“The Kresh argue they love us by giving us meaning, purpose, and most of all, order. In turn, they demand we obey and love them. Many Bo Taw and other lesser humans do love the masters, but many do not. The Resisters uses non-love—hatred, if you will—as the lever to pry people from their subservience to the Kresh.”
“What does the rebellion look like?” Cyrus asked.
The Reacher shook his head. “I have much of the old wisdom, but there is much I do not know. Have slaves in Earth history ever risen up and successfully thrown off the yoke of their masters?”
“Yes,” Cyrus said.
“Do you know this for a truth?”
“Yes, Moses led the Children of Israel out of Egypt, although Spartacus failed in the end.”
“The old knowledge says slaves need outside assistance for victory.”
“Legend says that God or the Creator helped Moses.”
The Reacher nodded. “We have lacked the Creator’s help, or anyone else’s help for that matter. Thus, we have never revolted or rebelled, but merely resisted. Now, however, you are here to give us outside assistance.”
“Me?” Cyrus asked. “What am I supposed to do?”
“Not just you, of course, but Earth. You are an earnest of Earth’s good will.”
“Surely you know that the Kresh captured our vessel.”
“One ship, yes, this I do know,” the Reacher said. “What about the others?”
“What others?”
The Reacher searched Cyrus’s eyes. “You made the assault upon the Kresh System with a single warship? That strikes me as irrational.”
“I think you have the wrong idea about us. We didn’t know the Kresh were here. To the telescopes in the solar system, the Fenris System—or the Kresh System—looked empty. I believe the Kresh possess a machine that puts a false picture of this system out into the stars.”
“But in your initial attack, some escaped.”
“What initial attack?” Cyrus asked. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
The Reacher frowned. “There is a mystery here. Our minds are not linking. Nine years ago, Earth made the first assault.”
“There’s your mistake,” Cyrus said. “No one from Earth even knew about—” He stopped suddenly, thinking.
“Ah. Your eyes, they show me you’ve had an epiphany.”
“What are you talking about now?” Cyrus asked.
“Speak your thoughts, I beg you.”
“Well… you’re saying people from Earth attacked Fenris nine years ago. But nine years ago no one in the solar system even knew about Fenris.”
“Yet nine years ago the Kresh captured humans or humanoid soldiers from Earth,” the Reacher said.
“Yeah, I bet they did,” Cyrus said. “Only they weren’t from Earth, well, not directly anyway. If I’m right, they were cyborgs. We defeated the cyborgs over a hundred years ago, driving them from the Sol System.”
“This is vitally important,” the Reacher said. “Do you mind if I scan your thoughts?”
“Yeah, I’d mind it a whole lot,” Cyrus said, bristling.
“Time is pressing. You must let me scan your memories.”
Cyrus shook his head.
“I could force it,” the Reacher said. For the first time, he seemed like a psi-master, with something of their arrogance. He stood straighter, and his eyes… the man’s gaze bored into Cyrus.
“No you couldn’t,” Cyrus said. He drew his heat gun, aiming it at the old psi-master.
The Reacher’s eyes tightened.
Cyrus winced. He felt the mind bolt, but his shield had been on automatic. He was too tired to try any telekinesis, but not too tired to shield his thoughts. “You aren’t going to get your info like that,” he panted.
The Reacher’s eyes began to grow dull, turning a metallic color.
Cyrus groaned, but he fought, holding his mind shield. He stood and he aimed the heat gun at the man’s tall forehead. “If you don’t stop, you’re dead.”
“If you kill me, you will never leave the Crab Palace alive.”
“Maybe, but I know you won’t ever leave it either. I’ll not be your slave.”
The mind assault lasted a moment longer, and then stopped. With a stricken look, the Reacher turned away. “I shouldn’t have done that.”
“Would’ve could’ve should’ve,” Cyrus muttered. He had another headache, the old bastard.
“Meaning what’s done is done?” the Reacher asked.
“Sure.”
With his back to Cyrus, the Reacher said, “Earth or Sol isn’t sending more warships, are they?”
“This was a colonizing mission.”
