Children of Junk (Rogue Star Book 3) (11 page)

C
orath was
a planet on the brink. From their position in orbit most of the largest continent filled the screen. Deep pits and shafts pocked the surface. Didn’t look like much grew on the surface. No large patches of green to indicate fields or forests. According to Iaka, eighty years ago someone had discovered some rare mineral Marcus couldn’t pronounce and a rush of miners, from huge mega corporations to individuals hoping to scrape a few ounces out of the ground, descended on Corath.

The good news was no intelligent life evolved down there, the bad news was pretty much all the animals and plants died during the mining rush and the ones that survived starved over the next thirty years. A lot of people made a lot of money over fifty years, and lot more lost everything. Those unfortunates had no way off the near dead rock so they all clustered in the one city that remained functioning, more or less, near one of the few unpolluted rivers on the planet. It was an oasis of life on the dead world. Apparently it survived because the people who built the city did so on the ruins of a colony that some dead race abandoned a thousand plus years ago. The name of the abandoned city was Sidwell.

Marcus wasn’t sure what impressed him more, that she located the name of an ancient city on a mud ball of a planet he’d never heard of, or that she’d done it in about five hours. Marcus flew around to the dark side of Corath. The lights of the city glittered in the dark, making it easy to spot.

“How bad do you think this is going to be?” Solomon asked.

Marcus shrugged. “About like usual I suppose.”

That drew a wince from Solomon. “That bad, huh?”

Marcus laughed and pointed the ship toward the lights. Part of him wished Iaka had agreed to come along, but another part was glad she remained safe back at the council. Before they left she’d kissed him in a way that made it clear she still had feelings for him. That alone had put him at ease, not to mention giving him another reason to come home in one piece.

“Scanners are clear. I don’t see any weapons, or combat ships.”

Marcus glanced up from the controls. They were in the atmosphere and approaching the city at just under mach one. He didn’t want to blow out anyone’s windows, it wasn’t a good way to make a first impression. “See anything that looks like a landing field?”

Solomon studied the scanners then threw up his hands. “There aren’t any ships of any sort. There’s a big patch of dirt about a quarter mile outside the city limits. That looks as good as anywhere. What kind of city is this? They ought to have flyers of some sort.”

Marcus spotted the dirt patch Solomon mentioned, circled it once, and brought the ship in for a landing. “I don’t know what to tell you. Maybe I’ll get a better idea once I reach the city itself. What’s the atmosphere like out there?”

Solomon tapped at his computer. “Thin, but breathable. If you’re going in alone you better wear your armor.”

He shook his head. The only way he’d find the Scrappers was to talk to the locals and he doubted they want to talk to someone in a suit of armor. Once he found them and got a feel for what he was walking into he might come back and change. “I’ll scout it out in plain clothes first.”

Marcus got up and popped a tiny ear bud into his right ear. “I’ll keep the channel open so you can hear what’s happening.”

“Alright, be careful.”

Marcus grinned at the absurdity of that idea. “Keep the ship sealed tight. Anything other than me comes close shoot first ask questions later.”

“Roger, good luck.”

Marcus patted Solomon on the shoulder and left the cockpit. It was a lonely walk back to the hold without Iaka to keep him company. He loaded up with weapons, personal shield, gauntlet, and a data slate with a direct link to the ship in case Solomon needed to do any computer work. It was a new system they rigged up so Solomon could stay safe on the ship and still bring his particular skills to bear when necessary. It was safer for everyone as Solomon in the field was as much a danger to Marcus as the enemy.

Satisfied that he was as ready as he could be Marcus left the ship sealed tight behind him. “Sound check. Can you hear me okay?”

“Loud and clear. What’s it like out there?”

“Humid. It looked so dry from orbit. I’m heading for the city. Out.”

Marcus trudged toward the light. The dirt in the clearing crunched under his feet. Even from a distance the city stank, a mixture of unwashed people, rot, and sewage. Marcus tried to breathe shallow, the air would only get worse as he neared the city. Over all he rated this place half a step better than Randon Prime. Beyond the clearing tough, low shrubs whose leaves resembled saw blades grew in clumps. Marcus picked his way through them, not eager to see if those leaves were as sharp as they looked.

Why couldn’t whoever he was after ever live somewhere nice? Blue skies, sweat air, chirping birds, water that didn’t dissolve his skin, and plants without razor blades for leaves, was that too much to ask? Apparently it was since lately it felt like he went from one death trap to the next. Oh well, no one ever said a life of adventure would be pleasant.

