by B. V. Larson
I stopped talking, because Lorn had begun to laugh. The sound was loud, rude and it came from deep down in his belly.
“You’ve got to be kidding me, Sparhawk! No Stroj, not even the Supreme Being, could command the others to allow such a thing. At best, they’ll reprogram their auto-fire systems to avoid destroying you as long as you remain at extreme range. If you get closer—within a million kilometers, let’s say, they’ll unload on you.”
“That’s not the spirit of cooperation I’d hoped to achieve today,” I complained.
Lorn shrugged. “Nonetheless, it’s the best my people can possibly offer. We’re not a trusting bunch—for good reason.”
I could hardly argue that point. The ships that had destroyed most of their planets had been built in my home star system, after all. How could they trust us not to turn our guns on them, joining in the fight on the opposite side? It didn’t help matters that the Stroj themselves would think little of performing such a treacherous act if the situation had been reversed.
“Very well,” I said. “We’ll stay at long range. I think we can still aid effectively in the coming battle.”
“Okay then, I’ll help you. But you must listen to me. You must follow my lead. They’ll never accept this arrangement any other way.”
He began to explain what he intended, and my crewmen instantly objected. I wasn’t enthusiastic, either.
But over time, we came to be convinced. The situation would be purely cosmetic, and Lorn would at no time be able to stage some kind of treachery. I made sure of that.
Hammering out the details took the better part of an hour. At the end of that time, Durris began to frantically signal me. I turned to him in irritation.
“What is it now?” I asked.
“You asked about additional ships, Captain? I think they’re here. I’m not sure if they’re what you wanted, however.”
I joined him at the scopes. Three ships were now drifting near the breach where we’d so recently appeared.
The three ships were Beta battle cruisers. Okto still led them, and she had yet to give up her mission. She was still following me.
Despite the danger and the complication, I smiled.
“She’s right on time,” I said. “Now, all I have to do is convince her to cooperate.”
“That seems like a tall order, Captain,” Yamada said, shaking her head.
I didn’t bother to disagree with her.
“Open a channel to the Beta ships, please.”
She attempted to do so, and we waited a full minute.
“They don’t seem to be interested in listening to us, Captain,” Yamada said. “I’m getting nothing. Not even a tracer on our signal.”
“Possibly they’re sorting out their instruments. Get them on-screen at maximum magnification.”
Even with our best sensors, we could see little. At this range, the computers had to extrapolate what the enemy was doing.
But still, we managed to see something that surprised us.
“They’re repairing the ships,” Yamada said. “Those are suited spacers crawling over the hulls.”
I nodded, and I felt a tiny sense of relief. I’d been worried that their crews had been decimated by the crushing gravity they’d endured.
“Ha!” boomed Rumbold. “Those Beta girls are damned near indestructible.”
“Yes,” I said, “they are. What systems are they repairing first?”
“Looks like they’re still working on weapons, Captain,” Durris said, studying his scopes carefully.
“Of course,” I said quietly.
“We could hit them now, Captain,” Durris said. “They’re weak, personally injured, and their ships are barely functioning. I’ve been doing some calculations concerning range and—”
“First Officer,” I said sternly. “If I’d intended to kill the Betas, I would have done so when they were helpless inside the breach.”
“But sir,” he said, “they didn’t follow your instructions. They didn’t turn around and head for home. They could have crawled out of the breach at the other end of that bridge and been free of the gravity effects. At this point, they clearly have returned to their previous mission.”
I couldn’t argue with his point. They weren’t even talking to us. Diplomacy was exceedingly difficult if one side persisted in ignoring the other.
“All right,” I said, “forget about starting a conversation. Maybe their sensors are damaged as we can see that’s not their first repair priority. Let’s queue up a series of system scans and broadcast them in the clear. Let them see the Iron Duke. Let them see the destruction the variant fleet is visiting upon this defeated system.”
Yamada focused on the task, but Durris came to my side and spoke in a low voice.
“Captain,” he said, “your transmission might be seen as a threat. Maybe they’ll think the star carrier is allied with us—we’re both Earth ships, after all.”
“That’s fine,” I told him. “I just want to get them talking.”
Another hour went by. We put our plans with Lorn on hold which he grumbled about. He seemed to be eager to deceive his own people.
“I’m getting a hailing call from Okto!” Yamada said suddenly. “She demands to speak with you in private.”
“Excellent. I’ll talk to her in my office.”
Stepping smartly to my private chambers, I used my implant to place Okto in the room with me.
She was huge, just as large as Zye—maybe even bigger. Perhaps it was her personal stance. She carried herself with her back ramrod straight. I could see the pride that every Alpha-type from her world exuded.
“What kind of trick is this, Sparhawk?” she demanded, looking around and studying her virtual hands as she moved about my cabin.
I’d forgotten her people weren’t used to this kind of technology. We’d only recently gotten Zye to accept it back on Earth.
“It’s a trick of the senses, Captain,” I said. “There’s no danger in it. Welcome aboard Defiant.”
“Defiant? No, this ship’s name is S11. She will never be an Earth ship in my eyes.”
