin and knock. The door opened and she went inside.
“How long should we wait?” Amber asked.
“Until she comes out with a big smile on her face,” Liz said.
“Hey,” Kincaid said, “Where’d the big guy go?”
I whipped around. The goon was gone. How the hell had he slipped out?
“Where are the guns?” I asked.
Liz and Amber held up the plasma pistols. Okay, so he didn’t have any lethal weapons. At least not yet. I crawled over the seat. The canvas back flap was loose. He must have slipped out when Clair did. We hadn’t seen him come out of the cave. So he was either under the truck or deeper in the cave.
“Is there a flashlight in this thing?” I asked.
Liz and Amber rummaged around. They found a lighter. I took it, feeling stupid. I moved to the back opening.
“What are you doing?” Kincaid asked.
“I’m going to go look for him,” I said, “He knows where we are. He could bring his friends here.”
He could bring Julie here. Which would be even worse. I didn’t want to find out how many ways she could kill me.
“Do you want a gun?” Amber asked.
I looked at the pistol in her hand. I did, but I didn’t.
“No, I’ll be okay,” I said.
I climbed out of the back of the vehicle. Small rocks and sand crunched under my feet. The cave stank of diesel fumes and something else. An animal smell I couldn’t quite identify. I fumbled at the lighter’s wheel. I wasn’t afraid of the goon attacking me. It wasn’t like he could kill me. He didn’t even have a plasma blaster this time.
I flicked the lighter. A spark and then a flame.
A crunch of gravel. I looked up.
The goon, wild-eyed. Rock in hand, flying at my head.
Crunch. Bright light.
Pain.
Falling.
Damnit.
Forty-Four
Atmosphere rushed out of the destroyed bridge of my starship. Then the stardrive activated and everything froze. I don't know how long the jump lasted. It seemed like an eternity. I had awareness, though there was only a flat, gray light. I could see the hole in the side of the cabin. Jagged chunks of hull rimmed it. Pieces of control panels hovered in mid-air.
My
beautiful golden warrior...
Streamers of her blood hung from her lacerated body, pointing to the void. Her face was turned from me.
I wanted to reach out and hold her to me, but the lattice held me fast. I knew the violence wasn’t done. The moment we left the lattice, the void would try to finish us off.
As soon as I had the thought, the lattice released us.
Air screamed out of the cabin. My warrior’s body flopped against the restraints on her seat. I forced my hands to the controls.
A blue-green planet filled the screen. We plummeted into the atmosphere. I pounded the controls, trying to make the ship fight her fiery fall.
It was no use.
The ground rushed to meet us.
Forty-Five
My head hurt. A lot.
I opened my eyes. A rough wooden roof hung above me. Wherever I was, it smelled like it was occupied by someone who didn't believe infrequent bathing. I raised my hand to my head. I yelped when my fingers found a tender depression on my skull.
“You’re too fucking stupid to live, you know that?” Kincaid said.
I groaned. “Did he get away?” I asked.
“Sure as fuck he did,” Kincaid said, “He ran down the mountain like his fucking ass was on fire.”
I sat up. I was on a floor. No bed for idiots who kept getting killed apparently. The floor was rudimentary at best. Rough, worn wood planks. A black potbellied stove sat in the corner. A white, potbellied old guy sat in a rocking chair next to it. A lush, gray beard flowed down to his belly. Dark eyes glittered at me from under bushy white eyebrows.
Those dark eyes didn’t seem happy to be seeing me. I couldn’t blame him. These days I seemed to be Trouble. With a capital T.
I broke eye contact with the old codger and looked around. The small cabin didn't have much. A rough wooden table and chair. A large bookcase ran along one wall, filled with books. A narrow bed occupied one corner. A big, metal cabinet stood in another corner. The walls were carefully stacked stones, without any gaps between them.
The whole thing had rustic, crazy mountain man cabin written all over it. All it needed was a battered old manual typewriter so he could type up his manifesto.
Clair sat at the table, the ever-present guitar in her lap. Kincaid paced. The old man just sat there like a furry statue. Only his eyes showed any life.
“Where are Liz and Amber?” I asked.
“They took the truck and went after the big guy,” Kincaid said.
I groaned and rubbed my aching head. “That guy is a trained mercenary,” I said, “He’ll kill them.”
“Don’t worry about them,” Clair said. She strummed her guitar, picked out a soothing tune. “They can take care of themselves.”
I shook my head. More people put in danger because of me. What was I doing? If I knew which side was the right side I’d just give myself up. But I didn’t know who was right.
The military, the Stickmen, and their SixUnion allies. The Dons. Julie and whoever else she was working for. Kincaid. None of them seemed...worthy.
I stopped. That seemed like an odd thought. What were they supposed to be worthy of? Was it the star drive information that was embedded in me? How was anyone supposed to get it out of me?
“How are the aliens going to get this thing out of me?” I asked Kincaid.
He stopped his pacing and gave me a hard stare. “I have no fucking idea,” he said, “We had no idea it could do that. We didn’t even know for sure what it was. Still don’t.”
I stood up. I felt a little dizzy, but otherwise all right. Amazingly. Maybe the little bots in me were helping after all.
“I know what it is,” I said.
Kincaid’s eyes went wide. “What!” He grabbed my arm. “What is it? What does it do?”
