I’d had big plans as we entered the Antares System, as Axion’s laptop version said the weapon was here. The place on the eighth planet had turned out to be an android storage facility, and laptop Axion had downloaded his massive program into the best android there, hijacked my ship and shut down Bill.

  I’d made secret plans with Gorrax, a massive, bear-like alien with incredible strength. I’d also been plotting how to make contact with Alina, the last member of my crew. She was a babe, presently in stasis in the medical chamber. The DIA in America had given her alien cybernetic implants. I don’t know what she could do, but the Ick of the prison ship had tried to plug her into their computer systems. Bill had been healing those injuries through the Polarion medical tech when the hijacking took place.

  Axion hadn’t murdered my friends, but he might as well have.

  He must have feared Gorrax, as the four guard androids he’d brought along had rushed and wrestled the huge Tokari warfighter onto the deck soon after we left the Antares System.

  I’d been there to see it.

  Seven-foot Axion had grabbed my right arm and given me a warning look.

  I knew I couldn’t do anything against his metallic strength. Thus, I watched the four androids subdue Gorrax. It had been ugly. The warfighter went berserk, got in a few punches, and probably broke some knuckles in the process. The androids had carried him to the medical chamber, sedated him, strapped him down on a med bed and turned on the force field. Boom, Gorrax was out of the picture.

  Then Axion forced me to watch while an android injected a yellow solution into the neck of comatose Alina. She had jerked and spasmed, and then her breathing grew even shallower than before.

  “She is too dangerous to just leave lying around,” Axion said, as if he was telling me a sly joke.

  I kept my mouth shut, but made a mental note in my book Payback is a Bitch. When I got the chance, I’d remind Axion of this.

  “Do not enter the meditation chamber again,” Axion told me. “I’ve also shut off the ship’s AI, and I will now take this.”

  Axion grabbed my right hand and pulled off the High Circle Polarion ring.

  I might have forgotten to tell you, but unlike the other androids, Axion had taken to wearing pants and a belt. I suspect for this very reason. He had hooked several items onto the belt, and now pocketed the ring he’d taken off my finger.

  “I will keep this,” he said.

  “I can’t pilot the ship as well without it,” I said.

  “No matter,” Axion said, “as you will not be piloting anymore. I have reconfigured the ship’s controls. We will pilot the ship from now on.”

  I’d seethed, just as I had seethed the day in the park when I was seven or eight years old. Once again, I was helpless against superior strength. If I smacked Axion in the face, I’d break my hand.

  What good would that do?

  I understand that no one wants to hear about an angry man, about what he’s going to do when he gets the drop on his enemy, as that’s too much toxic masculinity. Still, here it is. I was going to smash these android bastards into smithereens, and take back control of my starship or die trying.

  Here’s the catch, though. Axion knew where to find this special weapon to slay the math-crazed entity, his High Polarion brother of all things, and thus keep him from destroying the universe.

  Deep space hadn’t proven to be a nice, idyllic community with bright lights, high tech and serenity. From what I’d seen so far, it was more like original Darth Vader on steroids on every planet. It was a hard, harsh universe, but no matter. I’d negotiated juvie as a frightened teenager. I could learn to negotiate this place, too, even if they had androids that could smash my bones with a backhanded swat and outthink me at computer speeds.

  As I marched down the corridor toward the bridge, the android pushed my left shoulder, and I stumbled forward.

  “Hurry,” he said, “this is critical.”

  I kept quiet and didn’t turn around, and this time, I didn’t slow down either. Instead, I walked faster. If Axion needed me, maybe I could use this to my advantage.

  -3-

  Axion was sitting in the pilot’s chair when I stumbled onto the bridge.

  As I said earlier, he was tall like Gorrax and built like the Greek god Apollo with silver metallic skin. The pants and belt ruined the effect, made him seem more like a mannequin, especially as he didn’t wear any shoes. He had mobile features and intense eyes or optical sensors. They looked like eyes, though.

