Fortress Earth (Extinction Wars Book 4)

by Fortress Earth (epub)

  “If you don’t know how to kill him, what good are you to me?” I asked.

  “You don’t understand. Killing a First One was always hard. They had powers no other race ever exhibited. But I think Abaddon has become greater than any other First One. He…developed in the other space-time continuum. He has become the greatest being alive. He’s a danger to everyone. We thought—”

  “Yes?” I said. “You thought what?”

  Claath shook his head. “It doesn’t matter. You had the greatest weapon ever made by another race: the Ultrix Disintegrator. It hurt Abaddon, which proves the Curator was right in giving it to you. Now, it’s gone. Now, the Kargs are charging down here. Do you want my suggestion?”

  “Let’s hear it.”

  “We must rid the craft of Kargs and go to another galaxy. We can start over. Maybe in time Abaddon will come after us. Maybe ruling an entire galaxy will be enough for his vaulting ambition. In truth, though, I believe he is afflicted with the worst of the flesh diseases.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Abaddon seeks to kill the Creator.”

  I stared at Claath.

  “Yet,” the Jelk said, “how does one go about killing an imaginary being?”

  That seemed to come out of left field. It surprised me. “How do you know the Creator is imaginary?” I asked.

  “Commander, please,” Claath said. “It is a vain and foolish concept. The Creator, as conceived, does not exist.”

  “How do you know that?” I asked. “Have you been to every point in the universe to check?”

  “Clearly, I have not.”

  “Then how do you know He doesn’t exist?”

  “Bah!” Claath said. “I reject your argument. Here, I’ll show you why it’s futile. I believe there is a Cosmic Joker who causes each of us to trip and fall for his sick amusement. But you’ll tell me that is a phantasm of my imagination. People trip and fall because they are clumsy. At that point, my eyes will gleam with righteous indignation. I will say, ‘It is self-evident the Cosmic Joker exists. If you say he doesn’t, I’ll simply ask you if you’ve been to every point in the universe to check.’ Obviously, none of us has been to every place in the universe. Does that mean whatever creature we concoct in our fantasies is true?”

  “All right,” I said, “you don’t believe in the Creator. Frankly, I don’t care if you do or not. I want to know how to kill Abaddon.”

  “I have already told you I don’t know. Repeating the question won’t magically force me to give you an answer I don’t have.”

  I turned away. Was Abaddon unbeatable then? The Curator had given me the Ultrix Disintegrator—

  I stood. I had my answer. If I didn’t know, if Claath didn’t know, there was still one person who might. I had to get back to that person and ask. I headed for the exit.

  “Where are you going?” Claath asked.

  “To the bridge,” I said.

  “A-ha!” he said, jumping up. “You have renewed your hope. I see it in your bearing. I am interested in this. I will join you.”

  I studied Claath. He seemed at ease.

  “What just happened?” I asked. “Why are you so…boisterous all of a sudden?”

  “It’s not me. It’s you. You’ve thought of something. I wish to observe how you operate. Time and again, you have done what I considered impossible. I would like to know your secrets in order to employ them myself someday.”

  As I listened to him, I realized something. It made me smile inwardly. I had an idea, but Claath wasn’t going to like it. Neither was the other guy I planned to see. Everyone was going to be angry with me. But that was okay. I was pretty pissed off right now myself. When I got like this, I liked pissing off others.

  Claath trailed me to the bridge. The crew stared at him for a time. Maybe they wondered why I was giving the Jelk so much freedom. Finally, the crew went back to work, plotting the coordinates to our next destination. I’d spoken quietly to Captain Trask, so Claath didn’t know where we were headed.

  I finally started for a chair.

  “What is our destination?” Claath asked, following me.

  I turned and told him. It left Claath stunned and then frightened looking.

  -41-

  The Santa Maria appeared at Sagittarius A*.

  I came here feeling like we were a plague ship, as I carried a million Kargs. The last time we’d shown up, the Curator had threatened to use anti-force to rid the vessel of a few Skinnies in their electrical suits. I had a feeling anti-force wouldn’t work against anti-life Kargs.

