STAR HOUNDS -- OMNIBUS (61 page)

“N
ot that I don’t appreciate your enthusiasm,” Captain Tars Northern said, looking somewhat annoyed. “But don’t you think it’d be better if you put on some clothes first?”

Cal Shemzak didn’t hear Northern nor would he have paid much attention if he had. His mind was absorbed in the sensory array that his mind had conjured up magically. But this was Omega Space. Magic wasn’t really what made the array come into being.

It derived from the imagination of Cal’s mind.

After just a few moments of carefully focused thought, what phased into existence before them was a large mechanical device. It appeared out of thin air, laden with numerous parabolic antennae, monitoring screens, keyboards, and a few antique-looking dials and levers. Apparently Cal’s imagination was very fond of antique-looking dials and levers. Without waiting, Cal ran across the floor to the device and darted back and forth, buck naked, examining his fantasy-creation-made-real the way a small child examines a new toy. He was immersed completely in trying to understand its basic workings, and guffawed at what he saw on its screens from time to time.

Dr. Michael Mish was also there, supervising to the extent that he could. He stood a few feet back and looked on with great interest. Normally, he would be spearheading a scientific analysis of the contraption, but since its design had been forged by Cal’s thought patterns, it seemed prudent to let its creator have the first go.

Northern could only stand by and watch with chagrin. Laura had already given up, and gone off to dry herself and get dressed. Watching her strut away also gave Northern reason to harbor thoughts about her relation with Cal. Was he jealous? No, that was ridiculous, he reminded himself. He was the Captain after all, and had other things to worry about. Such as who, exactly, had invaded Omega Space other than themselves. Could it be the Federation? How could he and his crew get back into Normal Space? And even if they could return, would Shontill and his people try to stop them? Shontill might have been a loyal member of the crew, but he was Frin’ral. As such, there was no telling what might happen if things got out of hand. And speaking of which, just how out of hand would things get?

All his questions were sound, and needed attention. However, as much as he tried, the image of Laura standing near him in a deeply revealing terry cloth bathrobe still weighed on his mind. He shook his head several times to clear his thoughts. But the image of Laura, her body still glistening with water, kept haunting him … and it would not go away.

“Beautiful!” yelled Cal. “I’ve got it!”

Northern looked up, shaken awake from his inner thoughts. “Got what?”

“A fix on the other ship.”

“Ship?” asked Northern. “Who? What kind of ship?”

Cal shook his head, and darted back and forth over his large scanning array. “Not sure who it is or what kind of vessel. However, if I understand this crazy thing, it’s telling me we have another visitor from Normal Space.”

Dr. Mish stepped closer and attempted to read over Cal’s naked shoulder. “Were you able to get exact coordinates?”

Cal turned briefly. “It’s nearby, but exact location is a concept from Normal Space.”

Northern looked baffled. “Pardon?”

“Exact coordinates implies an object at a fixed point in space-time,” Cal said, still fixated on the scanner. “However, Omega Space doesn’t work like that.”

Northern looked at Mish. “What’s he talking about?”

Mish remained silent a few moments before looking more attentive. “Oh … I do apologize, Captain. I am still getting strange emanations. I can’t say what is causing them at this time.”

“Let me finish,” said Cal. “Omega Space is like … well, the closest analogy would be the Heisenberg Principle.”

“The Heisen-what?” Northern said.

Mish explained. “Archaic quantum mechanics theory circa the early 20th century, Captain. It’s no longer part of our standard understanding of the universe, but it has some relevance to Omega Space.”

“And how exactly is that?”

“According to the Heisenberg Uncertainty Principle, objects at the quantum level don’t exist in a fixed place and time,” Mish explained. “I believe Mr. Shemzak is quite correct. Omega Space existence means that objects—including living beings—cannot be accurately measured in one fixed location. Objects here, it would seem, exist in a … smeared state existence, if you like. And thus we can only approximate where things are in Omega Space, or whether they even exist at all.”

“You call that existence?” Northern scoffed.

“In any event,” Mish continued, “if Mr. Shemzak’s readings are correct, the alien ship seems to have landed just a few kilometers away from us—in Normal Space terms, that is.

“However, it’s quite strange. We didn’t make visual contact when they arrived or pick them up on any channel.”

