The Eye of Orion_Book 1_Gearjackers

by Mitch Michaelson

  They accelerated and flew to the coordinates of the Vadyanika, sending out signals the whole way. Within a minute Pesht was worried; something was out of place.

  He ordered them to close fast, and moments later they slowed to a halt next to the science vessel. Lights were on in the Vadyanika, it scanned the region with everything it had and the grav engine gathered energy. Its few weapons were armed and shields were up.

  Pesht hit a button on his chair and transmitted, “Vadyanika, this is the Fire Scorpion. Reply immediately!”

  What followed was a rapid series of communications between the ships. The Vadyanika captain was vague and nervous. The Fire Scorpion began docking immediately.

  Admiral Slaught heard but didn’t react. “XO, link to the Vadyanika’s systems. Download their recent navigational and scanning data. Collect everything. Scan this area of space within the gas cloud at high resolution. Look for anything unusual.”

  “Aye, sir,” Pesht said.

  Then the Admiral and mercenaries left the bridge.

  Most of the people aboard the Vadyanika were civilians – research assistants and statisticians. Most of them were running around in a panic. Rumors floated about, ranging from a pirate attack to a meteor collision. They still struggled with being locked out of some systems when Admiral Slaught and his men entered the ship.

  Slaught knew full well where his merchandise was. It was the most valuable thing on board and had taken years to develop. Every part of his plans was well-known to him.

  The door to the main laboratory was shut. Slaught pointed to the control panel. A lanceman shrugged past him and inspected the panel. He tapped a combination and it made a morose sound. He directed a small device at it and it made a cheery beep. The door slid up.

  Dr. Spierk stood by the large silver box in the middle of the room. He spun around. “Admiral Slaught! I am so glad you’re early. Please come in.”

  Slaught walked into the room, scanning it carefully. He absorbed every object, every light. His matte-black eyes rested on the central box. It lay on the floor, closed, in its usual position.

  The two lancemen stood guard outside. Hack and Boc entered behind Slaught.

  Slaught said nothing but he looked at Dr. Spierk with a penetrating stare. His face muscles twitched.

  Boc was bored and wandered past the scientist. Hack looked around suspiciously, taking in the equipment.

  “This is a bio facility,” Hack observed. “You were growing something here.”

  Dr. Spierk stood straight. “And who would you be? What do you know of such advanced studies? This is hardly a lab to grow better air-processing moss.”

  “Clones?” Hack guessed. “Replacement parts?” Not getting a reply, he said, “Androids? You weren’t building biomechanical robots were you? They’re easy to detect, even if they are banned.”

  “You don’t question me. I have never failed. This will be my greatest accomplishment,” Spierk said.

  “Open it,” Slaught growled.

  Spierk was sweating. “I assure you, this will be a feat never before –”

  His head rocked back on his neck as the butt of Boc’s pistol impacted his cheek. Spierk staggered but didn’t fall. Blood flowed from his nose.

  “Open it, the Admiral said. Not talk. Open it,” Boc said. He was delighted that the meeting had provided an excuse for brute force.

  When Spierk got his balance, he straightened himself.

  Hack knew something was wrong, and having Boc nearby when something went wrong meant violence.

  “This wasn’t my only sample –” Spierk began.

  Hack was inured to displays of violence so he wasn’t surprised when he heard a crunch. Boc had stomped on Spierk’s foot.

  “Shut your mouth,” Boc said, through grinning, clenched teeth.

  “Open the sarcophagus, Dr. Spierk,” Hack said.

  Spierk complied, typing in his personal password. The top of the sarcophagus split and light spilled out. It was empty.

  Boc looked inside, shrugged and walked away. The next time he would be needed, it would be for murder.

  Slaught walked over and looked down. Even if he could have expressed surprise in his marred face, he wouldn’t have. He looked back at Spierk.

  “Again, I assure you, I have more samples,” Spierk said. “Look around you. These contain similar materials. We have more samples, we can grow another.”

  “Where is the one that was in here?” Hack said. “Stolen?”

  Dr. Spierk forced a nod.

