The Negator, page 5
I watched his trajectory, calculating his path through the AI. He was aiming for the daylight side, probably targeting one of the larger continents. That was a smart move, as it was better to land where you could see what you were doing.
I might have used the pulse cannons on him, but it would take too long to power them up and get close enough. Had this been his contingency plan all along?
As Axion reached three hundred kilometers above the surface, I saw him adjust and slow his descent using controlled bursts from the thruster pack. Then he cut the thrusters and plunged like that crazy guy who’d jumped from the edge of space back on Earth, Felix Baumgartner.
The first thing Axion reached was the exosphere, the thin outer layer that barely qualified as atmosphere. It was just scattered gas molecules, mostly hydrogen and helium, so thin that Axion’s seven-foot frame passed through it as if it weren’t there.
Next was the thermosphere. It was hot, but temperature didn’t mean as much when there were so few molecules to carry the heat. Axion’s metallic body might not have registered the change as something deadly.
Then he reached the mesosphere, where meteors usually burned up. The atmosphere was thick enough to create real friction against Axion’s falling form. I could see his metal skin beginning to glow from the heat buildup, orange and then red like a falling star.
Could his personal force field be helping him just enough to stay intact? It must have, as he soon dropped through the stratosphere, a stable layer where ozone concentrated. His terminal velocity started decreasing instead of increasing. Through the sensors, I could make out some kind of anti-grav unit that was bleeding off his kinetic energy and converting it into controlled thrust for stabilization.
The friction was still intense as he fell through the troposphere, the lowest layer where all the weather happened. His body should have been glowing white-hot from the atmospheric drag, but whatever tech he was using kept his descent controlled enough.
Then, at maybe ten thousand meters above the surface, huge wings unfolded from the pack he’d been wearing.
They weren’t metal wings. They looked like some kind of smart fabric that caught the air currents and shaped itself for maximum lift. Axion transformed from a plummeting meteor into an expert glider, riding the thermal columns that rose from the planet’s surface like an invisible elevator. It didn’t happen immediately, but he soon mastered the glide.
I watched as he rode the air currents with the skill of someone who’d done this all his life. He caught an updraft over what looked like a desert, rode it to gain altitude, then spiraled down in a controlled descent toward a mountain range on the edge of a vast forest.
The detail was incredible through the Theron’s sensors. I could see him adjusting his wing configuration to catch crosswinds, banking left and right to follow the best glide path. He was reading the air like a book—finding the thermals rising from sun-heated rock faces, avoiding the downdrafts that formed in the valleys between peaks.
His final approach was incredible. He came in over a high mountain peak, flared the wings at the last second to bleed off speed, and touched down on the rocky summit as gently as a leaf settling on water.
Afterward, the wings collapsed and detached from his frame, falling away like discarded skin. Axion stood for a moment on the mountaintop, a gleaming metal figure silhouetted against the alien sky.
Frank Frazetta could have done it justice—I’d loved his Kane and Conan covers as a kid.
A moment later, Axion turned and looked up.
For a crazy second, I wondered if he could see me through all that distance and atmosphere. The Theron would have been a tiny speck against the stars, but those android optical sensors were pretty good.
Axion raised a hand—maybe a farewell, maybe a threat. No—look. He held up the ring. His belt and pants had burned away long ago, but he’d clearly taken the ring from the pocket first.
That was my ring, and he taunted me about it. I recalled Fat Boy staring me square in the face, challenging me, as if asking, “What you gonna do about it, punk?”
“Get it back,” I said under my breath.
Then Axion lowered his arm, turned and sprinted toward the tree line. Soon, he disappeared into the forest canopy, leaving nothing but those discarded wings on the mountain peak to mark his passage.
I was captain of my own ship again. So that was good. But I needed to figure out how to land so I could hunt Axion and take back what he stole. This was like the bikers in Dusty Wells stealing my hog. Nope. That wasn’t going to stand out here in space either.
-12-
The first thing I did was grab some chow and then take a leak.
When I returned to the bridge, Alina was already there wearing blue coveralls that showed off every curve. She looked like a supermodel who’d decided to try the astronaut thing for a while. There was something different about her face, though. It was a little older, maybe more experienced. That was too bad. Even so, she was still drop-dead gorgeous, even with whatever the Ick had done to her.
Gorrax was there too, squeezed into the reinforced chair we’d installed for his four-hundred-pounds of muscle, bone, and fur. He had a headache and some burn scars, but he was upright and alert. The big Tokari warfighter was tougher than old boot leather.
“Three ships from the quarantine fleet are heading our way fast,” Alina said without preamble. “We’re going to have to deal with them.”
Instead of answering, I noticed something on a tactical display that hadn’t been there earlier.
The AI was taking the Theron toward low orbit. Axion had delayed the inevitable, but soon I’d land and Gorrax and I would hunt him in the mountain forest. The display showed that something was happening in planet’s suborbital space.
Alina frowned at me. “Are you listening to me?”
“Just a second,” I said. “There may have been a development.”