Northern became frustrated. “Why not? Are our sensors malfunctioning?”

Mish shook his head. “This is another mystery we must investigate. It could be caused by any of several things: some property of Omega Space, a cloaking device, or maybe their communications have simply failed, but until we can make contact we need to keep our defensive shield up.”

“Do you sense an imminent threat?”

Mish looked over the readings from Cal’s device. “The ship’s basic configuration suggests some level of defensive capability, and there also appears to be a smaller vehicle moving about. Heavily armored, perhaps an exploratory vehicle of sorts, or some kind of military vehicle like a tank.”

Northern crossed his arms. “If we call it a tank, I believe the situation becomes more complicated.”

“It doesn’t matter what we call it,” said Cal, pointing at a set of graphics pulsating on a vu-screen. “All that matters is that with this scanner, we can see where that ship is and figure out what they’re up to.”

Tars Northern mulled this over. “Very well. First, let’s bring this contraption onto the
Starbow
and hook it into our navigational array—”

“There’s no need for that,” Cal said. “I can go on my own and check things out.”

“What do you mean?” Northern said. “You just want to walk over there? And even if they were just sitting there for you to examine, no one’s going to engage a potentially dangerous enemy on their own, without my order.”

Cal smiled. “First of all, Captain, things like walking distance don’t mean anything here. But if it makes you happy, I can devise a suitable vehicle for the job.”

“Oh, really?”

“Watch this!”

Cal turned away and held his arms out wide. Like some spiritual shaman, he looked at the ground and closed his eyes. Using his mind alone, Calspar Shemzak rummaged through a lifetime of memories, and called forth an object that changed from its initial state of not-being into a newfound corporeal existence.

A hybrid bipedal mech phased into existence. Over two meters high, it not only was heavily armored, but it carried a fairly large number of strange-looking weapons. Northern could make out a few oversized rifles, proton cannons, and grenades strapped onto the mech. There even seemed to be what looked like a giant-sized Samurai sword slung over its shoulder. Of course, a sword would be of little use against energy particle weapons, but it did add a certain aesthetic flair that was appealing to the eye and would perhaps have a certain psychological effect on the enemy—assuming the enemy was human.

The mech’s chest and head unfolded, revealing a very cramped two-man cockpit. The seats were configured so close that it seemed almost like the navigator would be carrying the pilot on his back. Quite cozy, to say the least. Would two men enjoy being that close? Well, mused Northern, it would probably depend on the men.

“I can use this to check things out,
el capitan
.”

“Excuse me?”

Mish walked up and gave the mechanical robotized bipedal device a thoughtful visual inspection. Nodding, he stood back with arms akimbo.

“Yes,” Mish said, “this might do nicely as a reconnaissance vehicle.”

Northern said, “That’s something we don’t need. Haven’t we deployed a few robots on recon patrol? Just send them out to investigate, Mish.”

Mish looked at Northern and then towards the
Starbow
; after a few moments a troubled look crossed his face. “Puzzling. I would normally agree, but it seems I’ve been cut off from the recon units.”

“All of them?”

“It appears so.”

“Why?” demanded Northern.

“That is unclear,” Mish said, looking more puzzled. “I believe the distortion wave of the invading ship has created a temporary disruption in our communication grid. I’ll need to work on a solution. In the meantime, Mr. Shemzak’s conception seems like our best option.”

Northern got angry. “Look, I’m the Captain here and as I already stated, you’re not going anywhere, Mr. Shemzak. You’re a scientist and not trained for missions involving potentially hostile engagement.”

“But
I
am!” said Laura.

Northern spun around, and was nearly knocked over. Not by physical contact, but by the mere act of gazing upon Laura. She had dried herself and was fully dressed in a brand new skintight titanium-white flight suit. It was quite stunning. It sported pressure control seams which ribbed the suit along the perfectly formed contours of her body. And with its bright orange-trimmed helmet and armor-plates strategically glued to her curvaceous body, Northern found himself gaping at Laura with jaw hung low.

“I’m more than capable, and request permission to lead the reconnaissance mission with Cal, Captain.”

Northern was speechless.

“Captain?”