  “What was in here?” Hack asked.

  “A symbiant,” Slaught said.

  Hack exhaled. “Not a clone. A totally original human being, grown at adult age, with artificial memories and fully-formed personality?”

  “Yes!” Dr. Spierk exclaimed. “And more wait around us! This was, unfortunately, our best sample, but we have more. No one will be able to tell the difference from the prime sample!”

  “This symbiant was special,” Slaught said. “It was built to my specifications. It looked exactly like what the masses want in a perfect chieftain, a king, a god. And it had every reason to believe that’s what it was. It … his personality was confident and encouraging, yet driven. Every aspect of his being would make him a natural leader.”

  “This was your superweapon, sir?” Hack asked.

  Slaught said, “It was the guidance system for the superweapon.”

  Hack said to Spierk, “That sounds like a good sales job, but no symbiant has ever successfully been grown. Starting at adult age lacks the subconscious learning we do in our formative years. Nobody has been able to grow a perfect engineer, much less a perfect leader. They break down.”

  Spierk had recovered enough to show scorn on his dark, bloody face. “You’re like the rest. Brain patterns have been studied and copied. This is creation at the atomic level! Nothing has been left to chance.”

  “And yet he’s been stolen, Dr. Spierk,” Hack said. “If you didn’t think about that possibility, what else did you forget?”

  Spierk hobbled over to the mercenary-doctor. “I thought of back-ups! How about that! Your payment means nothing to me! Once I prove this works, I will have my own race of perfect followers and perfect leaders and perfect everything! I will be a god!”

  Hack remained dubious. “How long will it take to get one of these to full strength? To release date or whatever you call it?”

  Spierk leaned back. “Two years maybe.”

  “Two years,” Slaught said flatly. His self-control was absolute. Hack didn’t expect to see any emotional reaction.

  Spierk looked apologetic. “Well maybe I could rush it to one year. Does it really matter? Think of the advances I’ll be able to incorporate! It will be better than the prime sample.”

  Slaught stood impassively. His features were still. “The experiments. Do you think they all would have worked?”

  “Would have?” Spierk said. “Will! There were disputes among my staff about one of the experiments, but it was hardly the most important. I know better than those imbeciles! It will work. There you have it. Give me one year and you will be more than satisfied.”

  Slaught waved, indicating to Boc and Hack it was time to go. “Dr. Spierk, instruct your ship to remain here. Continue your work. Everything will be taken care of.”

  “Oh thank you, Admiral,” Spierk said, relieved. “I promise you –”

  “Promises,” Slaught said, “are no longer necessary.”

  He left. The two lancemen joined them as they traversed the length of the science vessel, headed back to the destroyer.

  As they entered the tunnel linking the two ships, Boc chuckled, “He failed, didn’t he.”

  “Yes,” Slaught said. “We don’t have one or two years. We’ll have to continue without this part of the operation.” None knew it, but deep inside, his mind was whirling with changes to his plan. He was also baffled how anyone could have stolen the symbiant.

  Soon they were in the bridge of the Fire Sc
orpion. Slaught instructed Pesht to undock and prepare to leave the gas cloud.

  “Did you get the information I asked for?” Slaught asked.

  “Yes sir,” Pesht replied. “We have it. The Vadyanika was ambushed while in sleep mode by a corvette-class ship named the Eye of Orion. We have a readout and where they were headed.”

  “Good. Pest, you met Dr. Spierk.”

  Pesht replied reluctantly, “Yes.”

  “Then you may resolve this.”

  The kalam couldn’t smile with his mouth-stalk, but a light shone in Pesht’s eyes. Admiral Slaught left the bridge with Hack. Boc stayed.

  Aboard the Vadyanika, Dr. Spierk was still in the laboratory. On a nearby console, he viewed a map showing the ships. The Fire Scorpion moved away. He could not have been more relieved. He would get a second chance. Mercenaries made dangerous customers.

  Then the destroyer slowed. Spierk watched it. A dot left the Fire Scorpion and shot toward the Vadyanika. The dot displayed a name: FINAL PAYMENT. That was when Spierk knew he had failed.