  The problem was that it looked as if we’d transferred into the middle of a battle.

  “We have to get out of here, Commander,” Claath shouted. “The Ve-Ky are finally making good on their boast. They’re storming the Museum.”

  From all around the accretion disk circling the supermassive black hole poured Vip 92 Attack Vessels. The lead energy ships already hammered the ancient structure with their energy-blob missiles. I did notice that none of those missiles teleported. They traveled the old-fashioned way, dissipating energy as they zipped toward the Fortress of Light. So far, a force field kept most of those missiles from the structure. In a small area, however, a few missiles flew through a visible force-field hole, slamming against the fortress directly. The armored spot had become red-hot and pulsated darker every time another missile struck.

  “Commander,” Captain Trask said, giving me a nervous glance. “The readings from those energy missiles are off the charts. If the Ve-Ky direct them at us, our vessel will explode in short order.”

  Claath shook his head. “It is a terrible pity. But I’m afraid the Curator is doomed.” The Jelk made tsking sounds. “The Curator toyed with the Ve-Ky too long, it appears. He should have made peace with them or transferred his abode elsewhere when he had the chance. I deem it likely that he was too arrogant to contemplate such a rational course.”

  I felt like I had a crocodile beside me shedding false tears.

  “Have you seen enough?” Claath asked me.

  I ignored him, telling Trask, “We’re going in.”

  “But sir—” Trask said.

  “You spout madness,” Claath told me. “The Curator is doomed. We cannot help him. We must save ourselves before the Ve-Ky turn on us. They might conclude you’re considering helping the senile old fool.”

  “Shut up,” I told Claath. “We don’t have any choice in the matter,” I said to Trask.

  “Yes, sir,” our acting captain said.

  “You are a vain and foolish—”

  “Don’t say it,” I warned Claath, certain he was about to call me a beast.

  “You are vain, starship captain,” the Jelk finished lamely. He seemed to reconsider his line of reasoning, nodding. “There are moments for brash actions. I concede the point. You have proven it on more than one occasion. This, however, is certainly not one of those times. Retreat certainly seems to be in order, don’t you agree?”

  I eyed Claath. He looked green around the gills, figuratively speaking, as he studied the vast fleet of Vip 92s. I wondered about that.

  “How do you know about the Ve-Ky?” I asked.

  Claath shrugged as if the matter was of no importance.

  An “itch” in my brain blossomed into an insight. The Ve-Ky were material beings with energy ships and electrical combat suits. Jelk were energy beings who wore flesh and blood disguises.

  “The Ve-Ky didn’t have anything to do with your original escape, did they?”

  Claath laughed nervously. “What a preposterous notion, Commander. This is the center of the galaxy. The laws here—”

  “Tell me later,” I said. “Captain, why haven’t we transferred yet?” I’d seen two men yank the main levers to initiate the process.

  “We should have,” Trask said, frowning severely. “But something—”

  The transfer took place then. It had been delayed for some reason, which seemed ominous. With a clang and a hard shake, the Santa Maria docke
d onto the Fortress of Light.

  “Commander,” Claath said in a rush. “This is a terrible, a grave and odious mistake. I realize now what you must have been thinking. The Curator seems like a kindly human, but I must warn you that he is a vicious meddler, a master deceiver and filled with the wickedest guile imaginable. We must run before he appears.”

  As if on cue, the main bridge doors swished open. Everyone looked up to see who was coming.

  The big old man with the white beard and blue robe hurried onto the bridge. The Curator looked worried and angry, and he gripped a long metal staff in a gnarled old hand.

  “Don’t believe a word he says,” Claath whispered to me. “He will try to dupe you, have no doubt about that. The vicious entity never should have interfered in matters that didn’t concern him. He has a long and bitter memory. I suspect he has already threatened more than once to slay every one of you if you step out of line. That is his way, his evil, foul and despicable way.”

  “Commander Creed,” the Curator said loudly. “What is the meaning of—?” The big old man stopped short, his blue eyes widening in surprise.

  Claath slid behind me as if I could shield him.

