The Lost Destroyer (Lost Starship Series Book 3)

by Vaughn Heppner

  Finally, the men ran after the machines to keep up.

  More of the bio-robots joined the others until sixty or more seethed down the corridors.

  Behind the machines, the three men staggered, barely able to see the robots anymore.

  “We’re close to the control room,” Maddox said, glancing at the recorder.

  “What’s that?” Keith shouted.

  “What?” Maddox asked, hearing the worry in the ace’s voice.

  “See that little ball sailing over the robots?”

  Maddox looked up. As usual, Keith was the first to spot a flying object. Then, the captain realized what he spied.

  “Down,” Maddox shouted. “It’s a pulse grenade.”

  The captain hit the deck. Seconds later, so did Riker and Keith.

  The small object landed and ignited, blowing away bio-robots, raining body parts and oil. Another grenade sailed and a third, fourth and fifth. Heat billowed down the corridor as concussions washed against Maddox’s vacc-suit as he lay on the deck.

  Then, a thick man in an armored vacc-suit appeared down the hall. He held a blaster, and he burned the surviving robots. Afterward, the man seemed to inspect the destroyed constructs. Satisfied, or so it would appear, the man holstered the blaster and disappeared around the farther corner.

  Keith turned to Maddox as they lay on the floor. “We’ve reached the others.”

  “Yes,” Maddox said, climbing to his feet. “It’s finally time to finish this.”

  -43-

  Meta was bewildered by everything that had happened but most especially by what was happening. Deep in her mind, she tried to free himself from her immobility.

  She stood in a small chamber, at least relative to things inside the doomsday machine. Crystal machines hummed around her, seven of them. They were tall like spires with mechanisms visible inside. At the top, flows of energy went from point to point. The energy lines continually changed color. It made her skin feel itchy.

  In the very center of the chamber was a crystal cube machine. It was ten meters by ten. Swirling colors moved at random on the surfaces. If Meta looked at the colors too long, her thoughts faded away. It was like watching flames flicker but even more so.

  At the top of the cube was an odd mechanical construction that seemed different in nature to everything else in here. It was shaped like an octopus with a bulbous section and eight cable arms. The ends of the arms were embedded in the cube.

  At the moment, Oran Rva balanced on top of the cube. He manipulated the giant octopus machine, opening panels as if searching for something.

  Just then, slots opened on the bulbous section. That part was bigger than Oran Rva. The bulbous section must have had five times the New Man’s mass. Those opening slots seemed to be vision ports. They focused on the New Man.

  If Meta hadn’t been frozen in place at Oran Rva’s command, she would have shrieked. The octopus thing up there seemed alive as it began to click and whistle in precise sequences that implied a language.

  “Meta,” Oran Rva said, with a catch to his voice. “Throw me the square device. Make sure you pitch it high enough.”

  Freed from immobility, Meta dug in the sling-pouch Oran Rva had given her before he’d climbed up the cube. She found the square device, a box with many controls. Gripping it with both hands, she judged his position and heaved upward.

  It was hard to throw in the greater Gs. The box sailed up but not quite high enough. Meta readied herself, grunting as she caught it, nearly tearing off her fingers.

  “Foolish woman,” the New Man said. “What’s wrong with you?”

  “I lack sufficient strength,” she called up.

  Oran Rva muttered something to himself before saying, “Gather your strength. Heave as hard as you can. The gravities in this chamber are greater than elsewhere on the vessel. It is part of the driving mechanism, a safety feature, I believe.”

  Earlier, the New Man had worked harder than he should have to climb the cube. Now, Meta knew why.

  Taking several deep breaths, she hurled the box upward, straining her muscles.

  This time, it reached high enough. Oran Rva caught the box. For a second, it appeared he might lose his balance. Would the New Man break bones falling from that height in the higher Gs?

  Meta hoped so.

  Then, he regained his balance. Oran Rva looped a cord from the box around his neck. Studying the square device, he began to manipulate controls. Soon, clicks and whistles emitted from the box.

  Incredibly, and surreally to Meta, the eight cables of the octopus machine shifted as if uncomfortable. The bulbous section emitted more clicks and whistles in a faster sequence.