  Pesht watched on his main panel as the missile neared the Vadyanika. The large missile exploded outside the ship, releasing many smaller missiles that spread out and then penetrated the ship in many places. There was no big flash or sign of nuclear explosion.

  Boc yowled. “I stayed to watch and got nothing? No blast? No show of annihilation?”

  Pesht smugly said, “That was a Venom missile. Sorry you didn’t enjoy the presentation.”

  Boc shrugged and left the bridge.

  On the Vadyanika, the lucky ones died of sudden pressure loss when their compartments were pierced. The rest were exposed to extreme radiation from the pellets now embedded in the ship’s hull. The Venom missile had peppered the ship with apollium, a lethal radioactive isotope. No corner of the ship was protected. The bridge crew fell into fatal seizures. In the laboratory, Dr. Spierk’s eyes melted. He dropped to his knees and blood ran out his ears.

  The Venom missile was a death sentence to everyone on board. Some would take an hour to die, but the initial radiation exposure guaranteed their death. The Vadyanika would remain highly contaminated for hundreds of years. Even a protective suit couldn’t shield a person from the radiation.

  The Fire Scorpion picked up speed. Their large engines allowed them to take a long FTL flight and still have enough energy to make another.

  The Fire Scorpion shot off after the Eye of Orion.

  CHAPTER 27

  Camaraderie

  Since the ship was in steady FTL flight, everyone was in the holobridge. Cyrus wore a robe and sat in a chair at the head of the table. Hawking ran tests on him while Governor tried to make him comfortable.

  The crew huddled together at the other end of the room.

  “What kind of ultimate force could one person be?” Glaikis asked.

  “This wasn’t on my list of possibilities,” Steo said.

  “Could you have got it wrong?” Yuina asked.

  “No, that’s what that ship was designed for, creating clones or whatever Cyrus is. I’ll check the data further but there was nothing else on that ship,” Steo said.

  Renosha looked at Cyrus, sitting straight in his chair, his skin now bronze and his eyes clear. “There is more to Cyrus than meets the eye, though that may have been his creator’s intent. Perhaps it is not what he is, so much as what he represents.”

  “Hawking, results?” Steo asked.

  “He is the epitome of fitness, Master Steo. He is quite safe to be around. In fact, Cyrus is at peak human functionality – statistically speaking,” Hawking said.

  That brought a smile to Cyrus’s face. “Are we done with the tests? I want to put on proper clothes and assume my duties.”

  “Duties?” Renosha asked.

  “Yes, as captain of this ship and leader of you people,” Cyrus said, gesturing to them.

  The crew looked at each other in confusion.

  In a steel room that served as the Admiral’s quarters, Hack talked to Slaught. The room was cold and plain, with only a few ancient weapons on the wall. A cart covered in vials, tubes and needles was at the doctor’s elbow. Hack was making sure Slaught’s drug systems were functional and verifying his cybernetic enhancements were up-to-date. Many old mercenaries had tiny pouches in their bodies that contained a cocktail of stimulants and enhancers. The mercenary could trigger them, getting a rush of speed, strength or healing.

  “The Vadyanika is dead. Some pirates stole your symbiant. Is it worth chasing after them?” Hack asked as he checked a metal bead affixed to Slaught’s spine. In private, Slaught didn’t demand formality. Hack had known Slaught as a sergeant, captain and now admiral.

  “The symbiant was part of a greater plan, Hack.”

  The doctor knew to be careful asking too many questions of Slaught. Though the Admiral didn’t kill his men for being curious, he had little patience. This mission wasn’t part of a greater war; Slaught could release any of his subordinates from his command. Hack didn’t want to be released from his contract (which would mean being left on an empty planet) because he knew too much.

  “Can I ask what his purpose was?”

  “He was designed to be a genetically perfect man in both form and function. His features were symmetrical. His eyes were clear, his teeth white. Tall but not too tall. His personality is one who craves leadership. He has the confidence knowing he was literally born to lead.”

