The Soldier: The X-Ship

by Vaughn Heppner

  “Do you understand?” she said.

  Cade shook his head.

  “I’ll give you a hint. Study the ground.”

  There were worn pick marks everywhere. What did that mean and why would it make her so excited? He studied the exposed front of the otherwise buried X-ship.

  “Are you too proud to say it?” she asked.

  He regarded Tara. In the sunlight, her intensely white skin seemed even more vampire-like and her oily eyes even more mechanical. He could see where the skin near the black orbs merged into synthetic material.

  “What are you staring at?” she asked sharply.

  “What was the name of the tech company again?”

  “What?”

  “The one that woke you from stasis,” Cade said. “What was its name?”

  “Why do you care?”

  He shrugged.

  “You’re never going to leave the planet. You’re never going to talk to anyone but who I say.”

  “Then why not tell me?” Cade asked. “What is there to hide?”

  “Why should I tell you?”

  “Uh…because it scratches one of my itches.”

  Her head made those odd jerks and shifts—binary choice after binary choice. If she had a bio brain, it might have been reprogrammed to think in a computer-like way.

  “What does the compound tell you?” she asked.

  It looked like she wasn’t going to give away the tech company name. Well, it had been worth a try. He considered her question. What did the pick marks mean? Oh. “Everything here used to be buried in stone,” he said.

  “Correct. Who do you think drove the Nian to chisel away rock and use the debris to construct the wall?”

  “You.”

  “It obviously can’t be me.”

  “Why not?”

  She shook her head. “I’ve become weary of your insulting ways. I told you not to ask questions. Yet, you continue. Do you think I won’t punish you?”

  He was wearing manacles. She had an emitter. Tactics caused him to say, “Forgive me, please. My curiosity compels me to ask the questions. I don’t mean any disrespect by them.”

  “I’d like to believe that,” she muttered.

  Cade waited.

  “Rohan Mars gave you—gave Brune the answer. Long ago, someone else crash landed on the surface. He survived many years, redirecting the Nian who constructed the stone fort. He bettered their lot and found the ‘minds in the machine,’ as the Nian servitors call them.”

  “I take it the tech company has been around a long time.”

  “Enough about the tech company,” Tara said, scowling. “This is the culmination of a long and tedious process. Surviving cyborgs have lain in wait before. They know how to bide their time. The terrible Cyborg War seemingly broke their power. No, Cade. It did not, at least not altogether. You are here at the resurgence of their greatness. This is the seed that is about to sprout. And do you know what is so funny?”

  Cade shook his head.

  “You’re going to be the key that convinces the minds in the machine to take the correct course.”

  “Please forgive my curiosity and my ignorance. But why would that be funny?”

  “Highborn, Ultras—your kind has always been the bane of the cyborgs.”

  “Can I ask you about the device in my mind?”

  “If you must,” Tara said.

  “They were critical devices back in the day, weren’t they?”

  Tara did not respond.

  “Why do you need it here and now?” he asked.

  “I rescind my agreement,” Tara said. “You’ll know when it happens, but not until then.” She checked a monitor on her wrist. “It’s time. Head for the cave.”

  Cade turned around.

  “No, not that cave. The other one.”

  Cade debated refusing to move. Maybe letting himself be cuffed had been a bad idea. Maybe he should have charged her and to hell with the consequences. Before he set himself on that path, he recalled his last moments with the Varg warriors. They had effectively killed him. The elixir had saved his life—

  With an inner shrug, Cade started for the new cave. Tara walked behind. A look back showed him that she was aiming the emitter at his back. Two dozen steps brought him against an invisible barrier at the cave mouth. He stopped.

  “Push through,” Tara said. “You can do it.”

  He pushed with his entire body, passing through something invisible that resisted. On the other side, it was cooler, and he heard the hum of machinery.

  Tara prodded his back with the emitter. “Keep going.”

  He did, and he noticed overhead lamps. With a shock, he realized that he was in some kind of structure. The wall pieces had polygonal shapes that all fit perfectly. He shuddered upon realizing, and didn’t know why. He hated this place. It was evil…evil in a cybernetic sense.

  He halted.

  “What?” Tara asked from behind.

  Cade did not respond to her but looked around. The overhead lights, the polygonal shapes, the machine hum—he had the vaguest recollection of fighting his way into such a structure before. That had been on the other side of the stasis unit when he’d fought in a battlesuit. This kind of place had been a…a… He groaned as his head began to throb. The pain increased dramatically so splotches appeared in his vision. He swayed, crashing upon his knees as he began to pant.

  “Is this a trick?” Tara asked.

  Cade heard her words, but the agony lancing through his brain was too much. He opened his mouth, panting, hating the taste of bile in his throat.

  “I need help,” Tara shouted. “He’s still too strong. I think he’s resisting the implant. If you want him, you have to send a servitor to get him.”

  “No,” a soft voice whispered in the air. “You must convince him to continue.”

  “How can I do that?”

  “You have a laser,” the soft voice said. “Use it. Burn him to get his attention.”

  “Did you hear that, Cade,” Tara said in his left ear. “They—it—wants me to goad you into action. I will if I must. Now, get up.”

