Mech Zero: The Dominant Page 6

  Davenport continued working the controls, now locking the outer hatch of the airlock. The admiral was sealed inside.

  “Davenport?” roared Goddard. “I’m on to you. You’re out there, aren’t you? I thought you would try this eventually.”

  “Try what, sir?”

  “Mutiny. Assassination. You’re weak, Davenport. You’re not worthy of command. I’ve always known it.”

  Davenport licked his lips, wondering briefly if the admiral had a point.

  “Maybe I’m wrong,” Goddard said thoughtfully. “Maybe this isn’t about cowardice and a fear of losses. Maybe this is good old-fashioned injured pride. You hate me because of a thousand slights and the beating I gave you. Is that it, Davenport?”

  Davenport didn’t answer. He wondered if the other was right. He felt a sudden urge to put down his weapon and to return to his post. Resisting was difficult. In his own way, however, he was as stubborn a man as Goddard himself.

  Still, he felt his will waning. He was in the wrong. He’d disobeyed his rightful commander. He lowered his assault rifle.

  With a flash of fear his mind tried to analyze these alien thoughts and feelings he was having. Could Goddard have affected his mind somehow? The thought was incomprehensible, but the evidence and the worry was distinct. He reached for the control panel again. He didn’t think he had much time. He could feel his resolve already fading again.

  “Davenport, open the damned hatch!”

  Davenport reached for the override panel. He would type in the code, release the shuttle from the ship then fire Goddard out into space after it. The admiral would survive in his suit, and if he was innocent the matter could be safely sorted out later.

  But he didn’t. Instead, he felt an urge to obey Goddard, who was after all his rightful commander.

  Davenport opened the hatch. Goddard stepped forward and brought up a large pistol. Davenport was already aiming at the hatch. It was all he could do to depress the firing stud.

  He had assumed the worst. He had assumed his life was on the line. Only this paranoid, survivalist urge allowed him to fire. Davenport was a thorough man, so he kept on firing. While Goddard sank down to his knees, something tickled at Davenport’s mind again. He felt an urge to drop the rifle, and he almost did so. But his natural paranoia paid off again. He hung onto his mind and kept the firing stud depressed instead. Broadening holes opened in Goddard’s ruined chest and finally burned through. The tickling sensation weakened. Vaporized flesh filled the corridor creating a sickly, cooked-meat smell.

  Something odd slagged off Goddard’s back, falling into a separate steaming heap. Davenport approached it and toed it questioningly. He did not know what it was, but it was alien, and it was dead.

  An hour later, the Bernard Shaw halted its forward momentum and began the long, slow acceleration back toward Mendelia. Davenport was finally in command of the expedition, and he had determined that it was a failure. Whatever Tranquility’s navy lacked in fleet power, they had more than impressed him with their auxiliary attacks. He now suspected they were masters of organic technologies unknown to his people. The creature they’d used to take over and control Goddard’s actions was bizarre and amazing. It was as far beyond Mendelian genetic breeding techniques as their guns were above sharpened sticks.

  Davenport turned around his last cruiser and ran home with it. In his written briefs, he recommended to High Command that they should build more ships—not for purposes of conquest, but rather for defense against these terrifying enemies.

  Eleven

  Theller slipped away in Redemption toward his homeworld. His forgotten ship had lost much of its supplies and most of its systems were inoperable, but he was the only one using them now. He had six large tanks of oxygen, a little fuel and plenty of food. In a week, with careful use of his meager supplies, he would make it home.

  He spent the long hours heavily editing his story for his Space Service debriefing. He practiced his tale and ran through a dozen variations as time passed. Oh, he would tell them about the strange alien they’d found—in fact, he would tell them almost everything. His sole omission would be his part in altering the ship’s oxygen mixtures.

  Theller wondered if they would mistake him for a hero. He suspected they would, as there was no one else to thank for their salvation. He had defended his world by accident, but he did not feel the part of the hero.