“It’s the knowledge of an entire race,” I said, “Most of which I suspect isn’t very useful. But it does have one thing that can make a whole lot of trouble if just one race gets it.”
Kincaid shook my arm. “What is it? Come on, fucking tell me already.”
“It’s faster than light travel,” I said, “Much faster. I’m betting there are complete plans for the drive in there somewhere.”
Kincaid rubbed his fuzzy face. “You can access this information?”
I shook my head. “Not directly,” I said, “Though, I think the thing is working on making connections so I can. I’ve been getting glimpses of stuff.”
I didn’t tell them the glimpses only came when someone killed me or knocked me out. I didn’t want to give him any ideas.
Kincaid continued to stroke his chin, giving me a studious look. “The makers those fucking yahoos put in you must have interacted with the object,” he shook his head, “We’ve been trying to figure that thing out for years, and you just fucking stumble on it. What a joke. We thought it was some alien doodad from the crash site. Now it’s the key to opening up the galaxy to us.”
The old man in the corner slapped his hand on the arm of his chair. We both looked at him. He rose from his seat. Clair stopped strumming her guitar.
“Grampa? What is it?” she asked.
He walked over to me. Not an old man shuffle, but a strong, deliberate walk. The old man was taller than I thought, and broad-shouldered, too. His hands were large, his arms thick under his baggy denim shirt.
Up close he smelled of sweat and tobacco. His dark eyes locked onto mine.
“You touched the thing they took from the crash site, didn’t you?” he said.
“What do you know about it?” Kincaid asked.
He didn’t look at Kincaid. He stared at me.
“I was there,” he said, “I found it.”
“Holy crap, that was you?” Kincaid asked, “That was decades ago. You must be a hundred and something by now.”
“I’m a hundred and ten years old, and I can still kick your ass six ways from Sunday,” the old man said, “Now I asked you a question. Did you touch that thing?”
I searched the old man’s eyes. He was the miner who found the crashed ship? What were the odds of us ending up at his cabin? Apparently around a hundred percent.
“Yes, I touched it,” I said, “I think lots of people have touched it over the years.”
He took a step closer. He was bigger than me. By a lot. I wanted to retreat from his bulk, but I made myself stand my ground. Even if, technically, it was his ground I stood on.
“Did you see anything?” he asked, “Did it talk to you?”
I looked into his hard eyes. “What did it tell you?” I asked.
His eyes flickered, then he looked away. “It showed me death. Death and more death. Worlds of it. And it told me...”
His voice trailed off, his eyes unfocused. I waited for him to continue, my breath held. There wasn’t a sound in the cabin.
“What did it tell you?” I asked.
“It told me to give it to people of authority,” he said, “I took it to Holloman, gave it to the general in charge. Buckson was his name. He had me show them the place where I found it. They said they were going to take my claim. I told them to pay me for it. Buckson just laughed at me. Said my payment would be a little room in a federal prison if I made any trouble or said anything.”
The old man turned and went back to his chair. He sat back down, folding his hands over his belly.
“I stayed close, though,” he said, “Something told me I wasn’t done with that thing. It’s in you, isn’t it? I can feel its presence.”
I glanced at Kincaid. He stroked his beard so hard I thought he was going to rub it off. He took a step toward the old man.
“Sir, I don’t think we’ve been introduced. I’m Dr. Houston Kincaid, with Sandia National Labs up in Albuquerque. I’ve been working with the government to examine the object for a while and–”
"It's got you, too," the old man said, "I can feel it in you too, though not as bad as the boy there."
Kincaid’s head went back like he’d been slapped. “What?”
> The old man's dark eyes glittered. With amusement or anger, I couldn't tell with the thick beard covering the rest of his face.
“Anyone who touches it gets a piece of it,” the old man said, “There must be a lot of them by now. All of them walking around, getting their strings pulled. I bet you’re working on something real important, right? Probably something to do with space.”
Kincaid swallowed. “How did you know?”
The old man chuckled. “Because that’s what the thing wants you to do,” he said, “It’s got an agenda. It’s got a plan.”
Suddenly I felt cold. The old man’s words struck me as true. I could feel it down to my bones. The thing had worked its way inside me, but why? Why had it chosen me?
“Do you have any evidence of this, sir?” Kincaid asked. It was the longest I’d heard Kincaid go without using the f-word. Ever.
“Sure, you two idjits are standing here in my cabin,” he said, “I always knew it would come back to me.”
“Why?” I asked, “Why would it come back to you.”
“Because I took something else from the wreck,” he said.
Kincaid and I both stepped forward. “What? What did you take?” Kincaid said.
The cabin door exploded.
Forty-Six
Chunks of wood pelted me. The force of the blast threw me across the room. I hit the stone wall hard and crumpled to the floor.
My head rang. Everything smelled of burning wood.
I'd been standing with my back to the cabin door and had taken the worst of the blast.
I heard the old man, Clair’s grandfather, shouting. Shots rang out.
I rolled over. Tried to stand. Pain blanked my vision for a moment. I didn’t make it all the way up. My right leg decided to go on siesta and crumpled under me.
A figure in black armor loomed over me. He had an old-fashioned projectile rifle in his hands. The guy's helmet flowed away from his face, and I had to change my assumption.
The figure in the black armor was Julie.
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