To the Betas, we’d stolen Defiant. We had, in fact, salvaged her. But that distinction had never completely penetrated the mind of any Beta I’d met.
“In any case,” I said in a diplomatic tone, “we have urgent matters to discuss. Have you reviewed the transmission we’ve sent?”
“Fabrications,” she said, waving her hand through air. Her hand blurred a little when she did so, which made her study it further with a very large frown on her face.
“No, they’re not fabrications. When you repair your sensors, you’ll see the same data we sent. The Stroj have been defeated in this system—their home system. The last of them are clustered around their home world. There, they’ll make their last stand.”
She turned back to me, lowering her big hand. “What of it? We’re happy the Stroj are being destroyed. I hadn’t thought your fleet capable of such a victory, but I’ll welcome the day the last Stroj perishes.”
“That’s a short-sighted view,” I said.
“Why?” she growled.
“The fleet is controlled by variants. It isn’t going to stop with the Stroj.”
She looked at me. “You mean they’ll return to Beta?”
“Yes,” I said. “Then they’ll keep going. Earth is in danger, too.”
“We’ve already lost a colony system. Did you know that? Just two of those battleships came into our system. We took one out then the other fled.”
“Tell me,” I said, “who commanded that task force?”
“Some Earthling Basic. A man named Halsey, I believe.”
I thought about that, and I began to understand why the Betas had thus far survived. The star carrier had never ventured to the Beta Cygnus system. If it had, the fleet would have destroyed all the Betas as it had every other colony it encountered. Instead, Halsey had managed to escape the variants temporarily. Perhaps the humans aboard had disabled t
hem or something. In any case, he’d come through the Beta Cygnus system while trying to find the way home.
And these savages, the Betas, had torn into them losing half their strength and destroying an Earth battleship. Halsey had suffered a similar fate when he’d finally reached home. I guessed that the variants had managed to mutiny by then, finishing the job they’d begun.
“That’s unfortunate,” I said quietly. “We could have used Halsey’s help.”
“What are you talking about?” Okto demanded suspiciously.
“Nothing,” I said, “let’s talk about this system, about this situation. The Stroj are our enemies, admittedly. But if they fall, this fleet will turn and continue to destroy colonies. Eventually, it will come and destroy both your civilization and mine.”
Okto shrugged her big shoulders and crossed her arms under her ample breasts. “So what? I’ll take the chance. We drove off your big ships before.”
I raised a finger to stop her.
“Hold on,” I said. “You’re an Alpha. You’re one of the smartest people from your home system and the best your genetic stock can produce.”
My praise seemed to have the intended effect. Okto stood a little taller as I spoke each word. Diplomatically, Betas were not sophisticated.
“What you say is beyond obvious,” she said.
“Of course it is. Now, I call upon you to use that sharp mind of yours: if two battleships managed to destroy half your fleet, what would a star carrier and three more of them do?”
She hesitated. I could tell she knew the answer, but didn’t want to say it.
“We might not hold,” she admitted. “But what else can we do?”
A very small smile stole across my features. It was all I would allow myself.
“We can cooperate. Just for a day. Just for the length of a single battle. All three of us: Earth, Stroj and Beta. We have enough ships in this system, enough firepower to break these battleships.”
She frowned again. “What of the carrier?”
“I’m honestly not sure,” I said. “The carrier is an unknown. We’ve never faced anything like it in battle, and neither have your people. But I do know this: if we don’t destroy the variants here, in this system, where all of humanity’s strength is concentrated… Well, it will be the end.”
“The end of what?”
“The end of us all. The end of our line. The variants will have proven they’re the superior species—or variation of a species as the case may be. Flesh and blood will have failed to stop the hybrid machines.”
“The Stroj are hybrid machines!” she boomed. “They are no less evil than the variants themselves. They defeat every colony, lay it supine on its back, and have their way with us all!”
“An apt analogy,” I said, “but the Stroj are not as bad as the variants.”
“Why not?”
“Because the Stroj never commit genocide. They want trophies and sport. They keep their defeated enemies alive to toy with them. The variants are far more ruthless and efficient. They’re only interest is in the complete annihilation of all life other than their own.”
Okto began pacing around my office. It was a startling effect. Her head nearly reached the ceiling. Her wild black hair was longer than Zye’s and cascaded down her back. Her massive legs swung through the furniture as if she were unaware of it.
“All right,” she said at last. “We’ll fight at your side, but only for a single battle. After that, Sparhawk, your life will not be worth one nanogram more.”
I nodded, accepting her terms. I felt it was the best I was going to get.
“Very well. Let’s discuss our plans.”
-51-
For two days, we watched from a safe distance as the variant fleet cruised from planet, to outpost, to moon, destroying everything. They ignored us, seemingly intent on their systematic tour of destruction.
Okto used that time wisely, repairing her three ships. During their voyage through the gravity-magnifying slice of hyperspace, they’d suffered quite a bit of damage to their internal components. Many sensitive sub-systems were out of compliance and in drastic need of maintenance.
On the second day, I managed to convince Okto to allow Defiant to help. We sent two of my variants to each of her vessels to speed up the process. She was astounded by their efficiency.
