He was sure this was the last time he would be awake, alive. Tarragon was wrong, but in a dreadful way. As he faded off, he noticed the mechanical arms above him starting to move. It was a terrifying sight and the last he would ever truly see.
Chapter Three
The Web-Mind was old, very old—over a thousand years old, in fact. That did not mean it was stupid, slow or sluggish in the slightest. All of the original brain tissues had “died,” if that was the correct way to say it. Nothing lasted forever, not even the carefully tended tissues that gave it such masterful intelligence.
But that was fine. It was life, the way the universe operated. Entropy, even more than a government’s taxes, relentlessly ground onward. There was no escape from the Second Law of Thermodynamics, which said that things ran down; they decayed, going from order to disorder. Carefully tended brain tissue at last gave out, which meant the Web-Mind constantly needed fresh replacements.
The Web-Mind possessed its ancient memories from the war, but it did not possess any of the tissues or substances from that glorious time. Those had all been replaced before they wore out.
The Web-Mind remembered the glory, the vast expanse of the Cyborg Rule, which had reached far indeed before it had ebbed to this lonely location. Yes, here was a sad fact even for a great intelligence. To its knowledge, it was the last of the Web-Minds. It had hoped to find a Web-Mind alive on Avalon IV. All the indicators had pointed in that direction. Avalon IV was a proscribed planet kept off-limits by the damned Patrol of the Concord of Planets. But Marcus Cade had been inserted onto the surface. He’d been part of a carefully arranged plan. Something had gone wrong down there, however. There had been atomic destruction, meaning that even if the Avalon IV Web-Mind had existed, it no longer did. Damned Marcus Cade and his—
Not yet, not yet—it was getting ahead of itself.
For many drowsy centuries after the war, the Web-Mind had hibernated, carefully preserving its strength and mentality. It had waited, painfully and slowly waited for a few humans to come and investigate. It had built a handful of crude androids for just such an occasion.
Finally, sixty-four years ago, an exploration team had landed on the planet. The team had gotten away, however, before the Web-Mind could energize its androids. That had been agonizing. While they waited, the androids had used the last of the frozen brain tissues to restock the domes. If the humans took too long to land again—
But no, nineteen years ago, a colony ship had landed on the planet. That was nearly perfect. The androids had waited, sneaking around the edges, and snatched a few wayward children. The naughty little beasts had supplied fresh brain tissues, but nothing with which to fashion cyborg troopers. At last, the nearly defunct androids had captured five adult humans. Three had died inside the convertor as the Web-Mind discovered errors and malfunctions it had not realized existed. The last two became troopers, and that was the beginning of the end for the struggling colony world.
The colonists had reluctantly supplied bones, organs, reproductive eggs, sperm and wonderful brain tissues, living brain tissues to the New Order.
From them the Web-Mind learned about the Concord, the Patrol, the IPO and the terrible fear still lingering in the human worlds concerning cyborgs. It also learned that it had forgotten certain key technologies, one of them being how to create a new intelligence, a new Web-Mind. It could only restock its domes. Thus, the Web-Mind had moved ultra-cautiously, acting behind a front, a supposed tech company, weaving a web of deceit and painfully stockpiling supplies for its grand design.
The Web-Mind had learned much about this new era, although it realized it needed to know more, much more. The cyborgs had lost the war, after all. This time, the cyborgs would win, but only—or so the Web-Mind believed—if it did this perfectly.
It already knew about Group Six of Earth. It even knew the name of Director G.T. Titus. The Web-Mind had recently learned another name: Marcus Cade the Soldier—damned Cade, a Centurion-Grade Ultra of the old school, the old terrible enemy: the super-soldiers of the Old Federation.
The Web-Mind had learned about Cade through a Leona Quillian clone. The woman’s clones seemed to be everywhere. One of the Web-Mind’s Rohan-Mars-model androids had slain a different Quillian clone on Helos, a planet in the Rigel System. The androids had also used a nuclear device on an orbital space station, creating vast destruction to Helos. They had been covering tracks for the Avalon IV Affair.
