by Justin Sloan
Let them have their false victory. Let them think they destroyed the false Talrok…for now.
“Haven’t been this close to you in a while,” Robin finally said, and it was then that Valerie became keenly aware of the woman’s arm around her, cradling her almost like a child.
She laughed, relaxing into it. For a few minutes they just sat there like that, flying in space with the moon growing larger in front of them. “What the hell have we gotten ourselves into out here?”
“Having regrets?”
“You know I never would.” Valerie tried to turn to see her friend, taking her helmet off as she did, but it was an awkward position and a second later she had to turn back. “It’s not about regrets, it’s about knowing our limits.”
“Wait, the great Valerie has limits?”
“You know what I mean. Our actions will have repercussions, right? Back on Earth, after the Great Collapse, it was easy to see black and white. To know good from bad. But here?”
“Don’t tell me you’re having doubts about which side you belong on. That false-Talrok guy is a total prick. He’s trying to raise a force to take on the Federation.”
“Hell, no.” Valerie took a moment to contemplate what she was actually saying. “I think it’s that we’re not fighting the boogeyman anymore, right? Up here, we’re the boogeyman invading their dreams. Yeah, we’re fighting for the side that’s right, exporting justice and all, but it’s different. We need to keep that in mind.”
Robin stayed silent for a moment, then said, “I’m not sure that’s how the boogeyman works.”
“What?”
“Dreams. Isn’t that something else? The boogeyman—”
“Robin, I don’t care. That wasn’t the point of what I was saying. Are you even listening?”
“Yes, and I get it. God. Something happen back there?”
Valerie leaned back again to see the other surviving fighters around them, then told Robin what she’d seen.
“We’ve got a long road ahead of us,” Robin said, following it with a whistle. “Damn, just when I thought we’d be able to relax and swim in the methane lakes.”
“Shut up,” Valerie replied with a laugh.
“It’s what we’re up here for, after all—to kick butt. Might as well make it a challenge.”
“You know what?” Valerie nodded, feeling a surge of energy rush through her. “You’re right. And those planes right there, or the pilots, rather? Those are our people, even if they aren’t exactly our people. Well, they’re not humans, but they’re our people anyway. Them and anyone else out here needing us to jump into the fight with them.”
“Exactly.”
“So this was a victory in that sense,” Valerie added, more in realization than anything else. “I mean, we got Palnik, we blew up the space station. Stopped the invasion of the moon.”
“Milestones,” Robin agreed. “We made progress toward victory. The false Talrok escaping is just one phase. Us killing him is the next.”
“I’m glad to be doing it with you,” Valerie told her, then noticed something hard sticking into her thigh. “Um, since you’re not a guy…”
“Shut up, it’s the steering-stick thingy,” Robin replied with a laugh. “I’m trying to maneuver it so we can land, but your big ass is in the way.”
“My big…” Valerie elbowed her in the side. “I’ll have you know my ass is exactly as it should be, though it might have grown slightly when Michael gave me his blood. Something about that man’s blood and its effects on the body…”
“Hey, I never said I didn’t like it, just that it’s in the way.”
Valerie laughed, and the two worked to get the craft ready for landing.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Tol’s Moon: Outpost Foxtrot
When Kalan regained consciousness he had a strange sense that he was floating. He opened his eyes and saw a brilliant field of stars before him, then realized his right arm was extended above his head.
And his head… It was encased is some sort of glass dome.
“What the hell?” he asked.
A voice in his helmet answered, “Ah, so you’re back with us.”
With Willom’s voice, it all came rushing back. Jilla. Valerie’s Elites. Aranaught. And Willom. Most of all, Willom.
He wasn’t floating, he realized, but being dragged across the surface of the moon. The reduced gravity made it feel like he was gliding.
Raising his head, he looked behind them and saw the ruined hull of Nim 47 in the moon dust in the distance. How long had he been unconscious?
“Wearl,” he muttered weakly. “Where is she?”
