STAR HOUNDS -- OMNIBUS (63 page)

“W
e’re at ninety percent!” said the ensign.

Zarpfrin was unperturbed. He continued looking at the ball of hellfire on the vu-tank, ionized gas interlaced with magnetic ropes of plasma. It was beautiful, with colors that stretched in and out of the visible spectrum.

“Ninety five percent!”

The bridge crew of the Federation Dreadnaught Starship
Logos
stood by with worried looks. Almost all the ship’s power was being funneled via a hyper-focused tube of compressed space. Two other Dreadnaught-class starships were doing the same; the
Saccas
and the
Plotinus
. Together, they pumped over a hundred billion petawatts of energy into a single location. The outcome was simple: space-time itself was being ripped apart.

That’s what the clones had predicted would happen. And all was going according to plan.

The fireball, magnified and visible across the entire vu-tank, was an ominous sight. Making matters worse, the crew knew how close the focal point was, and the thought of a rupture consuming all three ships wasn’t terribly farfetched. The portal—though the crew was unaware of its true nature—was becoming dangerously real in every sense of the word.

Zarpfrin looked on silently.

The portal was going to deliver all his dreams. Omega Space, the
Starbow
, and Northern himself. What looked like a distorted point of space was now a treasure cave, filled with riches and unlimited power.

“Ninety-nine percent!” yelled the ensign. “Recommend we initiate cool-down sequence!”

Zarpfrin remained stoic and said nothing. He wasn’t alone. Cool as a Devonian Ice-Worm, Captain Urnsur was by his side and knew quite well that there was nothing to do but let nature take its course.

But these feelings were not shared by Captain Augustine, the Captain of the
Logos
. And it was clear to him that the ship was in imminent danger. Seeing that no change was imminent, he gaped distrustfully at Zarpfrin, vying for attention.

“If I may?” Augustine said. “We should cut power and run our safety diagnostics.”

“No, keep going,” Zarpfrin replied, staring blankly at the vu-screen.

“One hundred and one percent!” yelled the ensign. “We’re over the red line!”

Augustine looked at Urnsur, expecting to get his support. None was given. In fact, Urnsur stared absently at the screen; knowing the true nature of their work, he hoped to avoid conflict.

Augustine glanced at the engine status monitor and nervously cracked his knuckles. “With all due respect, the ship will come apart if we don’t cut power.”

“We’re still within simulation parameters,” Urnsur said. “The weapon isn’t a danger to us yet.”

“This ship’s jump-stasis drive is the danger!” Augustine said, trying very hard to contain his anger. “If we don’t cut power, we’ll overload.”

“One hundred five percent!” yelled the ensign. “Stasis field integrity down by twenty percent!”

Two warning lights flashed on. It was the
Saccas
and the
Plotinus
, offering similar warnings of imminent destruction. Luckily, Urnsur had hardwired control over all three ships to his command center on the
Logos
. In reality, there was no other way to synchronize the experiment. However, this arrangement now provided Urnsur with absolute command authority.

Augustine stepped in front of Zarpfrin. His fat jowls were red and flustered, but he decided that the ship was his first priority. His career meant … something less than that.

“I must insist!” Augustine blurted into Zarpfrin’s face. “We must cut power this instant!”

Zarpfrin barely moved his eyes. “Then I relieve you of command.”

“What?”

“Return to your quarters, Captain.”

“You can’t do that? This is my ship!”

“No longer,” said Zarpfrin calmly. “Captain Urnsur, the command is now yours.”

Augustine snapped his head towards Urnsur, but never achieved eye contact because Urnsur’s stunner was jammed tightly into Augustine’s plump face. The shot went off at point-blank range, sending Augustine to the ground with a thud. Urnsur stood over the body, trying to hide any discontent with himself.

The bridge crew was speechless.

None of them had been prepared for this. Even the First Officer stood agog, unsure how to proceed. He could draw his weapon, but that would be interpreted as mutiny and as a failure to follow the orders of his superiors. And Supreme Overfriend Arnal Zarpfrin was now his superior—without question.