He reached the edge of the city. There was nothing that said welcome to Sidwell, or whatever they named the new city. The ground changed to a mix of broken pavement and dirt, and none of the razor leaved bushes seemed to grow in the city. The buildings were a mix of well built, low, cement towers with ramshackle wood and metal additions tacked to the sides by whoever built them. Code enforcement seemed quite lax. Even stranger Marcus hadn’t seen a single person. Lights burned in a few of the windows, but even if it was night, you’d think there’d be at least a few people outside; walking through the empty city gave him the creeps.

He’d been walking for a while, trying to find a sewer access or tunnel or something that would take him underground, when a series of low groans reached him. He stopped and listened closer. Where were they coming from? He turned his head to the right. Definitely that way. The groans didn’t sound pained, rather half asleep, like him when he first woke up after a hard night of drinking. Had he located the largest group hangover in history?

Marcus followed the groans to a low, rough built single story building. Light spilled out a doorway with nothing but a pair of swing half doors to keep out the weather. It looked like a bar. That would explain the groans except it was too early in the evening for hangovers to set in. Curious, Marcus put a hand on the grip of his blaster and pushed through the doors.

If it was a bar it was the weirdest one Marcus had ever seen. Twenty patrons sat in recliners staring at nothing and groaning like a chorus of the damned. Aside from the people in their chairs the inside was empty. Marcus pulled his blaster. Something stank and it wasn’t garbage on the streets outside. He walked over to the nearest chair. An emaciated Terran Major, his fur falling out in clumps, sat staring straight ahead, a little trickle of drool in the corner of his mouth. Marcus waved his hand in front of the alien’s unblinking eyes. Nothing, no reaction of any sort. He snapped his fingers a couple times and still got nothing.

“There’s something weird going on here, pal.” Marcus described the scene.

“Sounds like a drug parlor,” Solomon said.

“I thought about that, but they’re not hooked up to anything.” Marcus turned the Terran’s arm over and parted the fur around his elbow. No needle tracks or bruising. “They might use some kind of pills.”

“Use the probe in your slate to get a blood sample. I can analyze it and tell you for sure.”

“I’m not sure it’s important.”

“It’ll only take a second to get a drop of blood, and I’m curious now. Please.”

Marcus shrugged and got the slate out of his satchel. After what Solomon went through he’d humor him this much. The probe slid out of a slot on the back of his slate. He pressed a button on the rear of the little pen looking thing and a needle popped out. He poked the Terran Major’s arm and the needle sucked up a bit of blood. Marcus slid the probe back in and hit transmit.

“I got it, thanks.”

Marcus put the slate away and walked to the far end of the building. On the wall beside a second door a gray, metal box hung about head high, a thick cable ran out of the floor into it. It looked like a breaker box, but this place only had lights so it hardly seemed necessary. A smaller black cable ran out the top of the box and out the ceiling. Marcus shook his head and pushed the door open. He couldn’t decide if this was important or a waste of his time.

On the roof directly above the box a satellite dish pointed toward the center of the city. At what he estimated was the exact center of the city stood a tower covered satellite dishes, each pointing in a different direction. It wouldn’t have surprised Marcus to find one of them pointed right where he stood.

“The blood’s clean, Marcus. Whatever’s wrong with them it isn’t drugs.”

“Can you scan for all transmissions in the city? There’s a tower in the center of the city and I think it’s transmitting something to this building.”

“Just a sec.” Marcus imagined his friend’s fingers flying over his keyboard. “I’m picking up something, but it’s flowing to the tower not the other way around.”

Now completely confused Marcus tried to understand the situation and failed. What the hell was happening? Footsteps and rustling from up the street caught his attention. Marcus ducked back inside and pressed his back flat against the wall. He waited, hardly daring to breathe, for a few minutes, before poking his head out the door. A Void assassin in black battle fatigues walked down the street, its flat black mask pointed straight at the tower. The sensors in their masks must let them detect whatever signal Solomon picked up. It looked focused on the tower. Whatever was happening in this city, that tower was the center of it and not just geographically.

Marcus let the assassin get a good lead then slipped out to follow him. It didn’t look like he’d have any trouble, the masked figure walked in a straight line towards its target. As long as it doesn’t turn around Marcus figured he could walk down the middle of the street without a worry. He wouldn’t, of course. For all he knew there might be more of killers wondering the city.