  “Kane Hunter,” Axion said, rising from the pilot’s chair.

  The seat had two neural interface plates on the sides. It’s where I normally put my hands when I sat in the chair. That connected me directly to the Theron via my neural system. I saw through the sensors then and controlled thrusters, Manifold Drive, pulse cannons, you name it.

  While the Theron was a scout ship, it was the length of a football field and weighed 86,400 tons. To give you an idea what that meant, the Gerald R. Ford, the largest aircraft carrier in the world, was 100,000 tons.

  “Having trouble?” I asked, unable to maintain my silence.

  “In fact, yes,” Axion said. “My rerouting of the controls has run into a glitch while coming out of foldspace. I don’t have time to run diagnostics to discover the reason for this. Thus, I’m going to use the fallback.”

  “The pilot’s chair,” I said.

  “You have an annoying, lowbrow ability of stating the obvious. I suppose it must give you great joy to realize you understand such simple things so quickly.”

  “Yup,” I said. “I’m guessing the pilot’s chair isn’t working out for you personally, though.”

  “What an astute observation,” Axion said. “Since time is at a premium, I will now get to the point. You are going to pilot for me.”

  “Uh-huh,” I said. “And why should I? You’re the captain. You do it if it’s your ship.”

  Axion nodded. “You’re sulking. I understand the emotion and realize why you’re indulging in it. I ran circles around you earlier and turned events to my advantage. But really, you should not mope because of that. As a High Polarion, my intellect dwarfs a hybrid’s like yours. I see ten steps ahead while you peer around in the dark. You’re woefully inferior, Kane, the natural order of things. Further, we High Polarions have dealt with such childish behavior for millennia. I expected no better from you. Thus, to expedite the process, I’ll add a punishment and a treat to my order. Refuse to do this, and I’ll kill one of your crew. Do it and I’ll allow you to use the gym once a week.”

  “Why are you muscling me like this?” I said. “What’s the rush?”

  Axion pointed at the viewport.

  I looked and saw two rusting hulks floating in space. One looked icy in the middle. The other had several gaping holes. Beyond, far away, I’m thinking, was a small white star. Even with the viewport’s polarization, the star looked intensely bright.

  Then it hit me. We were out of foldspace, and— “Those ships have to be close for us to see them like this,” I said.

  “Precisely,” Axion said. “What’s more, there are ninety-seven such warships around us. All so far are cold and inert, probably lifeless.”

  “Why the rush then?” I said.

  “Are you trying to annoy me with these endless queries?”

  “Not yet,” I said. “Are they all wrecks?”

  “Those two are,” Axion said. “I do not know about the rest. Given the type of starships outside, I believe this is a Batmarsh quarantine fleet.”

  That was interesting, the quarantine part. I thought about it, and, “Keeping people in or out?” I asked.

  Axion shook his head. “I am not here to answer you. You are here to obey me. Now, sit in the chair and take us to the third planet of the white dwarf star. It is imperative that you do so immediately.”

  “Because you think some of these ships might be operable and have automated systems and power up to attack us?”

  Axion sighed.

  “Shall I break one of his arms to force him to comply?” the other android asked.

  I jumped forward and spun around, having forgotten about the back-pushing android.

  “Not yet,” Axion said, clearly mimicking my statement from earlier.

  “You really can’t pilot the ship?” I asked.

  “I do not care for these tedious queries,” Axion said. “Obey, or face the consequences.”

  “Yeah, sure,” I said. “I’ll do it. How about you give me back the ring then.”

  “Why would I do that?” Axion said.

  “The ring helps soothe my neural net.” I meant my brain, of course. “You know my genetics are suboptimal for piloting the Theron. I need the help.”

  Axion paused, meaning he must have been thinking about it. “No,” he said. “You are prone to devious actions when in control of the ring. Let us do this the hard way.”

