The Soldier: Final Odyssey

by Vaughn Heppner

  The Descartes moved far enough away from the Malmuth star to engage the Intersplit engine. That created a blue Intersplit Field around the small vessel, which allowed it to go faster than light.

  Cade did not stay in his room the entire time. He also went back to the sensor scope. He searched, but he didn’t spot anything that indicated a cyborg lurker.

  He did that searching while the Descartes moved out of the Malmuth System. He did not do the searching once they engaged the Intersplit engine. There would be no point, as he wouldn’t have been able to spot another ship. The Intersplit Field mechanics meant that during FTL travel such a thing would have been nearly impossible. The sensor scope could certainly view Intersplit Field-distorted stars and nebulae. The chance of seeing or running into another ship while in FTL was on the far side of negligible. To the pedantic, it was mathematically possible with hundreds of zeroes behind a decimal point, so what was the point of worrying about such an event?

  That meant, essentially, that they were safe behind the blue Intersplit Field, safe from outside attacks via missiles, beams or mines. They would not be safe from planets or heavy nebulae, but those they could easily avoid.

  The two travelers tried to avoid each other, although that proved more difficult. The small ex-Patrol scout only contained the two personal cabins, the engine compartments, a rec room, some storage closets and the main control chamber.

  In its original incarnation, the scout had worked off a mothership in groups with other scouts. The mothership would arrive at a destination, and the scouts would fan out several light-years, look around, and report to the mothership. The scout had never been constructed for long star-voyages that consisted of a hundred light-years, never mind the more than eight hundred planned to reach Earth. That mandated the engine overhauls, and that had taken CUCNs, the cash of the Concord: most of the old territory of the Old Federation.

  At the moment, Cade was in his cabin, lying on his cot, with his hands behind his head. He was staring up at the ceiling, thinking about the good old days when he’d been a Force Leader in Battle Unit 175, when he heard a crump, possibly an explosion.

  The ship rocked violently, throwing Cade off the cot onto the floor. The lights flickered in his room for a long moment, threatening to go out, when they stabilized.

  Cade scrambled off the floor and rushed into the small corridor connecting the various quarters on the ship. Halifax appeared at the hatch from the control cabin. The small doctor was ashen-faced.

  “What happened?” Cade asked.

  “I don’t know exactly, although we’re no longer in FTL. The Intersplit Field just dropped. That means we’re stranded in deep space. Cade, that means we’re marooned out here if the engine went belly up. The chances anyone will find us in the middle of nowhere—”

  “Doctor.”

  “What?”

  “Remain calm.”

  “Calm? You’re telling me to remain calm?”

  Cade nodded. He’d maintained his calm. He was an Ultra, a soldier trained to react correctly during an emergency. Regular living gave him problems. Extreme events caused him to shine.

  Halifax’s hands fluttered.

  “I heard a crump, an explosion,” Cade said.

  Halifax moaned in dread.

  “I’m going to check the engine.”

  “I’m coming with you,” Halifax said.

  The two went back to the main engine compartment. Smoke poured from a critical area of the Intersplit engine, and there was a powerful burnt-electrical smell in the room.

  “We’ve found the problem,” Cade said.

  “Sabotage,” Halifax said. “This is sabotage.”

  Cade went cold inside. If that was true—

  Halifax began moaning as he rocked back and forth on his heels.

  The soldier turned on Halifax and grabbed the man by his fancy lapels. He needed Halifax’s mechanical expertise. “Doctor, get a grip.”

  “Unhand me, you baboon.”

  Cade shook the doctor, not liking the way the man’s eyes rolled around in his head.

  “Let go of me,” Halifax screamed, beginning to slap at Cade’s hands.

  Cade kept hold of the jacket with his left hand and lightly tapped the doctor’s face with his right.

  Halifax’s face snapped left and then right as Cade tapped him the other way. Color marked both the doctor’s cheeks. The craziness left his eyes, though. Hate shone there instead.

