The Haunted Galaxy: Chapter 12


[White's Journal. Seventh of Epiphany, Anno Domini 3172.] We had escaped Erybus's traps, though not without some injury, and had returned Princess Valencia to her palace, there learning the tragic fact of her fatal illness. Gold was determined to track down Maxwell and so we followed him to the planet of Altayra Conaurah where Gold and I managed to corner him. But in the last moment, Maxwell revealed the truth about his former relationship to me. Gold was shocked (allowing Maxwell to escape), and then he accused me of being the traitor and threatened to expel me from the Corps.

White felt paralyzed by emotion. “Gold--Gold you can't mean that.”

“That's what you think.” Suddenly, Gold seemed strangely cool again, though no less angry. “We can't continue this mission with a traitor in our midst. And as leader of the Corps, I have the authority to conduct an emergency court-martial--given the circumstances.”

“But I would never--never betray the Corps.”

“You already have. You were the one letting Maxwell know our movements--our powers--everything about us. And obviously you stole that Nth Dimensional HoloCube. I should have realized at the time--you're the only one of us besides Green who would really understand the worth of something like that. And then you deliberately tried to pin the blame on one of the others, planting the idea of one of us being a traitor.”

“But--you can't really believe I would do any of that.”

Gold shrugged. “If you weren't betraying us to Maxwell, then why didn't you tell us from the beginning that you knew him?”

“Um, Chief, aren't you forgetting? None of us have to tell about our past if we don't want to. That was your rule--remember?”

Gold and White both started at this unexpected addition to the conversation. They had been so occupied that neither one had seen Black standing a short distance away, twirling a knife casually.

“What are you doing here, Black?”

“In case you didn't notice, you're practically on top of the ship now. From inside, I saw you and Maxwell land and so I came out to watch the show. I was expecting a fight scene and not this soap opera stuff, but whatevs.” She secreted the knife inside her sleeve and walked forward to join them.

“How much did you hear?”

“Enough.”

“Then there's nothing more to say. You know what I have to do and why.”

Black shook her head. “First of all, even as leader, you don't have the authority to expel a member of the Corps--only Prefect Alkyte can do that. And even to put one of us on a forced leave would require an actual court-martial, not an arbitrary, unilateralial decision on your part. Of all of us, you know the most about protocol, so I really shouldn't have to be telling you that.”

Gold made a fist with his left hand, but his voice was calm. “Technicalities.”

“Chief, I thought you lived and breathed protocol. And now you're just going to dismiss it all as a technicality?” Black pulled her knife out and started twirling it again. “And, anyhow, you know you don't have enough evidence to kick White out of the group, even if you had the authority.”

Gold shook his head. “All the evidence points to the fact that someone in this group is betraying us. And obviously it's White.”

“Just because she knew Maxwell, once?”

“She knew him, and she kept it a secret.”

“Yeah--and again--that was your rule.” Black put her hands on her hips. “Look--Chief--White may have been friends with a criminal once, but I was a criminal once. You know that. There are things I did back in the old days that I've never told you and I don't intend to because, though you may not believe it, I have enough decency to be ashamed of them. If we ended up fighting one of my old cronies from my gang days, I probably wouldn't tell you, especially if they were connected to some of the darker parts of my past. What good would it do? How would you have changed your strategy in fighting Maxwell if you had known that White knew him once?”

“I don't see what you're trying to do, Black, but you can't change the facts.” Gold was pacing now. “We know that White has close, personal ties to one of our enemies. It's obvious that she must be the one betraying us.”

“Uh-uh.” Black shook her head. “That won't fly.”

Gold spun to face her. “What's you're point? Don't you see--”

“I see, all right. White likes to smooch Maxwell in her spare time. I don't have a problem with that--he is kinda cute in an evil dweeb sort of way. Sure, that kind of personal connection does make her suspect. But that's all--suspect. If you're going to accuse her on that kind of evidence, you could just as well accuse any of us.” Black began tolling off the points on her finger. “Silver was born as a slave. If that wouldn't turn you into an anarchist, I don't know what would. It would make perfect sense for him to ally with the Nadirites. Blue comes from the upper classes in Ursa Prime--and you know that Nadirite propaganda has made quite a dent in those circles. And Blue has been acting a little edgy lately. Maybe there's more to that then we thought. I have a criminal past so, really, I'm the most likely suspect--and I come from Centauri City, which is a hotbed of Nadirite activity. Red--well--I don't think I have to convince you that Red would betray us all in a heartbeat--all they'd have to do is flatter him or threaten him and he'd serve us up to them on a silver platter. Green is a mystery--we don't know anything about his past, so he might have all kinds of ties to the Nadirites that we simply don't know about.” She glanced up and there was a strange glint in her eyes. “And even you, Chief--we all saw exactly how you feel about your dad, who is an officer in the Patrol. Coming from that kind of background, with those kind of feelings--turning to the Nadirites would make perfect sense.”