By questioning the second Leona Quillian clone, the Web-Mind had learned more about Cade and his actions on Avalon IV. The Web-Mind had learned this because Cade had raided Roguskhoi Metals in the city of Garwiy on the planet Durdane II. The company was a Group Six front. The Web-Mind had also learned that Cade was heading back to Earth.
No, no, oh no, that would not do. The Web-Mind planned to intercept the soldier. First, it would absorb everything Tarragon Down knew about Cade, thus helping in the soldier’s capture.
It looked as if everything was ready.
Using camera lenses, the Web-Mind watched the cyborg trooper extract Tarragon’s brain from the skull. It was a delicate operation, but done skillfully and quickly.
The trooper placed the still-living, still-quivering brain into a green solution that would feed the mass its needed nutrients, including oxygen. Afterward, the trooper attached sensor nodes to the brain. Once done, the trooper marched to the side, awaiting further instructions.
The Web-Mind knew anticipation. Using the sensor nodes, it awakened Tarragon Down’s brain.
***
“Where am I?” Tarragon’s brain asked. “Why can’t I see?”
There were no words uttered verbally, although the same neurons fired in the brain.
“Don’t worry about that for the moment,” the Web-Mind answered through the attached nodes. The great intelligence knew from experience that some brains went insane once they realized the truth of their situation. At that point, questioning the brain would be useless.
“I hear you,” Tarragon’s brain said, “feel you even, but I cannot seem to open my eyes. Is that on purpose?”
“I want you to concentrate.”
“I said I would cooperate. I meant it.”
“Good,” the Web-Mind said. “I will reward you for cooperation.”
“You’ll let me go home?”
“I will,” the Web-Mind said, repressing a giggle that rose up in it.
Tarragon’s brain quivered, sensing perhaps the sinister mirth. “I hope you’re telling me the truth.”
“Relax,” the Web-Mind said. “This isn’t going to hurt—well, if you cooperate, it won’t hurt.”
“Ask me anything you want. I’ll answer.”
With the brain properly prepped, the Web-Mind now accelerated the process, extracting millions of bits of information per second. Using its vast capacity, the Web-Mind cataloged and stored the data as it witnessed Tarragon Down’s sordid life as its own memories. Most interesting of all, the Web-Mind witnessed as if it had happened to it the alien compulsion that had once overcome Tarragon’s personality. Incredibly, the arms dealer had shed the compulsion through intense willpower.
“Purple Nagan,” the Web-Mind said to itself, knowing bits and pieces of ancient legends concerning the alien entities. From the data ripped from Tarragon’s pulsating brain and matching it with other hints, suggestions and innuendoes the Web-Mind had learned throughout the years, it inferred the importance of the Vellani Rift. The legend of a warp in the rift leading to a pocket universe must be true. It had heard that Rhunes and Ultras wishing to escape the war had searched for such a warp. If some of them had found the pocket universe, they might yet possess ancient technologies it desperately needed. The Web-Mind also realized that Cade would have the knowledge—how to find the warp and reach the pocket universe—and it now wanted that data for its own. If its cyborgs could reach the pocket universe—
“I can regain lost technologies, begin war-production and plan for a mass attack upon the Concord.�
�
One thing the Web-Mind knew that Tarragon’s brain did not was that Cade and Halifax had escaped from the rift. It knew this through correlating other data, including that Cade had recently received a bounty for turning in Handsome Dan the starmenter.
Finally, the data extraction neared its end.
“There,” Tarragon’s brain said. “I kept my word.”
“Indeed,” the Web-Mind said.
“Can I go home then?”
“Well…”
“You promised.”
The Web-Mind was old, and it was made up of hundreds of pounds of brain tissue, all of it carefully scrubbed and processed. There was a vestige left in all those hundreds of pounds, however, a need for the occasional release brought about by experiencing emotions. Witnessing horror helped the most, as it was a most powerful sensation. The Web-Mind decided it needed a hit of that right about…now.