Zarpfrin looked over to the First Officer. Gesturing with his hand, he flicked an index finger at Augustine’s unconscious form as though it were spilled coffee.

“Have the Captain returned to his quarters,” Zarpfrin said. “Post security outside his door, and we’ll forget his failure to follow orders if he remains quiet for the rest of the mission.”

Grimly, the First Officer carried out Zarpfrin’s bidding as an internal holocomp came to life. It displayed the 3D image of Cal Shemzak’s clone. First among equals, this particular clone acted as team lead and was monitoring the entire process from engineering.

“Things look pretty good from here,” said the clone.

Zarpfrin replied, “When will the portal open?”

“Just as soon as we hit the one hundred and ten percent output marker.”

Sneering, Zarpfrin looked over at the scared ensign, who had been screaming out the power levels until his captain had been subdued.

Meekly, the ensign read aloud. “One hundred and … and nine percent, sir.”

Zarpfrin looked back at the clone. “Shall we prepare to enter?”

The clone took a bite from a sandwich and chewed languidly while answering. “The portal is going to be too small for any Dreadnaught class vessel. Sorry about that. We’ll need to send in a smaller ship. Some of my brothers are eager to go too. Keep in mind, though, that while getting the portal open is hard, keeping it open is much easier. So … we’ve got some time.”

“One hundred and
ten
percent!” yelled the ensign, his voice on the edge of hysteria.

All eyes turned to the vu-tank. As predicted, ionized gas began to take form. At first, there was just a speck on the screen. Then, what seemed like unbridled magnetic ropes of plasma shimmered into a larger spherical orb of multi-colored space. It was the portal. It was what they had been waiting for.

Zarpfrin breathed quietly to himself. “Open,” he sighed. “Open at last ….”

Urnsur stowed his stun gun and bent closer to Zarpfrin’s ear. “It’s a great risk, but for the moment we are stable. We also have an Epsilon-class skip-cruiser, the
Simplicius
, standing by, sir.”

Zarpfrin turned and regally placed both hands behind his back. “Very good, Captain Urnsur. Take command aboard the
Simplicius,
along with a small complement of clones. I believe you know what to do.”

“Yes, sir!”

Then Zarpfrin’s face changed. His eyes filled with animal rage and Urnsur could see a distinct shift in personality. He now appeared twisted and evil, as though some distorted piece of his soul had been brought into being by sheer malice.

“Northern has been a thorn in my side for far too long!” said Zarpfrin. “Bring him to me, Captain. Dead or alive—his head on a pole if you can. Just bring him to me.”

Captain Urnsur knew he had to carry out the orders. However, the truth had now been lain bare. All the torments that stirred up the muck of hell; all truth that had been twisted in malice; all the malevolent forces that eat flesh and rot the mind; all the subtle demons of space and time; all evil throughout eternity—to Overfriend Zarpfrin, they had been visibly personified and made physically assailable in one man: Tars Northern.

As he watched the distilled vengeance rage uncontrollably within Zarpfrin, Urnsur had an epiphany: He realized—he
remembered
—that he had joined the military to fight the enemies of his people, not to become part of his commander’s lust for vengeance. All this martial fury being expended pointlessly against one man, a single human being? It was wrong. Something had to be done.

Oh, yes, Urnsur would follow orders. But now he harbored the darkest of secrets, one that not only affected his own life but the lives of countless Federation citizens.

Supreme Overfriend Arnal Zarpfrin was insane.

He had to be stopped!

C
al looked up, groggy but aware of his surroundings. Arrayed about him were unfamiliar faces. The closest was a middle-aged man with scruffy black hair, a black goatee, and a filthy dark blue uniform. In his right hand Cal made out a standard medical needler.

“The prisoners are awake now,
mon capitan
.”

Next to him Cal noted a few other officers, similarly dressed and looking unsure of things. They all surrounded what appeared to be a large android—one mean—looking mama! With black carbon frame armor and glowing red eyes, Cal wondered what he had gotten himself and Laura into.