Slipping from shadow to shadow, Marcus followed the Void assassin for three blocks before it paused and raised its masked head. Marcus ducked into a doorway and kept still in the deep, dark shadows. Hardly breathing, praying Solomon wouldn’t choose that moment to talk to him, Marcus waited for the assassin to move on.

An energy blast streaked in from an unseen weapon and skipped off the assassin’s shield. The assassin came to life then, raising its weapon module and firing a burst of green, disrupter energy at whoever shot at it. Another blast streaked in from the opposite direction and doing the masked man no more harm than the first shot. There were at least two snipers out there, but if they had nothing more potent than blaster rifles they wouldn’t last long against the assassin who spun to fire a blast of green energy at the second sniper.

Marcus debated helping the snipers, at this range he could put a blast through the assassin’s mask with no trouble, but he didn’t know who was attacking. He’d feel awfully stupid if he killed the assassin only to have the snipers turn their weapons on him. Better to let the assassin deal with the snipers then follow along behind.

The snipers alternated bouncing shots of the assassin’s shield for a minute or so before it got impatient, fiddled with its weapons module, and fired a micro missile at one of the snipers. An explosion near the top of one of the towers preceded a body falling to the ground. One down. After the missile no more shots came from the remaining sniper. After a few seconds the assassin appeared to decide it was safe to move on and walked down the road just like nothing had happened.

Once the assassin moved a ways down the road Marcus ran over to the dead sniper. A near human, his legs replaced by steel pillars ending in tank tracks, laid in a blood spatter eight feet in diameter. So the Scrapers were here after all and the Void knew it as well. It seemed they were in a race to claim the Hyperwave Generator. A race Marcus had to win.

M
arcus crouched
behind a pile of concrete and bent girders across from the tower. Up close he counted twenty dishes point all over the city. He would have bet good credits each dish pointed at a building like the one he found earlier. Why, he still had no idea. Gathered around the base of the tower stood half a dozen Void assassins. The one Marcus followed was the last to arrive. Either no one attacked the others, or they dealt with their opponents faster.

“I’m not detecting any ships.” After Solomon recovered from the shock of hearing Void assassins were wondering the city Marcus told him to scan the area for any sign of their transport. “If they’re stealth capable like us, or they just powered down their reactor I might not pick them up.”

It had been a long shot anyway. The Void were too sophisticated to get found that easily. “That’s okay. Keep your scanners working. If reinforcements arrive I need to know.”

“Got it. Watch your back.”

Marcus wasn’t worried about his back; the killers were in front of him. How could he get into the tower with Void assassins surrounding it? He had his shield, penetrating blasters, and good cover. He might take all six assassins by himself, but the prospect didn’t thrill him. Adventure was one thing, but that was suicide. He was still debating when crimson blaster bolts came streaming out of the base of the tower. Judging from the size of the bursts and the fact that they all skipped off the assassins’ shields the Scrappers must only have hand weapons. That would slow the assassins down, but not stop them.

Behind him something clunked. Marcus scrambled to find a better hiding spot. He nestled into a narrow gab between two slabs of broken concrete. A moment later three Scrappers carrying rocket launchers ran past his old hiding place. Marcus grinned as they ran past. Those would get the assassins’ attention.

When the Scrappers had moved out of sight Marcus worked his way free of his hiding spot and retraced the Scrappers’ path. If they had a way out of the tower he could use it to get inside. Beyond the rubble was an alley between two partially collapsed buildings. He searched around checking the ground and peering into the rundown buildings. There had to be something. There! A flat stone halfway up a pile of rubble with a wet boot print on it. Marcus clambered up the pile and looked over the back.

A clean spot in the floor marked the location of a hatch, the Scrappers had knocked all the dirt off of it when they came out. An explosion sounded behind him, rattling the walls and sending dust raining down on him. They put the rocket launchers into play. He jumped down beside the hatch. How the hell did you open it? Marcus groped around the edges, ignoring the crud on the floor oozing between his fingers. His hand sunk into a depression and a few feet further on his other hand found one. He pulled, groaned, swore, and after a moment pried the hatch up and swung it open.

