Relic Tech (Crax War Chronicles) (66 page)

“One,” I said. “Even if I knew any information, giving it to you would simply sign my death warrant that much sooner. Two, don’t patronize me. Capital Galactic has little use for a 4th class security specialist. I’m not a Chip. Are you?”

Mr. Heartwell shook his head. “I believe that you have valuable information. And you would have continued use to Capital Galactic. You have connections with the Chicher, or at least one of their packs.”

“Wrong again,” I said, coughing. “Both counts.”

“Those marks on your neck say otherwise. You’d be an exceptional inside man. And the compensation is excellent.”

“Not when I’m executed as a traitor.”

His face remained passive, all except his eyes. They sparkled. “I’m not sorry you’ve refused to work with us. I spoke against offering you that option. But as to the information issue, we’ll keep you alive as long as it takes.” He walked around my head to the other side of the table. “If we have to resort to drugs, I guarantee it will be a long and painful end. Let me stress,
long
.”

“Mr. Heartwell, I’ve never liked lawyers. Never trusted them. You only reinforce my opinion. But to save you time, your drugs won’t work, and I won’t talk.”

“A common assertion.” He laughed again. “We own the patents to the resistance drugs Negral dispenses. Besides, any secrets Negral has will be ours.”

He sat again, very pleased with himself. “The war has eliminated many of your corporate sponsor’s assets. Capital Galactic Investment is responsible and efficient. A hostile takeover in the works last I heard. Already completed by now I should imagine.”

I grinned. “Be my guest.”

Heartwell’s smile turned sinister as
he reached for the partitioning curtain. “Let me introduce your surgeons.” He pulled the curtain aside.

If I could’ve jumped, I’d have been on the ceiling. Across my chest and groin stalked two hideous creatures. Half spider, half squid, with a dozen eyes. I tried to swat them away but my arms wouldn’t move.

“I thought you’d be impressed,” Mr. Heartwell said. “A bit gruesome, but unsurpassed surgeons.”

I got a hold of myself. “Not what I expected.” Each creature was the size of a
Chihuahua with their downy brown squid part perched upon a tarantula torso. They had two long, wispy tentacle arms and six shorter. “At least they have the decency to wear sterile leggings.”

The two creatures turned their sparkling red and white eyes back to their work. Tubes, needles, and syringes moved rapidly along festering sections of my abdomen. Some tubes and sensors ran into my chest.

The lawyer nodded his approval. “Impressive. You didn’t even scream.” He walked around, observing the aliens’ work. “Sterile measures are for their benefit, not yours. V’Gun are medical geniuses. They’re your lifeline, Specialist Keesay. Obviously, their size limits their combat ability. But all allies can contribute.”

“Explains why the Stegmar were able to conquer them,” I said.

“And the Crax subjugated the Stegmar.” Heartwell clasped his hands together. “The V’Gun were a bonus.”

“Do you intend to be a bonus?” I asked. “I doubt the Crax will have much use for human lawyers.”

He cocked his head while gazing down at me. “So, you admit the Umbelgarri-Chicher-Human alliance is doomed to failure.”

“No, just pointing out a flaw in your logic. Ever play chess?”

Dimming lights interrupted Mr. Heartwell’s reply. Commotion in the halls followed. One of the V’Gun climbed over to a miniature computer console. After a moment Mr. Heartwell moved to read a large screen. Its angle was just beyond my view. For just a second he lost his poker face.

Mr. Heartwell said, “Administer the interrogation drug regimen.”

One of the aliens climbed onto a tray and returned with a syringe. It climbed to my neck.

“I recommend you hold still,” Mr. Heartwell warned. “Those long tentacles carry a painful venom.”

I turned my head to expose a good vein. “My standard nightmares are worse.”

The prick was fast, and an icy burning sensation followed. The V’Gun scrambled back to its partner where they monitored their equipment.

“Since you force me to resort to chemically-induced cooperation, I will inform your Crax handler that your nightmares are worse than anything he can dream up.” My smile surprised him. He shook his head. “You are a fool, Specialist.”

