Armor World Read online

  But then he lifted his wrench high for a killing blow.

  “Hold it!” I said, aiming at him with my pistol and taking two quick steps forward.

  Armel turned to me, his arm still raised. “Don’t be a fool, McGill. Squanto approached me at Blood World, but I resisted. Again at Dark World, he made his offer—but still, I refused. It was not until Hegemony abandoned me with an army of stinking apes on Storm World that I accepted his offer.”

  “Keep talking,” I said. “What was the offer?”

  He laughed. “I just stated it! Relief for all humanity! The removal of these vile overlords. You know about the bio-terminator. You know these Mogwa are weak, you’ve even seen their home world. So vulnerable…”

  Armel was talking about the fact that the vast majority of Mogwa citizens lived on Trantor, a planet covered by a single city. If that single planet were poisoned—they would all perish.

  Sateekas had big eyes now. They roved between me, Armel and that dripping wrench.

  “Thanks for being honest,” I told Armel.

  Then, I shot him.

  -45-

  Sateekas wasn’t really grateful for my efforts, at least not openly. He was too proud for that.

  “We had no weapons…” he complained and then went into a coughing fit. When that subsided, he spoke again. “Our ship was destroyed only an hour ago. What could be expected? I barely know how to operate something as primitive as a snap-rifle. It’s a slave weapon—the very idea is offensive.”

  I happened to know the Mogwa did have advanced small arms. Once, a Mogwa named Xlur had tried to disintegrate me with a pretty cool little weapon. That hadn’t worked out too good for him, but the technology was still impressive.

  “You guys really should be careful when you’re up-close and personal with aliens from higher gravity worlds,” I suggested. “Humans are killers, after all. That’s why you made us your enforcers.”

  Sateekas eyed me in obvious pain and rancor. I’d long since summoned the medical people—but Blue Deck was moving slowly today.

  “Yes… Killers. A less forgiving master would order you all expunged.”

  As he made this statement, one of the chicken Mogwa who had run off returned to the center stage. He poked at his dead comrades and inspected Sateekas.

  “These injuries are debilitating,” he said.

  “Yes, obviously. I’m planning on another revival. It’s shameful.”

  The scaredy Mogwa turned his head to regard me. “This one did nothing.”

  “Untrue. He killed the rebel.”

  The other stared at me coldly. “Only after talking to it at length in a most familiar manner. I think we should destroy it.”

  Crossing my arms, I couldn’t help but feel a twinge of irritation. After all, I saved their shiny butts just moments earlier. But that’s how it was with the Mogwa—nothing was ever their fault. If anything went wrong, someone else had to die for inconveniencing them.

  “Listen, Mr. Mogwa, sir,” I said.

  “I am Captain Akuma,” the alien replied sternly. “We’re all captains—and your tone is a rude one, human.”

  “You don’t say? Well, welcome aboard our ship. Maybe you can tell me why all you captains ran off when Armel started smacking people?”

  Captain Akuma rotated his body, cross-stepping with his many feet, so he could face me fully. “Offensive! Impertinent!”

  “Yes, he is,” Sateekas coughed. “But he’s a killer—a true master of the art. Compared to him, this scrap of meat on the floor was an amateur.”

  Captain Akuma eyed the dead figure of Armel. His eyes then flicked toward my pistol—and he backed away quietly.

  Could Sateekas actually be signaling his captain to cool it? To settle the hell down and be polite for one moment? That would be a first if it was true.

  “McGill,” Sateekas rasped at me. “I’m dying from injuries—but don’t worry about it. I will return. What I want from you now is some clarification.”

  “Uh… about what, sir?”

  “About the conversation you had with the traitor. Is it my understanding that you know what he was blathering about? Poison? Trantor?”

  “Uh… Oh, yeah! I think I heard-tell something of that. Sheer nonsense, of course. No one could create a genetically perfect Mogwa-poison. Even if they did, how would they deliver it to your home planet?”

  “How indeed…?”