The old man took an audible breath. “I have revealed myself to you for nothing. All these long years… The Kresh will find us soon. I have played my last hand.”
“You must have a way of escape from this place. Otherwise, why did you send for me?”
The Reacher faced him. “There is a vessel, yes, a tiny one. You will need the Vomag’s help to reach it. I had thought you were a new path, but I see now I’m wrong. Perhaps… perhaps you are the Tracker. None of our own people has shown an aptitude for it. Ah, if you were the Tracker, yes, then the Dreams would still make sense. The road to freedom will still be a long one. Perhaps all isn’t lost, though. Yes, you must go to Jassac.”
“Do you mind telling me what the heck you’re talking about?” Cyrus asked.
The Reacher smiled bleakly. “Many must die in order to mask your escape. There is no other way.”
“Look. I don’t think you realize what’s really going on. We came in a ship that moves faster than light.”
“That is impossible.”
“It used to be impossible,” Cyrus said. “We found a way to do it. The cyborgs know the way, too. Otherwise, they couldn’t be out here this fast. What we can’t allow is for the Kresh to figure out how to travel faster than light. We have to destroy our ship, the Sol ship, I mean, the Teleship.”
“We cannot do that now. Perhaps once you find the Anointed One it will be possible.”
“What Anointed One?” Cyrus asked.
“He is the one who will lead the rebellion, who will shake off the Kresh yoke.”
“Who is he?”
“The Dreamer saw him, but she is long dead, slain in the Grand Agonizer many years ago. But she did not tell the Kresh enough to reveal the great hope.”
“Who did she tell, or what did she tell?”
The Reacher smiled sadly. “As I said, you are the Tracker. You must find him and help him however you can.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, and even if I did, how would any of this help destroy the Teleship?”
“I lead the Resisters on High Station 3. You say the Kresh might use your ship and learn this way of faster than light travel. If they find such a drive, surely they will go to Earth and defeat humanity at its core. I believe they hunger for more human genetic material to help fashion better and newer soldiers against the Chirr.”
Cyrus thought about all the colonists in stasis aboard Discovery. The Kresh would use their DNA.
“We must stop the Kresh,” the Reacher was saying. “The Resisters are too weak here. Instead, you must find the Anointed One. He can help both Earth and us here to defeat the Kresh.”
“How can he do that?” Cyrus asked.
“I have no idea, but I think he will. You must find him and help him.”
“Mister, you’re crazy. Do you see me helping anyone?”
“I told you. I am the Reacher, not the Dreamer. I cannot see. I can only reach out and join the needed links.”
“Sure,” Cyrus said. The psi-master and the Dreamer… they were beginning to sound like lunatics.
The old man moved to the table and rummaged around. Finally, he handed Cyrus a crystal. “You must put this in a psi-reader later aboard the vessel.”
“Uh… what vessel?” asked Cyrus.
“The Vomag and several Resister f
ighters will help you reach our hidden ship. With it, you must go to Jassac and find the Anointed One.”
“Where’s Jassac?”
“It is an Earth-viable moon orbiting Pulsar. That is the gas giant High Station 3 orbits.”
“Okay. That I can understand. You also said something about many dying. What’s that all about?”
A gong sounded from outside.
The Reacher’s long features twisted with fear. “Our time is up. Guardians are in the Maze. The Kresh must know you entered. You must leave now. I wish you well, Tracker. Remember me.”
“I will, and thanks.”
“Show me your gratitude by freeing humanity from the Kresh.”
“Sure,” Cyrus said. The old man was crazy, but maybe hope was all he’d had left these many years hiding from the Kresh. What a miserable existence.
“Come,” the Reacher said. “I must tell the Vomag what he needs to do.”
8
Cyrus realized how exhausted he’d become as he followed Skar through the corridors. His legs were like lead and his mind was stuffy with fatigue.
Three gunmen from the Crab Palace had joined them along with the bald, red-eyed woman. Everyone wore synthi-leather jackets, following the protector Cast through the corridors.
The Reacher had spoken tersely with Skar, but the Vomag had brightened considerably.
