The Soldier: Final Odyssey

by Vaughn Heppner

  ***

  The ship grew enormously until it dwarfed his tiny air bubble. At that point, it passed him, and he nearly shat his suit in panic. He saw another vessel then, a small one, a shuttle, damnit. The ship had launched a shuttle to come and get him.

  He laughed and cried and told himself once again how brilliant he was. No one could compare to the mad genius Dr. Halifax.

  I’m the greatest. I’m the best. I’m going to show the universe that they can’t screw with the slipperiest genius there is.

  The shuttle slowed until a hatch opened. Two space-suited people with thruster-packs jetted to him. He cut open the air bubble and was expelled out, heading away from them.

  Did they think he was fleeing?

  The two raced after him and rather harshly manhandled him. He couldn’t see into their polarized visors, but he gave them a thumbs-up with his gloved hand.

  They jetted him to the shuttle, holding him between them. They were big and no doubt muscular. Maybe they were marines.

  He noticed a sword logo on the side of the shuttle. Was that a Patrol symbol? He couldn’t remember.

  Finally, the two thrust him into an airlock and followed him in. It felt so gloriously good to stand again that tears leaked from his eyes.

  The airlock opened, the two shoved him so he stumbled into the arms of waiting, hard-eyed marines. They wore military uniforms and had brush-cuts.

  He took off his helmet, smiling at them. “Boy, am I glad to see you guys. Who are you, anyway?”

  “We’re taking you to the General,” one of them said. “Now, shut up. We’re not supposed to talk to you.”

  “Can I have something to eat, and can I use the john?”

  “Later,” the marine said. “No more talking. It’s our hides if we do.”

  “Why did you pick me up?”

  The marine grabbed and turned him around, shoving so Halifax stumbled. He didn’t know it yet, but the shoving and other torments were just beginning.

  Chapter Fifty-Nine

  The hours proved grueling, starting with Halifax waiting in a claustrophobically small closet. Later, he hunched before a bright light as people interrogated him. Big marines water-boarded him and then slugged him in the stomach and carried him into a different room, holding down his bare feet and beating them with a weighted rubber hose.

  All the time, the questions flowed.

  Halifax told them some of the truth but left out the good stuff about cyborgs, Ultras and Group Six.

  It wasn’t that he was so damn tough. It was simply that, after his desperation soul-searching in the air bubble that he was so ecstatic to be alive. Yeah, the torture sucked, but he endured, babbled about insignificant data while keeping the juiciness to himself.

  Finally—he was in the big ship—they threw him into a cell where he landed on the floor.

  Halifax didn’t move. He hurt all over. Instead, he rested his forehead against the floor and grinned hugely as if he was the biggest moron alive. He kept himself from laughing. That would hurt his bruised ribs too much. He lay there, enjoying the fact of being alive.

  Finally, though, he dragged himself to the cot, climbed in, rolled onto his back and fell asleep.

  A buzzer woke him later.

  He was stiff and sore, and he slowly worked up to a sitting position on the bunk. The door to his cell was open, and who should be watching him but—

  “I know you,” Halifax said.

  A slender dark-haired woman in skintight material like latex and wearing high heels sauntered into his cell. It was the woman who had sat beside him long ago on the shuttle-flight to Helos in the Rigel System. He’d seen her later as she tailed him in the city of Sparta.

  She stood there staring at him.

  “You’re—” he said.

  Her head twitched the slightest bit, indicating that he say nothing more.

  That made him think. If she’d been on the shuttle flight so long ago, might she have come from Earth? If that was the case—

  “A cleaner,” Halifax said. “You’re a G6 cleaner.”

  “What did I just tell you?” She had a sexy voice. Despite his predicament, he loved it.

  “Where am I?”

  “I’m asking the questions.”

  “You haven’t asked me anything yet.”

  “That means—” She threw her hands into the air as if giving up. “I’m Leona Quillian. I work for Director Titus.”

