The Soldier: Escape Vector

by Vaughn Heppner

  Then, with a snarl, Cade aimed the Lupus 19 Energy Gun at the chrome under-housings.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Cade stared up at the chrome under-housings of the three descending sky-rafts. The housings vibrated and whined, providing the gravity dampening needed for flight.

  If these were Rhunes coming down, he should target housings on each raft and fire the Lupus 19. That might cause an explosion. It would certainly destroy the mechanisms in the housings, and that might cause each raft to plummet to the sea. Then again, exploding housings might send shrapnel against him, killing him or incapacitating his sky-raft. On the other hand, these might conceivably be Lord Magnus’s teams, using stolen Rhune rafts. If he were an Eagle-Duke, one of his top priorities throughout the years would have been in capturing rafts, collecting them for a great and terrible day against the Rhunes. There was even a third possibility. Velia had spoken about a third or fourth party, a mystery side that had something to do with the pocket universe’s creation.

  Why had Velia struck now? Correction—why had the Rhunes forced Velia to strike now? Was it to stop him from possibly doing what he presently planned: making a bomb out of the raft? Or did they fear Lord Magnus gaining his aid? Would Velia have clubbed him to death at the Rhunes’ orders?

  The possibilities and counter-possibilities plagued Cade, bringing indecision. The worst thing in a firefight was doing nothing. He’d rendered Velia unconscious so he could act without hindrance. For once, Cade’s gut seethed. He was beginning to hate Coad. Spying and uncovering spies was so much different from regular soldier work.

  As he considered these things, the three sky-rafts continued to descend. He noted that each vessel was larger than his raft, double or triple in size. Was that what had given him second thoughts about beaming the housings?

  Cade thrust the energy gun under his waistband, picked up Velia and hurried into the control cabin. He tucked her out of sight and then strolled out of the cabin, closing the door behind him.

  The lowest raft slowed its descent, as the deck became level with his. The opposing raft was triple the size of his, with three military guns or cannons aimed at his vessel. Hooded, robed individuals manned each weapon.

  The other two rafts slid down, each of them at an equidistant point of an equilateral triangle, with his raft between theirs. Cade inclined his head as if in greeting. He couldn’t tell yet if these were Rhunes or not.

  “Ahoy, there,” a hidden man shouted with a loudspeaker from the control cabin of the largest raft.

  Cade cocked his head, surprised, as he recognized the voice.

  “Disarm yourself, sir,” the hidden man called.

  Cade held up his hands to show he carried nothing. It struck him where he’d heard the voice before—when speaking to Graven Tarvoke on the Descartes’ comm. Was this yet another duplicate of the free-trading captain or would the man willing come onto Coad?

  “Where’s the woman?” asked the hidden man with Tarvoke’s voice.

  Cade pointed at his control cabin.

  “Are you Marcus Cade?”

  The soldier nodded.

  “Cat got your tongue?” asked the hidden man with humor.

  Cade noticed that each raft perfectly matched his velocity as it presumably traveled to the hidden Rhune base. He noticed, too, that each control-cabin window was black-tinted so he couldn’t see within.

  “Do you wonder at my identity, sir?”

  Cade cupped his hands around his mouth, shouting, “You’re Captain Graven Tarvoke of the Free Trader Cyprian.”

  There was silence from the hidden other…until, “Damn you, man. At least act a little surprised. Lord Magnus was.”

  Cade shrugged.

  “Very well,” Tarvoke said through his loudspeaker. “Get the woman and cross to my raft. I have a proposal for you…if you’re willing.”

  Cade considered his options. He didn’t have many. Thus, turning, he retrieved Velia from the cabin, carrying her in his arms to the edge of the raft. The other craft waited, with the gap several meters in width. The robed hooded men—for they were men posing as Rhune, he now saw—still manned their military guns, nine cannons from three sky-rafts ready to blow his poor vessel to pieces.

  Cade backed up, ran and launched himself airborne, landing on the other deck with Velia cradled in his arms.

  The three surrounding sky-rafts began backing away from the Rhune vessel, keeping level with it and keeping it equidistant from each of their crafts.