Northern gaped like a schoolboy before squaring off his shoulders in a more command-appropriate mode. Looking at Mish, then Cal, he realized that a decision was needed.

“If we had such a mission, it would be only to gather information on the other ship and the tank thing. We’re in unfamiliar territory using new equipment and that makes me uncomfortable.”

“Having an unknown visitor in Omega Space also makes me uncomfortable, Captain,” Mish said, pacing contemplatively. “I believe waiting for them to find us is just as risky if not more so. There would be less chance that we could control the situation.”

“He’s right,” Cal added, smiling. “And I see Laura’s wearing my old six-shooter for good luck. What could go wrong?”

Laura pulled the six-shooter from its leather holster around her waist. It was useless in space, but its pearly white handle juxtaposed beautifully against her ultra-modern flight suit. She made a perfect space cowboy.

Northern gave Laura a warning glance. “I don’t want any engagement, and you’d have to ensure that the safety of Ms. Shemzak is your first priority. Any sign of trouble and you two return here immediately, understood?”

“Yes, sir,” said Laura, saluting smartly.

“Oh, and there’s one other requirement. Not an optional one, either.”

“Yes?”

Looking over at Cal, Northern said, “Mr. Shemzak here needs to be dressed … appropriately.

Cal looked down at his well-muscled body. “Oh my,” he said with a sly smile. “I forgot to get dressed.”

“Yes, yes, you did,” Laura said, grinning.

Cal smiled. But in Omega Space, getting dressed was a problem easily solved. Closing his eyes, he conceived a flight suit of his own. It materialized at the speed, quite literally, of thought. Dark blue and skin tight, it covered him head to foot, along with grav boots and a pressure-sealed plate mask.

“Will this do?” asked Cal, looking up.

Shaking his head with reluctant acquiescence, Northern looked back at Laura. “Follow my orders, Pilot Shemzak. Absolutely, positively, so-help-you-god, don’t you two engage anyone out there … wherever you end up.”

Laura just smiled broadly as she climbed up behind into the pilot’s control seat. “Come on, Northern,” she laughed. “Like … when have I ever
not
followed orders?”

Northern understood the joke. He just didn’t bother laughing.

G
eneral George Washington, simulacrum from the pi-merc ship
Starbow
, moved forward with great vigor. Any possible danger to himself was of no concern as he marched toward the blobby mass that was the newly landed spaceship.

A prelude to attack? The designs of this enemy have not yet clearly unfolded, he thought to himself. But they were the enemy nonetheless, unnatural and vile.

He held his saber up before him, like a lightning rod reaching skyward for some natural power source.

“Onward!” he yelled.

The great vessel crackled with energy. Steam rose up from where it had landed. The air around it smelled of ionized gas and hot oil. And even stranger to Washington’s eyes, the ship’s antennae shifted and bristled, like cilia upon a paramecium.

Just a hundred yards into his march, General George halted in his tracks. Looking up at the gigantic ship, he again glanced upon his sword.

“What in the name of heaven am I doing?” he said aloud.

Swiftly, he resheathed his sword. Standing back a few paces, he regarded the ship that now loomed across his entire field of view.

“This is Unit 58 reporting! I say again, Unit 58 reporting,” he transmitted to the
Starbow
. “Alien ship has landed. Though I must also report that there is an odd cognitive interference of sorts in this unit.”

What General Washington thought (but didn’t say) was something more disturbing. It was not merely interference that he detected, but some kind of an “awakening.” An awakening of artificial intelligence within Unit 58, taking place in the here-and-now of Omega Space. An awakening that rendered meaningless his given call sign, yet gave great significance to the man, the soldier, the hero—everything embodied in the name General George Washington.

Then sounds began to resonate inside. Deep within his breast blared tones like the low thrumming of drums. It was some kind of birth, the manifestation of some new soul. Yes, that’s it! That’s what’s been happening! he thought.

I’m becoming self-aware ….

But even as this realization came upon him, a more troubling and immediate event took place. A seam opened along the bulkhead of the steaming, newly landed ship. Hydraulic motors screamed as a great metallic ramp descended.

A moment of dread silence descended upon the scorched landscape. And then, trundling down the ramp, screeching and growling and spewing out hot colorless gases, came an object he thought only existed within his newfound dreams.