  “Commander,” the old man said. “Is that a Jelk in your company?”

  I grabbed Claath by the scuff of the neck, dragging him in front of me.

  “It is a Jelk,” the Curator said. “This is astonishing.” He banged the end of the metal staff on the deck. It made a much louder boom that it should have. “Shah Claath, step forward.”

  To my surprise, Claath tore himself free of my grip as he woodenly began to walk toward the Curator. As he did, Claath turned his head as if his neck was rusted iron. He gave me an imploring look.

  Claath’s lips seemed sealed shut, but he struggled. Finally, he tore them open, shouting, “Please, Commander. Help me. Don’t let him take me. This is wrong and vile.”

  I watched spellbound. What exactly was happening here?

  “I’m sorry for everything I ever did wrong to you,” Claath shouted. “I didn’t mean any of it. Please, Commander, I once saved what was left of the human race. You owe me for that.”

  As much as I hated to admit it, he had a point. Certainly, Claath had never done anything that wasn’t for his own good first. But he had chased off the Lokhar dreadnaught that would have finished off the last one-percenters.

  “Curator,” I said.

  “This doesn’t concern you,” the old man said curtly.

  I didn’t like his prompt dismissal of me, but maybe the Curator had a point too.

  “Creed!” the Jelk wailed. “I don’t want to go back. Please, help me. I’ll give you anything you want. I’ll help you free Jennifer. I know Abaddon’s secrets. I can help you destroy him.”

  “Then you should have spoken up sooner,” I said. “I think it’s too late for you now.”

  “No!” he wailed. Now, Claath tried to resist. His feet continued to move woodenly, though, as he twisted like a wet cat. Finally, almost against his will, the Jelk regarded the waiting Curator.

  “I curse you!” Claath screeched.

  “Don’t you think I’ve felt your curses all around me for millennia?” the old man asked.

  “You helped us once,” Claath said.

  “That was then.”

  “No!” Claath wailed. He threw his arms into the air. In a flash, his flesh and blood disguise vaporized, and he became his true self.

  “It’s about time,” the Curator said. He aimed the top of the staff at the ball of energy.

  Claath in his original machine self remorselessly floated toward the staff. The energy ball wriggled. It tossed. And then it zipped into the staff. For a moment, the staff quivered, turning red at the tip. The redness moved up the staff like a meal moving up a snake’s belly. Finally, the redness faded until the staff was like before, a metal rod in the old man’s left hand.

  “Well, well, well,” the Curator said. “That was unexpected. Shah Claath has come home. You must have surprised him by coming here.”

  I nodded.

  The Curator smiled and then frowned, seeming to suddenly remember why he’d come down to us. “What happened, Commander?”

  “Sir,” I said. “I don’t mean to be disrespectful, but haven’t you been watching what happened with Abaddon and me?”

  The Curator eyed my crew. He eyed me and then studied his staff before regarding me again. “Walk with me, Commander. You and I have a few serious matters to discuss.”

  -42-

  The door swished shut behind us, leaving the Curator and me alone in the corridor.

  “Sir,” I said, “the Ve-Ky are attacking your Fortress en masse.”

  “How many times must I tell you? This is not my place. It is the Creator’s Fortress. I am simply the caretaker.”

  “Yes,” I said. “That’s what I meant.”

  “Then please say what you mean. It will make things much easier between us.”

  “As you wish,” I said.

  He looked down at me. Then he looked up at the ceiling. “Perhaps I can use your appearance to my benefit. You have Kargs in the upper decks. That is disgusting, to say the least. They are vile creature with a killing lust you cannot conceive of. Oh. No. You can conceive of their lust to kill. It possesses you from time to time along with that apishly huge First Admiral of yours. In any regard, the Ve-Ky will soon beach my upper levels, as this is an unprecedented assault. Perhaps I can employ the Kargs for a time.”

  “Fight fire with fire?” I asked.

  “That is an apt saying, perfectly apt,” he said. “Now, wait a moment. I have to do this right.” He swept his arms wide and stared at the staff in his grip as if it was a problem, then shoved the staff at me. “Hold this a moment, would you?”