  Cade released him.

  Halifax hooded the hate as his mental balance returned. He turned from Cade and hunched his shoulders.

  Cade stared at the doctor, shrugged, and regarded the smoking engine. He moved to and gingerly felt an access plate, snatching his fingers away from the searing heat.

  Halifax stepped near, grabbing a special tool to flip off the hot access plate.

  Both men peered within and had to jerk back. They waited until the smoke cleared and looked again seeing several burnt, fused areas.

  Halifax turned white, shaking his head. “We’re doomed.”

  “I don’t agree. We can repair this and limp into the nearest inhabitable star system.”

  “Cade, this was sabotage. Someone screwed with us.”

  “Maybe.”

  “Are you an idiot? Can’t you see the obvious damage?”

  Cade restrained himself. “We have a computer, videos and spare parts. We can jury-rig the damage and limp into a star system.”

  “And if we can’t?” Halifax asked.

  “First we’ll try.” The soldier paused. “You have the greater mechanical ability between us. I need you to engage, Doctor. Remember, this is your ship.”

  Halifax snorted with derision.

  “Don’t let them win,” Cade said.

  “Let who win? Oh, I get it. You think your cyborg lurker friends did this.”

  “I don’t know who did it, and right now, I don’t care. We’re fixing the damage. I’m getting to Earth, and nothing is going to stop me.”

  “Don’t be too sure,” Halifax muttered.

  Cade pushed his face near the doctor’s. “Oh, but I am sure. My wife is counting on me, and I won’t let her down. In fact, neither will you.”

  Halifax became tight-lipped as he nodded curtly.

  “Are you going to try?” asked Cade.

  Halifax nodded tight-lipped again.

  “Good. Then, let’s get started.”

  Chapter Six

  Seventy-two feverish hours produced a miracle. Cade and Halifax read the tech manual, watched repair videos and labored for their lives on the cranky piece of equipment.

  It was possible that the engine had simply malfunctioned, broken without any outside interference. It was more probable, however, that there had been deliberate harm.

  During the seventy-two-hour marathon, Cade took breaks to press his face against the sensor scope. He searched for signs of a cyborg lurker. He didn’t find any. He did discover that they were nine and a half light-years from the Therduim System.

  Halifax looked that up on the Concord Registry in the computer. It was an inhabited system, with a space station around the third and Earthlike planet. There was a research outpost on the planet. The Concord Registry did not say what the scientists were looking for there.

  In any case, after seventy-two consecutive hours of hard work, the Intersplit engine came back online. A blue field circled the tiny vessel, and they moved at FTL-speeds—for a while.

  A red warning light flashed on the piloting console. A klaxon also began to blare. Cade shut off the klaxon, but the red light remained. It told them they could find themselves permanently stranded in deep space, as the engine could explode at any moment. The Descartes would become their coffin in fifty or sixty years, provided they survived the initial explosion and found enough food and water to subsist.

  The thought of that almost drove Cade mad with anxiety. If he failed…what would happen to Raina?

  During the journey, Cade took catnaps, finding hims
elf in the control room, his gut twisting and seething.

  Finally, though, the Descartes came out of FTL and headed in-system for the space station around Therduim III.

  The strain of the seventy-two-hour repair, the problematic Intersplit journey and the crawl into the system heightened the tension between the two. They kept apart, and when together, hardly spoke to each other. Halifax did tell Cade they would be allowed to dock at the space station. The doctor said he was keeping their need for sustained repairs secret for the moment.

  Cade waved that off. He didn’t care about that.

  In time, they neared the space station. It was of classic construction: a single long pillar with a spoked wheel around it that rotated eternally. The station orbited above Therduim III, a green planet showing almost massed vegetation. There were a few military vessels in the general area, belonging to the Patrol no doubt.

  Cade had searched for a lurker as they headed in-system. It was crazy. He still felt that something was out there watching them. He searched but could find no evidence of one.