  The door to the new control cabin opened and four stocky subhumans boiled out. They had dangling knotted arms, forward-thrusting heads with bony eye ridges and wore mesh shirts and leather pants with boots. Swords and pistols dangled from their black belts. These were regular-looking pistols, revolvers like the WAK .55 Magnum, but a smaller caliber.

  The fighting thralls—Cade supposed—flanked him. One on each side grabbed his upper arms. They had powerful holds, although the top of their heads did not reach as high as his shoulders.

  The door opened again, and two men walked out.

  Cade squinted as the two shimmered or flickered oddly for just a moment. What was wrong with them? They ceased flickering like bad reception but—Cade shook his head. There was something strange going on with them. He would figure out what soon enough, but not worry about it this instant.

  The first man was small in stature but straight like a rapier. He wore a brown military uniform, with a knife and flintlock pistol belted at his waist. He had sharp features like a miniature hawk, with extraordinarily hairy and messy eyebrows, and wore a long-billed military hat. The second man was huge, as in fat, with fat jowls, fat-enfolded eyes and huge pudgy fingers. He wore a red, green and orange-colored gown and pantaloons, each oversized and made with a silky fiber. The fat man wore many colorful, gaudy rings on his fingers and had a turban on his head with a giant red ruby for adornment. Curly-toed slippers completed his ensemble.

  The first man clicked his heels together and bowed at the waist. “I am Lord Magnus,” he said, “the strong right arm of the Eagle-Dukes of Coad.”

  “I’m Marcus Cade, sir.”

  “A-ha!” the fat man cried. “I’m Captain Graven Tarvoke as you guessed. I’m sure you’re surprised to see me here.”

  Cade inclined his head.

  “Who is the dish?” Tarvoke asked about Velia.

  Cade glanced at Lord Magnus.

  The hawkish lord turned to Tarvoke. “She is an accredited member of my host, sir.”

  “And what else?” asked Tarvoke.

  “That is it,” Magnus said.

  “No. It. Isn’t,” Tarvoke said. “Am I right, Cade?”

  The soldier did not respond, as he noticed the wind shifting the hair of the fighting thralls he could see. The wind—caused by the sky-raft’s flight—did not ruffle Lord Magnus or Captain Tarvoke’s garments. Why was that? Did it have something to do with their original flickering appearance?

  “Wake up the woman,” Tarvoke said. “I wish to question her.”

  “I suggest otherwise,” Cade said, “as I went to considerable trouble safely rendering her unconscious.”

  “Oh?” asked Tarvoke.

  “If Lord Magus won’t say it, I will,” Cade replied. “The Rhunes have modified her.”

  Magnus frowned. “This is news to me. Are you sure?”

  “Oh, yes,” Cade said.

  “I’m sure, too, then,” Tarvoke told Magnus.

  Magnus nodded a moment later. “Leave her out here then while we retire to the cabin.”

  “There’s no need for that,” Tarvoke said. “I have a device that will ensure she remains in her present state.”

  “Will the device harm her?” Cade asked.

  “It shouldn’t.”

  “That’s not good enough,” Cade said. He was in love with Raina, but he’d come to admire Velia enough that he wouldn’t let the space thug hurt her.

  Tarvoke grinned. “I assure you, she will be unharmed by the device.�
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  “If you’re lying,” Cade said, “you’ll regret it.”

  Tarvoke’s eyes, the little anyone could see of them, glittered with glee. He indicated the control cabin. Then Magnus and Tarvoke led the way. Cade carrying a sleeping Velia followed, with two fighting thralls continuing to hold his arms.

  The interior cabin was different from the Rhune vehicle. This one boasted a large comfortable chair with two deeply tanned spacemen flanking it. They were hard-eyed men wearing articulated armor everywhere except for their heads, and each gripped a carbine.

  One side of the cabin held screens and controls, with three uniformed men attending the panels from swivel chairs. Another wall held a uniformed pilot guiding the raft. There were cots and chests, with shelves under the cots and a fighting thrall sitting on each bed.

  The two fighting thralls guided Cade to an empty cot. The soldier deposited Velia there. A doctor in a white gown stepped near and placed a tiny device like a mechanical spider on her forehead. The device began to beep as a green light flashed on it.