Peering around, Cal realized that Laura was lying to his right. Like him, she was strapped to some kind of workstation chair. Her helmet had been removed, leaving her soft beautiful features and hair juxtaposed against the harsh, ribbed lining of her white and orange flight suit.

“Where … where are … we,” Laura said, her senses slowly creeping back.

“Quiet, prisoner!” said the man with the goatee. “Identify yourselves! And explain why you have attacked us!”

“Attacked
you
?” Cal said, chuckling through his pain. “I think you guys started shooting first. But, hey—I suppose you could have misinterpreted our rescue mission. By the way, is Dr. Zox around? I assume this is his ship, right?”

The man with the goatee took a step back, surprised. Glancing furtively at the android next to him, he appeared to find Cal’s remarks unsettling.

“I said—identify yourself!”

Cal smiled. “Oh, sorry. I’m Calspar Shemzak and this is my sister Laura. I’m a research scientist and … an old friend of Dr. Zox. Well, maybe more like an acquaintance of his. Is he on board? I’d like to talk with him about this region of Omeg … I mean Gamma Space. I’m sure he’d be happy to talk with me.”

The man looked up once again at the android. He did not reply, and waited for something to happen. To Cal’s surprise, the large robot stepped in front, and peered ominously down upon him and Laura.

“Calspar Shemzak?” said the android, its voice artificial and deep. “How do you know of Dr. Harla Zox?”

Cal looked up, unsure what to make of things. “Uhm … I met him at a conference on Gamma Space a few years ago. It was on Walthor and I was trying to explain my ideas on mixed quantum boundary conditions for a combination of Omega state end points and—”

“Quiet!”

Cal did his best to remain silent. It wasn’t easy.

“I remember you now, Calspar Shemzak.”

Cal was confused. “You … remember me? What are you talking about? Who are you?”

The android placed an open palm on its broad armored chest and laughed softly. “I … am Dr. Harla Zox, though I’ve taken a new form that you won’t recognize. And this is my ship, the
Prometheus
.”

“I thought you said he was an old geezer,” said Laura.

All eyes turned to Laura, who now was fully conscious and looking as angry as she was beautiful. Zox bent down closer and brushed his ten-fingered hand gently across her smooth jaw. Disgusted, Laura snapped her face away.

“Laura Shemzak … your sister?” said Zox. “Quite pretty.”

“Get your hands off me or I’ll rip your titanium nuts off!” Laura spat.

“And quite the warrior too, it seems,” said Zox.

Cal did his best to get the conversation back on track. “Sorry … I’m having trouble understanding all this. But I think we may just have ourselves a simple misunderstanding here.”

“Misunderstanding?” Zox said, amused.

“Sure, we thought this ship was a derelict, that you had gotten trapped out here and died in Omeg … I mean, Gamma Space. Laura and I were just trying to figure out what happened. But anyway, it’s good to see that you and … uhm … your crew here are alive and well. When did you arrive here in Gamma Space, anyway?”

Zox looked at Brilliantine, then towards Cal. The android’s artificial face components did not react in any way that allowed Cal to get some bearing on his thoughts. This was bad, thought Cal. His last meeting with Zox didn’t go well, and given the situation, a more positive outcome was desired.

Zox said, “Not long, Mr. Shemzak. But I would like to ask the questions, if you don’t mind? Explain your presence in Gamma Space. How did you manage to create and enter the distortion wave horizon and what have your findings been since you arrived?”

Cal considered the question. He could answer it in a straightforward manner … but it made him think. It seemed evident that Zox presumed that there was only one method to cross into Omega Space. Distortion wave horizon? That catastrophic phenomenon only occurred rarely, plus it required the implosion of large gravity wells and was inherently unstable. Only suicidal morons would risk their lives using that kind of scheme. Cal’s solution was far more elegant, but it certainly didn’t seem prudent to share that with Zox. At least not for the time being.

But more important to Cal was Zox’s need to know more about Omega Space. Had he just arrived? If indeed he had crossed through a distortion wave horizon, it would explain why the ship was so badly damaged. That meant that Zox was just now getting his equipment back on line and hadn’t had time yet to experiment with this new reality. This gave Cal the upper hand, because if true, Zox and his crew would have no concept of the fantasy-like realm they had now entered.

