by GARY DARBY
“You mean as in Elder Tor’al?” Brant asked.
“Yes, sir.”
Brant rubbed at his chin, seemingly considering his own thoughts. “I guess it’s possible,” he answered, “but my question is—would they have the time to do so?
“There is no doubt that the advanced technology and expertise exists, but to create such a sophisticated machine isn’t something that you do overnight.”
“But,” Dason questioned, “is it possible that the council is dealing with a SimLife as sophisticated, or more so, than the Torther Ape?”
Brant sounded dubious. “You’re talking about assembling a team of SimLife engineers, nanofilament and positronic professionals who would be the absolute experts in the field and then create a sophisticated SimLife practically overnight.”
He shook his head at Dason. “I don’t know if that’s possible. I have to admit though, it would answer any number of questions.”
Everyone stood mute contemplating the thought that a SimLife under the Faction’s control was dictating terms to the Imperium’s ruling body, the High Council.
“Since there’s nothing we can do about that,” Brant said and motioned toward the devices in the room, “let’s keep searching. The fact that this is hidden, on an out-of-the-way planet tells us we’re onto something, so let’s see where this trail leads.”
Once again, the scouts spread out to search through the darkened passageways. More doors led to storage areas, or in some cases, empty rooms until they came to a final hatch at the long hall’s end.
Sami again took up his station to one side with his weapon at the ready. Dason pushed the two locking levers back and eased the heavy door open.
Dason shone his light into a large, rectangular-shaped room. Along two walls stood several large, plex-glass–enclosed containers filled with sand. Against the far wall was a long metal table that held various smaller plex-glass tanks filled with sand, as well.
Dason slipped into the room, took a few steps, and stopped. His “bush radar” had lighted up.
Whipping around, he gave the scout sign for “Danger!”
The others instantly went into a crouch, L-guns out and crept into the room. Dason swept the room with his light, his eyes following the beam. There were a few areas of darkness that his light didn’t penetrate. If an attack came, it would be from one of those ebony pools.
Dason sidestepped toward one container and played his light over the receptacle. His eyes widened and he stepped closer for a better look. Tiny waves coursed through the sand.
Something alive and large moved in the container.
A shout spun him around just as a laser shot exploded at his feet, spraying red-hot splinters into his face. He ducked away, but a second shot creased Shanon’s shoulder, sending her spinning to the floor.
A shadowy figure collided with the metal table holding the smaller containers and sent them crashing to the floor, the sand spilling out as a small flood across the room.
The grainy avalanche poured across Shanon as she lay dazed on the floor. Another container hit TJ so hard that it knocked her off her feet and into the gritty sand.
Alena got off one shot at their attacker but before Dason could fire, Shanon’s yell spun him around. Shanon struggled with something in the sand.
In two bounds, Dason was at her side to find her holding onto a fleshy tentacle that was writhing in her grasp.
Dason grabbed onto the thing and gasped in horror when he realized that what must be the head was trying to eat its way into Shanon’s abdomen. “Pull it out, Dason!” Shanon shouted in a desperate plea.
Squeezing so hard that his fingernails cut into the thing’s writhing body, Dason ripped it out of Shanon. She screamed as flesh and blood spurted upward from her torn flesh.
For an instant, the writhing wormlike creature turned on Dason. Thrashing about in his hands, the creature tried to clamp its circular mouth, dripping with a lemon-colored gelatin substance, onto his neck.
Dason flung the thing against the nearby wall and used a laser shot to slice it in half.
Behind him came the prring! prring! prring! of L-guns firing in swift succession.
Dason whirled around to see Nase and Alena shooting nonstop into the sand. Where their lasers hit, the sand sizzled and frothed, turning the grit into crystalline bubbles.
A worm creature launched itself out of the sand right at Nase, but Dason’s hipshot severed its head from the thick body. Nase gave a quick wave of thanks and turned back to scour the sandy earth for the slightest movement.
