Star Raider

by Vaughn Heppner

  “Objects don’t just disappear, mister.”

  “I’m aware of that, sir.” Sensors turned around to face him. “Maybe they have a teleportation device.”

  Clack scoffed. “Have you ever heard of such a thing?”

  “No, sir, but this Doom Star makes anything seem possible.”

  Clack blinked several times. That was an interesting phrase: “anything seem possible”. Would these people join him in permanently taking over the Doom Star? It was a heady thought. How could he accomplish that, though? Admiral “Hatchet” waited back there, ready to order him off the Doom Star. The commodore with his security men would squash any mutiny by drawing guns and threatening first and then blasting.

  “Increase our velocity,” Clack heard himself saying.

  Propulsion turned to him. “Sir…”

  “Do you have something to add, Propulsion?” Clack asked.

  “We’re already moving faster than I would advise, sir.”

  “Are we indeed,” Clack said. “May I inform you that sensors just picked up enemy readings?”

  “We lost them right away, sir. Maybe they were ghost images.”

  “Do you believe that, Sensors?” Clack asked.

  “Oh, no, sir, we saw the real thing. I’m checking my recording of them. The thing and life forms were definitely there.”

  Clack raised an eyebrow at propulsion.

  “Even so, sir,” propulsion said, stubbornly. “Our velocity will demand an intense burn near the planet. I suggest we begin decelerating already.”

  Clack shook his head.

  “Sir, may I ask why we need to get there so quickly?” propulsion asked.

  Clack tapped his heart. “Something huge is taking place over there. We have to get there and stop the people from Remus, stop the Shand, from doing whatever they’re intending to do.”

  Propulsion glanced at a security man standing with his legs spread near the hatch. “Uh…I’m not sure I understand, sir.”

  Clack scratched the fabric of his command chair armrest. He caught propulsion’s glancing gesture. He understood its significance. Why did he have this certainty of destiny playing out on the planet’s surface? He wasn’t sure, to be honest. But the feeling had been growing in him. The closer they came to the planet, the more he understood the reality of the situation. This was the biggest thing ever. The Remus fanatics and the crazy Shand would do something on the surface—

  “I know what happened to the strange object,” Clack told sensors.

  “What’s that, sir?” sensors asked.

  “They plunged into a hole. They’re heading deep underground.”

  Sensors frowned. “That might explain why I lost contact. Yet…how could you know that, sir?”

  Clack chuckled as more of the bridge officers glanced at him. “Know is too strong of a word. It was the most logical deduction. Don’t you agree?”

  Sensors rubbed the bridge of his long nose. “Yes. I suppose I would. That makes perfect sense. If I may say so, sir, that is some fine deductive work.”

  Clack felt inordinately proud of himself, sitting straighter in the command chair. One could get used to running a starship. It was different, almost cleaner, than having to tear down a person’s personality in order to dig at the truth.

  The interrogator leaned toward the main screen, which aimed in the same direction as the approaching planet. He felt a sense of purpose building in him. A growing rightness demanded that he increase velocity even more. They were going too slow.

  “Propulsion,” Clack said in a stern voice. “You will increase another gravity in speed.”

  The woman stared at him. “Sir, our speed—”

  “I’m not here to listen to your excuses,” Clack said.

  “Sir…I don’t know how to say this delicately.”

  “Then don’t say it,” Clack said. “Obey my order.”

  Sweat had begun to glisten on propulsion’s forehead. “I must point out, sir, that you’re not a regular starship captain. You’re a jumped up Special Intelligence operative who has gained the admiral’s ire. She hates you, sir. Now, I wonder if she hates the rest of us as well. We don’t belong on this ship, sir. It’s haunted and…” Propulsion looked around the bridge, seeing everyone eyeing her. Their faces seemed brighter than she remembered. It almost seemed as if their skin glowed. On a few, their hair stirred as if static electricity moved strands.

  “Add another gravity of acceleration to the ship immediately,” Clack said slowly.