  The hour finally arrived as the Descartes entered the docking facilities. It was routine, and it didn’t seem strange that Halifax did not talk to him. They were both in the control chamber. The doctor did glance at him several times, though. Cade decided it didn’t matter. He was getting off the damned ship. He planned to jog inside the wheel of the station for hours.

  After Cade jogged for hours, he’d start thinking about ways to earn CUCNs. They were going to need lots of money for the repairs. That meant work or bounty hunting, harder to do with the Intersplit on the fritz.

  Was there any bounty hunting needed in the Therduim System? It occurred to Cade that he didn’t know much about the star system. He’d been lost in his memories, letting the doctor handle that end of things.

  As Halifax sat at the piloting board, nervously bringing the barely moving ship into docking, the soldier stared out of the polarized window.

  Cade watched the inner space-station bulkhead pass. How long would they be here? What kind of work could he do if he couldn’t bounty hunt? If he became a dock-jock—Cade shook his head. That would be low pay. It would take a year or more to pay for the repairs that way. He had to think of something better.

  A clang sounded, and Cade stumbled as the deck shook.

  “Sorry,” Halifax said, as he righted the slowly moving spaceship with a few taps at the piloting board.

  Cade glanced at the doctor. Was that a bead of sweat over the man’s left ear? The doctor seemed more nervous than he should be. Was he that happy to be getting off the scout or was it something else?

  “Is something wrong?” asked Cade.

  Halifax looked up with worried eyes. “What do you mean?” he said, speaking too fast.

  Something finally dawned on Cade. “Ever since we started docking, you’ve become twitchy. What’s going on?”

  Halifax laughed nervously. “I’ll tell you what’s going on. I’m still tired from our repairs.” The doctor shook his head. “After what we’ve been through, I need some serious downtime.”

  Cade could appreciate that. He needed some serious downtime as well. But he didn’t want too much downtime. The Therduim System was 438 light-years from Earth. The Descartes still had a long way to go.

  The small spaceship shuddered again. More clangs sounded from outside. Those were docking clamps attaching. Once the outer sounds ceased, all motion stopped.

  “A-ha,” Halifax said, too loudly, it seemed. “We’re docked.”

  Once again, Cade turned toward the small man. As he did, Cade felt the tiredness pull at his sore eyes. He yawned, rubbed his eyes and heard Halifax tap his board.

  In the distance, Cade heard a hatch open, maybe the outer one to the scout. Was a docking party coming to investigate the ship? Why hadn’t Halifax told him a station team would come right away to make an inspection?

  Cade turned around, looking at the hatch at the back of the control chamber. The Descartes was definitely too small for the two of them. Could they sell the scout? If they did, would Halifax demand all the money? Likely—

  Cade heard another hatch open, this one nearer than before. Then he definitely heard the thudding of boots in a corridor. Someone—people—were in the scout. They were in a hurry, too. Would a station inspection team be in such a hurry?

  Halifax tapped the piloting board one more time, jumped up and scurried as far as he could from Cade. The doctor produced a small pistol, aiming it at the soldier.

  “I’m sorry,” Halifax said, no longer meeting Cade’s gaze.

  Cade stared in astonishment at the doctor. Before he could speak, the hatch to the control chamber opened. Five black-armored security personnel jumped through. They wore helmets with closed visors and aimed heavy-duty Aarn-6 stunners at him.

  “On the floor!” one of them shouted.

  Instinctively, Cade reached for a boot.

  “He’s got a knife in the boot!” Halifax shouted. “He’ll kill us all if he gets it.”

  A security man nodded. It must have been a signal, as gloved fingers clicked triggers, and five Aarn-6 stunners ejected nearly invisible clots of force at Cade. As Cade tried to dodge, they struck hard, knocking him backward. He crashed over a console and thudded onto the deck.

  Halifax sold me out, the traitor. That’s why he was so nervous.

  The soldier tried to rise, to push up as security people rushed beside him.

  “He’s still moving,” one of them said, sounding incredulous.

