by B. V. Larson
Graves was on his guard now. His eyes narrowed, and he studied me with crossed arms.
“I’m smelling a fresh patch of Georgia horseshit, McGill. Come with me.”
“What’s the trouble? I brought back an extra suit. Sure, I lost Harris again, but—”
“That’s twice in a row!” he interrupted. “I don’t believe in coincidences, McGill, especially not when you’re involved. What kind of game are you playing?”
He’d already headed for the door, and everyone around us watched as I handed the suits to the techs and followed him.
Lisa didn’t look like she believed me, either. She dropped her eyes after they briefly met mine.
I had to trot to catch Graves at the elevator.
“What’s with you two?” he asked me when we were riding upward again.
“Well,” I began slowly, “I guess I’m kind of sweet on her. We bonded over some hard missions. Teleporting around sounds like fun, sure, but in reality—”
“No, dammit! I’m not talking about the girl. I’m talking about you and Harris. You two should be a functioning team by now. Why the hell can’t you get along? You’re always getting one another killed over some absurd disagreement.”
I shrugged. “Harris and I don’t always see eye-to-eye, that’s true,” I admitted. “But it’s all in good fun. We’re not what I would call enemies.”
“Good fun, huh?” Graves snorted. “I’d hate to see you working with an actual enemy. Now, are you going to tell me exactly where you left Harris’ body?”
“He’s dead on the floor of Turov’s library.”
“Turov’s what?”
I explained what had happened in detail, but naturally, I gave him an edited version of events. In my story there was no mention of the Galactic Key, and I also left out much of what Claver had told me.
“So…” Graves said thoughtfully, “he was waiting in ambush for you. That makes some kind of sense. He must know where all these dial positions go. He logically concluded you would try the next one and tried to meet you there.”
“It didn’t work out for him. Harris popped in on him in full-blown paranoia-mode. They shot each other, and I cleaned up the mess, gaining two suits in the bargain.”
“Correction: you scored one additional suit and one corpse.”
“That’s nothing a quick revive won’t fix.”
Graves sighed as we arrived on the appropriate floor and marched down toward Drusus’ office. There were staffers running around everywhere. Everyone seemed like they were in an awful hurry.
“What’s going on?” I asked a few adjuncts that skittered by, but they made no comprehensible response.
“It’s the army up north,” Graves explained. “They’re moving. We’ve thrown up a front to contain them—but it isn’t working out.”
“Why not?”
He shook his head. “I don’t know everything, but I’m certain their ground troops have tech that we don’t.”
I thought about the teleport suits and nodded. That couldn’t be the only critical piece of gear they had. The trouble with the Empire was that, in a military sense, it’d been stagnant for centuries. All their trade restrictions had served to keep the peace, but they also made us weaker when we came up against a new, serious threat. These squids simply didn’t play by any rules passed down from the Core Systems.
Drusus was meeting with a command team when we stepped into his office. Once three staff officers left, giving us a curious glance, he beckoned for us to enter and shut the door.
“Good afternoon, gentlemen,” he said. “I’ll get right to the point. I’m pulling the plug on your experimental operation.”
Graves and I both gawked at him.
“But sir,” I said, “we’ve visited nearly every known preset destination on the dial. We learned valuable intel about the enemy camp, and—”
He waved my words away as if they stank.
“I know all that, McGill. But it doesn’t really matter anymore. These teleport destinations are too limited in scope—we can’t go wherever we want to. I’d hoped we could use them to stop their fleet, but now that their invasion forces are here on Earth, I need every experienced combat unit I’ve got in this sector to defend Central.”
“Are things going that bad so soon, Imperator?” Graves asked.
“They’re headed that way. We started off with a bombing campaign that went nowhere. They have anti-air tech that can shoot down a centimeter-long drone if it’s more than a hundred meters off the ground.”
With a feeling of growing unease, I watched as Drusus manipulated a map display. Northern New York Sector was a densely forested region. What population had lived up there before the coming of the Galactics had been burned out a century ago. The history was they’d been rebels who hadn’t wanted to surrender, and most of them had died in the end.
In the wilderness they’d left behind, a new threat had arisen. The squids had seen fit to fill the rough country with their countless minions.
“I’ve been there, sir,” I said as he laid out the scene. “Right there, in the middle of all that.”
He looked at me. “Yes, I know. I reviewed the video. That’s the primary reason why you’re here, McGill. I want you to help Graves with a special mission.”
“What’s that, sir?”
“We’re going to need a man to go into those woods again. Someone must jump into the middle of enemy territory and blow up that gateway.”
I stared at him in shock. “Just like that?”
“Just like that. This is the first opportunity I’ve seen to make real effective use of this newfound technology. Think about it: they can shoot down our missiles. Their shields are keeping us from penetrating their core camp, but they can’t stop a teleporter from getting in close and doing serious damage.”
“An excellent plan, Imperator,” Graves said. “I applaud direct action. If we can destroy that gateway, they’ll get no more reinforcements from home.”
“We think they’re coming from their fleet, actually, but we could be wrong. McGill has shown us that these devices have a great deal of range. They could be coming from their own planets.”