  “Sir…” propulsion said. “That’s madness. Don’t you see? I feel—”

  “You what?” Clack said, enraged with the bridge officer. “You are spouting off to me after failing to obey a direct order. How dare you?”

  Propulsion was frowning. She looked around, and seemed frantic. “Doesn’t anyone else hear it in the interrogator’s voice? He’s not right. He’s—”

  “Silence!” Clack roared, pointing at finger at propulsion. “You will be silent or I will have you shot.”

  Propulsion hunched her shoulders. She looked at the security man. He had his hands on his belt, glaring at her. “Sir—”

  “Kill her,” Clack said.

  The security man unsnapped his holster. In a smooth move, he drew his sidearm, beginning to aim—

  “Wait!” propulsion shouted. “Please, wait, sir. I realize—I was having a panic attack. Yes, sir, I’ll add a gravity of acceleration at once, sir.”

  Clack glared at the offensive officer.

  “Should I shoot her, sir?” the security man asked.

  “Let us see if she can follow orders,” Clack said.

  Propulsion swallowed so her throat convulsed. Her long fingers played upon her controls. A hum went through the bridge.

  “We have increased speed, sir,” propulsion said weakly.

  Clack motioned to the security man. He seemed reluctant as he holstered his sidearm. With a renewed sense of purpose, the interrogator resumed his seat.

  Fifteen minutes later, communications spoke up. “Sir, I have the admiral on the line.”

  “Do you indeed?” Clack asked.

  “She is requesting information. She wants to know why we’re heading so fast toward the planet.”

  “The reason should be obvious to her,” Clack said.

  Several bridge personnel chuckled. Propulsion wasn’t among them. Instead, her hands shook as she looked at her neighbors nervously.

  “How should I reply to her, sir?” communications asked.

  “Don’t,” Clack said. He decided his former idea regarding mutiny was senseless and needless. It occurred to him that most of the bridge crew already agreed with his inner thoughts. A few, like propulsion, didn’t understand, but that didn’t matter. In fact, watching propulsion had become entertaining. He found her lack of understanding strangely humorous.

  Clack Urbis frowned as he rubbed his head. In truth, he didn’t feel quite himself. It felt as if…as if…

  The interrogator shrugged. Propulsion didn’t understand the need for urgency, but almost everyone else did.

  “Don’t send the admiral a reply, sir?” communications asked. “Is that your decision, sir?”

  Clack cocked his head. Was that his decision? That was an interesting question. It almost felt as if something spoke to him, telling him what to say, maybe even telling him what to think. He smiled crookedly. That was a foolish thought, wasn’t it?

  “Sir?” communications asked.

  “Yes,” Clack said. “That is my decision. It takes too long for messages to travel back and forth. We shall go in and investigate the planet. The admiral can study our reports later at her leisure. We don’t have time to worry about her. We have to get to the planet with all haste in order to forestall the greatest tragedy in the galaxy.”

  For some reason, Clack found that uproariously funny. He began to laugh. Others took up his laughter, as it was quite infectious. Soon, everyone on the bridge was laughing, including the security man. The only on
e who didn’t laugh was poor little propulsion, who hunched her shoulders, casting nervous glances all around her.

  She acted as if the rest of them were mad or possessed. It was most amusing, most amusing indeed.

  -48-

  The gravity sled slid through a giant cavern under the earth. Floodlights from the sled shined all around them. Old rusted beams braced the rock. Below, two iron rails stretched into the darkness.

  The shaft no longer went down, but parallel with the surface. The cavern was so huge that the Dark Star could have easily traveled through it instead of the comparatively tiny gravity sled.

  Tanner had pulled out the Innoo Flaam and holster. He’d also removed his helmet. He continued to wonder if that was a good idea or not. There was a powerful metallic odor down here, while a copper taste in his mouth made him spit constantly. Deep, metallic groaning sounds made it seem as if the cavern would collapse at any moment. The worst groans made Tanner’s nape hairs stir. He hated this place.