“We have a mission,” he told Cyrus, as if that was the greatest thing in the world. Maybe for a Vomag it was.
Cyrus was bone tired, but he tried to piece together what he’d just heard. The Dreamer, the Reacher, the Tracker, and the Anointed One—it sounded like a bad holo-vid from Milan, the ones he’d spent too much time watching as a kid. He’d loved the fantasy shows, with swordsmen, sorcerers, and vile monsters. The Reacher—the psi-masters in general—seemed like sorcerers to him. They wielded powers no one else possessed. Maybe the psi-talents caused them to act that way.
They could have called Venice “the Dreamer” for her clairvoyant warning. Yeah, maybe this Dreamer had been a clairvoyant. It wasn’t anything crazy, just more psi-talents. The Kresh had tinkered with their humans. Maybe their scientists had discovered which genes caused the talents. Then it would have simply been a matter of flooding their lab creatures with the needed chromosomes.
Sure. Once upon a time, Earth scientists had warped normal people into the Highborn. Why couldn’t the reptilian bastards have screwed with people enough to make the long-headed psi-masters? He had a small talent. Venice and Jasper had bigger talents and it had changed them. These psi-masters must think like holo-vid sorcerers. That’s why they called people the Dreamer, the Reacher, and the Tracker.
I’m the Tracker, huh? I’m supposed to find the Anointed One on Jassac, a freaking Earth-sized moon. This is nuts.
At least he had allies. Maybe this Anointed One could help him free Jasper, Argon, Dr. Wexx, and the others. Maybe, if he could help stir up a system-wide rebellion, there would be a chance of recapturing Discovery. That meant he might be able to get back to Earth someday.
Would that be impossible? Probably, but it was a thousand times better than dying in the Grand Agonizer or sitting in the alien shuttle on the hard cot. He had purpose and he had friends, even if they were a strange band.
His friends might not be as friendly as he’d like, though. The Reacher had tried a psi-attack there at the end. The old man figured he could just bowl over the Earth lad.
“Not today, Reacher, not today.”
“Did you speak?” Skar asked.
They climbed up pipes and large tubes, and everything around them thrummed. A few of the pipes had been hot, and one of the gunmen had badly burned his hand.
Cyrus looked down. He felt dizzy at the depth. Way down there the gunman with the burned hand looked all alone as he stood guard.
“Isn’t there an easier way than this?” Cyrus asked.
“Climb,” the red-eyed woman called down.
Cyrus climbed. This had to be the largest monkey-bar set in existence. He used pipes, hauling himself to another one, a second, a third and then he balanced precariously on a larger tube. Liquid surged through it. He felt it through the soles of his tight boots. Was it waste or water? He had no idea, but it reminded him of the algae plants in Level 40. He kept climbing, following Skar, who followed Cast, who followed the red-eyed woman. No one had told Cyrus her name. Maybe it was Climber.
After a time, Cyrus said, “Wait. I have to rest.” His arms shook and he found it hard to grip the pipes anymore.
The red-eyed woman climbed down to him. The original floor had long ago faded into a bottomless pit. The top—it was nowhere in existence.
“You mustn’t rest,” she told him. “The Guardians are coming.”
“If I keep climbing, I’m going to slip and fall off.”
“Look into my eyes,” she said.
He did, and it almost worked, her trick. He felt himself in his mind, falling, falling…
He turned his head. “Are you a psi-master, too?” he asked bitterly.
“I am a Null.”
That piqued something in him. “What did you say?”
“I can hide from the Bo Taw, from their seekers.”
“Can you show me how you do that?”
“Look into my eyes.”
Cyrus wrapped his arms around a pipe, interlocking the fingers of both hands, and he leaned his back against a tube. “Okay, Lady. I hope this isn’t a freaking trick.”
He felt the falling feeling in his mind, and in a moment, he saw what she did to hide from psi-seekers. Her shield was different than his was; hers was camouflage.
You can do it, too. I sensed this in you. That is what I attempted to do.
Soon, Cyrus became aware of his surroundings again. “I don’t feel any stronger.”
“You’re not,” she said.