“Amazing to think—” Graves began, but I threw up a hand.
“Now, hold on a minute,” I said. “If I go in and drop a bomb, how am I getting back?”
They glanced at one another and then down at the desktop. Drusus cleared his throat.
“Oh, so it’s like that, is it?” I asked. “Killing two birds with one bomb? No more teleporting, no more McGill.”
“We’ll revive you back here the moment we see the mushroom cloud,” Drusus said. “It will be the quickest and cleanest death in your long and storied career, Adjunct.”
They were asking me to commit suicide. My mind was having a hard time wrapping around the idea.
“That place was set up to ambush anyone porting in there,” I said. “It’ll be doubly guarded now, after my successful attack and escape.”
“Yes, we’ve come to the same conclusions,” Drusus said. “That’s why the suit will be automated. There will be a magnetic detonator. The moment the teleportation is complete and the on-board software realizes your position has significantly shifted, it will go off—even if you’re struck dead the moment you arrive.”
“How encouraging,” I said. “You guys have thought of everything.”
“McGill, I know this is a lot to ask,” Drusus said. “But think of what a success might mean. No more gateway means no more reinforcements from the stars. We can contain them and mop them up as soon as reserve units from Europe get here.”
“Okay, okay,” I said, thinking hard. “But why do you have to send a man at all? Why not just send the bomb in a suit?”
Drusus glanced at Graves and nodded.
“We already tried that,” Graves said. “It didn’t work. The suit doesn’t seem to want to teleport at all without an occupant. We don’t really know how this technology works, remember, McGill. We’re li
ke monkeys with a gun. We’ve managed to pop off a few shots, but something complicated like reloading or breaking it down…”
“I get it,” I said, thinking fast.
I’d forgotten that the suit wouldn’t work because no one had touched the key to it. That thought made me plain sick. All my clever work to keep the key a secret was blowing up in my face—literally.
But I could hardly tell them about the key now. To do so would admit I’d hidden critical information from my superiors. Worse, they would realize instantly that the key was something that could get our entire species erased by the Galactics if they figured out we had it. My life wouldn’t be worth a penny with spit on it if they knew the truth.
Sighing, I spoke words I’d never thought I’d utter.
“Sirs… I’d like to willingly volunteer for this assignment.”
They both looked suspicious.
“Is this some kind of elaborate dodge, McGill?” Graves asked.
“Nonsense,” Drusus said. “Let the man have his honor, Graves. You’ve always been too hard on him. He gets things done—unconventionally—but he gets them done.”
Graves glanced over at Drusus and fell silent. He knew me better than Drusus did. He was like a parent of an ornery teen who had to endure chastisement from others.
“It’s just not right the way he treats me,” I said. “All I want to do is help. Hell, I’m volunteering for a suicide mission here.”
Graves gave me a sour look, and I enjoyed it.
“The gesture is indeed appreciated,” Drusus said. “We were thinking of ordering you to do it anyway—but this unexpected offer is more than welcome.”
That was about the size of it. I’d figured they hadn’t brought me up here and filled me in on a top secret assignment just to satisfy my personal curiosity. When you’re screwed, you might as well smile about, I always say.
To make a long story short, it was less than an hour later when they had me dressed up in that eight-armed monkey-suit again.
Lisa was avoiding my eyes. She stepped up to me, and she tapped on my wrist.
I didn’t get it right off—but then I did. She wanted the key she knew I was holding onto.
I gave it to her, and she did the honors. She gave me a kiss and said: “You’re good to go, James.”
Then she retreated rapidly. I stared after her shapely form, feeling a little better. If you can make a girl shed a tear when she says good-bye, the odds are you’re in for some good times when you get back.
Of course, I wouldn’t be coming back. Not exactly. It wouldn’t be the same James McGill.
Thinking that made my heart pound. No matter how many times I died then lived again, I never seemed to get used to it. The cycle didn’t bother Graves much, that was obvious. But it still gave me a chill.
“McGill!” Graves complained. “Pick up the damned bomb!”
Startled, I quit staring at Lisa and stooped to lift a large metal capsule. It was heavy, and there were LEDs counting down on top of it.
I reached for the dial on my chest and disaster almost struck. The bomb was smooth to the touch. It slipped, and I performed a bit of juggling. I almost dropped the thing before I got it under control again.
Everyone in the place gasped and threw up their hands—as if that would have done them any good. Their reaction cracked me up.
Laughing, I spoke a few final words.
“I liked this version of myself,” I said. “All of you should take pity on the poor bastard who comes out of that machine downstairs afterward. It’ll be his turn to play me, and I don’t envy him one bit.”
Everyone looked at me like they didn’t know what to say. It was one thing to watch a man you knew leave on a suicide mission—but this was different. They knew that I would come back—at least, some kind of copy of me.
Graves saluted finally, breaking the awkward silence that followed, and I threw him one back. That made me feel better. At least there was one man present who understood sacrifice.
With a grim smile, I activated my suit and jumped into the blue.
-32-
My body came back together in a different place, but I was still on the same planet. I had time to take a look around before anything happened.