  Careful, he told himself. She’s a viper. He’d sat without flinching, without giving away his terror. Smile, you idiot, pretend this is fantastic news. He smiled. “This is wonderful. You must know I work for Titus too.”

  “I know that you used to.”

  “What are you talking about? I still do. By the way, what ship is this?”

  “The General is helping us.”

  What kind of answer is that? No, no, this is the time to convince. Talk as if you two are pals. Show her you’re a G6 man.

  “Who in the hell is the General?” Halifax said.

  “The man running the G.T. Beauregard.”

  “Oh. You mean—?”

  “Yes,” she said, interrupting him.

  “Look, Leona—you don’t mind if I call you that, do you?”

  She just stared at him.

  He nodded as if she’d answered in the affirmative. “Leona, I think Marcus Cade—”

  She lurched forward and grabbed his wrist.

  Halifax shouted in pain and tried to jerk his wrist free from her. She had a stronger grip than he’d suspected, though, and held tight. He started to writhe, and she released him. Halifax cradled his wrist before turning it over, looking for scars. It was bare and normal, even though it still throbbed.

  She showed him the agonizer in her palm before making it disappear as if it was a magic trick.

  “Listen to me, and keep your mouth shut.” She opened her other hand to reveal a scrambler with a green-blinking light on top.

  He realized several things at once. She’d shown him the scrambler for a reason and in such a way that the hidden camera here wouldn’t have shown that to whoever watched—watched and listened obviously. Quillian wanted him to do something for her, and if she was a cleaner for Group Six, for Director Titus—

  “I appreciate what you’ve done so far.” Quillian stared at him as if to impart greater meaning to her words. Maybe she figured he didn’t understand, which he most certainly did not. “But you have to keep certain ideas to yourself.”

  Halifax grunted. She meant during the interrogations, which meant she’d been privy to the results, which meant she was friends with his torturers, which meant—

  “Keep doing that until you and I start for Earth,” she said, interrupting his ruminations. “You should know that I’m recommending you to the Director for your skillful action.”

  What is this? She denied me working for Group Six anymore. Did I pass some kind of test?

  “Why exactly would you recommend me?”

  “For keeping silent about the key issues,” she said.

  Halifax grunted once more as he touched one of his ribs. “It’s been a costly effort.”

  “One of the reasons I’ll tell the Director about it.”

  Halifax nodded. “So, what happens next, Leona?”

  “I’m going to slap you a few times as if to teach you a lesson. You must denounce me and try to thrash me if you can.”

  “I might hurt you if I do that.”

  Quillian smirked. “Don’t worry about that. You won’t.”

  “I don’t like hitting women.”

  “Doctor, do what I say. I need to—never mind. My time’s up.” She clicked off the scrambler and surreptitiously slipped it into a pocket.

  “You don’t fool me,” Halifax shouted from the bunk. “You’re from him, t-t-that monster.”

  Quillian stepped forward smartly and struck him across the jaw.

  That hurt like hell, and it might have dislodged one of his teeth. He shouted in real rage. T
he cunning bitch wanted to play games, eh? Well, he’d give her a game to remember. He jumped up and slugged for all he was worth into her gut. Only she wasn’t there but had moved and now stuck out a foot, sending him sprawling onto the floor. She kicked him in the ribs. He screamed. Did she have steel-reinforced toes?

  He finally rolled away, jumped up swaying and charged. She stepped to the side and jabbed him in the face once, twice—the third jab disoriented him. She stepped in close and kneed him in the groin so agony exploded between his legs. He crumped moaning into a heap on the floor.

  “You will do as I say, Dr. Halifax.” Quillian was speaking triumphantly. “What was Cade doing in the lurker? Speak the truth if you value your skin.”

  “He was storming it,” Halifax groaned while still clutching his balls.

  “Why storm it, as you say?”

  “To capture it—” He looked up painfully through tear-filled eyes.

  Quillian gave him the barest of nods, an encouragement and permission to speak about this.

