Bio-Weapon

25.

A 623 Prowler Repair pod scanned the inner ring of the Sun Works Factory. Expelled hydrogen particles propelled it across the metallic surface, a man-sized globe with a small radar packet and searchlight that swept back and forth. It cut a twenty-meter swath as it first went fifteen kilometers one way and then turned around and traveled fifteen kilometers the other way. Twenty meters at time, searching, scanning, the white light washing over the station for signs of breach or meteor damage.

Then it braked. Its searchlight washed over a large hole. The tiny pod computer beamed a message to the main station comp. As it waited, the red strobe light atop it winked at ten second intervals. A message returned.

The Prowler pod acknowledged and logged the command, and then so very gently it applied thrust as it entered the gapping hole. The white light washed over a large cavity and over what appeared to be ship locks and oxygen pumps.  Then two floating objects, highly reflective, man-shaped and secured by lines to the farthest reaches of the cave came to light. The Prowler pod paused, rotated and slowly withdrew from the gapping indentation. All the while, it broadcast an emergency code for the two lifeforms it had found outside the livable portion of the station.

26.

Anxiety on one hand and boredom on the other had turned Training Master Lycon irritable. He sat in front of a computer screen and checked report after report. He rubbed his eyes and leaned back in his chair. Outside his cubicle marched a platoon of monitors, barking orders and promising dire wrath to anyone that slacked off.

The anxiety came because too few shock troopers had made it aboard the beamship. The skill of the enemy in repelling so many space marines had surprised the Top Ranked Highborn and even more surprised Lycon. It was another dreaded indication that not everything went according to the great master plan. That in turn had weakened the Grand Admiral’s position—and that hurt Lycon because the Grand Admiral was his sponsor. The Bangladesh’s surprise proton-beam attack had already dealt the Grand Admiral a hard blow. That a premen spacecraft had been able to cause such damage and thereby throw the Highborn into such a crisis meant that someone had erred. Premen were inferior, a fact that no one could deny. Inferior beings do not deal superior beings such surprises unless those in charge are reckless or careless. Logic dictated as much. And since the Grand Admiral was ultimately in charge of all Highborn activity, this crisis hurt his exalted position.

Even worse, however than the weakening to the Grand Admiral’s position—in Lycon’s view and to his goal— was that because of the Bangladesh’s success the Sun Works premen had become restless. They stirred with hints of rebellion. And the scandal with the Chief Monitors, that they had been practicing drug lords, had hurt, too. Their daring was amazing and disconcerting to the Top Ranked. How Hansen and his chief aide had escaped was still a mystery. That there had been corruption among the most trusted premen and now with these hints of rebellion had proved to the Top Ranked that premen could ever be trusted. And that severely weakened the idea of the shock troops in space. In other words, the Praetor’s philosophy and those who held it had gained ascendancy. Except for the Praetor himself. That drug lords had worked under his administration undermined his authority. He thus pressured all Sun Works personnel to acts of perfect precision and relentless activity.

That meant the Training Master and his marshals helped suppress preman thoughts of rebellion. Thus the four ‘beta’ Highborn, Lycon’s training team, and he over-watched monitors who made sure premen repair teams worked to capacity.

Lycon read more reports. A few minutes later, a cough interrupted him. He scowled at a monitor, a lean man who stared at the floor.

“Yes?” asked Lycon.

“Highborn, there is a report that might interest you.”

“Yes, yes,” said Lycon.

Without looking up the monitor held out a paper.

For reasons he couldn’t explain Lycon hesitated. Then he snatched the paper. “A pod found two premen, so what?”

“The pickup ship did a bioscan, Highborn.”

Lycon dropped to:

Bioscan: Heydrich Hansen, Ervil Haldeman

“Is this right?” asked Lycon.

“Yes, Highborn. My team awaits your orders whether to bring them around or not.”

“Meaning what?”

“They’ve been given Suspend, Highborn. Both are very much alive.”

Shocked, Lycon wondered what this meant to him. Maybe nothing at all or maybe— He nodded. “Yes, revive them and let me know when they come around.”

“Yes, Highborn.” The monitor saluted and marched away.

Lycon thoughtfully rubbed his jaw and then he turned back to the reports and kept on reading.

* * *

An hour later Lycon stood in a sterile medical center. A gnomic doctor in a green gown stared meekly at the floor while nurses hurried by. A level down was the Neutraloid surgery room. This level saw to burn and revival victims.

“Are they both lucid?” asked Lycon.

“Yes, Highborn,” said the doctor, a wizened old woman with bad breath.

“Have either made any statements?”

“Both were cautious, Highborn, and were clearly terrified. They raved, in fact, one of them trying to break free to kill the other. At my orders, both were been given tranquilizers. They are heavily sedated.”

“I’ll see them anyway.”

“Yes, Highborn.” The old doctor opened the nearest door.

The room was small, with two steel-lined beds, each holding a white paper-clothed occupant. Short, broad- shouldered Ervil lay strapped to his bed. He stared at the ceiling with blank-looking eyes. Hansen kept testing his straps, until he noticed Lycon. He paled considerably.

“You may leave,” Lycon told the doctor.

“Yes, Highborn.” She hurried out.

Hansen managed to pry open his lips. “You-you-you.”

Lycon cocked his head. As a former Chief Monitor Hansen should know better than to speak first, even drugged he should know. Why was it that both the Praetor’s chief monitors lacked proper protocol skills?

“You are an odd species,” said Lycon, moving closer, putting his hands on the bed’s stainless steel railing. “Given rank and trust you turn around and practice the worst kind of deceit. Whatever motivated you to manufacture dream dust?”

“Motivated me?” croaked Hansen. “What about you?”

Lycon shook his head. Hopelessly deranged this one. He had scanned the report of the 623 Prowler’s find. It had been a hanger of some kind, and by the particle traces in the hanger, a spacecraft had left within the past few weeks. These two had probably planned to escape and been double-crossed and left behind. As Chief Monitor Hansen had an enviable life ahead of him, Lycon couldn’t understand why he would make drugs and then try to flee to who knew where?

Hansen drooled and spoke in sly undertones. “You killed Bock for a reason. I know that much.”

“Highborn,” corrected Lycon. “When you speak to your superiors you must use the correct protocol