Gold had stopped pacing and was staring at her, with a strange look that was half amazement and half annoyance. “What's you're point? Are you really accusing any of us?”

“No--that's my point. We don't have enough evidence to accuse anyone yet. Even if there is a traitor, there's no way to pinpoint who it is. Sure, it might be White, given her connection to Maxwell. She might have betrayed us for his sake. And you might just as well have betrayed us out of hatred for your dad and Red might have out of sheer cowardice and I might have for money. The bottom line is that you don't know--and without rock-solid evidence, you can't get away with expelling one of our members. That's serious, you know? The Corps is a body--and cutting off part of your body isn't something I advise doing without a really good reason.”

For just a moment, Gold stood, tensed. Then he smashed his fist backwards, as if punching an invisible wall behind him. “Whatever. I'm not in the mood to argue about protocol.” He phased on his armor and rose off the ground. “Maxwell's most likely still on this planet--I'm going to find him. And when I do...” He left the threat unfinished as he flew off.

For a moment, there was silence. White had risen to her feet during Gold and Black's conversation, but that was about all she could manage. She still felt strangely light-headed--she had always known there was a possibility of this happening, but she had come to the point where she had been convinced that it wouldn't. And even at her worst imagining, she had never thought Gold would react as he had. She had known he would be upset--but not this-- She was glad that Black had interfered if, for no other reason, it had meant she didn't have to talk for several minutes--because she wasn't sure she could have.

“I just saved your skin. You can thank me later.” Black spoke nonchalantly, but she shot White a look that was keen and penetrating, though White was too perturbed to try to figure out what it meant.

“Thank-you,” White answered absently but not insincerely. “But--Why? Why did you step in like that?”

Black shrugged and turned away. “I don't understand you, sister,” she threw over her shoulder. “I don't think I even like you, especially. But there's one thing I'm sure of without a doubt--that you aren't--haven't--wouldn't betray us to Maxwell or anyone else. If there really is a traitor, I'd lay my money on Red, though Blue and Silver would be live options, too. But I'd suspect Green or Gold--or even myself--before I suspected you. You don't have it in you. I know that--and deep down, Gold does too. I was just worried what he might do in the anger of the moment.” She turned around, still carelessly playing with her knife. “Don't take me wrong, sister. I'm just looking out for myself in this. I want to survive this mission, and if Gold had kicked you out of the team, our chances of survival would have gone down like a comet. Especially since there might still be a traitor in the group.”

White wasn't sure if Black was being serious or not and was in no state of mind to try to figure it out.

“Besides, as I said, Gold really doesn't have that authority. But he was mad enough to do something crazy.”

“I've never seen Gold that angry.” White had the strange feeling she had said or thought that several times over the last several days and each time it had been true.

Black cocked her head and looked at White with a curious expression. “For being the psychological expert of this team, you seem pretty clueless sometimes. You don't really get it, do you? You don't understand how a guy--especially a guy like the chief--really thinks, do you? I mean, I expected him to be angrier than he was, actually--considering. You made him feel betrayed, hurt his ego, and at the same time roused his jealousy--”

“Jealousy!” White repeated the word, half because she had didn't understand why Black had said it and half because she had a horrible suspicion that she did understand.

Black looked away again. “Please. The entire team knows how you and Gold feel about each other--even Red, who isn't exactly the most observant guy out there. It's just that you two will never admit it, even to yourselves--Gold, because having feelings for one of the team would compromise his position as leader and you, because he's not a Believer, and that's kind of a no-no for you, isn't it?”

White just stared at Black as if hypnotized.

“Anyway, given that, it's no wonder he reacted like he did. And I'm sure Maxwell knew he would. I just think it may have been a double-edged tactic, since now Gold is going to be even more determined than ever to catch Maxwell.” She paused and glanced back at White. “I haven't heard back from any of the others. Why don't you stay with the ship and I'll do a little reconnaissance?” She didn't wait for an answer.

Almost in a stupor, White turned and entered The Crystallair. She made a few adjustments to the comm systems and then went to her cabin. If any of the others contacted the ship, the call would be rerouted to the terminal in her cabin. But she needed to be alone for a few minutes.

