Sean Dalton - Operation StarHawks 03 - Beyond the Void

by Sean Dalton - [Operation StarHawks 03]

  The warbots had positioned him and were aiming again. One fired, and Caesar yelped as the plasma beam sliced through the strut he was perching on. It gave beneath him, and he jumped clumsily to another, raking his injured leg through wiring as he went.

  “Try this, you—”

  He flipped the switch on the side and threw the bomb straight down. There was a sickly greenish orange flash of light, topped by a roar of fiery heat that came mushrooming straight up. Caesar couldn’t run, couldn’t move in time. There was nowhere to go except where the concussion of the blast threw him. And that was a long, long way indeed.

  * * *

  12

  The blast shook the corridor and a wave of heat and debris came belching toward Kelly. He dived to his stomach. Coughing, he buried his face until it rolled past him. Then he got to his feet and hurried forward through the settling dust. What in the five galaxies had Caesar done?

  He found himself crunching over small bits of robot almost before he realized it. The corridor walls were buckled. A severed power cable snaked about, crackling dangerously. Flames flickered on what remained of the ceiling.

  The actual area of destruction wasn’t that large, but it was thorough. The explosive gel Caesar was so fond of hadn’t done this. Maybe one of the warbots had exploded. Kelly frowned, kicking a metal foot out of his way. No chance of salvaging these bots for weapons.

  And there was no chance that this would pass unnoticed.

  A short distance ahead the access hatch slammed open. Kelly dropped to a crouch, aiming his launcher.

  Just in time, however, he recognized Phila’s dark curly head and held his fire. With her came the shrill whoop of an alert siren.

  “Commander!” she said breathlessly, slamming the hatch and cutting off the sound of the siren. “We’ve got to get out of here fast! It sounds like the whole army is converging on this spot.”

  “Where’s Caesar?”

  She blinked. “Isn’t he with you? I thought the pair of you pulled this off.”

  “No. When we split, I had one bot to deal with and I saw the others heading after the two of you.”

  “They went after Caesar, not me,” said Phila. She held a blowtorch jacked into a power pack belted around her hips.

  “The bots are here. Where’s Caesar?”

  They exchanged a look, and a cold feeling of dread went through Kelly. Not another one, he thought.

  Swiftly he moved on along the corridor, knowing there had to be something left. Phila trotted behind him.

  “We have to hurry. We can’t stay here. Commander!”

  Kelly ignored her. Part of the ceiling had come down in a long spill of wires, twisted metal support struts, and shattered panels. Kelly sorted through them quickly. Phila helped.

  It was she who found Caesar. She crouched quickly, not speaking. Kelly noticed her stillness and came scrambling through the debris to her side.

  Caesar lay on his stomach, twisted and still, his face hidden. Dust had powdered his hair. Kelly put a gentle hand upon his shoulder, slid it around to Caesar’s throat, found a faint pulse.

  Kelly withdrew his hand in surprise. “He’s still alive. Quick. Help me get him out.”

  Together they shifted a ceiling panel to one side. An access hatch slammed open somewhere back along the way they’d come. Kelly and Phila exchanged a single glance, then Kelly disconnected his launcher and exchanged it for Phila’s blowtorch.

  “Cover us while I pull him free.”

  “Right.” Phila jacked in the launcher, her small hands handling it deftly as she checked charge levels and twisted the trigger wires around her forefinger. “Get going. I’ll be right on your tail.”

  Kelly hoisted Caesar over his shoulder in a fireman’s lift and hurried heavy-footed along the corridor. Pursuit sounded awfully close. Then he heard the roar of Phila’s launcher engaging. He risked a glance back and saw her standing straddle-legged in the center of the narrow corridor, squeezing off controlled, short bursts in a pattern that kept her shielded.

  She couldn’t hold that position for long, although the warbots would be hampered by their size in the small space available. After a few minutes Kelly heard a check and shift and knew she was falling back.

  Come on, Phila. Don’t be too big a hero.

