STAR HOUNDS -- OMNIBUS

by David Bischoff

  Perhaps others had set minds here, perhaps everyone had some sort of contact with this strange land. Maybe this was the place of the imagination, the conduit across which thought travels from facts to discovery, through pure inspiration.

  But no, that wasn’t the concern here. The question was: Was he the first human being to roam this place in his native physical form?

  And he knew, he just knew, that he wasn’t.

  But who else, and if there was someone else, where was he or she?

  He closed his eyes and visualized a blank background. He thought about a human being, and he thought about the legs, the arms, the torso, the head of a human being. And he thought: that human being who has been here, is here …

  … right now!

  He opened his eyes.

  Standing before him was a man wearing a space suit …. no helmet, and an admittedly battered space suit, but a space suit nonetheless.

  “Am I dead?” the man asked. “Am I in Celestia?”

  “I don’t know,” responded Cal. “But that’s a very good question, I suppose.”

  “Who are you? What is this place?” the man said, looking around him.

  “My name is Cal Shemzak. And this place is generally known, I suppose, as Omega Space.”

  “Holy Mithra!” said the man. “I’m dreaming!”

  “No, you’re not dreaming, my friend. But sit down … you look as though you need to.”

  Cal created a lounge chair.

  Mystified, the young man sat down.

  “I bet you could use a drink,” said Cal. The man nodded.

  Cal created a bracing glass of whiskey for the man. Unquestioning, the man drank it.

  “Now, you know who I am,” said Cal. “Who are you?”

  “My name is Lieutenant Ratham Bey, of the independent starship Starbow … and … we’ve been looking for you!”

  “Gee,” said Cal, smiling. “I’m glad somebody cares!”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Dansen Jitt, navigator of the Starbow, picked nervously at his dinner. “I wish,” he said, “we could do more than just sit and wait for her.”

  Captain Northern raised his eyebrows and leaned back in his chair. “I’m surprised, Jitt.”

  “What about?”

  “I’m surprised you’re not suggesting that we high tail it before we’re surrounded by Federation cruisers, bristling with energy weapons and eager to turn us into a cinder.”

  “Not a bad idea!” said Silver Zenyo, feeding a sliver of artificial meat to her doglike pet, Bickle. The creature yapped excitedly and snapped up the treat, then yapped again and bounded about, its three eyes full of love for its mistress.

  “Well, I care about Laura,” said Jitt. “I do. And it seems to me a real shame that we can’t help her out on such an important task.”

  “Yes,” said Northern, pushing aside his plate. “I entirely agree.” He picked up a glass of wine, sipped it contemplatively. “But according to Mish, any activity on our part tends to diminish the chance of success drastically. And it makes sense. Laura’s a highly competent professional in these kinds of matters. I have the highest faith in her.”

  “Still, it’s hell just sitting and waiting for her,” said Jitt.

  “You in a hurry to rush off to face that cosmic Armageddon you saw at the end of the trip?” Silver said sarcastically.

  “No, and I have been wrong before, you know, with these stupid psychic visions of mine,” Jitt countered, annoyance in his voice. “And who’s to say those Jaxdron weren’t just having it off with me?”

  “They did tell us they’d see us on the planet Snar’shill in the Dominus cluster and we’d have a bad time of it, didn’t they?” said Silver.

  Jitt could not help but cringe. “Yes.”

  “So why are you worried?” said Gemma Naquist. “Just sit back and relax and cool your heels.” She smiled. “I mean, each and every day is precious, isn’t it, when it could be your last.”

  “I suggest that this is not the line of thinking we care to linger upon,” said Captain Northern. “Our roles in the destiny of humanity are far too important to be thinking in such a negative fashion.” He turned to Mish. “Isn’t this so, Doctor?”

  But the Doctor did not respond. He just sat there, staring into space.

  “Dr. Mish,” said Gemma, sitting next to him. “Yoo-hoo, Starbow calling Dr. Mish!” She nudged him.

  “There’s danger,” he breathed hoarsely. “Extreme danger!”

  And then he fell over, face first, into Gemma Naquist’s dessert.

  Chapter Fourteen

  It was an action spring-loaded with years of hate and fear, resentment and anxiety, orchestrated by the combat training given her by the Friends. For Laura Shemzak, all that had been bad in her life was focused on Overfriend Arnal Zarpfrin, architect of manipulation both subtle and overt. All she could feel was the triumphant surge of rage as she leaped over his desk, hands outstretched for his throat.

  Zarpfrin was taken by surprise. Clearly, he had been so self-assured of the efficacy of his implant, his control of Laura, that he had taken no measures for personal safety against her other than the routine.

  His expression only had time to register alarm before Laura was on him, her hands hitting his soft neck before he could bring up his arms in any kind of defense. The momentum of her force knocked him back, kicked his chair over.

  They went down in a struggling heap, Laura managing to keep her hold while Zarpfrin’s face grew red and his arms flailed.

  Her vision focused only on him as she flung Zarpfrin’s head back into the wall, once, twice, bang! bang! Time seeming to stand still, only faintly aware of the voice in her head crying Warning! Warning! Desist!

