Deeper and Darker (Deep Dark Well Book 3)

by Doug Dandridge

  Kitticaris bailed from the transport, his men on his heels. He still had more than twenty warriors with him. That was the good news. The bad was that they were out in the open, the only cover the vehicles they had been using, which, with a bad hit, could become deadly to his people themselves.

  A dozen enemy were crouched down near the wall, firing at his men. A golden suit that had to belong to the woman was standing, particle beam pistols in each hand, firing away and scoring hits with most shots. A figure in a huge suit was trying to stand up from a kneeling position on the floor, and not having any success. Kitticaris’ practiced eye told him that the front of the suit, including one leg and an arm, had taken major damage from the particle beam hit from the gunship. The man inside must have been OK, or at least not injured so much that he couldn’t struggle.

  Half of his own men were down in an instant, as well as five of the enemy, though more of them were coming through the doorway, and he had no ready reinforcements at his beck and call.

  Kitticaris fired his rifle at that figure, trying to get a hit on the more vulnerable faceplate. He scored a hit that splashed alloy, indicating that this plate was not as fragile as most, and the one working arm got in the way in an instant. Beams splashed from his own suit, and he turned to see the woman firing away at him, her pistols, not near as powerful as rifles, still blasting molten armor from his suit.

  “Don’t kill him,” yelled the man with his amplified voice. “We can’t afford to kill him.”

  “That’s right,” yelled the Emperor, grinning inside his helmet. “Kill me and you’re all dead. I was about to inform you of that fact, since you not knowing it benefits no one. But I see someone beat me to it.”

  “Drop your weapons and surrender,” yelled the woman.

  “I think not,” said the Emperor, smiling, raising his faceplate to let his enemies see his face. He took another shot at Watcher, aiming for the good leg and getting a solid hit on the knee joint. The man fell backwards, his suit hitting the floor with a thump, only the one arm still capable of movement. He’s trapped in that suit, thought the exultant Emperor. And she’s no match for me. She’s a normal human, no matter how much she’s been augmented. He aimed again at Watcher.

  “No you don’t,” she yelled, taking aim with both pistols and putting beams into the rifle, blasting pieces of it into the air.

  “And you better be careful, woman,” said Kitticaris, shaking his head. “If I die, a hundred gigaton bomb goes off. And there’s nothing you can do about it.” A barrel rose over the back of his suit and locked into place, then swiveled to take aim at Watcher.

  The woman raised her own faceplate, and from the expression on her face, he could tell that they had found the bomb, and that they didn’t know what to do with it.

  “Don’t shoot him,” she yelled, her nostrils flaring, her pistols never wavering from his head.

  Kitticaris laughed and fired a thirty millimeter round from the cannon on his shoulder, barely missing the man on the ground. It was a purposeful miss, one meant to rattle the woman. He would kill the man soon enough, but for now he had other games he could play.

  * * *

  “Watch out for…” said Watcher, just before his com link went down. Dammit, he thought, trying to get his suit to move, and failing. It was sealed at several points along three limbs, and parts of his torso, and the damned thing wouldn’t open. Given time, the suit nanites would cut through those welds, and he would be able to open the suit. As it was, he was a cripple, plain and simple.

  And she isn’t aware of his pheromones, he thought, almost in a panic. He still had the link in his brain, the brand new one that had been installed after he had been rescued. But he now had no com to link it to, and, without his quantum entanglement packet, he couldn’t contact her through the station computer. And there was definitely no net that he could link into in this part of the enemy’s lair.

  Pandi lowered her pistols, a slack expression coming over her face. “No,” he yelled, which came out as a muffled cry that no one could hear.

  “Order your people to raise their faceplates,” said Kitticaris in a commanding voice. “Now.”

  “You heard the man,” said Pandi. “Raise your faceplates.”

  The other of his people looked confused for a moment, but after that hesitation they raised their faceplates. A couple of breaths, and the confused looked deepened, then slackened.

  “You,” said the Emperor, walking forward and pointing his finger at one of the Commandos. “Shoot that man next to you. In the head.”

  The Emperor’s soldiers, the eight that were left, got to their feet, also retracting their faceplates to reveal smiling faces. Watcher knew that these people were used to the pheromones of their leader, and welcomed the chance to partake of the chemicals that calmed their thoughts, and increased their almost ecstatic devotion to the man.

  “No,” yelled Watcher, watching as the Commando so ordered raised his rifle and aimed it at the exposed face of his mate, the smile on his face mirroring that of the man he was going to kill. The particle beam crossed the two meter distance between the men in an instant, vaporizing the victim’s face and eating into his skull, dropping him dead as quickly as anything could.

  “The rest of you people,” said Kitticaris, pointing at the remaining Commandos. “Go into the tunnel you entered through, and kill anyone in your uniform that comes down from above.”

  The smiling men nodded and ran through the door, into the corridor, ready to murder as many of their comrades as they could at the whim of the man who had been their enemy just moments before.

  “Now, woman,” said the Emperor, walking closer to Pandi. “Why don’t retract that helmet, so I can get a look at my new concubine.”

  Pandi smiled at him and the helmet retracted back, sliding down and leaving her entire head exposed, long red hair flowing down into her suit.