  Footsteps came pounding after him. Kelly lit his blowtorch, finding it a pitiably inadequate weapon if he had to take on plasma launchers. It came to life with a pop and the acrid smell of burning gas. A faint trail of blue flame burned at the end. He waited until he got around a bend in the corridor, then turned, putting his back to the wall. Caesar felt like a metric ton, hampering him. His breath was already coming pretty short.

  But it was only Phila racing after him. She took in his defense stance with a single look and kept going without missing step.

  “I’ve stopped them temporarily by melting a couple of bots together across the corridor, but that won’t hold long.”

  A heavy crashing noise in the distance punctuated her words. Phila glanced back, her black hair tossed half across her face. Kelly caught just a glimpse of her eyes, wide with a touch of fear but intent in the way of an animal on the hunt. His squad had never panicked yet, no matter how bad the situation around them. He’d chosen them well.

  “It’s not far to the lab where Beaulieu and Siggerson have been assigned,” she said. “I think we ought to leave the corridor now and double back with the teleport to confuse their scanners. How are you doing with Caesar?”

  Ceasar wasn’t a big man, but he was stocky and solid with muscle. Kelly didn’t waste breath by answering her question. He waved her on. Both of them knew he wouldn’t abandon Caesar, no matter what.

  She crouched at the next access hatch, listened a moment, then eased it open. Kelly knelt there, easing Caesar down. The front of Caesar’s uniform was charred and bloody. Kelly checked Caesar’s pulse and found it fast and thready. Not good. Phila peered outside, slid through, and fired her launcher.

  Following, Kelly was in time to see the warbot’s head go tumbling, sliced neatly off. Confused, the bot circled. Kelly dashed after it and jammed the circuit interrupter against the jack bolt on its heel. It thrashed a second, then shut down. Kelly pulled out his probe, and Phila joined him in opening the bot’s torso plate. She worked like lightning, disconnecting the power pack quicker than Kelly could. He unscrewed both firing arms this time and Phila finished converting them to manual use by the time Kelly dragged Caesar through the hatch, wincing at how rough he had to be.

  “Sorry,” he muttered. To his relief, Caesar remained unconscious. His face, however, looked pale and waxy. Kelly got him over his shoulder and stood, balancing carefully.

  A monitor floating on a small anti-grav unit came into sight. Phila shot it to bits and rolled the bot over so she could open its back panel. She plucked out several metal throwing stars, gingerly handling their sharp edges, and a hand weapon.

  “It probably has a lot more gadgets tucked away.”

  “No time,” said Kelly. “Let’s move.”

  She nodded and headed left. “This way. There’s a teleportation grid at every intersection of the corridors. All the levels are labeled according to a binary code. So it’s very easy to identify where you’re going. Just follow a logical progression.”

  They hit a ground-eating trot, the siren wailing in their ears.

  “Surveillance cameras?” asked Kelly.

  “I shorted them out in this section,” said Phila with a grin. “Doesn’t mean they don’t have plenty of other nasty little surprises.”

  She stepped onto a scarlet grid set into the floor. Kelly joined her, watching while she touched the setting she desired on a control box. With a rather dramatic flash of light, they entered displacement and came out again almost in the space of one heartbeat.

  They could have found a contingent of warbots waiting for them. Instead a trio of canister-shaped robots ringed the grid. Flexible tubing with nozzles on the end swung in their direction
. Kelly took half a dose of the stun before he managed to slag one. Phila dealt with the other two.

  A siren went off, and Kelly cursed.

  “So—so much for doubling back.” He stepped off the grid and nearly fell as his knees sagged.

  Phila steadied him. “How much of that did you get?”

  Kelly shook his head, wanting to be sick, yet knowing he wouldn’t be. Stuns were always the same, noxious and uncomfortable. But he wasn’t hurt, and he could still function.

  “Go,” he said. “Forget the fancy stuff. Just get us to the lab. Caesar needs help, and you need a computer. We can do more damage by direct access to the system than by slagging everything in sight.”

  “Affirmative.”

  They hit a trot, Kelly weaving like a drunk, and managed to surprise another trio of warbots. Kelly and Phila slagged them quickly.

  “Slow reaction times,” said Kelly, unwilling to believe they were being so successful. “Why?”