  “Cade planned to start his own fleet of lurkers,” Halifax said, maybe seeing what she wanted. “They’re immensely powerful warships. Why do you think we went to such trouble to board it? Whatever you do, don’t tell the others. We can use the lurker debris. I know we can. It’s a matter of combing it carefully enough.” He laughed and groaned. “Damn you, Quillian. Don’t you—”

  “Enough,” she said in a ringing tone. “You have said more than enough.” She leaned over him. “You pathetic little worm. Do you think Director Titus will grant you rewards for losing him his prize? Cade failed. You failed. Now, you will have to pay—”

  A wall speaker clicked on. “Leona,” a man said. “It’s time for you and me to talk.”

  “But General,” she said, straightening. “I’ve broken through his conditioning. He’ll spill his guts now. I told you I could do it.”

  “Yes. I know. We’ll talk, and then we’ll see.”

  The wall speaker clicked off.

  Quillian smirked. It was quick and hard-to-see. Then she sauntered toward the open cell door.

  Halifax looked up long enough to realize she had a stunning ass. The high heels and latex suit did it. But she was a viper of a woman, a true temptress with toes of steel.

  She’s a cleaner. Remember that. Everything she tells you could well be a lie. Yes. If I’m going to live, I have to get out of here, and then kill her, or she’s going to make sure the Director kills me.

  Chapter Sixty

  The next week gave Halifax more grueling torture-moments. He endured, stuck to the script and finally found himself touching his broken ribs as he lay on a cot.

  A rough medical practitioner had set the ribs, injected quick heal into them with a hypogun and set it with tightly wrapped surgical cloth around his torso.

  Despite his bruises, sore muscles and joints, Halifax was ravenous. The quick heal did that. He wanted to just lie here, and he wanted to eat and eat so his stomach would stop growling every second.

  Two marines showed up. They hauled him to his feet, shoving him from behind so he stumbled all the time. He would have liked to complain, but they might slug him if he did. These two had done it before. Finally, they shoved him into a huge cool chamber with cryo units plugged into the ship’s electrical grid.

  Quillian stood in here with her skintight suit and heels, wearing a fur jacket. Beside her was a tall older man in a black uniform. He had green eyes, spiked hair and wore a row of medals along his chest. That had to be the General, the commander of the G.T. Beauregard.

  “Come here,” the General said.

  The marines shoved Halifax so he staggered to the tall man.

  “That will do,” the General said quietly before he snapped his fingers at Halifax. “Look through the glass.”

  The General meant the little window to the cyro unit they stood beside.

  Halifax obeyed, groaning as he worked down to his knees. As he’d suspected, he saw Cade’s face through the glass. Frost had already gathered, and the Ultra looked as if he’d forgotten how to breathe.

  “He’s in hibernation?” asked Halifax.

  “That’s obvious,” the General said. “Tell me, do you wish to stay with us or go back to Earth to report to the Director?”

  “Do I have a choice?”

  “Little man,” the General said in a menacing voice, “do not question me. Answer with speed and truth, no more and no less.”

  Halifax nodded sullenly. “I’d like to stay here, sir.”

  The General laughed as he turned to Quillian. “See. I told you he wouldn’t want to leave with you.”

  “Does it matter what he wants?” Quillian asked.

  “Of course not,” the General said. “I just find it interesting.” He eyed Halifax, who had climbed back to his feet. “My men have beaten you, and yet you wish to remain here?”

  Halifax shrugged.

  “Let me rephrase,” the General said, his voice hardening. “Why do you want to stay here?”

  Halifax raised his head and tried to smile. “I can help you, sir. The lurker—you should keep it.”

  “You idiot,” the General said. “The lurker was destroyed.”

  “I know it was, but not every component.”

  “How could you possibly know that?”

  “Easy,” Halifax said, as he pointed at the cryo unit. “Cade survived. That can’t be all there was. Other things must have survived as well.”

  The General rubbed his chin and glanced at Quillian. “Did you prime him to say that?”