  “Yes, you will do,” he said, looking over at the helpless Watcher. “And you will still go to your execution, while I get what I need from this woman.” He reached out a hand and stroked a freckled cheek. “Think of her in my arms, while you are undergoing interrogation. Don’t worry, your torture will be short, since I really have no need to keep you around.”

  The genenged spy leaned his head back and roared with laughter, tears coming to his eyes. “You fools. To think you could actually defeat me.” His face took on a more serious mien. “Order your forces to stand down,” said the Emperor to Pandi.

  Pandi’s face scrunched up, her pained filled eyes showing that she was trying to resist.

  “Now, woman,” said the Emperor, blowing into her face, wafting another wave of pheromones into her system.

  And Watcher could only look on in horror, as the victory he had been about to achieve fell apart, as the madman above him used his chemical weapon to stop the Confederation assault. He cursed the makers who had given the ability to the man. He could put out pheromones of his own, mostly of the sexually attraction type, nothing at all like what this man had. The superman slammed his one good hand into the ground, snarling in fury.

  “On second thought,” said the Emperor, pointing down at Watcher. “I don’t think he will be needed after all. Kill him.”

  Chapter Thirty-four

  Your empire is now like a tyranny: it may have been wrong to take it; it is certainly dangerous to let it go.

  Pericles

  “OK,” yelled out Captain Milish Drazdore, waving to the men who were moving the wormhole into place. “Get her in position. Quickly.” I’m not sure how much longer we have before this thing goes off. But it can’t be long.

  The engineers were wrestling the frame of a wormhole to lay underneath the bomb, that was now suspended in the air, a sextet of antigravs attached to it by nanite bonds. The Captain hadn’t been sure the antigravs would lift the mass of weapon into the air. But they had performed as advertised. The frame had expanded as advertised as well, the parts of the structure moving into place as new negati
ve matter was injected in to dilate the wormhole, but it had been one holy bitch trying to get it into position.

  “I still don’t understand why we didn’t just move the wormhole horizontally into the bomb,” said one of the Sergeants.

  That should have worked, thought the Captain. The wormhole would have sucked it through as soon as part of it was through the horizon of the portal. But, if something went wrong, and the side of the bomb had ripped into the frame, we still might have several tons of antimatter being released into this room.

  “I want it to drop through the hole and be gone without any problems,” said the Captain, for some reason needing to explain himself to his subordinate. If only because he’s been a civilian construction worker much longer than I’ve been an engineer, and so has a wealth of experience.

  “It’s in place, sir,” said another of the NCOs, playing a laser measurement device over the bomb, the beams linking to the wormhole below and showing that there was at least ten centimeters leeway on all parameters. “With a straight drop, we should be able to move it through.”

  “And where is the other end of the wormhole?” he asked his Executive Officer, who was monitoring that portion of the mission.

  “Still locked into place on Vengeance, sir,” said the woman, a slight smile on her face. “This bitch shouldn’t have any trouble sliding out onto the ship’s hangar. And Vengeance is programed to start her programmed maneuvers as soon as that happens.”

  “OK, prepare for the drop. And I want that hole closed as soon as it’s through.” Or else we might get a good portion of that hundred gigaton blast coming back through.

  The Captain was sweating as the Platoon Sergeant in charge of the drop made one last check on the antigravs, floating up on the side of the bomb on his suit grabbers. The Sergeant shook his head and looked at the Captain. “Prepare to drop.”

  “Drop it,” called out the Captain.

  “Dropping,” yelled the Sergeant, hitting the button on the small control that had been attached to his left forearm.

  The large bomb container fell under the force of gravity as the antigravs turned off simultaneously. The Captain held his breath as the big device fell, his eyes tracking it to make sure that the antigravs had actually all cut off at the same time, and not sure what he would have done if they hadn’t. But to the relief of all present the bomb hit the mirrored surface perfectly, disappearing like a rock falling into a pool of water. The power cables attached to the bomb stretched tight, then pulled out of the wall as the suction of the hole forced them to follow the container they were feeding power to.

  “Get that wormhole shut down,” yelled the Platoon Sergeant.

  A pair of men ran to the opposite sides of the oblong ring, reaching for control panels set one hundred and eighty degrees from each other. They looked at each other, obviously talking suit to suit, and hit the commit buttons, then jumped up and ran back ten meters from the ring.

  The ring’s magnetic field, which was holding the negative matter that pushed the hole open, died, and the negative matter, released from its hold, flowed around the fabric of the hole and ate into the substance of the ring. Negative matter cancelled matter, almost all of it taken out before it could do damage to anything else in the room. Only a few wisps of gas escaped, all of it cancelling against the molecules of the air. That had been the dangerous part of this stage of the exercise. The wormhole itself, with nothing to hold it open, collapsed to a point, and beyond, pinching off as if it had never existed.

  “Command reports that the bomb is aboard Vengeance,” called out the XO. “She is starting her maneuvers now.”

  And what a surprise she’s going to be to those ships on blockade duty, thought the Captain with a smile.