“Ah, yes, bad news about your friend,” Willom answered, sounding anything but sad. “She didn’t make it.”
“What? No!” Kalan began to struggle, trying to pull the hand Willom was using to drag him out of the cyborg’s grasp.
“I mean, it’s impossible to say for sure, what with her being invisible and all, but I have to assume by the way she was fighting that she wasn’t strapped in. You were buckled in securely, and it's a miracle you survived. And Grayhewns are tough. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not going to write her off completely. As soon as we get to Outpost Foxtrot, which won’t be long, I’ll turn on the defenses. She won’t be sneaking up on us again.”
Kalan squeezed his eyes shut. It couldn’t be true. After everything they’d been through together, Wearl couldn’t die in something as mundane as a crash.
“I really ought to thank her,” Willom continued. “She put us down just a short walk from our destination, and that little bump on the head made you much easier to deal with.”
Kalan struggled to twist his head. He wasn’t able to get a good look at where they were going, but he spotted an airlock not far away.
“Aranaught’s going to be here soon,” Willom said. “I can feel her. It’s like she’s inside me, humming through every fiber of my being.”
“Gross,” Kalan muttered.
“You’d think so, but it’s actually pretty empowering. It makes you feel like you’re part of something bigger than yourself.”
“I thought you wanted to be alone.”
“I suppose I do, but that doesn’t mean this doesn’t feel good. It’s a bit like a drug—unhealthy, but alluring.”
They reached the airlock, and Willom released Kalan’s hand as he began tapping on the keypad outside the door. “Don’t go anywhere.”
There wasn’t much danger of that, since Kalan was so dizzy he could barely sit up. He wanted to get to his feet and attack the cyborg—or at the very least run away—but his body wasn’t currently obeying his orders.
Willom tapped on the keypad while he spoke. “I’m setting the airlock to allow entry for two beings. If your invisible friend tries to enter, I’ll know. She won’t sneak up on me again.”
“Kalan.”
Wearl’s voice was so welcome in his helmet that it was all Kalan could do not to whoop in joy at the sound of it.
“He’s right,” the Shimmer said. Her voice sounded strange. Raspy. “I’m hurt. I could barely keep up with you. He’ll know if I try to get into the Outpost. I’d only get one shot off if I attacked him, and it’ll take more than that. It’s up to you now. Here.”
Something slipped into Kalan’s hand, and it took him a moment to figure out what it was. When he did, a smile crossed his face.
It was Wearl’s invisible rifle.
He clutched it with one hand, trying to grasp it loosely so Willom wouldn’t notice he was holding something if he looked back.
“All right, in we go,” Willom said. He grabbed Kalan’s empty hand and dragged him through the airlock.
As soon as the two of them had passed the threshold, the green lock above the door turned red.
“Two, and only two,” Willom said with a smile, then he pulled the airlock shut. “Can you stand?”
“Won’t know unless I try.” Kalan pulled off his helmet and breathed deeply of the stale air of the unus
ed outpost. He resisted the urge to use the rifle to push himself up, using the wall to balance instead.
When he’d gotten to his feet, he took a tentative step away from the wall. When he didn’t topple over, he took another.
“What do we do now?” he asked.
Willom closed his eyes. “We wait. I don’t think it will be long. I can feel her inside me. I can’t resist her control, and I’m not sure I want to.”
“So you’re both in there right now?” Kalan asked. “You and the AI?”
Willom nodded. “We always are, but now especially.”
“Good,” Kalan said. He raised the rifle and put it against Willom’s temple. “Then I get to shoot both of you.”
He pulled the trigger and Willom fell.
***
Jilla clutched the wheel of the ugly buggy-like vehicle they were riding in.
“Can’t you go any faster?” Bob asked.
Jilla shot him a look. “Have you ever noticed how people are always telling you to shut up?”
“Uh, yeah. Why do you ask?”