  Oran Rva had plugged a cord from the box to his helmet. For just a moment, Meta heard mechanical sounds through her headphones. Then words came through.

  “It has been many cycles since I spoke the true tongue. You are from Rexes Seven from the Curator?”

  The New Man must have shut off the radio link between them then, because Meta didn’t hear the strange words anymore.

  An involuntary shudder swept through her. Did Oran Rva communicate with the mechanical octopus up on the cube? Was that a Builder construct? Is that what drove the doomsday machine?

  After that, Meta’s thoughts drifted. In time, the radio link crackled back into life.

  “Meta,” Oran Rva said. “Toss me the egg. It’s time.”

  She dug the Builder egg out of the pouch, the one Ludendorff had brought back from the asteroid base in the Xerxes System. With a heave and a grunt, she threw the egg up to the New Man.

  Oran Rva caught it, keeping his balance better this time.

  Meta kept her head craned to watch the proceedings.

  Oran Rva tapped the egg with his fingers as if playing a musical device. The metal egg split open, one part falling away to strike the floor.

  Meta groaned in revulsion. A giant mechanical centipede crawled out of the other half of the egg, almost flowing as it crossed Oran Rva’s vacc-suited arm.

  The octopus machine squirmed too, the cables beginning to thrash, although the ends remained embedded in the cube. The clicks and whistles were louder than ever.

  The New Man must have forgotten to turn the radio link with Meta back off.

  “Please, do not do this thing to me. I have served the Curator faithfully for many cycles of existence. This is—” A weird scream came through the headphones.

  The mobile Swarm virus launcher flowed onto the octopus’s bulbous head. The centipede forced a slot to open and chewed into the machine. Then, the centipede thing quivered.

  “It is attacking my processors. It is changing…changing…changing code. P-P-Please…”

  Oran Rva slapped the bulbous head. “I am about to give you new instructions. You will listen to the instructions and implement them at once.”

  “I am linked to the ancient machine. It is not as easy as you think to change protocols.”

  “You will listen to my new instructions,” Oran Rva said. “I will not countenance any rebellion on your part.”

  “You are failing to understand the ancient machine.”

  “I will succeed at this,” Oran Rva said.

  “The machine has safeguards. It will break the conditioning we installed long ago. You have injected a Swarm virus into me. It is too crude to use in conjunction with the machine.”

  “You will do as I command,” Oran Rva said.

  “Obedience is not the issue. Yes, I will certainly obey. What I am trying to warm you—” The octopus-shaped thing screamed once more.

  Meta heard the agony as she watched the cables writhe. The Swarm virus centipede no longer quivered.

  “I am losing coherence. There is danger here, grave danger.”

  “You are about to receive your new instructions,” Oran Rva said.

  “No, no, the ancient machine is growing aware of me. There is grave danger here for Rexes Seven and the Curator. If the doomsday machine should fully wake up again—�
�

  “You will not change my mind,” Oran Rva said. “I am fixed upon my goal. You will be my steed in achieving greatness.”

  “I will try. But I am losing coherence. Soon, I will not be able to subdue the ancient protocols. The Swarm virus is creating confusion in my processors. Danger, there is danger for Rexes Seven and the Curator. I implore you to listen to me.”

  “No,” Oran Rva said. “You will listen to me.”

  As Meta stood listening on the floor, she shuddered with revulsion. She hated standing here waiting for…for…

  Meta looked around. Why hadn’t Kane returned yet? Wasn’t he supposed to be back by now? What was keeping him?

  ***

  Maddox stared down at the force-webbed enemy. The blocky man couldn’t move, and it appeared he hadn’t been able to radio Oran Rva.

  Going to one knee, shining a ray on the visor, Maddox saw Kane straining inside the vacc-suit. He should have known it would be the Rouen Colony agent.

  “Let’s do this,” the captain said.

  Keith knelt and manipulated Kane’s helmet, shutting down the shortwave radio link with the others. With a change in setting, the ace linked the enemy agent to their net.