  Each day Tranquility grew larger. It became a bright point, then a jewel, and finally a glowing blue disk. As the days rolled by and his space suit grew stale, he wondered how often in the past tales of great events had been altered to hide unpleasant truths…he suspected it had happened often.

  The End

  BONUS EXCERPT:

  MECH 1: The Parent

  (Imperium Series)

  by

  B. V. Larson

  “And if you gaze for long into an abyss, the abyss gazes also into you.” - Friedrich Nietzsche

  One

  Out along the rim of the galaxy hung a loose configuration of some sixty stars known as the Faustian Chain. From Old Earth, the cluster presented a colorful display of plasma-streams, luminous nebulae and brilliant pinpoints of light. Sparkling suns in relative proximity to one another shone down on numerous, rocky planets.

  One such planet was Garm, a backwater colony world in the northern section of the Chain. It was an unimportant world to humanity—but as was often the case, the local population felt otherwise. Today, the arrival of a great tradeship caused countless eyes on Garm to turn upward and gaze at the dark structure, which was visible from the surface in the clear, gray sky.

  The tradeship Gladius slid into a stationary orbit over Garm’s southern continent. Originally built in vast orbital docks over Old Earth, the vessel was a marvel of technology which local colonists could not hope to replicate. A thousand modules swung majestically around the ship’s central torus like a spinning constellation of stars.

  Sitting inside one of the more luxurious modules was the captain of Gladius. Dining with him was none other than the new Planetary Governor of Garm: Lucas Droad. The captain knew who Droad was, but most of the crew thought of him as a reclusive passenger. Garm was a turbulent world, and new Nexus officials often had short lifespans.

  “You’ve been in this system on several occasions, captain,” Droad said. “Can you tell me something of Garm?”

  “There’s not much to say about this planet,” said the overweight captain with a shrug. He stirred the cup of tea that sat on his belly. “Garm was colonized some four centuries ago by German and Chinese separatists from Old Earth. A watermoon named Gopus orbits Garm and is inhabited, although very sparsely. If anything, Gopus is even more inhospitable and uninviting than Garm. On both planets the climate is exceedingly hot and the people exceedingly primitive.”

  Droad tried not to let his disappointment show. He’d expected more than an entry posted by tourist agent. Both men knew the walls were full of listening AIs, and neither wanted to trigger the generation of a report, but the captain seemed more than just circumspect. Did the man fear to speak plainly aboard his own ship? Droad was uncertain what to make of the situation. Suspecting the captain did not yet trust him enough to divulge real information, he decided to probe delicately. “I take it you prefer the more sterile and civilized environment of the habitats? The brochures say that Garm is a wild planet with unspoiled natural beauty. Aren’t you looking forward to a few months of shore leave?”

  The captain pursed his thick lips. “Any thinking man would prefer the high ground. Cheap holo-fabric stretched over a wall can simulate more stunning vistas than nature can provide. The greatest dream of most dirt-huggers is to scrape enough cash together to retire to a luxury hab.”

  “But there are no large habitats in this system.”

  “Certainly not, there is precious little luxury of any kind. Garm is greatly isolated and hence technologically and culturally backward. In short, I find the planet repulsive.”

 
“I see.”

  The conversation lagged until the captain cleared his throat. “I’ve noticed you’re wearing the drab native clothing.”

  “No sense in being overly conspicuous,” Droad said with a smile. He glanced down at his black gauzy smock and tight pantaloons. An overcoat of dark fur with a matching double-peaked hat hung near the doors. “I find that bankers feel more at ease when facing an inspector from the Cluster Nexus if he at least dresses as they do.”

  The captain chuckled, causing the teacup on his belly to bounce. “A bank inspector? Is that what you’re supposed to be?”

  “For as long as necessary.”

  “The only place on Garm a man needs such heavy clothing would be near the pole,” commented the captain. “More tea?”

  “No, thank you.”