That simple fact surprised me. I’d kind of expected the bomb to obliterate old James McGill more or less instantly—but it didn’t.
My surroundings looked dramatically different than they had the first time I’d been in this primordial forest. Instead of being surrounded by nine hulking troops with slack faces and massive weapons, I found myself in the middle of seven parabolic dishes, all of which were aiming directly at me. The dishes were shiny metal, and they gave off a faint blue radiance. To me, they looked like a firing-squad built of old-fashioned microwave antennas.
The significance of the fact these things were all aiming in my direction wasn’t lost on me. They’d been set up here purposefully to surprise whoever dared to port in. That couldn’t be good.
It was about then that I looked down at the bomb I was holding up against my chest like a metal watermelon. It had changed shape. It was now no longer a perfectly smooth steel egg. Something had ruptured one side.
Frowning, I tried to turn it around to look at the crack with orange light seeping out—but I couldn’t budge the thing.
It was a very weird sensation. An object that I’d been carrying a moment before was now immobile. I gently let go—and it hung there in the air.
Walking around it slowly, I looked at the far side. Sure enough, there was a crack in the side of it. That had to be right between where my hands had gripped it.
I looked at my gloves, and found one of them had been scorched black, but that was the only visible effect.
“Pretty cool tech, huh McGill?” a familiar voice asked.
I spun around, reaching for my pistol. Claver laughed at that.
“That won’t work—not inside the stasis field. It’s set up to catch high-speed motion and freeze it. The second your little gift package began to explode, the field rendered it harmless. It was taken out of phase. At least, that’s what the techs call it.”
My eyes swung around. The forest seemed empty, except for the stasis projectors. Then I saw him—A deeper chunk of shadow beneath a tree.
I let my eyes slide off him and continue roving about so he wouldn’t know I’d spotted him.
“Ah, McGill,” he said wistfully. “You’re such a predictable sort. Honestly, I’m surprised your team of vandals didn’t come up with this bombing strategy earlier. My only question is: why send a man to do a robot’s job?”
“They couldn’t get the suit to port without a victim inside,” I explained.
“Really? Are the techs at Central that far behind? I’m embarrassed on behalf of my entire species.”
I had my pistol out now. Instead of aiming it at the figure I thought was Claver, I aimed it at the nearest parabolic projector.
“What happens if I shoot this thing?”
“You can’t. It will detect and stop the motion before the bolt strikes. If it can stop a small nuke, you don’t think it can stop a power bolt?”
Deciding to try it anyway, I shot the projector—or rather, I tried to. The bolt came out about a dozen centimeters before it stopped. It hung in the air, sizzling like a frozen arc of electricity.
“I’m impressed,” I said, and I tried to put my gun away. It wouldn’t budge. Like the bomb, it was stuck fast.
Claver clucked his tongue. “How can you play the simpleton every time? The bolt is still largely inside the gun—which means the entire weapon is frozen. The burning plasma is inside it, welding it into place.”
“Weird,” I admitted, letting go of my gun. It hung there in space beside the bomb. “Isn’t this a lot of work to go to just to talk to me?” I asked the dark trees.
“That’s not my purpose, it’s a side effect. Right after your last visit here, we set up the stasis field and moved the gateway to a safe location. Truthfully
, I’ve been bored here, waiting. It took longer for you to make this ham-handed move that I’d thought it would.”
“Why are you telling me all this?” I asked.
“Because you won’t remember any of it anyway. If you do catch one last revive before Central falls, your memories of this place will have been lost. These shields block all your suit’s transmissions, you know.”
“Right…” I said. “Well then, we might as well talk openly. What the hell are you up to, Claver? Can you possibly believe the squids will honor whatever deal you’ve cut with them once they have Earth?”
“McGill, McGill,” he said, making tsking sounds. “Haven’t you learned anything from me? Lord knows I’ve tried to enlighten that dim brain of yours countless times. Let me explain it as one might to a small child…”
“Thanks.”
“You’re welcome. The key, you see, is to never give the mark everything they want. These squids are like any predator, they’re always hungry for more. The trick is to never run out of snacks in your pocket.”
I frowned in confusion, but I nodded like I understood him. While he kept talking, I took a very slow step toward the nearest projector. He didn’t seem to notice or care.
“You aren’t getting any of this, are you?” he sneered. “I’m wasting my time.”
“Oh no,” I said, “I get it. You want to gloat. That’s why you haven’t killed me yet.”
“Ah, so you do understand. Very good… where was I?”
“You were about to tell me where the last position on the teleport dial goes.”
He chuckled. “Why not? The last—hey now, what are you up to?”
“Nothing,” I said, but I had slowly, gently, wrapped my big arms around the nearest of the projectors. Grunting with fantastic effort, I tried to turn it.
The projector was on a stalk, and the stalk had been bolted to a platform. But the metal didn’t seem to be anything abnormally strong. It might have been aluminum or some similar alloy.
The shadow under the trees stepped forward and became Claver. He had a pistol.
“McGill, you ape! Let go of that projector or I’ll be forced to kill you.”