“There’s not much to tell you,” Cal said with jovial mendacity. “Most of us were killed when we came through the … uhm … distortion wave. Yeah—and, uhm, we lost all our equipment. I’m not really sure how long we’ve been here based on the reference timeline of Normal Space. But I’m sure glad you’re here. We now have a chance to work together and figure this all out.”

Zox didn’t reply. He just stood there, looking ominous and unyielding.

“Riiiiight,” Cal said, looking about with child-like curiosity. “So, like, if you could do us the favor of untying us, I think we should all have something to eat. Got any sandwiches? Then we can try to figure all this out. Discover how to exit Omeg … I mean Gamma Space together. So. What do you say?”

Dr. Harla Zox’s reply was cold and bitter. “No.”

“No? Why not?”

“I don’t believe you,” Zox said. “You had enough resources to enter my ship, and I think you’ve got more than you claim to have at your disposal. So rather than play games, I’ll just take you down to the lab and see if we can extract the truth in a more direct and unpleasant manner.”

“You bastard!” Laura yelled, fighting her restraints. “If you hurt him I’m going to make you pay, you robotic freak!”

Cal looked askance and whispered, “I don’t think that’s helping … ”

Zox turned slowly towards Laura and laughed. “My, my, what a temper you have. I do believe you have the aptitude to be part of this crew.”

“Are you sick? Are you suffering from delusions of … of likeability? Why would I ever serve with you?” Laura retorted.

“Because if you don’t, I’ll do more than just extract information from your smart-mouthed little brother here. I’ll have him ground up and run through the ship’s reclamation system. You can enjoy eating food grown from the rich nutrients of his decomposed body.”

In her fury, Laura unleashed a jolt of anger through her cybernetic body. Her left arm slammed against the straps so hard that they broke off the chair’s armrest. Swinging the chair’s metal arm from her wrist, she clipped one of the crewmembers standing nearby and sent the man flying across the floor before Brilliantine drew his weapon and stunned her with three shots, each having a greater effect until she finally collapsed.

Zox pointed violently at Cal. “When she wakes up, tell your sister that we’ll use much higher settings on both of you if she doesn’t behave. And that would be a shame, considering how pretty she is!”

Cal knew then and there that he had to escape. It would be easy enough. He was in Omega Space, and his ability to transform reality was fairly high. But Laura? She wouldn’t be able to follow him so easily, and he didn’t have time to walk her through the mental steps it would take.

But Cal calculated that Laura’s good looks and training were enough to buy him some time. So he decided to risk his best course of action: leave the
Prometheus
and come back later with the cavalry. Just like in the old movies.

“You know, Dr. Zox,” Cal said, his teeth gritted in anger, “when I first met you years ago, I truly underestimated what a complete jerk you are.”

Zox seethed with anger. “Insolence! It would seem that I need to teach you a lesson.”

An angry smirk crept over Cal’s face. “Yes, well … same here, I suppose. Watch and learn!”

Cal closed his eyes, and within that instant of self-imposed blindness he smeared himself into nothingness. The result was that he found himself back in the cockpit of the mech. It was parked on the flight deck, facing a closed exit gate. Cal knew from his previous scans what it would take to cut his way through such barriers, and he instantly opened fire using the mech’s oversized grenade launcher. Shrapnel, smoke, and fire engulfed him for approximately three seconds.

With a running leap, he flew out the self-made exit and headed for the void. It wouldn’t be long before he could talk with Northern and Mish. Yes, they’d be angry as hell with him about how things had gone. But Cal wasn’t concerned about that. His mind was racing ahead, considering what he’d need to break Laura out of the clutches of Zox and his band of pi-mercs.

And though Zox himself had become some kind of armored robot from hell, Cal had a jumpstart. He could exploit Omega Space. He’d need some big nasty toys to crack open the
Prometheus
and take Laura back by force. A stew of ideas percolated inside his head. Yes, Cal thought as the mental images began to congeal:

Great big nasty … toys!

The future had suddenly become so much more interesting!