  “Limited programming?” suggested Phila, doing another sabotage although she was almost overloaded with weaponry now. “They aren’t aware that we’re armed. We have the advantage until they get updated commands.”

  Another advantage. Kelly filed it away. Machines were only as limited as their programming. Without AI design, they could not match the ingenuity of humans. But he had not forgotten who controlled these machines. So far he didn’t know the thinking patterns of the Visci, but he was willing to bet a year’s pay that they had grown too dependent on their machine servants. There was something to be used in that.

  Phila pointed. “See that door? I think that’s the lab we’re looking for.”

  Kelly smiled at her. “Let’s hope your sense of direction has held.”

  She took the lead, overriding the simple external lock in a matter of seconds. The thick door slid silently open and Kelly heard Beaulieu’s voice lifted angrily: “I don’t give a triple damn for your duty assignments. I’m not letting you alter these codes by a single—”

  “Everyone, freeze!” ordered Phila. She entered fast, covering the room with her launcher.

  Coming in right on her heels, Kelly hit the control that shut the door and locked it. He spotted a surveillance cam overhead and shot it.

  The sound of his weapon galvanized the room’s occupants into action. Beaulieu came shoving past Holborn.

  “You’re alive! My God, I can’t believe it. Siggerson, look!”

  Behind her, a wan Siggerson rose unsteadily to his feet and managed a smile. Ouoji leapt off his desk and butted her head against Kelly’s knee. Then she reared up on her hind legs and patted Caesar’s head with a gentle paw. Her blue eyes met Kelly’s.

  “I don’t know,” he said. “Doctor, Caesar’s in a bad way.”

  “Damn.” Beaulieu broke from hugging Phila, weapons and all, and came at once. She bent to peer at Caesar’s face, peeling open one eye, then tapped Kelly briskly on the arm. “There’s a bunk this way. I don’t know what I can do without—”

  Breaking off, she turned on Holborn, who had slunk into a corner and stood there hugging his arms. “You! I need medical equipment. Where’s the infirmary on this ship?”

  He was staring into space and appeared not to hear her. She glanced back at Kelly and tapped her temple.

  “Yes,” said Holborn without looking at her. “There isn’t one. No care. Why we died. Righa is dead now. I—I saw him.”

  Kelly had a mental reminder of the reptilian alien lying on the floor of the other lab. “Doctor, do what you can.”

  She waved at an open doorway and started opening storage bins. As Kelly carried Caesar through and lowered him onto a narrow bunk, he heard Beaulieu muttering, “Do something. What the hell can I do without a scanner, a wound sealant, and coagulant capsules?”

  She walked into the room and elbowed Kelly out of the way. She carried a hand-operated suction pump of the sort used to clean test equipment, a roll of fabric adhesive, and a bottle of antiseptic.

  “You just became a surgical nurse,” she said, shoving the things into Kelly’s hands. “Turn that blowtorch off, will you? You don’t need it in here.”

  Kelly glanced through the doorway and saw that Phila had already stacked her weapons collection on the desk and was busy at a computer station. Siggerson stood at her shoulder.

  “We don’t have much time until we’re traced here,” he said.

  “You worry about the time,” said Beaulieu. “I’ll worry about this boy.”

  Taking a lab knife, she cut away Caesar’s blood-soaked tunic. She drew in her breath sharply enough to confirm what Kelly already suspected. But she didn’t speak, just went to work quickly, her hands sure and gentle. With the suction pump she cleaned Caesar’s chest until the actual wound itself was exposed.

  “Puncture to the left lung. Has he been bubbling?”

  Kelly frowned. “I didn’t notice.”

  “At a guess I’ll say it missed his heart. Not by much though. He’s in shock. Lost too much blood. Spongy here. Crushed ribs. Hand me the adhesive.”

  Kelly obeyed. “What’s that for?”

  “I’m going to bind him up.” She tore the center from a clean lab smock and folded it into a pad. “Hold that on the wound. Light pressure. Yes.”

  Kelly could feel Caesar’s blood soaking through the cloth. It was warm against his fingers. He frowned, warding off a sudden onslaught of dizziness. Pretend you don’t know him. Pretend that’s not his life running out under your hand. Beaulieu wound the tape around Caesar’s chest, binding him up tightly.