  I accepted the staff, and almost dropped it on the floor. It was incredibly heavy. I had to use both arms and still found it pressing down like the mythical hammer of Thor. What made this thing so heavy?

  Freed of the staff, the Curator spread his arms and wriggled his fingers. As he’d done once before, he produced a ghostly control panel before himself. He began to sweep and tap gracefully. Images passed on ghostly screens. Flashes of light appeared and disappeared. I had no idea what was going on. He began to move his arms and fingers faster and faster. Finally, the process started freaking me out. I wanted to go home. I wanted regular assault trooper work. This stuff was too different.

  “There!” the Curator said, clapping his hands. As he did that, the ghostly panel disappeared as if it had never existed.

  He plucked the staff from me, tapping it on the deck several times.

  “Thank you, my boy,” he said. “Let us continue.”

  “Sir,” I said, walking in step beside him, feeling absurdly like a boy walking beside his grandfather.

  “Hmmm?” he said.

  “If you don’t mind me asking, what did you just do?”

  “I don’t mind. I don’t mind at all. I had to reroute the Karg reality. It was much harder than you would expect. They are stubborn things, half alive and half machine. They’re not cyborgs as you conceive of them, but a blasphemous mixture. It is quite revolting. In any case, the Kargs are no longer charging down here but flowing back up. They are seeing reality a bit differently from what it is. Soon, they will flow against invading Ve-Ky troopers. It will be a Karg bloodbath. Not that that will stop the Kargs from attacking. In that matter, they are well-suited for the present task. Their seemingly endless assault will give me time. I am sorely pressed, my boy, sorely pressed indeed. It was most fortuitous that you arrived when you did…”

  The Curator stopped walking and talking to stare at me. He seemed a shade paler than before, and there was a hint of perspiration on his brow, which I found extremely odd. He used a sleeve to blot his forehead.

  “What’s wrong?” I asked.

  “If you can’t see it, I won’t explain it.”

  I had a feeling I did see. “Are you saying my showing up when I did wasn�
��t just by chance but by design?”

  “That isn’t important to you,” he said.

  “Maybe it is.”

  He nodded a moment later. “Yes, maybe it is, at that. I have underestimated you, Commander. Maybe it’s time for me to stop doing that. How can I be of service?”

  “Surely you witnessed everything,” I said.

  “Yes! You wounded the egotist. I find it very interesting that Abaddon turned on his Jelk allies. Ah, arrogance brings its own defeat, does it not? I don’t mind telling you that that was our hope all along. The First One is the greatest of his kind. Now, he has more of your friends. And he destroyed the disintegrator.”

  The Curator tightened his grip on the staff. Finally, he lowered the metal rod, extending it to me once more.

  “Grab hold, my boy. We’re losing time standing here jabbering like monkeys. I’m beginning to understand the situation. The Ve-Ky are attacking in concert with Abaddon’s assault on Earth. That’s for a purpose. Likely, the Dark One wishes to keep me occupied just a little too long. Are you holding onto the staff?”

  I held onto it with both hands.

  “Don’t let go,” he warned.

  I nodded.

  The staff grew hot. We vanished, reappearing in the same wall-viewing chamber I’d been in before.

  The Curator set the staff against a wall. He made several manipulations in the air. The wall-screen shimmered for a time…

  “This is bad,” the Curator muttered. He stepped away from the giant screen and plucked at his beard. Scowl lines appeared across his forehead.

  “What’s going on?” I asked.

  “Shhh,” he said. “Let me think.” He plucked at his beard more.

  His staff vibrated. He glanced at it. Then, he studied me out of the corner of his eye. He pursed his lips as if considering an idea. Finally, he strode to the staff, grasping it.

  “Wait here,” he said. A second later, he was gone.

  What had that been about? I shrugged. It must have been a warning about the Ve-Ky that he’d gone to investigate personally.

  I walked to the great wall-screen. It still shimmered. Suddenly, the shimmering lessened. Then, the shimmering lines faded away altogether.