Confident that they had killed the remainder of the creatures, Dason reached down and pulled Shanon away from the sand and onto a clear stretch of floor.
He knelt next to her and pulled out his med-kit. He pulled her hands apart to inspect the wound. Seconds later, Brant was on one knee beside Shanon.
“What happened?” he demanded. Rapidly, Dason recounted the events. Brant nodded when he finished and said, “We heard the fight. Your attacker must have gone down a side tunnel.”
He turned to give a quick command. “Granger, take two and run him to ground, alive if possible.”
He and Dason inspected Shanon’s wound. Dason breathed a sigh of relief when it became evident that the wound wasn’t deep, and the bleeding had coagulated.
Swabbing at the wound with antiseptic swabs, Dason spun around at TJ’s panic-stricken shout of “Sami!”
TJ was holding onto a kneeling Sami, who clutched at his abdomen and sank to the floor. Nase sprang to Sami’s side and with TJ’s help, eased him down. With a loud groan, Sami curled into a fetal position, his arms wrapped around his stomach.
Brant jumped to his feet and dashed over to where Sami lay slumped on the floor. With a little moan TJ said, “When I fell into the sand, one of those things came slithering right at me.
“Sami pushed me out of the way. He fired, and I thought he got it, but he must have missed. It got under his vest. I think it’s inside of him!”
A piteous moan brought Dason’s attention back to Sami. Helpless, he watched Sami’s eyes roll back in his head, his mouth gaped open, and rattling gasps for air escaped his lips.
Shanon pushed herself up on one elbow, grimaced in pain and gestured toward where Sami lay. “He’s hurt bad, worse than me. Go help him first, I’ll be okay.”
Dason glanced anxious eyes over at the prone figure. He turned back to Shanon and spoke through tight lips, “Brant and TJ are taking care of him. I need to finish getting the InstaHeal on you, and you need to lie still and let it set.”
He pushed Shanon back down, spread InstaHeal over her abdomen and then treated the small flesh wound caused by the laser shot. She mumbled low, “I don’t know why they call it InstaHeal when you have to wait so long for it to harden.”
“Good marketing name,” Dason replied. He leaned close to say reassuringly, “That thing didn’t get very far, but I’m afraid you’re going to have an unusual scar to explain.”
She took a breath and shuddered, “A scar I can live with, but that thing, it just felt as if it was eating . . . Burning into my flesh.”
Dason squeezed her hand, pushed gently with his other hand on her shoulder to keep her still. “Lie easy while I go see about Sami.”
Just as Dason stood, there was a commotion at the doorway. Granger stood in the entrance and with a rough shove, pushed a scowling man into the room, his L-gun trained on the man’s back.
In a hard tone Granger said, “He wasn’t very good at playing hide n’ seek.”
Brant rose, allowing his vest lights to shine into the man’s glowering visage. Dason’s eyes widened as he caught sight of the man’s countenance.
Harsh, guttural breathing caused him to turn to the sound. An expression of pure rage contorted Alena’s face, and she started to take stumbling steps toward the man.
His own boots crunching in the sand, Dason took several steps and reached out to grab Alena’s arm. He pulled her close and in a stern, quiet voice sa
id, “Easy, easy.”
She struggled against his hold. “That’s the—”
“I know, I know,” Dason replied quickly as he tightened his grip on her. “But taking out your vengeance here won’t do anybody any good, especially Sami.”
Dason loosened his hold on Alena and took several steps to stand next to Brant. He jabbed a finger at the man. “That’s the Faction thug who tried to kill us on Marsten’s World. He and Khalid the assassin.”
“Is that right?” Brant answered.
His hand flashed out and grabbed the man’s dark outer clothing, his fingers locked in the sturdy fabric. “What was in those containers you knocked over!” he demanded.
The Gadion glowered and refused to reply. Alena motioned to one side. “There’s more containers, let’s dump one on him and watch what happens.”
Brant spun the mercenary toward one of the nearby small enclosures. The man raised his arms and grunted, “All right, all right.”