I went back to the pilot’s chair. Even though putting my hands on the interface plates was like grabbing live wires, I had to see what was down there.
“This isn’t good,” I said after a moment.
“What isn’t?” Alina asked.
“There’s a mass of junk all of a sudden flying through suborbital space. It seems to be everywhere.”
“It is an orbital defense system,” the AI said through the speakers.
I looked up fast, startled. I hadn’t heard the AI speak aloud for quite some time.
After a second, I asked, “A what?”
“Let me recalibrate,” the AI said. “I see. There are multiple debris fields in operation, moving in what appears to be controlled orbits. I am also detecting what I infer are automated weapons platforms.”
“What are you saying?” I asked. “They just popped up?”
The AI was silent a moment. “No, I believe they were deployed.”
“From where and why?”
“The main deployment units must have been hovering there all the time,” the AI said. “Given what I am seeing, my analysis suggests that any ship attempting atmospheric entry would be destroyed by kinetic strikes from the debris field. Failing that, the automated defenses would activate.”
“Why did they deploy, do you think?” I asked.
“The answer appears obvious,” the AI said. “Axion’s passage must have triggered a planetary defensive response. No doubt, some of the deployment units must have tracked his descent.”
“Why didn’t they fire at him?” I said.
“Analysis suggests he transmitted proper authorization codes or was small enough that the units did not believe him worth an energy discharge.”
“Son of a gun,” I said. “He must have known he was too small of a target. He’s a slippery bastard, I’ll give him that.”
“The debris acts like a shield,” Alina said, who had been studying a console display. “The particle fields sweep back and forth across suborbital space. Yes, I’m seeing the weapon platforms. If we take the Theron down, the planet’s defense grid will destroy us. That makes sense given the quarantine fleet. Whoever set all this up truly doesn’t want anyone going down to the planet.”
“So what do we do now?” I said. “Orbital space is probably too hot for us as well.”
“I have a suggestion,” the AI said.
“Shoot,” I said.
“Shoot at what?” the AI said.
“That is Kane’s primitive idiom,” Alina said. “He means tell him.”
“Ah. I comprehend,” the AI said. “You could park the Theron in the L5 Lagrange point. That is where the planet and star’s gravitational influence balance out. The ship should be safe there for the moment, as it seems that the defensive system doesn’t extend that far out.”
“So what?” I said. “The three warships are coming in. We’d be insane to park anywhere around here. We have to run.”
“That is incorrect,” the AI said. “If you will note, the three quarantine fleet ships are already decelerating. I expect they will take up positions at a respectful distance from the planet and thus from us.”
“They might launch more drones,” I said.
“I believe that unlikely for now,” the AI said.
“Why?”
“It appears whoever set this up decided to balance responsibilities. The quarantine fleet will defend against space threats. The suborbital defense system will strike at those trying to land on the surface.”
“What do you think about all that?” I asked Alina.
She cocked her head, her eyes moving back and forth as if she were half-android. A moment later, she straightened. “I think that’s right. It’s a good suggestion.”
“Thank you,” the AI said.
“You’re welcome,” Alina said.
I threw my hands into the air and afterward took the Theron to the sweet spot. It was 60,000 kilometers from the surface. Through the sensors, I saw that the three quarantine fleet ships had stopped at about 800,000 kilometers from the planet.
Alina noticed that, too. “My guess is that whenever we try to leave, the ships will attempt to destroy us.”
I got up from the pilot’s chair feeling beat. My eyes burned, my head was pounding, and many muscles ached from the strain of piloting without proper support systems.
“So what are we going to do now?” I said, slumping into a regular chair. “We’re stuck, and Axion’s on the planet no doubt seeking the weapon to kill the Burnt Polarion. I need to get it before he does—and I need my ring back.”
Gorrax spoke up. “Isn’t weapon supposed to be in a hidden vault?”
“That’s right,” I said, recalling the android showing me the ring.
“Axion can’t use the ring,” Alina said.
I nodded, surprised she knew that.
“He needs you to power the ring,” Alina said.
“Yup,” I said. “He must have shown it to me so I’d go down after him. I want to go down anyway. He must have been trying to make certain.”
“You can’t go down,” Alina said. “The orbital defense system will destroy the Theron if you try.”
“I know that,” I said. “But we need Axion in order to get past the ships blocking our exit.”
“I doubt we’ll ever see Axion again,” Alina said.
“We have to,” I said. “We have to figure out a way.”
Big Gorrax looked at Alina meaningfully. I caught the exchange.
“What’s that about?” I said. “You two are eyeing each other like you know something I don’t.”
“We do,” Gorrax said.
Alina shot him an angry look.
“All right,” I said. “What’s going on?”
“He is captain,” Gorrax said.
“He’s also impulsive,” Alina said.
“Captain trumps impulse,” Gorrax said.
“Hey,” I said. “I’m right here. And Gorrax is right. I’m the captain. So what gives?”
Alina sighed. “There is a way down to the planet.” She shot Gorrax another angry look. “Although I doubt any of us could do it and survive.”