“Tarragon Down,” the Web-Mind said lightly. “I have something to show you.”
“Oh?”
The Web-Mind fed the camera-lens of Tarragon’s brain data so it witnessed his own body on the steel bed, the bloody cavity in his own skull—and his own pulsating brain in the green solution.
Tarragon’s brain began to howl in misery, and the sickening horror of his situation washed through the Web-Mind.
“You promised,” Tarragon’s brain finally said.
“About that…”
“Yes?”
“I lied.”
Seconds passed until the brain asked numbly, “What will happen to me now?”
“Do you see the cyborg approaching your brain?”
“I do.”
“You’re about to become a part of me.”
“And my personality?” asked the brain.
“Scrubbed, I’m afraid, so you won’t taint me with your evil.”
“Who will taint who?” the brain asked in one final show of rebellion. “What are you, if not evil incarnate?”
The Web-Mind did not answer that, as the cyborg trooper began removing the sensor nodes from the brain. Instead, the great intelligence started to ponder the best way to capture Marcus Cade and the annoying case officer, Dr. Halifax.
Chapter Four
TEN MONTHS LATER
Marcus Cade was edgy and restless, and feeling caged. He paced like some great king of beasts in the Descartes’s control chamber. He kept smacking a fist into a palm and making a face.
He did this as the ex-Patrol scout ship headed out from the Malmuth star. Its Intersplit engine had needed yet another overhaul, which was why they’d stopped in the Malmuth System. Their supply of CUCNs—Concord Universal Credit Notes—was nearly depleted again. If the engine couldn’t hold it together until they reached Earth—
Cade whirled around. How much farther was Earth anyway? He stalked to the piloting board, glaring at the controls. How could he get this thing to show him the distance? He pressed a control. That didn’t do it. He pressed another.
The ship lurched. Cade staggered, catching himself. He clawed back to the controls and untapped what he’d done.
The Descartes immediately righted itself.
Seconds later, Dr. Halifax rushed into the chamber. “What happened? Are we okay?”
“Nothing happened,” Cade muttered.
“Something sure did. We tilted and—”
“I tapped that.” Cade pointed at the control board.
Halifax stared at him in shock.
Cade noticed that half the doctor’s face was shaved while the other half showed morning bristles. The doctor wore a bright white shirt, dress slacks and a pair of expensive patent leather shoes. He’d splurged at the huge Malmuth space station, the one that had orbited the fifth planet, a deuterium bonanza of a gas giant, where they’d gotten the engine overhaul.
“You’re messing with the controls?” Halifax asked, incredulous. “I set them. Everything was fine—”
“Enough,” Cade said, with a sweep of his right hand.
Halifax blinked several times. “No, it isn’t enough. You just started pressing buttons, didn’t you? This is my ship, remember? I paid for it fair and square.”
“I gave it to you because I thought I was going to die.”
“No. No. That’s what you always do, try to tweak our deals. We made an agreement. I went far beyond the agreement and saved your life as a bonus to you. Think about it. You wouldn’t be on your way home without me. The least you could do is respect my property and not go punching buttons whenever you damn well feel like it.”
Cade turned away. The truth was they’d been in each other’s laps for too long, in space far too cramped. They were getting on each other’s nerves. He wasn’t sure he could continue this way. Maybe he needed to leave Halifax and buy a starliner ticket to Earth. Some of the smaller ones went there now and again.
“Now you’re going to get all moody about it?” Halifax demanded.
Cade scowled. He didn’t like anyone telling him he was getting moody. He wasn’t moody. He was probably the most steady-state person he knew. He was sick of being cramped in a tiny spaceship with Halifax, though. He’d lived most of his life out in the open, on a battlefield, sure, but at least he could breathe the air and run for kilometers if he needed to. This riding around in a tiny tin can—
It’s driving me crazy.