  All her life she had been a puppet, dangling from strings constructed by men like this, and this man was the worst of them, sending her out programmed to shoot Cal, then trying to make her betray her comrades. He deserved to die!

  This single driving thought kept her at him, kept her hanging on, kept back everything inside her that tried to tear her away.

  Zarpfrin’s face was turning a gratifying purple when the Sound of thundering footsteps penetrated her berserk frenzy. A set of rough hands grabbed her, then, another and another, as guards tried to tear her away from the Overfriend. Cursing and spitting, she used her cyborg strength and commando training to fling them off. It took them four tries until Laura was overcome by their sheer force of numbers. She found herself tumbling across the floor, crashing into a wall with an explosion of light and dark, gasping for air. She rolled to her feet, ready to fight, wanting only to kill, kill all of them.

  “Don’t try it, Pilot,” said one of the security men. He had a proton handgun in his hand, aimed squarely at her chest. “Don’t even think about it.”

  Automatically, she checked her intended leap.

  Another security man was helping a bruised but still breathing Zarpfrin to his feet. “That … shouldn’t have … happened … ” he said rubbing his throat where angry red marks from Laura’s attack showed.

  As Laura stood, wondering what to do next, the question was answered for her.

  She screamed.

  She clasped her hands against her head as though to tear out the unbearable agony that filled her as her anger and adrenaline faded away.

  The implant had done its job.

  It was eliminating Zernin from her bloodstream, and she was rapidly experiencing withdrawal.

  Cold turkey.

  She dropped to her knees, her face contorting into a rictus of pain. She felt as though her spine were being scoured by steel wool.

  “I warned you, Laura,” said Zarpfrin.

  “What’s wrong with her?” asked one of the security men. “Should we get a doctor?”

  “No. No, she’ll live … but she won’t like it muc
h.” He walked over to her. “Now, Laura, I’ll forgive that little outburst. We all have tantrums once in a while. But I need to know where the Starbow is. Give me coordinates, Laura, and we’ll let you sleep awhile. You’d like to sleep, wouldn’t you, Laura?”

  Laura nodded.

  “Well, then, you know the information. Tell me.” She motioned to him and he bent closer.

  She spit in his face.

  One of the security men kicked her.

  Zarpfrin stood up and took out a handkerchief, cleaning off the spittle. “Take her to one of the waiting rooms with no furniture,” he said. “Lock her in for awhile. Let her think this one over for about an hour. That will be enough. It will seem like an eternity to her in her present condition.”

  Two security men grabbed her arms and hauled her up.

  “Don’t worry, Laura,” said Zarpfrin. “You won’t die. You’ll just wish you could.”

  They dragged her away, half conscious, whimpering.

  Zarpfrin’s last words to her were: “Remember, Laura. It doesn’t have to be like this.”

  Laura barely heard him.

  She was lying in a room.

  On a rug.

  She knew that much, though at times it seemed a very peculiar room, the walls twisting and cracking and pulsing like living things.

  She hurt, but in ways beyond pain. Unimaginable ways she knew she could not bear, yet somehow managed to.

  The room was bare of furniture. Strip lights were on the walls, shining dully down upon her torture.

  The voice was gone, though any company would have been welcome, even that monotone nag.

  The only thing that kept her going was thinking about the Starbow, thinking about Cal, thinking about Tars Northern, concentrating on them, knowing that she was doing the good thing, the right thing, the necessary thing.

  But that didn’t stop the torture. It never does, she supposed. And she wondered, am I going to be able to take this, or will I break down?

  And she honestly did not know.

  Slowly, as the room slipped and slid beneath her and she felt the agony rip apart into hallucinations, she began to lose control. She could not take it. Her personality began to shred, and with it her resolve. She knew that if Zarpfrin walked in at that moment, she’d tell him the coordinates.

  Tell him where the Starbow was.

  Tell him, so this agony would end.

  And if the agony would not end, perhaps she’d beg to be killed.

  As she lay on the floor, feeling herself dissolve, she reached out toward something, anything! God, Nothingness, Eternity, Oblivion, and she prayed, PLEASE!

  A voice fluttered in her head, “We hear … ” and then was lost.

  Nor was it the voice of the implant—that was gone now.

  She restructured herself amidst her pain around that voice, and she called out again, reaching out with every muscle in her being.

  “Who’s … that?”

  She began to see clouds swirling about her in multi-hues of color. A figure began to form. An older man, long of hair, bearded, with kindly eyes.

  “I have been called Andrew,” he said.

  Andrew! Was this a figment of her tortured imagination? Andrew was one of the Aspach … Dr. Mish’s brethren of the portals!

  “Yes,” said Andrew. “I am he. And you are Laura Shemzak, who has come to take us to safety.”

  “I’m not … doing much good, I’m afraid,” she said. “I’m locked in a room, strung out on Zernin deprivation …. But how can we talk?”

  “You have certain latent powers of the mind, psychic powers which you have, in your desperation, utilized.”

  “That doesn’t do much good, I’m afraid,” she said wearily. “I’m supposed to bring you all back within the circuitry of my blip-ship. But I’m a traitor, you see. I’m a weak fool ….”