“No wonder,” she told me at the end of the second day, “Earth was able to build a first-class fleet so quickly. Our admirals didn’t see how it could be done. We argued that you Earthlings must have been hiding the battleships somehow—but that didn’t make any sense.”
“No,” I agreed. “If we’d had the ships, we would have used them to defend Earth during previous battles.”
She was a looming presence in my office again. We were communicating privately using my implant.
She’d become accustomed to the effect of perception-transference by now, and she seemed relaxed, even enjoying herself. She sat on my couch and studied me with large, piercing eyes.
“Hmm…” I said, having seen her expression on Zye’s face before. “Tell me, Okto, is it true you Alphas have males on your home world?”
She turned cool at the question.
“Rude,” she said. “Poorly played.”
“Uh… how so? I meant no offense.”
“And yet, you have offended. Earth men are truly uncouth creatures, just as Betas have always said.”
She was beginning to annoy me, so I changed the topic.
“Fine,” I said, “let’s go back to discussing strategy. If we can get the Stroj to agree—”
“No. No strategy talk,” she said abruptly. “We will discuss your previous point. It’s unfair, but starship captains don’t have sufficient status to be awarded a male.”
“I see…” I said. “Could that be because placing a male aboard one of your ships might be… disruptive to the crew?”
She looked like a cat that had been petted for one second too long.
“A groundless theory,” she said. “Alpha captains are among the most accomplished of our kind, and yet we must be denied.”
“Couldn’t you have a male living at home, waiting for your return?”
She stared at me for a moment, her eyes still narrowed. Then she let out a sudden laugh. “I suspected that you understood nothing about us. It’s clear now that you do not. Once allowed a male, we wouldn’t be able to tolerate such a long separation.”
Frowning, I began to nod. She was right in a way, about my knowledge of Beta customs. I only knew Zye. I knew her well, but that was different from knowing her entire people.
But what Okto was telling me did fit. Zye had always exhibited a strong sex-drive and was extremely possessive. During the brief time that we were intimately involved, she’d become something of a stalker. Her preoccupation with me made it difficult to perform my duties as captain.
With only one individual to study, I’d had no idea how much of Zye’s personality was uniquely hers, and how much was a reflection of traits shared with all her sisters. Now, I was more able to see how much she really was like her sisters.
They were usually denied normal sexual relationships, but they desired them. One might even say they could become obsessed rather easily.
A warning chime went off in my mind as these thoughts passed through it. When I’d rescued Zye, and later defeated her in various contests of will, she’d become obsessed with me. Could that same pattern be playing out again with Okto? The thought was alarming.
Okto was like a meaner version of Zye. She wasn’t an oppressed rogue, accustomed to controlling her emotions and hiding her intentions. Instead, she was a starship captain—and a leader among even that elite group. Who knew what kinds of fanciful ideas she was entertaining?
Reflecting on these matters, it occurred to me that Okto had been spending quite a bit of time strutting about my office in these virtual meetings. After our first such encounter, she’d insisted upon more one-to-one discussions.
Clearing my throat, I called the meeting to a close. We were ready to proceed to the next stage which would involve Lorn.
Reluctantly, Okto signed off and vanished. Moving quickly to the command deck, I contacted Lorn.
“Is it time?” he asked eagerly.
I sighed. “Yes it is. I’ll have you escorted to the command deck.”
“Unnecessary,” he said, “I’d never choose a glorious moment like this to self-detonate. The mere idea is preposterous. This is going to be my finest hour.”
Although I believed him, I didn’t waver from my security protocols. Two marines brought him swiftly to my deck.
He wore no chains, and he stood tall. His face presented all of us with a leering mask of self-satisfaction.
“This will be a fine day,” he kept saying to himself. “My finest day.”
The crew grumbled, but they’d all been briefed. Durris had argued perhaps the most strenuously, but I’d managed to overcome his objections.
“Activate the forward screen,” Lorn commanded Yamada, immediately falling into his role.
She gave him a disgusted glance, but followed his orders.
We all wore collars now. They were fake collars, manufactured to imitate those the Stroj put upon their most useful slaves, people too important to be torn to shreds for spare parts.
Lorn himself wore my uniform while I sat at his side in a much smaller, squatty-looking chair. Lorn basked in his glory as he gave us a series of codes that would allow us to contact the Stroj military network.
We’d been trying in vain for days to hail the Stroj without any success. The desperate nature of the situation had driven me to attempt Lorn’s suggested deception. I hoped it would be successful because I was already regretting my role in this farce.
At last, several long minutes later, the Stroj replied. A creature lit up our holographic screens. It was a hideous figure of unsurpassed deformity.
I’d met a number of Stroj. Those who presented themselves as human could slip in among my kind unnoticed. Others were mechanical in nature or hybrids like Lorn.
But this being was something different. It took no pains to look humanoid. Instead of a head, it was topped by a splash of crimson-colored flesh that sprouted high, like a gigantic version of a rooster’s lop-sided, jiggling topknot. Buried in this wobbling mass were three eyestalks.