Bent over and gasping for breath, Marcus looked down the dark opening. A crude iron ladder, its rungs hammered into the stone of the tunnel, provided a sketchy way down. Marcus wiped his filthy hands on his pants and climbed. It was a nerve-wracking thing, reaching one foot down into the darkness, hoping to find another rung. Slow and methodical he made his way down, always keeping three points of contact and easing his weight onto each rung. At last his foot hit ground instead of a rung. He let go of the ladder and shook his aching hands, he’d gripped the rungs tighter than necessary.

When the feeling returned to his fingers Marcus switched on the light in his gauntlet and got his first look around. The walls, floor and ceiling were rough stone. He couldn’t decide if it was a tunnel the Scrappers built especially as a secret exit or whether they tapped into an old sewer line. It made little difference. He swept the light across the floor and soon found their tracks in the dust. Whatever its purpose they didn’t use it much.

Marcus followed the Scrappers’ back trail through the dark; his little light inadequate for the amount of darkness around him. The tracks ended at a blank stone wall. Great, another secret door. He felt around, pressing any protrusions or dents, hoping one of them would release the door. He groped around a couple minutes before something gave under his hand and the wall slid back and to the side.

Beyond the wall a dim, bluish light filtered down from the ceiling high above him. Marcus shined his light around. The old, almost primitive stone of the tunnel gave way to shining metal floors and walls. Above him the ceiling was so high he couldn’t make out any details. The room was round and empty, the floors so spotless it looked like someone had polished them.

Marcus stepped away from the tunnel door and it slid shut behind him. Marcus frowned. He didn’t want to go back that way, but it would have been nice to have the option. The blue light seemed sufficient, so he turned off the flashlight in his gauntlet. A quick circuit of the room turned up nothing but smooth, metal walls. The sounds of the battle outside didn’t penetrate the room. It must be sealed tight to keep out the blasts of the rocket launchers. The silence unnerved him more than the dark tunnel. Marcus couldn’t remember a time when no sound reached him, it was unnatural.

He moved to the center of the room and a tremor ran through the floor. A circle appeared around him and the floor sank, carrying him deeper under the tower. He looked up in time to see the circle of blue light seal behinds him, sinking him once more into total darkness. He scrambled to get the flashlight switched on.

It proved unnecessary. After a couple seconds of darkness more of the blue lights sprang to life. All around him fifteen strange aliens, with tiny, withered bodies and giant heads sat floating in individual cells surrounded by what looked like an electrical storm. The aliens had large eyes, but no other sensory organs and no mouths. How did someone survive without a mouth?

The lift continued its leisurely descent, giving him plenty of time to study the odd beings. They didn’t look like Scrappers, none of them had any mechanical parts, and they certainly didn’t resemble any sort of Void creation he’d seen judging by the lack of killing implements.

“Solomon, can you hear me?” His voice sounded so loud in the silence. A few seconds with no reply confirmed his fear; he was too far underground to maintain contact. Shit.

At least the big-headed aliens didn’t seem interested in him. Once in a while a bolt of electricity struck one of them in its huge skull and it would arch its back and shudder, whether in pleasure or pain Marcus didn’t want to know. Time passed, he didn’t bother checking his watch to see how long, and at last the lift passed through another opening and into a cavern filled with electronic components and lit by bright white lights hanging from chains attached to the ceiling. Good thing Solomon didn’t come with him. He’d never have gotten him away from all the gizmos.

The lift settled into a raised platform with a short flight of stairs down to the stone floor. Looked like his ride was over. He climbed down the three steps and wondered through the heaps of stuff. He recognized some of the items, hard drives, cables, data chips and other components. There were bins full of nuts, bolts, and other fasteners. As he walked through the piles Marcus understood what this place was, a repair shop. This must be where damaged Scrappers came to get fixed after a battle. If any of them survived the Void he suspected they’d need a great deal of repair work done.

That begged another question. If this was their repair shop, where was the mechanic?

Marcus continued to move through the piles, there seemed to be no end to them. Everything looked precariously balanced and he dared touch nothing for fear of getting buried. As he approached what he thought was the middle of the cavern flashing lights from an active computer terminal caught his eye. He headed towards it hoping to find something besides piles of junk.

The computer terminal attached to a massive processor, perhaps fifteen feet high and ten wide with dozens of old fashioned whirling hard drives. There was a monitor with an old office chair in front of it, but no sign of a person to sit in it. The only bit of technology he didn’t recognize was an odd metal orb that looked tacked on to the top of a server rack they’d converted to hold a bunch of daisy chained CPUs. The screen flashed and a face constructed of geometric shapes appeared. “Sit down, Captain Drake, we have much to discuss.”