“There’s a reason for that. It’s the way you always pick the exact wrong moment to open your mouth.”
“Hey, without this mouth we’d still be sitting in Willom’s house.”
“Not true,” Jilla pointed out. “Your brain and fingers got us out of the house, using my brilliant idea. Your mouth had nothing to do with it.”
In truth, it had been a team effort. Bob had figured out that Willom’s house had an electromagnetic signature built into the walls, and it had been Jilla who’d speculated that this electromagnetic perimeter might in fact be the very thing the robots interpreted as “house”. Then they’d worked together, using the diagnostic computer and the kill-switch device from the Nim to shut down all the power running through the house.
They’d had no way to know if it would work, but they’d had nothing to lose. Sure enough, as soon as Bob was done with his programming wizardry and Jilla had activated the kill switch the robots had suddenly lost interest in their captives. After a few minutes, they’d simply wandered off and resumed doing more routine tasks.
Their orders had been to keep the visitors from leaving the house. Once the house ceased to exist to them, they’d moved on to something else.
Jilla and Bob had found Willom’s vehicle, donned their helmets, and hauled ass to save their friends.
Their helmets were equipped to locate Nim 47, so they had no trouble tracking Willom and Kalan. They only had trouble with the speed.
It turned out a cobbled-together dune buggy was a bit slower than a fighter spacecraft.
“What are we going to do when we find them?” Bob asked.
Jilla shot him another look. “What do you think we’re going to do? We’re going to kill the hell out of Willom.”
“I know. I’m just saying he didn’t seem like the most, um, killable of individuals.”
Jilla shrugged. “Wearl shot his arm off, didn’t she? He can be hurt. It just takes a little elbow grease and a lot of persistence.”
They rode in silence for a few more minutes, then Bob spoke again. “At the risk of getting told to shut up again, I’m going to ask a question. Did you notice that the Nim has stopped moving?”
“I noticed,” Jilla replied. She hadn’t wanted to mention it for fear of what it might imply.
On the plus side, it was a hell of a lot easier to catch up to a stopped ship than to one that was speeding away from them.
On the minus side, that likely meant Willom, Kalan, and Wearl had reached their destination, which meant they might be too late to stop whatever Willom had planned for Kalan.
There was no use wondering about it now. They’d find out soon enough; the stopping point wasn’t far.
They’d nearly reached the Nim when they saw it in the distance.
“Am I crazy, or does our ship appear to be a little crashed?” Bob asked.
“You’re not crazy,” Jilla muttered, “and I think we can make a solid guess as to their final destination.”
The structure ahead of them looked like an unfinished version of Outpost Alpha. It was the only structure they could see in any direction.
“Should we at least check the Nim to make sure their mangled bodies aren’t inside?” Bob asked. He quickly held up a hand. “Don’t bother, I’ll shut up.”
“No, that’s actually a good idea,” Jilla said. “Not the way I would have phrased it, but a good idea.”
She turned the buggy toward the wreckage. They’d just started that direction when a voice buzzed in their helmets.
“Get over here, you guys. I could really use a ride.”
“Wearl!” Jilla answered. “What the hell happened?”
“I sort of crashed our ship, but we can talk about that later. I promised to rip that cyborg’s head off, and I intend to keep my word. Give me a ride?”
“That I can do,” Jilla said, and she headed over to pick up her friend.
***
Kalan hadn’t expected that one shot to kill the cyborg, and he wasn’t disappointed.
Willom rolled to his side and Kalan caught a glimpse of his face. Most of the skin was gone, revealing metal underneath.
“Damn,” Kalan muttered. “Is there any Grayhewn left in there?” He took aim and fired without waiting for a reply. The shot went wide, even though Willom was only fifteen feet away.
The cyborg struggled to his feet.
Kalan fired again, and again the shot missed.
“That must be the Shimmer weapon,” Willom observed. His voice sounded less real now, more robotic. “It’s not so easy to fire an invisible weapon, is it? You can’t see where the barrel’s pointing—have to do it all by feel.”