  * * *

  The million ton mass of the Confederation destroyer Vengeance started moving through the thick gas of Odin’s atmosphere, angling upward. The last ship of Pandora Latham’s command was unmanned, her computers programmed to take her into her last battle. Like most military computers, and unlike the sentient comp of the Donut, they were not given much of a personality program, and included no self-preservation function. Vengeance’s computer knew that it was on its last mission, and it really didn’t care. It’s only imperative was to strike at the enemy, to get as close as possible to a formation of the foe’s warships, before the device on board detonated. It didn’t know when that would happen, which made it even more of a difficulty to its tactical computations.

  The ship rose through the atmosphere, the pressure decreasing outside by the second. The ship’s sensors looked through the atmosphere as well as they could. They passed through the terminator from opaque gas to the layer of clouds floating through clear air, even if that air was still mostly hydrogen. As it entered that area it could now pick up the enemy ships. And moments later they could pick up Vengeance. And picking her up, they began to react, boosting onto paths that would take them close to the Confederation ship, probably hoping for a capture of her and the tech she carried.

  * * *

  “You heard me, woman,” said the voice that seemed to reach right into her soul. A voice that sounded softly sensuous, a tone that she must obey. No, that she wanted to obey, no matter the other feelings running through her. “Kill him. It is our command, and you must obey.”

  Pandora looked down at the man she had been ordered to kill. Even hidden in his suit, she could see his face in her mind. That face became even more real a moment later as the faceplate on Watcher’s suit retracted.

  “Don’t let him control you, my love,” said Watcher, eliciting other feelings within her, the kind that fought against the total control of the man who was flooding her olfactory senses with pheromones which were taking hold of her will and making it his.

  Pandora raised her right hand pistol, aiming for Watcher’s forehead, her finger on the trigger. Her hand wanted to continue that squeeze until the weapon went off, vaporizing the beloved face before her. And the marvelous brain behind that face. What the hell am I doing? she thought, trying to force her hand down. The muscles bunched on her forearms as she fought against the compulsion. The pistol shook in her hand, one moment pointed at Watcher’s face, the next to the side.

  She pulled the trigger, at the same time jerking her hand even more to the side, the beam barely missing her lover, who flinched, but continued to look into her eyes. Please, she thought, her vision blurring slightly from the tears that were beading up in them.

  “I should kill you,” she said, not really sure if she meant Watcher, or the Emperor. Her mind was totally confused. She wasn’t sure what thoughts came from the chemicals that had infected her body, or from her own mind.

  “Yes, my sweet,” said Kitticaris, his voice a dream from heaven. “Kill him.” The voice grew rougher after she still did nothing. “Kill him, I say. Kill him.”

  “Don’t kill him, Pandi,” said Watcher. “Remember the consequences.”

  The Emperor laughed. “Yes, the consequences. Remember them, my love. For if my heart stops beating, everyone in this city, and hundreds of kilometers in each direction, dies. Besides, you don’t want to kill me. You want to serve me. And to serve me, you must obey me. So kill him.”

  Pandi again tried to lock her muscles, but the arm still moved the pistol, tracking onto Watcher’s face. The superman’s eyes were calm as he looked into hers. He’s not afraid, she realized, a thought that passed through the confusion in her mind that was working against her own desires. He’s not afraid of dying. Only concerned that his dream for the people of the Galaxy will not come to fruition.

  I can help, mistress, came a thought from outside of her mind, as if something were talking to her telepathically.

  Station, thought Pandi, recognizing the mental voice. She realized that the station computer was contacting her through the quantum entanglement module of her implant. What can you do?

  I can take control of your body, said the computer. If you give me the go ahead.

  I don’
t know if I want that, thought Pandi in a panic. I’m not sure I want to give you that kind of control.

  The failsafe system only allows me to take over if you give your permission, said the computer.

  Why in the hell would you even have such a system in me? she asked, feeling her rising anger, cutting through the ecstasy of the pheromones.

  It is only there to get you out of trouble, such as when you are in a confused situation, from injuries and such, and cannot remove yourself. But I can only initiate at your command.

  “Kill him,” yelled Kitticaris. “Kill him, now.” The Emperor reached to the floor and picked up a discarded particle beam rifle. “Or I’ll just do it myself, and then take you out.”

  “My Lord,” came a voice over the com. “My Lady. We have moved the bomb through a wormhole. There’s no risk now. No risk.”

  Pandora didn’t understand for a moment, before the realization came through her mind that Kitticaris was now capable of being killed. That thought submerged under the compulsion of the Emperor. And she caught sight of the rifle in his hand rising to track onto the head of Watcher. I have to do something, she thought. I must, but I can’t do anything, but…

  Station computer. You have my permission to take charge of my body. Do what you need to do.

  And what do you want me to do with the being known as the Emperor?

  Pandi sent it her wishes, and felt her body begin to move, not under her own control, but, at least, not under the control of the monster who was threatening her and her lover.

  Her body swiveled around at full speed, her left forearm slamming into the rifle, the strength of her suit, working under the control of her muscles, pushing it aside just before it fired. Her right arm moved the pistol into line with Kitticaris’ face.

  “What are you doing? You can’t kill me, without killing everyone else.”