Marcus stumbled back a step and stared at the screen. “How do you know my name?”

“I know more than your name, but more important you are an enemy of the Void and that makes you a potential ally.”

“This would work better if we spoke face to face. Where are you.”

“This is the only face I have and I’m right here beside you.” The orb vibrated and the metal sheath slid back revealing a brain floating in a clear dome. “This is all the Void left me after they finished their experiments.”

Marcus shook his head and sat down. A brain hooked to a computer, wonderful. “What are those big headed guys up above, are they another of the Void’s experiments?”

“No, those are the Ka’Rea. You may think of them as our landlords. They let us live in their city in exchange for bringing them fresh sources of sustenance.”

“Sustenance?” Marcus didn’t like the sound of that.

“Yes. They’re a fascinating species. The Ka’Rea derive nourishment from the psychic emanations of other species. Good emotions or bad makes no difference. They came to this planet during the rush to feed on the highs and lows of the miners. Later they provided this city to those too poor to leave the planet. When we arrived the population was in decline and we agreed to provide prisoners from the ships we take in exchange they let us stay here.”

“How could they stop you from staying? They don’t look especially formidable.”

“Not physically,” the brain said. “But they can affect your emotions, turn simple anger into overwhelming rage, sadness into suicidal depression. Despite our mechanical portions, we still, for the most part, retain our minds. That made us vulnerable to their powers. In the end I think the bargain worked out well for everyone.”

Marcus’s stomach churned at the matter-of-fact way the Scrapper spoke. “I doubt the people I saw strapped to those chairs would agree.”

“It no longer matters. The Void have come and our time on this world is over.”

“Why don’t your friends upstairs use their powers to turn the assassins away?”

“The Void assassins are little more than meat machines. Their masters have altered them to the point they feel no emotions of any sort. The Ka’Rea are powerless against them. We will fight them, but we can’t win. I wish to strike a bargain with you captain.”

Given the bargain the Scrappers struck with the creatures above Marcus didn’t know if he was interested in making a deal. Of course, he had no way out and no idea where the generator was so a deal might be a good idea. “I’m listening.”

“I will give you the Hyperwave Generator and safe passage out of here in exchange for you warning the rest of our colonies that the Void have moved against us. A simple enough bargain wouldn’t you agree?”

It was simple, too simple. “Why don’t you warn them yourself? You must have a transmitter here.”

“Indeed I do, Captain. However the Void cruiser in orbit is jamming all transmissions and we have no ships capable of eluding it. I and all my brothers and sisters on this planet will die today, but if you agree to help me many others may be spared.”

Marcus got up, paced in a little circle, and then nodded. “Deal. What do you need me to do?”

A data chip popped out of a slot in the terminal in front of him. “This contains a list of all the channels we use and their encryption keys. Broadcast a warning on all the frequencies using the correct keys and my people will get the warning.”

Marcus took the chip and put it in his pocket. “The generator?”

The brain sphere rose up on six mechanical legs giving it an insect like appearance. It clattered down from its pedestal, the tips of its legs clicking against the metal frame. “Follow me.” The voice came from speakers below the sphere.

The sphere clicked along through the piles of junk moving deeper into the cavern. It moved along at a good clip for having such short legs. They reached the rear of the cavern and stopped. A box with a small dish sat on a steel pillar. The thing couldn’t have been more than a foot square. All this trouble for something so small.

Marcus picked it up and grunted; it was heavier than it looked. “You mentioned a safe way out.”

“Yes, this…” The brain trailed off. What was the holdup? “The Void cruiser has deactivated its cloak and powered up its weapons. I believe they have decided retrieving the prototype is no longer worth the effort.”

The cavern shook and gravel rained down on them. “Planetary bombardment?”

“Correct, Captain. You should hurry. This cavern is deep in the earth, but their weapons will reach us in short order.”

“What about you?” Marcus’s question surprised him.

“We have nowhere to go and no way to escape the Void.” A tentacle snaked out of the base of the sphere and pressed a section of wall. Another secret door slid open. “Hurry, Captain. Save my people.”

Marcus nodded, tucked the generator under his arm, and ran down the tunnel.