  “A neural inhibitor,” Tarvoke said from the comfortable chair.

  Two fighting thralls placed a straight-backed wooden chair near Tarvoke. Lord Magnus took his place there. The thralls holding Cade maneuvered him before the two leaders.

  “Before we continue,” Cade said, “please be so good as to have your men release me.”

  “Not quite yet,” Tarvoke said.

  Magnus glowered at the huge free trader. “You forget yourself, sir. This is my planet, my operation, and these are my soldiers.”

  “And these are my loaned sky-rafts,” Tarvoke replied. “I had them fabricated in space. They do resemble the Rhune vessels, don’t you agree?”

  After a moment’s hesitation, Magnus nodded curtly.

  “Please notice that my sky-rafts will allow you to do what you’ve wished to do for centuries,” Tarvoke said, “namely, to invade the last Rhune base.”

  “You’ve made your point,” Magnus grumbled.

  “Just what is going on here,” Cade asked.

  “Tut, tut,” Tarvoke said, looking over a food tray held before him by one of his men. The free trader touched several possibilities, finally shaking his head. “I’m sure the delicacies are tasty,” he told Magnus. “And I’ve eaten shipboard fare for far too long, but I’ll refrain a little longer until I have time to savor the food.”

  Cade smelled fish on the tray, and he wondered about the small performance. If Tarvoke wished to eat, why hadn’t he? Why bother with the tray in the first place?

  Suddenly, Cade understood. Tarvoke had supposedly touched the food but not eaten. The delicacies had strong odors, odors he’d smelled. This was part of the greater deception. The flickering like bad reception earlier…the two leaders on the sky-raft were not flesh and blood, but holograms, pictures of the real men. They wanted him to believe they led the raid. But, of course, they would not risk their persons on such a dangerous endeavor as leading the assault. It was absurd to think so. Not even Ultras did that—unless ordered by their chain of command, of course.

  Tarvoke—or the holoimage of Tarvoke—regarded Cade. “The Rhunes are exceptionally cunning, particularly Magister Uldin. He’s thwarted Lord Magnus and me many times over. Today, however, we finally have a decisive edge.” The huge free trader touched one of his rings. “We have an even greater advantage over you. Wouldn’t you agree?”

  “Presently,” Cade said.

  “Ha-ha. Yes, that’s funny,” Tarvoke said. “You have a sense of humor. You’re going to need it, I’m afraid. You see, Lord Magnus and I cannot afford to have an interloper grab the treasure—” Tarvoke coughed into a pudgy hand. “The Lord and I have worked long and hard together. We’ve maneuvered for years in order to get into our present position—”

  “Please,” Magnus said, interrupting. “There’s no need for all this. Apply the device and give him his orders. That’s all we need from him.”

  Cade’s eyes came alive, although he didn’t wrestle against his minders—the two fighting thralls gripping his arms.

  Magnus must have noticed the change, for he half rose from his chair as if alarmed. The two armored spacemen flanking Tarvoke brought up their carbines, aiming at Cade. Only Tarvoke did not stir, although his fat-enfolded eyes narrowed to slits.

  “Now listen, Cade,” Tarvoke said. “I’ve collected a few cyborg obedience chips throughout the years. Are you familiar with them?”

  “He obviously is,” Magnus said, “as he’s an old-school Ultra. We must handle him with caution, as Ultras are incredibly dangerous.”

  Tarvoke nodded as he addressed Cade. “What do you wish more: to see the Rhunes invade your continuum, or to make a small sacrifice for a human colony world that has been fighting for its life for over a thousand years?”

  “You loaned Magnus the sky-rafts because you want the Descartes’ Intersplit engine,” Cade said softly.

  “I’ve said so before,” Tarvoke replied. “But that’s not the point for you right now. The Eagle-Dukes—all the humans on Coad—deserve an end to the hideous war against the Rhunes. Lord Magnus will soon have his desire. I will have mine gaining the FTL engine, and you, Cade, you should know that the Rhune form of cyborg will be defeated. Isn’t that worth it to you?”

  “That depends,” Cade said.

  “Spoken like a poker master,” Tarvoke said. “Yes. I imagine you believe you’re quite clever, as you made it past my space defenses. But you should know that was because I had a deeper game in progress. I had to let you through because Magister Uldin is quite cunning and adroit, turning almost every one of our moves against us.”