  He struggled to rise but could not.

  “Oh, hell,” she said.

  Cade heard a click and then a buzzing sound. The magnetic locks fell from his wrists and struck the floor. His arms swung free.

  “Climb to your feet,” Tara said.

  He leaned forward, using his hands, arms, pushing off the floor and struggling until he swayed onto his feet. The pounding in his head continued, effectively blinding him.

  “I don’t know why this is happening,” Tara said, “but you’re not helping yourself like this.”

  Cade attempted to concentrate as the gist of her meaning came through. He’d been in a place like this before. But thinking about it was incapacitating him. That was a terrible mistake.

  “Destiny,” he whispered.

  “What did you say?” asked Tara.

  Cade moved his tongue in a dry mouth, swabbing his inner cheeks, re-moistening them. This place was his destiny. He did not know how or why, but he couldn’t dwell on the past. This was a new era. He had to concentrate on the present and see what happened.

  He dropped to his knees and began crawling across the floor. He headed into the cave, into the cave-disguised building.

  “Better,” Tara said from behind.

  As the soldier crawled, his eyesight began to return. The hurt in his mind lessened so he could begin to reason normally again. He felt cool air on his sweaty skin. He wanted water, but would have to wait. There had been something earlier when he’d been healing through the golden draught.

  “Alien,” he said, remembering the something.

  “What do you mean by that?” Tara asked suspiciously.

  Cade halted on his hands and knees. He looked back at her as his dad used to do to him when they played horsey. The soldier shuddered. The device threatened him with grim pain indeed, if he continued along that line of thinking.

&nbs
p; Cade’s head twitched. He would concentrate on now. He focused on Tara Alor, who watched him with those obviously artificial eyes. Did those orbs allow her to see things normal human eyes missed? He suspected so. She waited patiently, perhaps understanding what he went through.

  “Alien golden draught,” Cade said in a hoarse voice.

  “My, my, my,” Tara said. “But you are full of wonders, aren’t you? How did you divine that?”

  “Process,” he said.

  “I have no idea what you mean by that.”

  “The golden draught has kept the minds alive all this time.”

  “What minds?” she asked, as if curious.

  “The minds in the machine,” he said.

  “Interesting. That’s how the keepers say it. They said you might remember some of the process. Oh, yes. I see. It isn’t telepathy, but something about the elixir in operation. You don’t really know what minds in the machine means, do you?”

  “No.”

  “Keep going. I’ve received the signal. It’s time.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  Tara sighed. “We’ve been through all that. This is the culmination of a long project. The…minds in the machine want the cyborg device in your brain. Maybe once they have you, they’ll keep you alive. You wouldn’t believe what a stubborn lot—never mind any of that. Keep crawling, Cade. The end of the line is near.”

  “My destiny?” asked Cade.

  Tara laughed darkly. “That’s right, muscleman, your destiny awaits you.”

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Cade crawled through the ancient building, starting to wonder if the cave entrance had been chiseled open when the Nian searched for the X-ship.

  The agony of mind lessened as he crawled farther into the structure. He concentrated on the present, on the feel of the floor to his hands. The tech company—could the people that ran it want to revive—

  “No,” Cade whispered to himself. That was the wrong direction for his thoughts to take. Immediacy—tactics—stay ready, stay controlled. Concentrate on what keeps your mind limber and operative.

  “Go left,” Tara said.

  He went left, and he felt something different with his hands. They entered an elevator. The door closed, the box jerked and hummed as it descended downward at speed. He was going to ask how far they would travel down when the elevator slowed, stopped and the door reopened.

  On his hands and knees, Cade faced the exit and crawled out. On some psychic level, he realized they were deep underground. Maybe the elevator had used a gravity dampener to maintain the illusion of a normal rate of descent. This was deep, deep underground, and he didn’t like it.

  He continued crawling on his hands and knees, wondering if he would ever see sunlight again. He crawled farther, ready to climb back onto his feet.

  “Halt,” Tara said.

  Cade did. When nothing more happened, he glanced back at her. She was staring ahead, the emitter in her right hand. Did her machine orbs see things he was missing? Perhaps ultraviolet light beams crisscrossed the path ahead.

  “Ah,” she said.

  Cade looked ahead. A floating gurney approached. It moved slowly and wobbled now and again. It stopped, seemed to press against something and shot through toward him. In seconds, it halted beside him.

  “Climb aboard,” Tara said.

  Cade did so, the gurney sinking under his weight.

  “Don’t sit on it. Lie back.”

  Cade was hesitant to do so, wondering if bands would snap out and pin him in place. He didn’t see any slots on the smooth top, though.

  “Hurry,” she said, with urgency in her voice.

  Cade lay back, ready to sit up and leap off.

  The floating gurney started moving as he felt a slight vibration. He craned his head, looking back at her. Tara watched wistfully. Abruptly, she whirled around, heading for a side hatch. Maybe that was a waiting room.

  Cade made a mental adjustment, thinking of himself as the soldier, a man under orders with a duty to perform. He raised his head as the gurney pushed against another invisible barrier. They shot through, and it was colder on the other side. He began to shiver.