“Really, Chip?” The pain in my throat seemed more manageable. “I think your allies crave your attention.”

Mr. Heartwell read the screen. “What? Are you sure?” He read the reply. “Is he stabilized? Good. Close him up.” He read further. “Prepare him for interrogation. We may have time. After that you may do as you please with the Bahklack.” He raised one eyebrow to me. “I have arrangements to make.” He turned and left.

I closed my eyes while the two V’Gun surgeons worked. It was better than watching. I dozed off and awoke to my bed moving. Both V’Gun surgeons stood perched next to their equipment, tentacles controlling my bed’s movement.

Passing on my right, taking up my former position was a wider table, or plexiglas box. It was six-by-six feet, and about two feet deep. Inside, partially submerged in some sort of blue-tinted gel, rested a Bahklack. Additional restraints held the crab-alien’s claws and body immobile. It didn’t appear necessary. Several holes and surrounding foam on its exoskeleton told of damage from Crax corrosive pellets. Its limp eyestalks swayed as the holding tank rolled into position.

The V’Gun surgeons discarded their old leg sheathes and stepped into sterile ones. They leapt onto the Phib thrall and began attaching monitoring equipment. It would’ve been difficult to watch, but the V’Gun had directed my bed parallel to the wall. I decided that my central nervous system had been deadened. If not, the torture Mr. Heartwell envisioned would be limited.

While the V’Gun leapt to retrieve more monitor wires, I spotted an eyestalk follow the move. A strap, bound to the large claw, tightened. Questions raced through my head. Had it been playing possum? Could it escape? Is that its intention? What could I do? If the V’Gun attached all the monitors and activated them, the ruse would be over.

I couldn’t move but I could yell. That might work. Could I force myself to vomit? That’d get their attention. I could hardly swallow. All sensation below my neck remained dead.

“Hey,” I said. “You V’Gun, I think something is wrong.” I coughed. “I’m having trouble breathing.” I coughed and groaned.

The V’Gun halted their activity and stared in my direction. A snap and suction popping sound alerted the two spidery aliens, but not before the Bahklack’s small claw snatched one of the V’Gun and crushed it. The second leapt straight up, and clasped the lights. Its sterile leg sheaths hindered its grip and it fell onto the Bahklack. The gore-covered claw clamped onto the second squid-spider alien.

The V’Gun struggled. Tentacles lashed at the claw. A crisp crack followed by a grating crunch pronounced the second V’Gun’s death.

I watched helplessly while the Umbelgarri thrall struggled to free itself.
First it managed to fray and finally snap the strap restraining its large primary claw. Then the Bahklack pulled and freed its primary claw from the gel’s grip. After that both claws went to work slicing at the restraining gel. Progress was slow. Finally the thrall worked to lift itself.

“Push out the sides,” I said. “Break the gel’s retaining walls.”

The alien paused, then braced claws on opposite sides and pushed. The sides bowed. Then the right, forced by the larger claw, cracked. The alien clamped onto and tugged at the broken side until it pulled one half into the air. The retaining gel sagged over the edge. The Bahklack used the snapped edge like a knife and sliced deeper into the gel around its body. After shifting the plexiglas sheet to its smaller claw, it was only another thirty seconds before the crab pulled free.

“Good luck,” I said. “Take a few out for me.”

But it didn’t leave. Instead it walked over to the computer equipment and tapped away with its smaller manipulating claws. Its eyestalks scanned the door, and occasionally my direction. Then it clicked over to me.

I watched, unable to do much else. It stopped inches from my bed and its black, bottomless eyes peered into mine. I stared back into them. Slowly it interposed its huge claw. A patch on the claw began pulsing with colors. Two stalks peered over the top. I looked at them a second, but then stared back into the mosaic swirl. It was trying to tell me something.

I don’t know how long I stared. The dominant colors were flashing reds, blacks, and browns. The display mesmerized me. I couldn’t discern any message. The colors continued to flow and flash but now with yellow and black at the center. That annoyed me. What was the alien trying to say?

“Get on with it!” I snapped, surprised by the harshness of my voice. I tried to calm myself before continuing. “That lawyer will be back any time.” My teeth ground as I thought about the lawyer.