  “A leading man, a marvelous hero. I understand that. But why? Mercenaries don’t need that. We fight, we kill, we win. Until we die.”

  “The masses of countless human worlds react instinctively to certain looks, certain voices. They admire people their subconscious tells them are perfect. Cyrus was perfect.”

  Hack thought he detected a note of sadness in Slaught’s voice. “Even assuming that’s possible, how could you control him?”

  “The Cyrus experiment went beyond physical and mental formulas. He was constructed to bond with the first person he saw when he awoke.”

  “A parent figure,” Hack said. He surmised that Slaught had intended to be the first one Cyrus saw when he woke.

  “Yes. His subconscious would attach to that face. He would find it difficult to deny that person.”

  Hack continued his examination. “So Dr. Spierk was building a perfect man who could be controlled, but could also lead. Who was supposed to look up to him then?”

  “That’s the answer to your first question, Hack. I have an army. I wanted a perfect leader.”

  Governor reappeared in the holobridge with clothes. “Master Steo, I have attire that will fit Mister Cyrus. I had to let out the shoulders, of course.”

  Renosha said, “Tell us more, Cyrus.”

  “Please take seats,” he said with a wave. “Come, your ideas are important to me.”

  They sat.

  Speaking from the head of the table, he said, “I am Cyrus Majeure. No doubt you wonder what providence brought me here. My birth was foretold by the Darmabi philosophers millennia ago. True to the prophecy, I was born to a peasant woman Hemiar on the planet Ino. The day of my birth was marked by a shower of meteors made of pure gold. The planetary governor Sephekia – an alien – had slain my father, so I don’t know my father’s name. The aliens were a cruel species that subjugated humans. But rather than face my vengeance when I grew of age, he had me abducted and frozen in time. I have slept for an age. But I returned! To give strength to the weak, to draw you forth from darkness and to find my lost home world. A paradise planet rich with resources, I will free it from alien influence and set up a new home world for mankind.”

  The crew looked at each other.

  “Space, he can’t be serious,” Glaikis said.

  Yuina and Tully were speechless.

  Steo said, “Hawking?”

  “Master Steo, there are no records of these places or people,” the robot replied.

  “Cyrus,” Renosha said. “How could you remember these things if you were frozen as an inf
ant?”

  “I was too young to learn them, but they are the truth. These facts are stored here, in my heart. I know my own destiny,” Cyrus replied confidently.

  “And you’re supposed to lead us?” Steo asked.

  “Ah, Master Steo. You are the Appointed One, the one who woke me from my frozen prison. Thank you.” He patted Steo on the shoulder. “You will sit by my side through the glorious campaigns to come. I must admit you look a little different from what I expected. Your eyes haven’t changed yet, but I admire and respect your advice. Any help you provide these people during the transition period will be rewarded.”

  Steo asked, “Hawking, how old is Cyrus?”

  “Accelerated growth procedures finished recently. Though he appears to be in his mid-30’s, genetically Cyrus is 26 months old.”

  “You are dismissed,” Cyrus said to Hawking. The robot didn’t move. Cyrus frowned. “Master Steo, have this machine scrapped for me.”

  Renosha said, “The robot bothers you, Cyrus?”

  “You are an inquisitive machine. I will allow you to stay.”

  “Master Steo, shall I retire?” Hawking asked. Steo rolled his eyes, which Hawking took to mean stay.

  “Why does the Hawking machine bother you?” Renosha asked.

  “There are simply things beyond a machine’s understanding,” Cyrus said.

  “Like facts?” Renosha said.

  Hawking said, “The facts I stated are true. I can’t lie. Cyrus is a symbiant. Not quite a clone, but a combination of genetic material grown in laboratory conditions. His oldest cells are only two years old.”

  Steo asked Cyrus, “What do you think about this, Cyrus?”

  Cyrus remained stoic but clearly struggled with the situation. He became uncomfortable and repeated, “I am Cyrus Majeure. Finding Ino and purging it of alien influence is critical to the future of mankind.”

  “Hey Hawking,” Yuina interrupted. She pointed at Cyrus. “Is his insanity infectious?”