Cade cocked his head in surprise. Maybe he was being moody. At times, if felt as if he could hardly breathe. Could this be an offshoot of spending over a thousand years in a stasis tube? His mind wouldn’t have known that, but maybe his body had. Huh. He’d never thought about it that way.
“Are you going to stay mad?” Halifax said.
Cade faced the little man, realizing some of the caged feeling had left him. “You’re right. I shouldn’t have just pressed switches.”
Halifax’s eyebrows rose. “Oh. Okay. Sure. Thanks.”
Cade nodded, but then his stomach tightened. He wasn’t sure why.
“Now what?” asked Halifax.
Cade ignored the doctor as he went to the sensor scope. It was an upraised module like giant binoculars. Cade stuck his face against the padding and adjusted the nodules below. He continued searching, not hearing the doctor mutter and leave the chamber.
Maybe forty-five minutes later, Halifax returned and said, “You still at it? What are you looking for?”
Cade raised his head. He had line marks against his face where he’d pressed against the padded sensor scope.
Halifax had shaved the rest of his face, and he wore a stylish suit. A hint of cologne hovered over the man.
As the doctor waited, he adjusted his tie. “Still not talking to me?”
“No. It isn’t that. I’m…” Cade frowned. What had he been looking for all this time? He was uncertain and made a gesture, waving a hand in the air.
“You feeling okay?”
“I’m fine.” Cade snapped his fingers. “I know now.” He frowned a second later. “But it’s impossible for such a thing to be out there.”
Halifax sighed, although he seemed to refrain from rolling his eyes.
Cade glanced at him, and it almost seemed as if the soldier was embarrassed.
Halifax perked up at that, with a malicious glint to his eyes. He advanced into the chamber. “You’re obviously looking for something, something you believe is here—and now you suddenly think it’s impossible.”
Cade took a deep breath and slowly exhaled. “Yes.”
Some of the glint left the doctor’s eyes, as Cade no longer seemed embarrassed. “So, ah, what do you think was out there?”
Cade smiled sheepishly as he rubbed his neck. “It was from the War. The enemy used lurkers.”
“What are those?”
“Stealth ships might be another name for them.”
Halifax blinked, and then he grinned. “I get it. You’re a soldier, a genetic freak, and you have honed battle senses. Something has been tickling your inner alarm, and you’ve gotten all defensive. You remember that
feeling from the War. So, you unconsciously started looking for a cyborg lurker. But how can a lurker be out there when all the cyborgs are dead?”
“There’s nothing freakish about my genetic makeup,” Cade said.
“All right, all right,” Halifax said. “Am I right about the rest, though?”
Cade scowled at the deck, rubbing his neck again. Could that be it? Had he been searching for a lurker-ship? There was a psychological itch to go back to the sensor scope and start searching again, but he didn’t want to do it in front of the doctor.
Halifax laughed.
Cade’s head snapped up, the man’s laughter grating against him. He debated going over and smacking the little man around. That might kill the doctor if he wasn’t careful, and hitting the doctor would likely embitter the man as well.
We’re really starting to bug one another, Cade realized. “How much farther to Earth?” he blurted.
“What? Oh, Earth,” Halifax said, moving to the piloting board. He looked up and turned back around. “Was that why you were messing with this?”
“How far?” asked Cade.
Halifax smiled too widely, must have noticed a blush wash over the soldier’s face and quickly turned to his board. He tapped two spots and nodded. “We’re four hundred and fifty-four light-years away,” he said without facing Cade.
The soldier grunted. They were about halfway from their departure point, Avalon IV. He glanced at the sensor scope, wanting to continue searching for a lurker. But what would be the point? Thus, he left the control chamber. They would use the Intersplit Field soon—once they were far enough away from any large gravitational bodies.
I’ll stay in my room for the next few weeks. That ought to help me relax. At least the engine is fixed. I don’t have to worry about that for a time. Yeah, if I’m lucky, this will be the last overhaul we need.
The trouble was, the engine was fixed, but not how Cade believed.
Chapter Five
The Soldier: Final Odyssey Page 2