  Acton was also bareheaded. He’d taken off his helmet when he’d dug out the brown control unit. By that time, the Lithian had madly pried at a box’s lid. Due to his incredible strength, fingermark imprints dented the metal box. Several taps on the control unit had changed everything. The Lithian presently snored beside the bolted down, half crumpled box.

  Action stood at the control column, guiding the disc as they slowly moved through the vast subterranean cavern. “We’re close,” he shouted.

  Tanner nodded. He felt it, too, a presence drawing nearer or their coming closer to it. The presence wanted them to come but it also feared them.

  The centurion realized the presence had manipulated the Lithian earlier. It had to be a Phaze, right?

  Moving closer to the Shand, Tanner raised his voice. “I thought Phazes could only control certain kinds of machines like cyborgs.”

  “They can only inhabit such machines,” Acton said. “Control or manipulation is a different process.”

  “You had something on the Dark Star that blunts their mind control power, didn’t you?” Tanner asked.

  Acton nodded, keeping his focus on the gloomy path ahead.

  “Did you bring that with us?” Tanner asked.

  Acton shook his head.

  “Why am I still in control of myself then?”

  Acton laughed. It was a harsh sound. “Don’t you remember me saying you are incredibly stubborn?”

  “I figured you were insulting me.”

  “Far from it,” Acton said. “Your stubbornness is an aid in our mission. I don’t believe another mind can control yours. For better or worse, you are your own person.”

  “That’s why I’m carrying the blaster, isn’t it?”

  “To a large degree,” Acton said.

  “It knows we’re coming, right?”

  Acton nodded.

  “Why doesn’t it just run away?”

  “Because we’re heading toward something it wants to protect,” Acton said.

  “You mean the transporter.”

  “I do indeed,” Acton said.

  “Why did you bring your Lithians if you knew the Phazes can control minds?”

  “I know less than you surmise,” Acton shouted. “Besides, I didn’t think they would bother. Now, please, shut the hell up. You’re driving me crazy. I have to do this right or—hang on!”

  Tanner barely grabbed a bar in time. The sled sank fast. At that moment, a flash of blazing light appeared up the tunnel. It sped at them like a comet. It had a large glowing section that crackled like a fireball. The tail waggled. The thing flew overhead, passing the sled at speed.

  “What’s that?” Tanner shouted.

  “A pure Phaze,” Acton said. “We may be too late. That one no longer needs to inhabit anything to gain strength. It is free to move anywhere. Keep hanging on, and get ready to use the blaster. I don’t think I can ready my own surprise in time.”

  The sled slowed hard at the last moment. Even so, the landing was jarring. Tanner lost his grip, flew up and slammed down onto his back.

  “It’s coming,” Acton shouted. “Draw your blaster.”

  Tanner fumbled for his gun as he sat up. He drew it, flicked on the switch and shouted, “What setting should I use?”

  “The highest, you fool. You want to kill it.”

  Tanner climbed to his feet and focused on the blaster as he switched it to its highest setting. The gun vibrated as the end of the barrel began to glow pink.

  Do not do this thing, the Phaze spoke directly into his head. I am a god, come to give you power unlimited. I can grant you every desire your heart beats to possess. Lower your gun. Turn it off. I am your god. I am your best friend.

  Tanner heard the thoughts in his head. He didn’t think this was telepathy, though. It had to be energy flowing through his synapses, speaking directly into his brain. It made his face feel hot.

  Maybe the blaster’s force screen helped him some. Maybe it linked him more directly into the Phaze’s mind. He didn’t know which.

  Gripping the heavy, longish blaster with both hands, Tanner looked up. The comet blazed at him. It didn’t have eyes, but he sensed the thing studying him. With a jerk, Tanner raised the gun.

  “Let it get in close,” Acton shouted. “It can dodge the shot if you fire too soon.”

  Tanner licked dry lips, making a rasping sound. He wanted to scream. Instead, he focused on this photon-electrical creature from the Triangulum Galaxy. Who had ever heard of something so crazy? That little pipsqueak galaxy only had 40 billion stars. Who did it think it was, sending over freak aliens to a much bigger, badder and better galaxy?