  “Good. Ease him down now.” She checked Caesar’s pulse, frowned, and examined the rest of him, shaking her head over the burns she found on his leg. “I can’t do much for this. Let’s let him rest a bit.”

  She turned away to wipe her hands on what remained of the smock. “He’s lucky I took a class once in antique medicine methods. Our ancestors used to rely on little more than bandages. I guess we can too.”

  Kelly wasn’t so sure. “He’s still bleeding.”

  “Not as much. Some of it is drainage. Looks worse than it is.” Her eyes lifted to Kelly’s. “But he is one hurt boy. He shouldn’t be moved, and as soon as possible he has got to have proper care.”

  Kelly nodded, but not to agree. “We can’t stay here. The whole ship is on alert. It’s only a matter of time until we’re traced here. We’ve got to locate as many of the prisoners as we can and get—”

  “Kelly. They’re here.”

  At first he didn’t understand. Beaulieu led him away from Caesar’s side and said, “Go on through. In there.”

  She pointed. Kelly stared at her a moment, then walked into a glass bubble surrounded by white fog. A computer screen glowed with a list of names. Kelly leaned past it, pressing his face to the glass.

  He saw row after row of drawers.

  “It’s a genetic bank, the finest I’ve ever seen,” said Beaulieu behind him. “Every conceivable variation of DNA combinations has probably been collected and stored in there.”

  Kelly pulled back, unwilling to consider the horror of the idea yet forcing himself to. There wasn’t time for shock or for denials.

  “You’re saying the crews of those missing ships are here?”

  “Their DNA codes, yes. And several other species as well, including some of the long-extinct Svetzin. It’s a treasure trove, Kelly. Something that scientists should—”

  Kelly turned sharply to face her. “Everyone? Including my father?”

  Beaulieu’s eyes softened with compassion he did not want. “Yes,” she said softly. “I’ve been going through the names. My assignment was to—”

  Kelly stopped listening. He felt as though a wedge had been driven through his chest, making it almost impossible to breathe. “Those bastards,” he whispered. “Not my father too.”

  “Kelly—”

  He turned away from her and smashed his fist into the glass partition. Little crazed stars radiated through the glass from the point of impact, but i
t did not shatter. His fist felt numb, then as he pulled it back, pain flared hot through his knuckles.

  It wasn’t supposed to happen this way. Victor Randolph Kelly had too much vitality, too much worth as a human being to end up part of a butterfly collection in someone’s vault.

  He drew back his fist to smash the glass again, and all the while the wedge in his chest was working its way into his throat, trying to throttle him. A faint voice, the admiral’s voice, ran through the back of his mind: “If you can’t keep your temper, son, if you can’t make your anger work for you in bad situations, you’ll never be able to think of a way to solve them.”

  But, Dad, he wanted to say, this isn’t just a bad situation. It’s ...

  He didn’t strike the glass again, just leaned against it so that the cool, slick surface of the glass pressed his burning cheek.

  “Kelly,” Beaulieu was saying. “Kelly, listen. We can get them back. They can be cloned. They aren’t lost completely.”

  Her words registered, bringing a sharp surge of hope. Kelly straightened and looked at her, then he frowned.

  “Clones. Physical duplicates. But no minds.”

  “Well, the mind would be there. Just a blank slate. They would have to be reeducated. That’s not impossible.”

  Kelly thought of his father, of the admiral’s forty years of experience, of the brilliant tactician who was as much a product of his mistakes and triumphs as of his education. Kelly shook his head. “You could fill him up with knowledge, but not wisdom. You could tell him what his wife looks like and who his children are, but he wouldn’t remember the day Drew won his first soccer tournament or when we dared J. J. to ride a pholox and she broke both her wrists falling off. No, Doctor. It couldn’t be the same.”

  “No,” she agreed sadly. “But you’d have a piece of him. And that’s better than nothing.”

  “Is it? I’m not so sure.”

  Kelly turned away, not wanting to discuss it further. He thought of the starships waiting in the hangar and his plan to sail them out of here. Their crews would never travel the stars again. He stared at the drawers, mentally saying goodbye.