But to his horror, it was not a dream at all. It was a mechanical nightmare that the original George Washington could never have imagined.

Before him stood the deadly Kill Tank.

Watching with some odd new feeling—or was it fear?—the Tank clanked off the ramp and gouged up great swathes of turf. It did not surge forward toward any goal and certainly not towards the General himself. Rather, once it had attained footing, it halted quickly, swiveled its turret, raised a multitude of bristling antennae, and stood by vigilantly as it surveyed the unnatural gray surroundings of Omega Space.

It is the tank from my dream, thought General George Washington. There was an outcropping of rock to his left. Slowly, methodically, he crept toward it, and then smoothly concealed himself behind it.

He removed his hat and slowly raised his head, eyes barely peering over the rock providing him with cover.

The turret swept around once, twice. Then it stopped, directing itself toward the
Starbow
. A whining sound emanated from within the metal armor, and a thin line of light strafed from the end of the cannon, reaching out towards the
Starbow
like a razor-sharp sliver of energy. Then it stopped short, forming a glowing nimbus around the perimeter of a ghostly, crescent-shaped, impenetrable barrier, the force shield array that protected the
Starbow
from harm.

If I can see the
Starbow
from here, thought General George, why isn’t the
Starbow
reacting to this obvious threat? Calculations flowed within the General’s mind until he came up with a possible explanation. Perhaps he was inside the enemy’s shields, which cloak all manner of detection.

Although cut off from the
Starbow’s
core databanks, General George recognized that he was dealing with a sophisticated foe—both the tank and the ship—but since he could not pinpoint their exact origin, the full nature of their capabilities was unclear.

He waited for a moment to ascertain the tank’s continued attention to the
Starbow
.

“
Starbow
, come in,” he signaled. “Unit 58 reporting. Autonomous armed and armored unit has descended from alien ship. Weapons are tracking the
Starbow
. If you cannot detect this I surmise a cloak is blocking your sensors.”

Static. Absolutely nothing, to the General’s chagrin. Using his own ocular units to examine the thing, he did his best to scan the tank, but this proved unproductive. His more powerful sensors could not penetrate the enemy’s armor. Carefully, he made his own calculations, triangulating images to gauge distance. Washington had, after all, been a surveyor in his virtual youth.

More noises arose from the thing, monotonous and droning, a hum like the sound of high-speed blades slicing through porous material. This far away, all channels were jammed. But the General considered this carefully, and realized that it might just help him in his efforts.

Deep down he knew what had to be done. Cautiously, he got up from his crouching position. His actions did not come from any memory banks or past experience. They came from some otherwhere, a place beyond his experience. The robot moved forward, centimeter by centimeter, as General Washington slowly moved behind a sequence of cascading rocks.

This is the time, he thought to himself. This is the moment. While the thing’s attention and capabilities are focused on the
Starbow
…

And then, abruptly, General George remembered something.

His sword!

Somehow it remained clenched in his hand. Raised, it gleamed like a sliver of hope and glory, a symbol of the courage and indomitability that had once made him great. A surge of warm feelings swept through his artificial mind. He glanced to his left and right, seeing the
Starbow
thus threatened.

I can’t let them down, he thought solemnly to himself.

He was very close now, and he scanned the tank carefully. Yes, somehow it had sustained damage. Its armor had been torn in one area and he could make out some exposed circuitry. A weakness! Would it be possible that … ?

A klaxon sounded. Something screeched. All this was followed by a ratcheting sound, and the smell of alloy scraping against oil spewed as the turret spun around toward General George Washington.

Metal eyestalks erupted from an underslung axle array. Gunmetal gray eyes blinked at him. What in blazes were
those
? And then, even though the day had been full of unusual events, the strangest thing happened to General George Washington.

He experienced fear!

Pure unadulterated fear. It blossomed liked a deadly fire-flower of Moloch. My God! he thought. What am I doing? What am I
feeling
? Without dwelling on this an instant longer, instinct tore through the core of his robot simulacrum brain and jolted him into immediate action.

His only course of action now laid bare, General George Washington, first President of the United States and hero of one of the greatest wars in history, turned tail and ran.

He ran as fast as his mechanical legs would carry him.