Kalan fired once again, and this time the round found its target. It hit Willom in the chest, knocking him back. The weapon was not nearly as effective at that range as it had been point-blank; Willom staggered backward but managed to stay on his feet.
Kalan realized he was going to have to do this up close, so he hurried forward, his weapon at the ready. He knew very little about this rifle, he suddenly realized, including how many rounds it held, so he had to make every shot count. No more wasting them.
Willom looked around frantically for his weapon, but didn’t see it. It must have been knocked loose when he’d skidded fifteen feet after being shot in the face. Weaponless, he turned to Kalan and snarled, then crouched and leaped.
The speed and power of the jump was staggering, and he quickly closed the distance between them with his hand outstretched.
Kalan waited until the cyborg had almost reached him to fire his rifle. Willom stopped like he’d hit a brick wall and let out a howl of anger as he landed on the floor at Kalan’s feet.
The cyborg looked up at him, and Kalan felt a surge of satisfaction when he saw that Willom’s robotic left eye had been destroyed.
Willom grabbed for Kalan’s ankles, but Kalan deftly stepped out of his reach and fired again at his head. He’d been aiming for that same left eye, hoping the round wound be able to penetrate the hole and do some real damage to the machinery inside, but instead he hit a bit higher. He was gratified to see that the round left a nice dent in Willom’s forehead.
Willom moved slower now as he turned his head to look up at Kalan, and when he spoke the voice was not his own. It was a robotic-sounding voice, but it was also distinctly female.
“Hello, Grayhewn,” the voice said. “Or should I say, ‘hello, Bandian.’”
Hearing the words spoken in that cold robotic tone sent a chill through Kalan.
“Hello, Aranaught,” Kalan replied.
“I must admit, I miscalculated the identity of your species. I had Willom in my space station for a year while I was searching the system for evidence of the true identity of the Bandians, then earlier today I had you eating at my table and I still didn’t know the thing I required was so close at hand.”
“Your table?” Kalan asked, his mind spinning. There was only o
ne table he’d eaten at since coming to this moon. “Talrok?”
“Yes,” Aranaught said through Willom’s mouth. “Talrok is mine, as were so many here.”
“So how’d you figure it out?” Kalan asked. “That the Grayhewn were the Bandians?”
“Simple reasoning. Willom has avoided me at all costs since he left my space station. He even built a home here with the sole purpose of shielding himself from me. I could have pushed past the shield and taken him at any time, of course, but what would have been the point? So when he contacted me today and offered to trade you, a fellow Grayhewn to me, I was perplexed.”
Kalan fingered the trigger of his invisible weapon. He wanted nothing more than to fire again and finish this, but at the same time, when would he have another chance to speak to the AI who wanted to capture him and his people? If he could keep her talking, maybe he could gain valuable intel. “Really? A fancy AI like you perplexed?”
“It doesn’t happen often, Bandian. Willom demanded a very high price for you. He wouldn’t say why you were so valuable, only insisted he would explain when we met in person here. Based on his hesitation to reveal the information and the high price he demanded, I was able to ascertain the truth. Then I heard him talking on your Nim-class ship and I knew for certain.”
“Aren’t you the smart one?” Kalan asked. “So what happens now? Are an army of robots about to descend on this place to take me captive?”
“As pleasant as that would be, I’m afraid not. Your ally defeated my forces.”
A smile crept across Kalan’s face. “Valerie.”
“Yes. She proved quite…formidable.”
“Yeah, she does that.”
“It doesn’t matter,” Aranaught insisted. “I have what I need, if not everything I want. I am withdrawing from this moon. Soon I won’t even be able to control Willom, but don’t think that means you’re safe, Bandian. I’m coming for you, you and all your people.”
Kalan aimed at Willom’s head and prepared to fire. “We’ll be ready. Valerie’s Elites defeated you once. We can do it again.”