A yellow triangle formed in the center of the flashing and swirling colors. Specks of black bubbled within it. The triangle elongated into a diamond, then a narrow pyramid, with a second smaller forming on one end.

Furious, I bit back curses. “Get moving. Kill those Crax and lawyers,” I hissed through my teeth. “Get revenge. They’re traitors.” I seethed. I’d have bit the claw if it were closer. My head throbbed, pounded. It was external. I was slamming my head up and down. I didn’t care.

The Bahklack’s smaller claw held my head down. The colors abruptly stopped.

I was exhausted. “I’ll bide my time,” I panted. “They’ll pay.”

Someone entered the room. I couldn’t see but I heard Heartwell yell, “Guards!”

The Bahklack charged the door. On the way he toppled computer consoles. Then he wedged his claws into the sliding door and pried it open. Yells erupted as he ran out. Screams and MP fire cracked.

Fifteen seconds later Mr. Heartwell entered. He looked down at the crushed V’Gun, and stepped over them toward me. “Your ally is dead.”

I started at his tie. I wanted to strangle him with it. “So are you,” I snarled.

“Get him to surgery,” the lawyer called over his shoulder. “And get two more V’Gun surgeons.”

A security supervisor, an S2 wearing a CGIG logo, came around and maneuvered my bed out of the room. The lawyer followed. We passed a concrete wall. Among the posted signs was an arrow inscribed with the word, Maternity. The hospital. I forced myself to concentrate, not on Heartwell, but my surroundings. But every word he spoke shattered my concentration.

“We can’t count on the Crax to hold off the fleet long enough,” the lawyer said into his collar. “Besides, once they find what they’re looking for, they might pull out. The V’Gun said they could black out selected parts of Specialist Keesay’s memory. Be sure the new surgeons know what we want.”

We stopped at an elevator. “Reinforcements made it,” I said. “You and your company are warp-screwed.”

The S2 pushed me into the elevator. Two security stepped out, leading several battered prisoners. “Tahgs?” I said. One purple eye was swollen shut. Her face was bloody and bruised, and wet with tears.

Before she could say anything a trailing sec-spec yanked her by the hair and shoved her forward. “Get moving, bitch.”

“Bastard!” I yelled. “Your time’ll come.”

The S2 pushing the bed backhanded me across the face. “Shut up!”

We entered the elevator. “Don’t worry, Supervisor Royer,” said the lawyer. “Specialist Keesay will get his. Most assuredly.” He handed the security supervisor a memory chip. “See that this gets downloaded. It’s encoded to override any attempt to erase, should it come to that.”

“Understood,” said the supervisor. “I’ll load it into the main and backup system.”

“See to it,” said the lawyer, “and that it is placed on several clips as well. Should the Umbelgarri and Marines break through, we don’t want any
incriminating
information on Specialist Keesay here to become lost.”

Lawyer Heartwell looked down. “Don’t worry, Specialist. The files will be damaged, but they’ll survive, even if you don’t.” The elevator door opened. “I’ll take it from here.” The S2 strode out.

“You think you’ve got it all figured out,” I said. “I wouldn’t count on it. I’ll make sure you and every lawyer and board member of Capital Galactic pays.” I flashed back to Mer. “It’s been done before.”

“You’ll get your chance,” Heartwell said. “But of course you’ll be hampered by the fact that you won’t recall a thing. If Tallavaster falls, we’ll get you back. Capital Galactic is, after all, a very influential company supporting the government and military. We’ll get the information we’re after.”

“I know a thing or two about Crax wounds,” I said. “I won’t last that long. I felt the corrosive in my blood.”

“As I told you, the V’Gun are medical geniuses. They were instructed to stabilize you. There’s a buffer in your system, and your organs have been repaired. We’ll keep you alive as long as we want. No longer than we need to.”

We passed by two security posted outside an operating room. “It is fortunate that you already have the cold sleep chemicals in your system. You’ll survive at least that.” He stopped the table. “And now, I have to see that the few prisoners we intend to take are prepared.”