  “What I want to know,” Captain Akuma asked, scuttling forward again out of the shadows, “is how you visited Mogwa Prime in the past. That is most unusual.”

  “Well sir, I’ve got an even better answer for you in that instance: I never did. That story from Armel was pure horseshit.”

  “Large animal excrement?” Akuma asked. “Has my translator failed me?”

  “No sir, that’s exactly right. You see, Armel was just throwing up dust with his words, trying to get me in trouble. He hates me, you see. He’s tried many times to palm-off his own crimes on some useful stand-in such as myself.”

  Akuma’s eyes flicked down to Armel’s motionless form, then back up to my face.

  “So… if he is so unreliable, why was he your superior officer?”

  “He wasn’t—not really. He commanded a Blood Worlder legion. That’s a lower-status formation of near-human troops. That’s why he was pissed off, actually. Just like a Mogwa who’s banished from the home world forever, he went a little crazy in the head.”

  They both murmured in understanding. All Mogwa overlords who served out here at Province 921 hated being so far from home. For them, a remote assignment like Earth was an insult, a punishment.

  It stood to reason that every Mogwa out here was a pariah of one sort or another. Maybe that was why they were always in such a bad mood.

  Right about then, the rescue team showed up. Armed guards rushed in and arrested me. They cuffed Armel, too, even though he was stone dead. They liked to be thorough.

  The team of medics came in second, and they fawned over every injured Mogwa like they’d found run-over kids in a cul-de-sac.

  Graves brought up the rear of the team, and his fists were planted on his hips. He eyed me with fantastic distrust.

  “Fancy seeing you here, McGill—in a room full of the dead and dying.”

  “It’s a wild coincidence, Primus,” I said with conviction. “But at least it was a happy coincidence this time. I was able to step in and stop this madman Armel from further dishonoring Earth’s good name.”

  Graves looked at the scene, and he seemed to recognize Sateekas for the first time. That could be forgiven on his part, as the Mogwa wasn’t in the best state of health.

  “Good Lord… Grand Admiral Sateekas? What happened to…?”

  Graves glanced at me again with murder in his eyes, but fortunately, Sateekas spoke up.

  “The McGill-creature must have sensed the renegade’s intent. We thought we could handle one bound, unarmed human—but I’ve been informed he’s a master of personal combat.”

  Graves looked at me sharply, and I gave him a tiny, urgent nod.

  “That’s right,” he said unhappily. He hated to lie to people, but he could see that Earth couldn’t afford to take the blame on this one. It was too bloody. “You outnumbered him so significantly we thought—well, please accept my apologies in this matter, sir.”

  Sateekas breathed a few raspy puffs but didn’t say anything. I thought maybe he’d bought the farm—but then he spoke up again.

  “We will do so. Now, if you don’t mind, I’m going to allow myself to expire. We’ll continue our discussion when I’ve been revived.”

  “Yes sir—thank you, sir.”

  Weirdly enough, Sateekas relaxed, and his eyes glazed over in death on the spot.

  “Wow,” I said. ‘That’s really weird! Did you see him off himself like that? Just by sheer willpower alone!”

  Captain Akuma shuffled closer to me after Sateekas willed himself to die. He seemed braver now that I was handcuffed.

&n
bsp; “I remain a skeptic,” he said sternly.

  “About what in particular, Captain?” I asked.

  “About your involvement, creature. Even your superior officer blames you, and I doubt he’s wrong. Don’t think I’ve forgotten your discussion with the renegade of genocidal poisons and scouting visits to my home planet. There will be an investigation—mark my words.”

  “There should be!” I insisted loudly. “Get to the bottom of it, sir. Don’t let that criminal rest in peace! If you want, we could revive him under more controlled circumstances for a round of torture and a good perming.”

  Captain Akuma kept eyeing me. I wasn’t sure if he was buying any of my bullshit, but I was pretty sure Graves wasn’t.

  After a while, Graves led me out in chains. They hauled away Armel’s corpse as well, like a sack of grain.

  When we were out in the passages and out of earshot of the aliens, Graves turned on me.