With Brant’s fingers digging into his arms and shoulder the Gadion said, “Ever hear of a Sliver Aal?”
“Yes,” Dason answered, puzzled. “But they’re native to Marsten’s World. What are they doing here?”
The man gestured at Sami. “Does it matter? If one of those got inside him, he’s all but a dead man.”
“No!” Alena yelled and launched herself at the Faction ruffian, swinging her L-gun around to place the barrel end right between his eyes.
“You want to see a dead man,” she hissed. “I’ll show you a dead man! How do we get that thing out? And make it zip mister, or you’re going to have an extra hole in your head to breathe through.”
The Gadion glanced first from Alena to Brant, who stepped back, folded his arms, and returned the man’s stare with his own stone-faced expression.
“You won’t shoot,” the Faction member crooned in a silky, confident monotone. “First, I’m the only one who can tell you how to get help for your friend and second, your precious scout oath doesn’t allow you to take life indiscriminately. Remember?”
“You’re right, it doesn’t,” Brant replied. “However, what you might not know is that the Imperium has branded us criminals. We’re posted, wanted outlaws.”
He took a step closer and said in a raspy, threatening voice, “In fact, they don’t see any difference between you and us. To them, we’ve become just–like–you. Outside the law, outside the oath.”
The thin man nervously licked his lips, his self-assurance shaken by Brant’s response. His breathing quickened as Brant’s lips turned upward in a small smile. “That’s right, you get it now, don’t you?”
“And one more thing,” Alena said as she pushed her weapon harder into the man’s cheekbone. “In case you don’t remember. You helped that assassin snake kill my father.
“So, you either help our friend over there or I pull the trigger and you end up being a pool of mush on the floor. You’ve got about one second to make your choice, and for your sake, it better be the right one.”
Chapter Fifteen
Star date: 2443.097
Alpha Pegasi Three
Blanching, the Faction thug focused his eyes on Alena’s outstretched arm and the weapon she held tight against his head. He recognized her too from Marsten’s Planet, and her eyes told him everything he needed to know. She would not hesitate to turn his head into a pile of goo if he failed to answer her.
He shifted his glance, taking in each scout’s stern expression and rock-hard eyes. There was no sign that any of them were going to try and stop her, either.
“I’ll make you a deal,” he stammered. “Help me and I’ll help you.”
Brant stared at the man for several seconds considering the man’s offer. Then he reached out and gently pushed Alena’s weapon down. “I’m listening. But first, what’s your name?”
The Gadion snorted. “Call me Jones or Smith, or King Tut for all I care.”
Then, in rapid, clipped words the man said, “Let me go, and give me two power packs for my ship. Once they’re installed, I’ll tell you how to get the Aal out.”
Granger interrupted to say, “We can’t let him go. Not after what he’s done.”
The mercenary lifted his mouth up in a smirk. “Doesn’t matter what I’ve done, it’s what’s going to happen to your friend over there that matters.”
He folded his arms across his chest with a defiant air. “That’s my offer, take it or leave it.”
Brant’s fingers drummed on his weapon holster for several seconds as he deliberated over the man’s proposition. He jutted his chin out and said, “All right, Jones, here’s my counteroffer.
“You want a couple of things; I want a couple of things. First, how to get that bloodsucker out of Sami, and second, I want to know where Tor’al is.”
“Jones” shook his head at them. “Tor’al? Who’s that?”
“The XT your Faction master kidnapped,” Brant snapped. “And don’t pretend you don’t know because we saw Tor’al on Marsten’s just before you boosted off-planet.”
Alena leaned forward menacingly. “And you were there, remember?” she hissed, bringing up weapon up ever so slightly.
Jones pursed his thin lips, staring at Brant but remaining silent in answer to Brant’s charge.
Brant turned to Alena. “What’s your weapon set to?”
“Level three,” Alena replied. “But I’ll be happy to set it on any level you want, including full disruptor.”
“Dial it up, then,” Brant replied.