She felt her hands shaking as she locked the forcefield on her door. Everything had happened so fast. She had been so certain Maxwell was never going to tell the truth. She had begun to believe that he had completely forgotten or that somehow he had never put together who she really was. And now it had all come out, at about the worst possible time.

She couldn't help thinking back to how it had all happened, all those years before, back when she had been a member of the Tremonsirs. Maxwell had about a year older than she was, but, perhaps because Maxwell always looked younger than he was, he had always spent more time around her than those his own age--she had been glad of that, because there weren't many others her own age in the monastery. She had been attracted to him largely out of sympathy--like her, he had been an orphan whom the Tremonsirs rescued and adopted, but his past had been much darker than hers. At least, that was what he had said. Now she knew that he might have embellished his stories somewhat, but he had had scars to prove that there was some basis of truth. Under the circumstances, it wasn't that surprising that she had developed a crush on him as she grew older. She grimaced. At the time, she had even thought his habit of saying you know was cute.

They had both been sincere--at least, she thought so. But they were too young. She had let herself get too emotionally invested. She shuddered to think of what might have happened if the leaders of the monastery hadn't figured out what was going on and put a stop to it when they did.

In the aftermath, she had come to grips with the reality. She had allowed her emotions to become her guide. She had known it was wrong--known she was getting into dangerous territory. But it had seemed so right, so natural. She had followed her heart--and it had almost led to disaster. That was why she had sworn to God and to herself that she would never make that mistake again, that she would never allow her emotions to control her actions, that she would never let herself get carried away by her heart like that.

Maxwell, on the other hand, had not reacted so well. It was only a few days later when he ran away from the monastery, somehow smuggled himself on board a supply ship leaving Coulair and had disappeared. White hadn't known what happened to him and even now she didn't know where he had been or what he had done for several years. But now she had pieced together part of the story. A couple of years after leaving the monastery, he had been on Serioc Y where he was involved in some kind of barroom brawl in which his arm had been injured. A buddy--clearly high on something more than usually illegal--had tried to treat the injury with a cocktail of metallic chemicals from the factory where he worked and had ended up giving Maxwell his bizarre prosthetic.

When they had met again for the first time--when the Corps had stopped Maxwell's racket on Crenshaw's World--she had barely recognized him. But she had recognized him. But that was a part of her past she had wanted to forget altogether. And so she hadn't wanted to admit her past knowledge to the other members of the Corps. If that had been the only time the Corps had clashed with Maxwell, it wouldn't have mattered. And she had no idea then that they would clash again--that Maxwell would become the most persistent enemy they had. But by then, it was too late. To keep a secret isn't a lie, but it is like a lie--for just as one lie will breed more lies, so one silence breeds more silence.

This was all because once--once, when she was still just a girl--she had allowed her emotions to override her judgment, because she had given away her heart when she knew good and well she shouldn't have given it away. And now--now for Black to accuse her of doing the same thing all over again--for her to assume so glibly that she might have been so blind as to allow herself to have feelings for Gold--who, though a good soldier and a good leader, was not a Believer--to think that she might made that mistake again. It was too much.

After all. She was part of the Corps. She was better than that...

*

Meanwhile, the other members of the Corps were have a much less interesting time, though also (for that reason) less traumatic.

The area through which Red and Green searched was considerably smoother than the area White and Gold had explored. A few dunes of rock rose up, but for the most part this part of the planet was smooth and featureless. There also seemed to be fewer of the light-veins, causing the area to be very dim as if in a permanent dusk. The search was largely perfunctory, as there was no where where Maxwell might be hiding.

In fact, it was largely a boring assignment, even more so than a search mission was generally. Red was in a largely taciturn mood (for him), but with nothing around him to interest him, he had fallen back into talking with Green. Well, trying to talk with Green. Trying to start a conversation with Green was never an easy task--and not one Red had ever seriously attempted before--but today Green seemed more withdrawn than usual, barely giving a token response to most of Red's attempts.

Finally, Red stopped in mid air and glanced over at him. “Look,” he began, in a voice that had both chagrin and annoyance in it, “are you still mad about what I said earlier? I said I was sorry.”

“There is no logical reason for you to apologize.” Green spoke in a cold, emotionless voice. “You told the truth. You said I had green skin--which I do--and that I'm a freak--which I am.”

“Look--I didn't mean it that way--I was just mad--”

“What you meant is irrelevant.” Green's voice rose slightly in irritation. “Don't you understand? The universe isn't bothered by your opinions and intentions or anger. Reality can't be changed like that.” He phased off his helmet so that he could adjust his hat and then phased it back on again. When he spoke, it was with his usual calm. “I was born as a Mod. That's a simple fact. It sets me apart from other people, both by appearance, and by my ability to metabolize any form of photonic energy.”