  Tanner squeezed the trigger.

  “Fire!” Acton shouted at almost the same time.

  The blaster took a half beat. It vibrated harder, and a red beam flashed from the Third Period Innoo Flaam. The beam slashed into the blazing comet thing.

  Tanner flinched as a horrible mind-scream gave him a blinding headache. His flinch took the beam off target. Then, Tanner’s trigger finger lost strength.

  A subdued comet zoomed overhead. Flashing motes of light spilled out of it like phantasmal blood. The beam wound seemed to be bleeding the flashing motes. The comet thing didn’t swerve and come back at them. It kept barreling down the tunnel as if trying to flee. After leaving the comet-shaped creature, the flashing motes almost immediately lost color, soon disappearing altogether.

  Finally, the scream no longer sounded in Tanner’s head. The aftereffect left splotches in his eyesight, though. He blinked, wiping tears from his eyes.

  The distant Phaze darted around a corner, no longer visible.

  “You flinched,” Acton said. “You could have killed it. Instead, you merely wounded it. If the Phaze had known better, it would have attacked while your blaster recharged.”

  “Hey,” Tanner said, “you never told me it could scream like a banshee in my head.”

  “That’s because I didn’t know.”

  “Fine. Next time—”

  “There may not be a next time!” Acton shouted. “You’ve only wounded it. Now, it can tell the others about your blaster. They’ll be smarter next time, provided they even dare to face us again.”

  Tanner nodded curtly to himself. They would know better what to do next time, but so would he.

  “Let’s go, Acton. We have some Phazes to hunt. Why are we just standing here like idiots?”

  The Shand glanced at him before he manipulated the controls, taking the sled up and heading deeper into the underworld.

  ***

  They traveled in silence for a time.

  Tanner studied the tunnel bracing, the spotlights washing over them. He couldn’t fathom how the cyborgs or Phaze-controlled cyborgs had built these vast structures without the orbital AI sensors detecting the work. The Web Mind must have written viruses long ago, infiltrating them up there. Did those AIs and missiles even work anymore? Maybe Acton and he had gone to all this trouble of sneaking into orbit for nothing. Maybe nothing
worked right in this star system anymore.

  “This doesn’t make sense,” Tanner said aloud.

  “You must particularize your complaint,” Acton said. “If it’s too broad, how can I interpret it?”

  “The Old Federation orbital sensors had to pick up this internal activity—I mean cyborgs digging or building these vast tunnels.”

  The Shand nodded after a moment. “I agree with your analysis.”

  “So…?”

  “Perhaps the Phazes have already tampered with the orbital equipment,” Acton said. “This is the most logical answer.”

  “Either that or the Web Mind developed viruses.”

  “That would suffice as a cause as well,” Acton agreed.

  “Does that mean the Web Mind or the Phazes could send the orbital warheads down on us?”

  “What would be their motivation to do such a thing?” Acton asked.

  “Are you serious? So they could stop us, of course.”

  “I see your reasoning, but it might complicate matters for them to drop all those warheads. It would possibly harm their efforts to leave the planet in the near future. No. I doubt they will think of raining the nukes on us immediately. I suspect they believe they can easily kill us.”

  “Even after the first Phaze buzzed us and failed to do diddly against us?” Tanner asked.

  Acton studied his board. “We will not get many more chances to kill Phazes. Either we strike hard and fast, and win…”

  “Or we lose,” Tanner finished for him.

  “That is the most logical outcome if we do not win the next round.”

  “You’re full of logic today, aren’t you?”

  “I am always full of logic,” Acton said.

  “Full of something,” Tanner muttered to himself. He had become uneasy. The weight of the earth above pressed down on his spirit. At least the feeling wasn’t another Phaze-attack on his mind.

  Tanner grinned. After all this time, his stubbornness had finally come in handy. An easily convinced person would have already folded to the Phazes. A person who would give up after only a few tries would fail down here. Only a stubborn, donkey of a man had a chance to save humanity. Tanner decided he liked that. He would remember that the next time someone told him he was too stubborn.