“What are you talking about?” I said.
Alina’s tongue touched her lower lip. It made her as sexy as you can imagine. “There’s a reentry vehicle stored in one of the cargo bays. I believe Axion and his androids put it there before we left the North Pole facility on the eighth planet of the Antares System.”
“Yeah?”
“It’s an old-style gravity-powered reentry vehicle.”
“What does that even mean?” I said.
Alina tapped the controls of her console so a schematic appeared on her screen.
I got up to look. “It doesn’t look like much.”
“Think of it as a coffin designed to fall from orbit,” she said. “One person, sealed inside the heat-resistant shell, has just enough life support to make the trip down.”
“Where’s the engine?” I asked.
Alina shook her head. “It uses gravity to accelerate.”
“It drops?”
“Gravity assisted,” Alina said.
“Ah, like gravity bombs from bombers,” I said.
Alina nodded. “Parachutes and retro rockets slow the descent at the end.”
“I get that part. How does this help against all the debris in suborbital space?”
“Less of a target,” Alina said. “However, since you won’t be larger than Axion, I don’t think the automated systems will detect you as a threat.”
“Meaning what?”
“The whole defense system would fail if it fired at every meteor. Given Axion’s mass and weight… the descent vehicle should be able to slip through.”
“Should doesn’t cover every contingency,” I said.
“It would be a gamble,” Alina said, “although the odds should be in your favor.”
“There’s that should again,” I said.
She nodded. “It’s a stupid idea.” She looked at Gorrax. “Stupid ideas should be left to rot.”
Gorrax shrugged.
I studied the design. It looked like what she’d said—a big coffin with extras.
“How would anyone get back up with that?” I asked.
“What’s that?” Alina said. “You don’t get back up with it, just down.”
“Then how does one get back here?”
“That is the question,” Alina said. “The truth is that it’s iffy whether you’d even survive the trip down. The capsule doesn’t have anti-grav units or fancy maneuvering systems. It’s like a sled sliding down a monster mountain with parachutes to keep you from going splat.”
I thought about Axion, parked warships, a Null Equation, my ring, and then an old wooden knife. Someday, I’d like to meet those two jokers from the park. One thing became clear, though.
“I gotta follow him down,” I said. “It’s as simple as that.”
Alina turned to Gorrax. “You shouldn’t have said anything.”
“He is captain,” Gorrax said.
“Hey, look,” I said, “when you think about it, what other choice do we have?”
Alina was quiet for a moment. “Not many.”
I looked at Gorrax. “What do you think about this, really?”
“It is death mission,” the Tokari said through his translator. “I would never do it. But I am not captain.”
“Alina,” I asked, “be logical. What’s your professional opinion about this?”
“I would never do it.”
That settled it for me; she had as good as said someone had to do this. “I’m getting my ring back.”
“And how will you get back up?” Alina said.
“That part’s easy,” I said. “Since Axion went down, there must be a way back up. I just have to find out what it is.”
“That’s only a probability,” Alina said. “Who knows if there really is a way back up? This might be permanently putting you in exile, Kane.”
“We can’t just wait here for the rest of the quarantine fleet to wake up,” I said. “Now is the time to do this. So I need to prep.”
Alina and Gorrax looked at each other. Once more, the big Tokari shrugged.
“Oh very well,” Alina said. “Let me show you the reentry capsule.”
-13-
Alina handed me a memory stick, her fingers brushing mine as she pressed the small device into my palm. Her eyes held a look I’d seen before—the one that said she knew something I didn’t, and it probably wasn’t good news.
“Everything you need to know about the temples is on there,” she said. “I picked the data out of Axion’s mind.”
“You’re kidding?” I said. “Temples? What does that even mean?”
“It has to do with the weapon you’re seeking. It’s in one of the temples down there.”
“You did what now in whose mind?” I said.
“Grabbed data from Axion’s mind,” Alina said. “Most of it was garbled or coded, and once he realized what I was doing, he blocked me. I wonder if that’s why he bailed, so I couldn’t pick up more. I’m still trying to decode the rest and might be able to tell you once you’re down.”
I pocketed the stick and looked at the gear laid out on the cargo bay deck. A blaster, a basic field computer that looked like it had seen better days, and my boot knife—the one piece of Earth steel I’d carried since leaving the desert in Nevada. There were also some rations and a compass-communicator.
“That’s it?” I asked.
“This is due to weight restrictions,” Alina said, nodding toward the reentry capsule. “I calculated it on Axion’s weight and mass, and what the capsule can carry. As you can see, it wasn’t designed for comfort.”
She wasn’t kidding. The capsule was eight feet long and three feet wide, the hull scored and pitted, clearly a veteran of previous atmospheric entries. It looked like a giant seedpod that had been through a war.
My stomach clenched just looking at it. I’d done some crazy stuff in my life—jumped my bike over ravines that should have killed me, fought three-on-one in juvie, faced down alien warships. But this was different. This was voluntary insanity.
“I need a minute,” I said, walking to the far side of the cargo bay.