Alena thumbed her L-gun to disruptor and placed the maw just centimeters away from the man’s head. Jones’ hands flew up chest high. “Hold on,” he yelped, “kill me and who’s going to help you get the Aal out?”
“There are medical facilities nearby,” Brant replied.
Jones shook his head at Brant. “Yes, but will you get him there in time?”
He chewed on his lower lip as his eyes flicked between Brant and Alena. “Okay,” he said, “I’ll buy into the deal. Give me the power packs I need and I go free.”
“Oh, so, you do know about Tor’al, after all?” Brant questioned.
Jones shrugged in response. “Maybe. But I’m not saying anything until I see those packs.”
“No!” Alena snapped. “Get that thing out of Sami first!”
The Gadion held up a hand and motioned toward the doorway. “I’ll meet you halfway. Just down the hall, we’ll get the help you need for your friend.”
Brant’s eyes flicked toward Alena and he motioned for her to lower her weapon. He turned and gave quick orders, “Granger, Dason, we’ll escort Jones here.
“Nase, TJ, and Alena, stay here and take care of Sami and Shanon. Lia, take the rest of the team and keep searching, there just might be more of these vermin skulking around down here.”
He hooked a thumb at the Faction member. “Move,” he ordered.
Dason swung his weapon to train on the man and followed him through the door. They marched down the hallway, turned down a side corridor until the man stopped at a hatchway that slid aside as he ran a hand over a door pad.
The glare from their vest lights outlined a large room with a sleep cocoon and discarded meal packets in one corner, and more of the oversized, sand-filled plex-glass containers against the opposite wall.
Brant surveyed the room and asked, “Why are we here?”
“To get some things we’ll need,” Jones answered.
Dason caught movement in the sand of one of the containers. “What’s in those?” he asked, “More Aals?”
“No,” the man replied curtly. “They’re Sand Porpoises. The Aals are in the smaller containers.”
He turned and started walking toward what appeared to be a small laboratory. The three scouts followed close behind until he stopped in front of a mini-freezer in the corner.
Brant began to examine the various devices and machines that sat on the nearby tables. After several moments of inspection he said, “This is a chemistry lab and recently used,
too.”
Gesturing toward the flasks, centrifuges, and mini-compus, Brant demanded of the mercenary, “What were you doing with this equipment?”
Jones ignored Brant’s question and began to press on the freezer’s opening mechanism but Brant pulled him around roughly.
“I asked you a question,” Brant muttered through clenched teeth. “What are you producing with this equipment? I recognize a production lab, even one this small, when I see it.”
“If you’re so smart, you figure it out,” Jones replied and turned back around.
He entered a security code into the freezer’s lock mechanism, opened the door, and took out a small vial of greenish liquid. As he began to close the door, Brant pushed the Gadion’s hand aside and peered inside the interior.
He reached in and pulled out several vials that held a cream-colored liquid. Brant turned one on its side and watched as the substance oozed from one end of the vial to the other.
“What’s this?” he asked.
Jones hesitated and then answered, “Porpoise blood; I sell it to pharmaceutical companies. They use it in various medicinal compounds, some I sell to cosmetic industry. Same with the Aals.”
He snickered at Brant. “I understand it’s good for the complexion; you might want to try some on yours.”
Holding the vial in the air, Brant glanced sideways at the Gadion. Dason had the feeling that Brant wasn’t buying the porpoise blood story.
“You trap Aals and Sand Porpoises,” he said with a puzzled expression. “For cosmetics?”
“Look,” Jones huffed, “you want to talk about my business dealings with LaOra’s Make Up Says It All, or do you want me to help your dying friend? Your call.”
Brant gestured toward the vial that Jones held. “Is that what you need?”
“Yes,” he replied, “plus a couple of other things.”
He walked over to a long counter that held various metal trays and grabbed what seemed to be several medical instruments, including one long, narrow set of forceps with small, padded ovals set in the end piece.
“Done?” Brant asked. When Jones nodded yes in reply, Brant jerked his head toward the door. “Then move.”