  “Me?” Quillian laughed. “I broke his conditioning, nothing more than that. You saw.”

  “Maybe I will keep you,” the General told Halifax.

  “Thank you, sir,” Halifax said, stepping closer and trying to grab one of the General’s hands.

  “None of that,” the General said, yanking his hand away and looking meaningfully at something behind Halifax.

  A moment later, Halifax heard the hollow sound of a baton striking his skull. Halifax’s eyelids fluttered, and he crumpled unconscious to the floor.

  ***

  Halifax awoke with a headache and nausea. He groaned as he moved to his other side. Vomit welled up in his throat. He held it back by force of will. His vision blurred, weakening his will.

  “Don’t move.”

  Halifax did not respond or move more. Instead, he tried to think, which only increased the headache. It dawned on by degrees that Leona Quillian had spoken.

  “You’re in the infirmary,” Quillian said. “The marine struck you harder than he should have. I guess you didn’t know that the General has an aversion to human contact with scum, as he calls those less fortunate than himself. In other words, you fit the category and you tried to grab his hand. Were you going to kiss it?”

  “Can’t a guy just shake hands anymore?” Halifax whispered.

  “You have some humor left. That’s good. You might need it. I may not be able to take you with me. What do you think about that?”

  “Huh?”

  “You were too persuasive. Or do you want to stay with the General?”

  “No.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “What do you think ‘no’ means?” Halifax whispered.

  “Do you believe lurker equipment might have survived the autodestruct?”

  “Of course,” Halifax whispered. “Cade survived. Surely, he can’t be the only thing that did.”

  “You made the point before. I’m not sure it was wise, as the General might indeed search hard enough to find such equipment.”

  Halifax hadn’t closed his eyes. That hurt too much. He didn’t try to stare at anything in particular either, as that also hurt. He did wonder why he was the only one smart or sharp enough to realize a thing the instant he heard it. It was his curse and gift, he supposed.

  “Leona, it’s easy,” he whispered. “Let the General find lurker pieces. Let him try to analyze them. Titus can send a team here later to pick up or ste
al whatever the bothers discover.”

  “It might not be that easy.”

  “It might be the only way to get the cyborg equipment. Destroy what they find—that’s what you’re thinking, right?”

  Quillian didn’t answer.

  Halifax didn’t have the strength to look at her. He just wanted to feel better. Why did his head have to hurt so much?

  “All right,” Quillian said. “I’ll make one last attempt for you. I have a feeling the Director would dearly like to talk to you.”

  “Wonderful,” Halifax said.

  “Am I wrong about that? Do you have something to hide?”

  Halifax waited before he said, “Not a thing. Do you have a pill to make the pain go away?”

  “There’s no time for that,” Quillian said. “Events are moving fast. Listen, if I don’t return for you in a few hours—don’t go too far from Saint Louis Planet. Do you understand me?”

  “Yeah,” Halifax said, as he endured the debilitating headache.

  Chapter Sixty-One

  Several hours later, Halifax left the G.T. Beauregard’s infirmary. He wore very dark sunglasses, as any kind of light hurt his eyes and then his brain. A marine roughly handled him until passing him off to Quillian. She proved easier, slowing down when he needed to.

  The next week was hard, painful and tedious, and everything seemed to take too long. Finally, however, Halifax boarded a starliner at the edge of the 16 Cygni System. Presumably, Cade was in the cargo in a cryo unit.

  Halifax still wore the sunglasses and spent most of the time in his luxury cabin. He learned the liner was called the Sunflower and belonged to the Hudson Bay Company, one of the oldest companies in existence. This was the largest starliner that went to Earth. Other bigger liners went to the richest Concord planets. It really didn’t matter, though, as the Sunflower was big enough.

  Halifax slept most of the time or he sat up and stared at nothing in particular. He certainly did not turn on the idiot box, nor did he attempt to read anything. That hurt his eyes and head far too much.

  “Do you think the damage is permanent?” he asked the Sunflower’s chief medical officer.