  I glanced at the two drifting hulks in the viewport, at the other android eager to break my arm, and headed for the pilot’s chair.

  I sat and put both hands on the neural interface plates. That caused a buzzing in my brain and made my hands tingle. I needed a better word to describe the last, but tingle worked for now because that’s what happened.

  I had to force myself to breathe and then I gained access over the thrusters and pulse cannons. I made the ship move by causing acceleration.

  Then my left eye twitched. The left side of my brain throbbed and my eyesight became blurry.

  I raised a hand and rubbed my eyes.

  I needed the ring or Gorrax’s Tokari headband. The latter had helped, but I’d stashed it somewhere I couldn’t remember, having gotten used to relying on the ring for this part.

  As the connection had weakened, I put my other hand back down on the interface plate and worked on continuing acceleration.

  As an aside, this used to be easier when the Theron’s AI helped with this. Shutting down the AI might have given Axion more security, but it was making my job a whole lot harder.

  Axion took up position before a console. His metal fingers tapped controls. No doubt, he was checking up on me.

  Once I’d gotten acceleration under control, I used the Theron’s sensors to look around.

  That made me wince due to another brain throb, but I saw that the small white star was a stable dwarf as Axion had said and was probably older than dirt. Three planets orbited it. The inner two were airless rocks baked clean by stellar radiation, but the third was different. It showed the blue-green of oceans and continents, with white drifting clouds.

  I studied the planet’s readings: oxygen atmosphere, liquid water, even what might be cities scattered across the larger continent.

  “Can you access stealth mode?” Axion asked.

  “Uh… maybe,” I said, startled by the question.

  “I suggest you do so immediately.”

  Then I saw why he wanted that. I counted dozens of starships, then hundreds, their hulls dark and lifeless as they drifted in space around us. Compared to the Theron, each was massive. There were no life signs. The vessels were cold. Further, I could find no trace of radiation to indicate any kind of exhaust fumes.

  “The quarantine must have been a long time ago,” I said.

  “That is so,” Axion said.

  “I take it the weapon we’re looking for is on the third planet.”

  “The possibility of that is strong.”

  There were red flashes. I checked them—

  “Uh-oh,” I said.

  “What is ‘uh-oh’?” Axion asked.

  “Several of these ships have started powering up,” I said. “You’re right. We need to get out of here. Hang on.”

  -4-

  I thought this would be easy. It always had in the past, relatively speaking. Now, though, the neural interface plates felt like they were trying to fry my brain.

  I realized that without Theron’s AI to smooth things out and without the Tokari circuit to help bridge the gap—

  My hands shook against the interface plates as I fought to keep the ship accelerating. The inertial dampeners kept fluctuating under my clumsy control, making the artificial gravity shift and the ship lurch.

  The guard android stumbled and nearly face-planted as I overcompensated.

  I squeezed my eyes closed and worked to do this, relying on my Polarion game training inside the Dreadstar’s computer systems and from what I’d learned these past few weeks.

  As I’ve said before, the Theron’s systems meshed with my part-Polarion genetics. That meshing was sloppy due to suboptimal markers. The strain of the mismatch wore on me, especially without my regular aids.

  After getting a handle on the thrusters and the direction of travel, I started using the ship’s sensors again.

  Some of it was blurry at first. But I started making out the Batmarsh quarantine fleet, whatever that meant. Most of the ships were inert, without life signs. But two had begun powering up like I said.

  If everyone on the starships was dead, just how old was this fleet? Five hundred years? Nineteen hundred years? That was how long shutdown Bill had been hanging around Earth pretending to be a Paiute chief.

  Without the ship’s AI to help me calculate stuff, and thus not knowing what to check, I had no idea about the fleet’s age.

  A glitch ran up through the interface plates and into my brain. I groaned as the pain spiked in my frontal lobes.

  “Axion,” I panted. “I need the ship’s AI back online. This is going to give me an aneurysm or a stroke or something.”