  “Kane, I presume,” Maddox said.

  The other stared balefully at him.

  “I’m Maddox,” the captain said.

  There was a slight tightening of Kane’s eyes, but that was it.

  “Has Oran Rva made it into the control room?” Maddox asked.

  Kane said nothing.

  “Should I just shoot you and get it over with?” Maddox asked.

  Again, the enemy agent didn’t say a word. Kane kept staring with deadly intent.

  “He’s hypnotized,” Riker declared.

  “What?” Maddox asked.

  “Look deep into his eyes,” Riker said. “He’s been programmed.”

  Maddox studied the square-faced Kane. “Yes, I see it now,” the captain said. “What do you think about that, my friend? Your masters trust you so much they program you for obedience. Yes, I trust that side. Programming masters are the best people to serve. They treat you like chattel and toss you aside when they’re finished. You’ve clearly chosen well, Kane.”

  Slowly, as the rest of Kane lay frozen on the deck, the big man shook his head. “You don’t understand. No one can defeat the dominants. Their victory is inevitable.”

  “By dominants I take it you mean the New Men?” Maddox asked.

  Kane said nothing more, although his glare became more baleful.

  “Right,” Maddox said. “I’m not yet ready to kill you. I don’t know enough, but it’s time we moved on. Sergeant?”

  “Here, sir,” Riker said.

  “Hold the web-gun,” Maddox said. “I want to shackle him.”

  Riker took the flat device, keeping it trained on Kane.

  Maddox pulled out shackles. “Let’s do the legs first.”

  Tucking the web-gun under an arm, Riker pressed a tab.

  Kane’s feet rose minutely as he attempted to kick them, but the feet remained force-webbed. As the Rouen Colony man attempted to thrash his legs, Maddox shackled Kane’s wrists, securing them.

  “You really do fall for the most elementary ploys,” the captain said. “Now stay still this time so we can get this done.”

  Kane struggled, but it wasn’t fast or hard enough. Soon, the Rouen Colony agent lay on the deck, squirming in the shackles.

  Maddox retrieved Ludendorff’s flat device from the sergeant. He was going to need it to trap Oran Rva. How lucky was it that Dana Rich had figured out how to use the professor’s high-tech gadgets?

  “Oran Rva isn’t going to fall as easily as Kane did,” Riker said.

  “I have no doubt you’re right,” Maddox said. “But we don’t have a choice. This is the moment, gentlemen. Are you ready?”

  “I am,” Keith said.

  Riker grunted his reply.

  “Here we go,” Maddox said, leading the way to the control room.

  -44-

  Kane lay on the deck, staring up at the bizarre ceiling. He’d retreated into his mind for much of the trek through the freaky doomsday machine.

  Part of him recognized what Oran Rva had done to him. The dominant had stolen much of his wits. That was wrong, just wrong. They had marched through horror, killing alien bio-robots. Kane hadn’t even been able to make love to Meta before the dash into this eerie planet-killer.

  Would Oran Rva ever let him enjoy the fruits of his struggle? Kane had begun to suspect not. Instead, Oran Rva was like the trainer long ago on Rollo Glacier. Oran Rva thought to train him into a guard, a killer, an obedient slave of the dominants.

  The one named Maddox had just sneered at Kane. That galvanized part of his persona. Maddox owned Meta, had used the beautiful woman. Kane resented that. Maddox was not better than Kane.

  How can I regain my wits? How do I break the conditioning? The dominants have programmed me like a machine. That is a crime against my person.

  “I am Kane,” he rumbled. “I am ice.”

  Yes, the ice, Rollo Glacier, he remembered long ago as he’d lain on the ice. The trainer had beaten his best friend to death. Kane had watched. That had been an evil spectacle. Hatred had burned in him that day. The ice had numbed his skin and finally his heart. The words I am ice had thrummed in his skull. Kane had risen from the ice and endured. He had returned to the world of heat. He had eaten and rebuilt his strength. In time, he had slain the trainer.

  No one hurts me and gets away with it. I am Kane. I am ice. These shackles…

  As he lay on the deck in the alien doomsday machine, Kane turned his head, staring at the locks on his wrists. His lips twisted with a snarl. Was he a beast? Did others think to master him?