  Droad frowned into the cooling liquid in his cup, then glanced up and noticed the captain watched him. They were both pumping one another for information, and coming up dry. He took a tiny sip, then put the cup down on the table. “I find the attire suitable,” he said. “It’s midwinter now and it’s quite cold this season all the way down to the Slipape Counties, I’m told.”

  “I see, you don’t wish to say where you’re headed,” said the captain, nodding. “Of course—I understand. Well, I won’t keep you any longer.”

  “Perhaps we’ll meet on the surface at a later date.”

  The captain blew out his thick cheeks, setting down his tea as well. “It’s unlikely that I will get down to the surface during this trip. My duties are up here with the ship.”

  Droad stood up. “I’ll be on my way then.”

  They clasped hands briefly. The two men smiled cordially while Droad slipped credit vouchers into the captain’s sweating palm. The captain’s smile broadened. He nodded, and in return he tucked a flimsy molecular datastrip into Droad’s hand.

  Then Droad left, heading straight for the docking tube. As soon as the captain was out of sight he unobtrusively wiped the other man’s sweat onto his pantaloons. He suspected the material on the datastrip was worthless. He also wondered if his bribe would help matters, or make them worse.

  Droad told himself it didn’t matter. He’d known from the outset this entire mission was a gamble. Nevertheless, he had to try to turn the colony into a law-abiding community. The common people of Garm had lived without a proper government for too long now.

  #

  Droad glided down the miles-long jet-tube from orbit with the other passengers and arrived without fanfare. There was no one at Grunstein Interplanetary to meet the new Planetary Governor, as no one officially knew he was coming. His typical Garmish clothing made him resemble the local populace and in-system traffic more than the new immigrants who had been his travel companions on the journey out from Neu Schweitz. He blended easily, only his greater than average height and weight distinguishing him from the crowd. A flood of traders swept by, tycoons from the Slipape Counties and the foodstuffs people from Gopus.

  He pulled his Garmish hat down over his head more snugly, enjoying the unaccustomed feel of the fur against his skin. He moved with the crowd that flowed from the jet-tube gates down to the customs area. Once there, he separated from the crowd and approached the exit for official personnel. He ran his ID card through the machine, touched his thumbprint to a lit-up pad and focused his gaze on the optical sensor so that his retina could be scanned. Instantly recognized and catalogued, the steel doors shunted open and he was allowed to pass by the customs area without the routine body search. Tourists and businessmen from around the system gave him speculative appraisals as he passed them by, his single bag rubbing against his legs as he walked. The other immigrants from the Gladius shuffled along dazedly, ignoring him.

  He stepped out of the foot-traffic that flowed relentlessly toward the exits to put on his coat. While he stood there he watched a very large man bypass the security just as he had. This man was a giant from Mendelia, one of the more common forms of genetic specialization they practiced on that strange world. The giant approached and stood next to him. Standing just over eight feet tall, he also wore furs and carried his luggage with him.

  “Any problems, Jarmo?” Droad asked the giant.

  “No sir.”

  Droad stretched his aching shoulders. “It’s good to feel the solid pull of a planet under my feet again after three years of cryo-sleep. I know we only aged a few months on board the Gladius during the long flight out from Neu Schweitz, but I’m convinced that I still feel those years somehow, deep down in my bones.”

  Jarmo’s eyes never stopped scanning the crowd. One by one, he located the security devices and appraised them expertly. “We are under surveillance, but I see no reason why we shouldn’t move to the hotel immediately.”

  The Governor nodded and rode his way up the slider to the nearest waiting cab. As he climbed in, the giant appeared at the exit, smoothly folding his body into the cab immediately behind him.

  END EXCERPT

  Click to read the rest of Mech 1!

  More Books by B. V. Larson:

  IMPERIUM SERIES

  Mech 0: The Dominant

  Mech 1: The Parent

  Mech 2: The Savant

  Mech 3: The Empress

  STAR FORCE SERIES

  Swarm

  Extinction

  Rebellion

  Conquest

  OTHER SF BOOKS

  Shifting

  Velocity

  Visit BVLarson.com for more information.

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