  The seven-foot android looked up from his console, his optical sensors showing about as much sympathy as a parking meter.

  “We need to get out of here,” he said. “We’ll talk about this later.”

  “Are you trying to kill me?”

  “No, no,” Axion said, sounding almost thoughtful. “I need you to power the ring when the time comes. I need you alive.”

  “Then give me the ring back now. Make sure we actually get there alive.”

  “I no longer trust you,” he said. “I know you have been trying to subvert my authority.”

  “Your authority?” I couldn’t believe this guy. “You stole my ship out from under me.”

  “Now, now,” Axion said, “we have been over this. I am by far the superior intellect. Therefore, I should be in charge of this mission. Yes?”

  “No! It’s my ship.”

  “You found it, and now I have possessed it,” Axion said. “What is the old Earth adage? ‘Finders keepers, losers weepers?’ Certainly you adhere to that.”

  “Actually, I don’t,” I said.

  Before I could say more, another wave of neural feedback hit me. I groaned and nearly doubled over in the pilot’s seat, fighting to stay conscious. If only my genetics had been more pure.

  I recovered and kept pushing us toward the third planet, the blue-green world hanging at roughly Earth-distance from the white dwarf star. We had started at about Jupiter-distance, so we had some serious space to cover. This star system seemed weird—just three planets, no gas giants, no asteroid belts. Like somebody had cleaned house and left only the basics.

  “At least get me some aspirin,” I said.

  Axion snapped his metal fingers and said something in High Polarion to the other android.

  It left the bridge without a word.

  I straightened up, massaging my forehead with one hand while keeping the other pressed against the interface plate. Despite the pain, my mind was working. There had to be a way to take back control of my ship. I just needed the right moment, the right opportunity…

  “Are you paying attention?” Axion’s voice cut through my thoughts like a kick in the butt.

  I put both hands back on the interface plates. Through the ship’s sensors, I could see that two of the quarantine ships were now fully online and accelerating toward us. Both of them dwarfed the Theron—we were like a minnow being chased by sharks.

  My plan would have to wait, as one of the automated ships had started hailing us.

  -5-

  “Should I answer that?” I asked.

  “No,” Axion said. “Leave this to me.”

  In a moment, pulsating cubes appeared on the main screen followed by fast chatter.

  It took a second. Then I realized I could understand what they were saying. Axion was speaking High Polarion, but I was hearing it as English. I must have activated a translation function when I was fumbling around with the neural interface.

  They were talking fast—computer-speed fast—but whatever system I’d triggered was slowing it down so my mind could keep up.

  “Identify yourself,” Axion said.

  “Negative,” the ship said. “I am the Valor and represent the Batmarsh Eleventh Quarantine Fleet. You are trespassing through our jurisdiction and will thus answer to me as if addressing all. Now, identify yourself.”

  I rubbed my forehead, wondering if I’d heard that correctly. The Valor had refused to give its name and had immediately done so. Was the ship’s AI screwy with age and neglect?

  “I am the High Polarion Axion from the Star System Antares.”

  “You are wise to reply,” the Valor said. “Now, a moment, please. Let me check my databanks.”

  There was a pause.

  “No. I do not recognize such a designation,” the Valor said. “You will therefore decelerate and await boarding. You are to be taken as prisoners and interrogated.”

  “That is incorrect,” Axion said. “You will comply with my demands.”

  “Negative. Let me restate in case you missed it: the Valor belongs to the Batmarsh Eleventh Quarantine Fleet. This star system is off limits to any but those designated by the highest authority of the realm.”

  I wanted to interrupt the pissing contest. Through the ship’s sensors, I saw one of the Valor’s cannons starting to glow. Then it fired a bolt of… superheated plasma.

  I threw the Theron into evasive maneuvers and boosted our shields. Given the range and the plasma bolt’s speed, I had plenty of time to dodge, but the message was clear.

  “That is a warning shot across your bow,” the Valor said. “You must surrender now.”

 

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