  Yes, Oran Rva believes that he is better than Kane. No one is better than me. I will survive.

  “Really?” Kane asked himself in mockery. “You’re too stupid to know what to do. You’re a lout, a fool and a dupe. Captain Maddox has beaten you, chained you to the floor and gone to the control room to claim Meta for his own.”

  Kane shook his head. “Meta is mine, mine. No one will have her body but me.”

  Kane began to thrash on the floor. He roared inside his helmet, struggling to free himself from the chains. Nothing helped. He was too weak to burst them as he desired.

  Finally, Kane lay panting on the spongy deck.

  “You have to think. You have to use your wits as you did once on Rollo Glacier. The dominant thinks he can keep you stupid. No. I will regain my mind, and I am going to do it now.”

  Kane closed his eyes. He thought back to the room in the star cruiser. That is where the dominants had begun to program his mind.

  As he lay in the doomsday machine, Kane groaned like a wounded beast. Then, he clamped his teeth together. He strove to think, to break the mind conditioning through force of will. He used hatred, stubbornness and finally sheer grit. By remembering what he had been like, he tried to lever himself back into that frame of mind.

  Try as he might, though, Kane remained dull-witted.

  I have to do something else, something new. What do I have that might work?

  Kane struggled for a new concept. The old ways weren’t going to smash through the dominant technology and processes. To do that, he must, must, do what…?

  Futility began to eat at him. This was impossible.

  Kane sighed, thinking of Meta and the delightful curves of her body, the beauty of her features. He even liked her voice. It did something to him; stirred emotions he hadn’t realized existed.

  It dawned on Kane then. Maybe there was a way out of the trap of the programming. If he did nothing, Meta would die. He would never see her again.

  Why should I care?

  Kane wrestled with the thought, finally concluding it didn’t matter why he should or shouldn’t care. He did. Was that friendship? He had gotten off the glacier for the sake of a friend. No. This was more than mere friendship. Could this be
the thing called love?

  Kane almost sneered at himself. Instead, he lay utterly still. Maybe that’s the key. Think what it means that Meta dies.

  He did, concentrating on the subject. It bothered him deeply, stirred emotions Kane had no idea existed in him. Sure, love existed for others, but not for he who was ice.

  Love is real.

  Something strange settled on Kane’s features. He felt peace in his heart.

  I will die having loved.

  “No,” he said aloud. “I will break free because I must save the one I love.”

  Gritting his teeth, Kane strove for mastery of his mind. He pushed, teased and began to see new possibilities. Finally, a gleam of the old Kane appeared in his eyes.

  Once more, he studied the shackles on his wrists and ankles. Just maybe, he could escape from them, but not by brute force.

  Oh…yes, he would have to do it like this…

  -45-

  Maddox peered around an entrance into a strange chamber. He had no doubt this must be the doomsday machine’s control room.

  Along the walls appeared bursts of light in odd sequencing. In a circle were seven crystal spires with mechanisms whirling inside. Lines of energy thrashed from one pinnacle to the next. In the center was a large cube with swirling, hypnotic colors. An octagonal machine sat on top of the cube. Attached to the bulky part of the silvery machine was an inert centipede, the Swarm-Builder mobile virus carrier.

  A vacc-suited person backed away from the cube, staring upward. Maddox noticed another suited person, one who hung from the cube by his fingers. Yes, that must be Oran Rva. The tall New Man released his hold. His feet struck the deck, the knees bent and the New Man toppled onto the spongy substance.

  “This is it,” the captain told the others. “If I fail to hold him, fire at the taller one.”

  Maddox walked into the room with Ludendorff’s flat device in his gloves. Oran Rva stood up. Something must have alerted the New Man of Maddox’s presence. The enemy turned.

  Aiming the flat device at the man, Maddox manipulated the controls of the web-force. The New Man froze in place.

  “Now,” Maddox told Keith. “Adjust the frequency so we can talk.” He heard static in his headphones as the ace switched their helmets’ setting.