  “That’s impossible,” a different one said.

  “Halifax,” Cade said in a hoarse voice. He was going to kill the little prick.

  The stunners ejected once again, the force clots slamming against Cade. Finally, they rendered him unconsciousness.

  Chapter Seven

  Cade came to with an aching head and sore muscles wherever the force clots had hit. He groaned, but not from the pain. He groaned at his stupidity.

  What could I have done differently?

  He had little idea, maybe throttle the traitorous Dr. Halifax until the man’s tongue had protruded. Could he have killed the security personnel if he’d ambushed them?

  No, no, that wouldn’t have mattered. Halifax had sold him out. Station security had rushed the ship as soon as it had docked. They would have simply sent more people at him.

  Cade opened his eyes, staring up at a grimy ceiling with a single naked light bulb. This must be a detention cell. He turned his head, confirming his thought. He was in a small dingy cell with a cot, steel toilet and sink.

  Cade refused to groan as he sat up. His head pounded, however, and his eyesight blurred. It told him at least one of the security people had shot him with the stunner in the head. If they were Concord IPO—no, they wouldn’t have worked for the Interstellar Police Organization. They would have been station security or Patrol people.

  Cade was a Rip Van Wrinkle in this new era. The worlds of the Old Federation appeared to have fallen into barbarism for hundreds of years, a few climbing back up and becoming the rich worlds of the Concord. The Concord was a loose unity, run by the rich worlds with the biggest space navies. Earth was not among those. It used Group Six because the depleted homeworld could no longer afford fancy, costly spaceships.

  Cade rubbed his head, finding a welt there, confirming at least one force-clot shot. When had Halifax sold him out? How much had the slippery doctor received for his treachery?

  Cade sighed as the blurriness went away. He should have known better. He—

  There was a snick, and the steel door opened. A short, thick-shouldered man with a bristly face peered at him. The man held a food tray. Behind him were at least four black-armored security personnel.

  “Awake, huh? Well, here you are.” The jailor set the tray on the floor, backed away and slammed the steel door shut, locking it afterward.

  Cade forced himself upright, staggered to the tray and collapsed onto his butt before it. He drank the water with its cop
pery taste and ate the two bland turkey sandwiches. They could have used better mustard. After sitting for a while longer, he turned and crawled on his hands and knees to his cot, climbed in, shut his eyes and promptly fell asleep.

  ***

  Cade awoke when the door opened a second time. Four security people in their black-armored suits and helmets with visors aimed stunners at him.

  “Get up,” one of them said.

  Cade did, and he followed their instructions, leading the way down a corridor into another room, an interrogation chamber. He sat at the only table—it had two chairs. The room lacked a naked light bulb, having three embedded bulbs instead.

  The four backed out, and the steel door locked behind them.

  Cade looked around. He recognized the two-way mirror for what it was. This place was three times the size of his cell. It still made him feel claustrophobic. He realized at that point that he didn’t feel as sore. His head no longer throbbed, either. The water or sandwiches must have contained healing or sleeping substances.

  Also, Cade healed faster than normal. It was part of his genetic makeup.

  A different door opened, and a man in a black leather coat that almost reached the floor stood there. The man had knee-high leather boots, a black uniform and a long lean face. He looked intelligent, ruthless and—the man doffed his military-style hat, bowed slightly and clicked his boot heels together.

  “I am Monitor Varo, at your service.”

  “Marcus Cade.”

  “Ah. Excellent,” Varo said. “We start with the truth.” He closed the door behind him, approached the table and indicated the second chair. The man wore black leather gloves.

  “Sure, sit if you want,” Cade said.

  There was a curt nod and then a pause. “First, you should know that if you assault me—”

  “I won’t,” Cade said, interrupting.

  Monitor Varo stiffened and frowned.

  Cade raised an eyebrow. “Did I say something wrong?”

  “Yes, you interrupted me.”

  “Oh.”

  Varo frowned more severely. “An apology is in order.”