“I thought you were going to give me an energy boost, along with what you showed me,” Cyrus said.
“The Reacher believed I should show you my ability,” she said. “Since you needed to rest here, I decided this was as good a place as any for you to learn my secret.”
“You aren’t going with us to find the Anointed One?”
“We will see,” she said. “I may join the quest.”
“Did you help keep the Reacher hidden all these years with your null power?”
“Can you climb now?” she asked. “Have you rested long enough? The Guardians will be hunting and they do not wait for anyone.”
Cyrus took a deep breath. “Yeah, sure, let’s keep going.”
Maybe ten minutes later, a distant cry drifted up.
“Guardians,” Cast said, with fear making his eyes bulge. “It sounds like they killed Darter.”
“You two,” the woman said, “must stay here and fight the Guardians.”
Cast looked as if he wanted to say something, but he nodded. “I hate the Kresh,” he whispered.
The red-eyed woman grinned viciously. “I hate the Kresh.” She turned to Skar. “We have little time left. Can you make him climb faster?”
Skar eased down beside Cyrus.
“I heard her,” Cyrus said. “What’s our goal anyway?”
“The outer hatch is near,” the woman said. “We will use it to escape High Station 3.”
“My hands don’t have any strength left, but what the heck,” Cyrus said. “Let’s do this.”
He climbed, and he looked down once and saw a silvery thing floating up. Shortly thereafter, the heat guns sizzled.
“They are useless against a Guardian,” the woman said. “But it will—”
A dismal cry sounded, followed by a second, choking gurgle.
“Cast and Diebold are dead,” the woman said. “The Guardian comes.”
Fear gave Cyrus a burst of strength. He climbed, and he looked down into the depths of the pipe-tube monkey bars set. Then he saw it, the floating, fighting machine he’d seen in the tele-chamber. It was oval and it floated faster.
“There
!” the red-eyed woman said. “We’ve reached the hatch. Quickly, don the suits and head aside.”
“Where’s the vessel?” Cyrus asked. “You’ll have to show us.”
“The Vomag knows. The Reacher told him.”
“We can’t let you face that thing alone,” Cyrus said.
“You are the Tracker!” the woman shouted. “You are our last hope. You must find the one who will free humanity from the Kresh! Go, I beg you.”
Cyrus’s heart hammered and he chewed his lower lip in indecision. He’d faced a Guardian before and he’d defeated it, but with telekinetic power. He shook his head. He had nothing of the sort left to beat one now. But if he ran, he’d feel like a coward.
“Go!” the woman said. “Do not make our lives futile.”
With a pang of shame, Cyrus climbed, heading for the hatch. Skar hurried ahead of him. “I never asked for this,” Cyrus hissed.
He looked back. The Guardian shot a milky beam at the woman. The white ray stopped short centimeters from her body.
She can shield herself? I wish she’d shown me how to do that.
Cyrus might have stayed to look longer. Skar pulled him up to a platform and they dived through a hatch.
“It’ll just follow us,” Cyrus said. A muffled scream sounded through the closed hatch. “Now it’s our turn, eh?”
“Quick,” Skar said. “Put this on.”
It was a space suit, a simple one. They stood in a small chamber with many suits hanging on the wall. There were kits and helmets, too.
Skar went to the hatch’s control unit and smashed it with his fist until it began to hiss and smoke.
“Hurry!” Skar cried.
Although he was drunk with fatigue, Cyrus slid his feet into a space suit. He used magnetic clamps to close it. As he picked up a bubble helmet, something heavy clanged against the hatch.
Cyrus shouted and dropped his helmet so it hit the deck plates.
“I will stay back and fight it,” Skar said.
“Wrong,” Cyrus said. “We live or die together. Are you ready?”
Skar put on his helmet. Cyrus did likewise, and the Guardian slammed against the hatch again, obviously trying to beat it down. The Vomag slapped a switch on his suit and then on Cyrus’s. He heard air hiss around him.
They opened the outer hatch, entered a tiny compression chamber, and pressed a switch. The hatch closed and a second later, another hatch opened to the stars.
Alien Honor (A Fenris Novel) Page 27