  “What does that have to do with me?” Cade asked.

  “To put it bluntly, I plan to put an obedience chip in your brain. I assure you it won’t hurt. But it will ensure that you won’t double-cross me—us!—at the wrong moment.”

  “When would be the right moment for me to do the double-crossing?” asked Cade.

  Tarvoke nodded. “You have humor, gallows humor I believe they refer to it. I like you, Cade. I really do. What do you say, Lord Magnus?”

  “Let’s get on with it,” Magnus said crossly. “I don’t know why you have to toy with him like this. We don’t have much time, either, as the base is surely near.”

  “Doctor,” Tarvoke said. “Do you have another neural inhibitor?”

  Cade turned his head. The doctor showed a tiny mechanical spider device much like the one on Velia’s forehead.

  “Excellent,” Tarvoke said. “The device will render you inert, allowing the doctor to insert the chip with a minimum of fuss.”

  Cade breathed deeply as the thralls tightened their grips on his upper arms. His heart thudded. He would never willingly allow anyone to place an obedience chip in his brain.

  “Don’t try anything foolish,” Tarvoke warned.

  Cade realized it was time for tactics in order to gain whatever surprise he could. It no longer mattered that the two leaders were holoimages. They would use him if he didn’t act to save himself. He took a deep breath, saying as he exhaled, “Surely, I would better serve your purposes with my wits about me. Take me into your confidences. Offer me a prize so I’ll work hard in your scheme. The obedience chip—” He shook his head. “It dulls one’s perceptions. I’ll be a useless tool with the chip in me.”

  “No. That’s a lie, “Tarvoke said. “Doctor, are you ready?”

  “It’s no lie,” Cade said, as the doctor approached. “Besides, I feel I should warn you that I will undermine the chip. I know how to do that, for I’ve worn one before.”

  Lord Magnus glanced sharply at Tarvoke. The fat free trader thoughtfully stroked his double chin, seeming to ignore the other. At last, Tarvoke faced Magnus.

  “I believe him,” Magnus said.

  “He’s still lying,” Tarvoke said. “Yes, I believe he had a chip before. But he’s obviously lying about his ability to resist it.”

  “Then how did he free himself fr
om its control?” Magnus asked.

  “Hmm, yes, an interesting question.” Tarvoke studied Cade. “Do you have an answer?”

  “I do,” Cade said. “I loathe cyborgs, and anyone siding with cyborgs or using cyborg technology against humans. That loathing bubbles past the chip’s control.”

  “Technically,” Tarvoke said, “you’re not fully human. You’re an Ultra.”

  “I’m more human than you,” Cade said.

  “Because you think you’re better than I am?”

  “Because I don’t screw with people the way you do. I don’t use them as pawns.”

  “Oh, that,” Tarvoke said with a wave of a hand. “For all your gifts, you’re an idealist, which means a fool. Lord Magnus, I suggest we get on with it. We should be fast approaching the base. It would be best if—”

  “Sir!” said one of the men manning the screens. “I’ve detected enemy sky-rafts. They’ve been using camouflage technology, which we’ve just countered. I’m counting…five of them, sir. They’re aligned for battle.”

  “Battle,” Lord Magnus said, as if delighted. “They’re in for a rude surprise. Target them and fire at once.”

  “Yes, sir,” the man said.

  Cade had been secretly gathering his resolve even as he’d forced himself to relax. The thralls’ fierce grips had loosened back to the original tight hold. One of the thralls even glanced back at the screens. Realizing this was the best he was going to get with them and that this was his tactical moment, Cade shouted violently, using an ancient martial arts technique that focused and exerted his chi.

  As Cade shouted, he thrust his torso and arms forward at speed. The two thralls retightened their grips as they stumbled forward. Cade yanked his arms and body back as he twisted, ripping free from one of the thralls. He hit the other in the face with his free fist once, twice, three times before the second thrall released him. Then Cade dropped to the floor.

  The slower reflexes of the spacemen guards finally produced their reaction. They both fired their carbines, laser lines spearing straight at where Cade no longer stood.