  Where was this damn thing taking him? What would happen if he climbed off? He thought about that, but could sense no danger. The polygonal shapes on the walls looked cleaner in this part of the—crypt!

  Others had referred to a crypt. A crypt held the dead. Tara had referred to cyborg troopers as the living dead.

  A flash of pain in his mind caused Cade to drop that line of thinking.

  The floating gurney turned a corner, heading toward what seemed like a large utility hatch. The hatch rose before the gurney rammed it, and the soldier sucked in his breath. Two gleaming robots or androids waited on the other side. The sight of them made the soldier’s gut shrivel and twist.

  The gurney slid into a great domed chamber. Before the soldier could react, the two androids moved to the gurney and clutched his arms with mechanical strength. Their skin gleamed like chrome, and each had glinting red eyes.

  The androids lifted him off the gurney and marched the soldier toward rows upon rows of small clear domes. Inside each dome were—

  The soldier’s gut ached, it knotted so hard.

  Inside the nearest small dome were sheets of what looked like pink brain mass. Instinctively, the soldier knew the brain mass—the tissues—had been extracted from many unwilling donors.

  Green computing gel surrounded the pink-white tissue sheets. Each dome—cables, bio-tubes and tight-beam links—connected the many domes to visible computers and life-support systems. The combination made a seething and evil whole.

  These are the minds in the machine, the soldier realized.

  He heard gurgling as warm liquids pulsed through tubes and fed systems. Backup computers made whirring sounds as lights indicated the great seething mass of brain.

  Was this what the golden draught kept alive for over a thousand years? His remembrance of that indicated the golden draught came from an alien source, and that source was drying up.

  This was a terrible plight. He had to keep thinking. Tactics, I must use clever tactics.

  “Hello,” the soldier said in a hoarse voice.

  “Turn him around,” a computer voice said, “and set him against the Analyzer.”

  The gleaming androids turned the soldier, pushing him backward against a man-shaped outline. The soldier resisted until he felt a ray weaken his resolve. He heard clicks like in an X-ray machine.

  “The obedience chip is intact,” the computer voice said. “It controls the subject. We are convinced.”

  The soldier waited for someone else to say something, but no one did.

  Despite the weakening from the ray, the soldier decided he should use tactics again. He had to make them react instead of just being acted upon. “How do you know the obedience chip is intact?”

  “Who speaks?” the computer voice asked.

  “The one who carries the chip,” the soldier said.

  “That…that is against code,” the computer voice said.

  “That’s the reason I suggested you inspect the chip in the first place.”

  “What? That is nonsensical. Besides, you are under the bondage of the chip and should not be able to speak unless spoken to.”

  “Does that mean I cannot think in your service?”

  “That is a novel idea. Why would you do that?”

  “I believe the chip compels me to aid you.”

  “It has been eons since we controlled bio-freaks such as you. We indeed need the chip. I am surprised you desire destruction so quickly.”

  “Is that the only way to remove the chip?”

  “It is the easiest way, and now we are in need of haste.”

  “I suspect the tech company of duplicity.”

  “Explain that odd statement.”

  “I have worked in your service because the obedience chip has compelled me. A tech company out there wishes to extract you
from the planet in order to strip you down and regain advanced technology.”

  “You could not have known about us.”

  “I followed the old codes,” the soldier said.

  “I’m not sure what that means. In any case, if what you say is true, what do you suggest we do?”

  “Learn and analyze before you demand verification.”

  “Verification of what or whom?” the voice asked.

  “Those who seek to supposedly rescue you from the planet.”

  “I will evaluate your proposal.” Seconds passed, then, “This is interesting. It is possible the alien elixir that bathed our tissues for hundreds upon hundreds of years has disoriented us as Tara Alor suggested. We have trusted her and those who have arrived at the rendezvous point above the planet. She has claimed the Patrol orbitals wish our destruction. Is this true?”

  “The orbitals are dangerous to you.”

  “You pass the test, subject. Did you know it was a loyalty test?”

  “No.”

  “I notice a sudden flood of indicators that show, show—I believe the word is emotional stress. Why have you suddenly become stressed?”

  “I’m worried about you,” the soldier said. “Maybe that’s just the obedience chip—”

  “I am beginning to wonder if the chip is defective,” the computer voice said, interrupting. “If our memory serves us correctly, you should not be able to speak as you do. I think I have already said that.”

  “If the chip is defective, perhaps if you bathed it in the golden draught—”

  “What nonsense. The draught only rejuvenates bio tissues, not mechanical or electrical parts.”

  “Oh. What should I call you, by the way?”

  “Master or Masters is correct.”

  “You are a combination creature?”

  “This is most demeaning and frivolous. I am a Web-Mind. Surely, you know about that.”

  The soldier groaned as agony surged through his brain.

  “What is happening?” the Web-Mind asked. “Be quick about this. Inform us.”

  “Pain,” the soldier said. “I am experiencing pain.”

  “This is intolerable. We are not certain that we recall all that we should. Your suggestion has merit, however. I wonder what else you know. Push him against the Analyzer.”