  “No, this is not true.”

  “They’re going to rip the information from me … I can feel it ….”

  “Have faith, Laura Shemzak. There is a way.”

  “Tell me.”

  Silence for a moment. The figure flickered and wavered, losing focus for a moment, then returning.

  “But there will be … a sacrifice that must be paid,” said Andrew.

  “What?”

  “You must … surrender yourself to us. You must trust us completely.”

  “Continue,” she said, still struggling to remain coherent.

  “There is, in this room, an access port which interfaces with the Block’s core system. You must tap yourself into that port. You must allow yourself to become a vessel for us.”

  “Me? But how—”

  “We knew you, Laura Shemzak. You are an XT pilot. Your implants, storage and power supplies can form a complete neuro-stasis feedback array … an environment in which we can survive.”

  “But … I’m so … so weak!”

  “Trust us, Laura. Trust us.”

  Somehow she managed to rise up out of her misty stupor. Although the pain and the need for Zernin were more acute here, she could just barely make out her surroundings. She saw the four sides of the room, the rug she lay on, the ceiling. There was a sour taste in her mouth and everything seemed rough and raw, as though scraped by a wood file.

  She managed to prop herself up on her hands, focus her vision ….

  Where was this interface?

  She rubbed her eyes and examined the walls as best she could again, trying to control her ragged breathing.

  There it was!

  It had a cover on it, the same gray color as the walls; that’s why she hadn’t seen it before. She dragged herself over to it, fighting back the dizziness and the pain, and she pulled open the cover.

  It was a female plug, designed for insertion of a jack. She had nothing inside her that would work, and besides, her system surely wasn’t compatible.

  She let herself drop in a heap on the wall, wishing she was dead, letting the pain begin to claw her back into despair ….

  “Laura,” the voice of Andrew said. “There is a way … surrender … give yourself for those you love ….”

  She opened her eyes.

  Spread out before her were the fingers of her hand, and instantly she knew what she had to do.

  Something in her rebelled against the notion, for it would hurt, but she had to almost laugh at that because she hurt anyway.

  She took the forefinger of her left hand and began to chew the flesh at the tip with her teeth, biting down farther through plastic until the metal filament showed, then repeated this upon her middle finger.

  She rested a moment, blood dripping on the rug. It hadn’t been too bad. Her hand had been designed for tapping into systems—just not into wired interfaces, that was all. However, her blood was the key. It was full of repair nanites. If she could get her raw fingers close to the communication jacks, her blood could theoretically help make the connection.

  She lifted herself wearily and reached out again with her mind. Does this mean I get to die?

  There was no answer.

  Had it all be an illusion? Was the visitation of Andrew just the result of a tortured mind?

  And the word came back to her. “Surrender … ”

  It went against all that she had fought for, but she said, “To hell with it,” and jammed her finger prongs into the wall interface.

  Her nano-rich blood flowed over the jacks immediately. She watched circuitry grow as her consciousness began to fade. Power began to jump across the neuro-electrical bridges that formed, and smelled odd as her flesh burned in an unusual fashion.

  And then she found her consciousness slipping away into the new matrix that formed … a familiar sensation, with the impression of power and logic matrix and macros and micros, except this time there was something more ….

 
Presences.

  She could perceive the presence of intelligent beings, and they flowed into her with a clean, clear force.

  Darkness snapped tight around her, but it was a welcome darkness for it brought peace and rest, and complete nothingness, like balm upon her soul.

  When she woke up, she lay sprawled upon the floor, with the impression of only being away for a few minutes. There was a familiar Who am I? Where am I? quality to the experience; an inrush of newness, a cascade of tingling ….

  She got up.

  The room was the same, the rug was the same, the walls were the same.

  But she wasn’t the same.

  She wasn’t suffering from addiction! She didn’t hurt! If someone had showed her a pinch of Zernin, she’d laugh in their face!

  What the hell was going on here?

  And then she remembered, and immediately she was aware of a throbbing in her fingers.

  She pulled them up, examined them.

  The nanites had repaired much of her skin, but metallic-looking scars were clearly visible on her fingertips. They had an organic pattern to them. Strange, she thought. So it hadn’t been a nightmare.

  But where … ?

  “We’re here, inside you, Laura Shemzak,” said the voice she immediately identified as Andrew’s. “Transference was successful.”

  Laura shivered at the thought. Possessed! Of course, lately that was nothing new!

  “What have you done to me? I feel great! Physically, I mean.”

  “We made the necessary adjustments in your neurological and cybernetic interface. You no longer need Zernin for everyday life.”

  “Thank you,” she said. That was all she could think to say. “It made me … a traitor.”

  “Ultimately, you proved yourself stronger than it, Laura.”

  “Wait a minute. So now I’ve got you guys riding around in me … I’m still a prisoner! What good does that do any of us?”

  “No good, unless we affect an escape.”

  “Ah … my specialty!”

  “Good. You must somehow, of course, reach your blip-ship and pilot it back to the Starbow. There we can transfer to the energy field within which the one you call Mish survives.”