  “How could you do that?” he demanded.

  “Uh… do what, Primus?”

  “Let the Mogwa know about the poison—and your trip to their home world. That information is beyond classified, McGill!”

  “Don’t I know it, sir—but Armel told them. That’s God’s honest truth.”

  To prove my point, I played back a vid on my tapper. I’d hit the record button during the encounter, suspecting it might be critical later on. Graves often did the same. Body-cams could be used as great tools to cover one’s ass—or to incriminate another.

  In this case, I had proof, so I was believed.

  “Uncuff him,” Graves growled at my guards. Then he marched off toward Gold Deck.

  I followed along, matching his stride easily. “What are we going to do now, sir?” I asked. “Go home to Earth?”

  He stopped and stared at me in surprise. “Whatever gave you that idea?”

  “Well Primus,” I said, ticking off what I considered to be salient points on my fingers. “For one thing, we just lost one of two transports. We can’t hope to beat the Skay, and we’re two and a half legions down, sir.”

  Graves looked unhappy with my accounting, but he didn’t argue the point.

  “I’m reviving Drusus,” he said. “He’ll decide what we’re going to do next. If you’re lucky, you’ll keep breathing yourself.”

  “Is that an offer to testify in my defense? If so, that’s mighty kind of you, Primus!”

  He was already marching away again. I was talking to his back.

  -46-

  Drusus reviewed all the information, and he heard testimony for about three hours. It was an extremely boring time for me, let me tell you. I’d heard it all twice by now.

  “So… let me get this straight,” the praetor said. “Armel and Turov were involved in some kind of conspiracy?”

  “That’s not confirmed,” Graves said. “Armel has publicly confessed—that’s all that’s known so far.”

  “But you still saw fit to revive none of your superior officers during this crisis?”

  Graves looked uncomfortable. Drusus was asking a tough question, after all. When major strategic decisions were to be made, the natural thing to do was revive the brass and let them sort it out. Instead, Graves had decided to use his own judgment and keep everyone else on ice.

  “There was a crisis of leadership,” Graves said. “Since we had escaped immediate danger, and I didn’t know who was involved in what, I decided to investigate while no one could interfere.”

  “By implication, your list of suspects included me as well?” Drusus asked.

  “I knew one thing: I wasn’t involved. I chose not to alter the command structure until I felt certain it could be done safely.”

  Drusus seemed to chew this over. It had to be annoying that Graves had suspected even him—but that was Graves. He wasn’t interested in personal loyalties and favors. He went by the book even if it hurt.

  At last, Drusus came to grips with the situation and nodded slowly. “All right. I accept your explanation. This mess has been of unusual proportions I can understand extreme caution on your part, Graves.”

  He turned to me then, at long last. I stifled a yawn and straightened up.

  “McGill, you must know more than you’re letting on. It’s time to speak openly.”

  “Huh?”

  Drusus compressed his lips. “Did you, or did you not, materially participate in this mutiny?”

  “What…? No sir! I helped put it to rest, in fact.”

  “That’s one possible interpretation…” he said, frowning as he replayed vids of the Mogwa slaughter.

  By this time, they’d pulled the security files on everything. We’d watched Armel cracking skulls and kneecaps ten times from ten different angles.

  “If we live through this, it will be a miracle,” Drusus said. “You see how polite the Mogwa are behaving after this disaster? It’s my impression that Sateekas was just playing for time, hoping he can get off our ship before we kill him—does that match your theory, McGill?”

  It was my turn to frown. “Uh… kill him, sir?”

  “Of course. He and all his ships were destroyed. We revived him once, but we have the power to rectify that error at any moment.”

  “By… killing him?”

  “Exactly. After that, we could just leave him permed and stay quiet. That would be the easiest thing. But we still might need the Mogwa to help us against the Skay... So, I lean toward reporting the destruction of Sateekas’ fleet—leaving out the part where we revived him. Then, they could do whatever they wanted.”

  “But he’s alive right now, sir!” I objected. “You’re talking about him like he’s already dead.”

  Drusus cocked his head and stared at me. “You are an odd one, McGill. I’ve never seen anyone so quick to kill a foe and equally quick to defend a comrade.”

  “Thank you, sir,” I said, deciding to take his words in the best possible light. “I just don’t like treachery under fire. Sateekas plowed his cruisers into that Skay ship, partly with my urging. He did his best to protect us—to protect the province. I wouldn’t want to see him permed after that due to our chicanery.”

  Drusus looked mildly troubled by my words. “You do realize we can’t simply allow him to relay what Armel did, don’t you? That other Mogwa—Captain Akuma—he’s already announced he plans to investigate you. He wants to investigate all of us.”

  “Sir,” Graves said. “I agree with your assessment. In fact, I’ve already made arrangements.”

  “What kind of arrangements?” Drusus asked, swiveling his chair toward Graves.

  “We’ve got a small quantity of a… certain toxic substance aboard. We’ll pump it into their module, and down into Blue Deck where two of them are convalescing. No one else will be affected. No one else will even know why they died.”

  “Now, hold on just a second!” I said, standing tall. “If we do that… well, we’re no damned better than Armel!”

  “Not true,” Drusus said. “Armel was acting out of self-interest. We’re acting out of caution. We have every life on Earth hanging in the balance. If we don’t exercise caution, extinction could result.”

  He was right about that. The Mogwa were partly to blame for the situation. They had such strict policies and punishments that they forced underlings like us to consider extremes matching their threats.

  “But…” I argued, “what if the poison lingers? What if it can be traced years later? Some nosy Nairb will find out eventually if we use it now.”

  Drusus frowned. “You could be right. I have a new idea: We’ll get them all into that module they’re camped in. After the deed is done, we’ll jettison the whole thing into hyperspace. The radiation and friction involved in reentering normal space will vaporize it.”

  “That’s just plain wicked!”

  Graves looked toward Drusus. “Is that a firm order, sir?”

  Drusus thought it over. At last, he nodded tiredly. “Do it. Just don’t make any mistakes.”

  “But sirs! Those
aliens fought on our behalf. A dozen Mogwa crews died battling the Skay. We can’t just—”

  “McGill,” Drusus said, “I understand your outrage, but the stakes are too high. We must—in this instance—reroll.”

  “You mean we’re going to revive them again? With some editing of memory engrams?”

  He blinked at the idea. “That’s… possible.”

  “But dangerous,” Graves said. “If anyone slips up, or if they find out somehow, we’d be dooming our species.”

  Drusus nodded. “We’ll figure all that out later. Primus, oversee the matter personally.”

  Graves got up and walked out. The determined look on his face told me the story: there would be no mercy in his heart tonight.

  I followed him, even though I knew I shouldn’t. Sateekas hadn’t come out of the oven yet downstairs on Blue Deck. Graves went there first.

  When he ordered the bio people to abort Sateekas and the other dead Mogwa, they looked ashen.

  “Sir, I’m not sure we have enough of the right proteins to mix up if we—”

  “Dump the machine’s contents. Now. You can recycle the materials in case we need to do another grow for some reason.”

  The bio blinked at us in confusion. I felt for her. She had a nasty job, but her kind were usually involved in the re-creation of life, not the premature ending of it. Getting these orders now must come as a shock.

  She turned away and called to her staff. To my surprise, I recognized one of them: it was none other than Raash, a saurian from Steel World.

  Raash and I had never been buddies. When we’d met in the past we’d always hissed and spat. Occasionally, we killed each other.

  “So…” he said, eyeing me. “The butcher McGill comes to salivate over this injustice. I have no words for the overwhelming disgust I feel.”

  “Funny,” I said, “that’s exactly what I heard from Floramel about you the last time I took her on a date.”

  Raash was a hundred and fifty kilos of alien lizard-monster in his prime. His teeth, muscle and scales made him more than a match for any human—even me.

  But I didn’t care. I was ready to throw down with him any day of the week.