Red glanced over at Green. He hadn't expected this long speech from him.

“I'm not like other people.” Green almost seemed to be talking to himself. “I'm something that wouldn't exist naturally--arguably, something that would be better if it didn't exist--but I do exist. That is reality; that's the unchangeable fact. It's a blessing and a curse. Which are two different words for the same thing.”

As usual, Red had no idea what Green was talking about. “That sounds like something the Nadirites would say.”

“Well, they're not wrong about everything.” He paused and after a moment added: “Just nearly everything.”

Red wasn't sure how he was going to respond to that and was saved from making the attempt when something shot across the sky directly in front of them. It was some distance ahead, but not so far that he couldn't identify it. “That's Maxwell!”

Green's thoughtful frown could be heard in his voice. “The odds of there being two people on this planet with metallic exoskeletons like that are small, but we can't get a full visual on him from this distance.”

Red wasn't worried about the odds. “Black, this is Red,” he called into his communicator. “We've found Maxwell.”

“These are our coordinates,” added Green.

“Got it,” came Black's voice. “I've already left the ship--I'm contacting Blue and Gold now.”

Red vaguely wondered why Black had left the ship, but he wasn't in a mood to worry about it.

“Red, this is Gold.” Gold's voice sounded more rough than usual. “You have visual on Maxwell?”

“Check.” Red was flying rapidly forward while he talked. “I should be able to catch up to him--his speed can't match ours.”

“Red! Do not engage. Keep him in sight but wait for me to rendezvous. This is my fight.”

Red didn't answer for two reasons. One was that he was busy following Maxwell. Somehow he seemed to be flying far faster than (given the nature of his exoskeleton so far as they understood it) he should be able to. Red was only able to match his speed by using his armor's ability to teleport short distances. By teleporting while remaining at a constant speed he was able to shorten the distance and so effectively increase his speed. (He knew Green would have a formula to explain it, but he didn't care so long as it worked.) However, teleporting while moving at top speed required concentration and so he couldn't engage in much conversation. But the other reason he didn't answer was because he couldn't--because he couldn't tell Gold he would follow his orders. Because he knew perfectly well he wasn't going to.

Behind his helmet, his face was set in a look of stubbornness and concentration which though not entirely unusual was more intense than usual. Maxwell was right in front of him and even if they were matched in speed, Red's armor gave him an edge. There was no one else on the planet and seemingly very little metal. There was no reason in the Cosmos why he shouldn't be able to catch up with Maxwell and capture him. He was one of the stronger members of the Corps--even Gold had to admit that--and even with all Maxwell's powers and tricks, he should be able to take him down in an even contest. And he was going to do it. Gold couldn't be upset if he accomplished something like this, and he had a reason of his own for his determination. He was going to get Maxwell this time--once and for all.

“I believe I have a fix on your position.” Blue's voice spoke unexpectedly through the comms. “Silver and I are on our way.”

Red didn't bother answering her either. With any luck, he would have Maxwell cornered before the others showed up. Besides, he was beginning to get a headache from teleporting so much so quickly.

Maxwell didn't seem to be trying to avoid him, exactly. He was flying on a straight line, not zigzagging as one would have expected if he were trying to shake Red off his tail. And though Red still didn't understand how Maxwell had suddenly become so fast, he still was no match for Red's armor. It was only a matter of time before the distance between them had shortened and shortened and Red was only seconds away from him--

And that was when, without warning, Maxwell dropped to the ground. Red shot over him but caught himself just in time. Without even looking, he fired a couple of energy stars downward and then arced around and dropped himself. Apparently, the stars hadn't found their mark, since Maxwell was standing their calmly. Or maybe they just hadn't hurt him. They were more for distraction than anything else and while they could be a useful weapon against ordinary people, Maxwell's exoskeleton did resist them--though Red would have thought a direct hit would have bothered him just a little.

Maxwell was standing calmly and watched without much change of expression as Red landed a few feet away. There was something bizarre about the scene. This part of the planet was almost entirely flat and empty so that it seemed to really be the exact middle of nowhere. Part of Red's mind was wondering why in the Cosmos Maxwell had chosen to land since there was nothing here. Maybe he had just thought he would have a better chance on the ground than in the sky. Anyway, Red was not used to trying to think on multiple levels simultaneously and right now he was focused on other things.

“Are you going to surrender?” he demanded, phasing off his helmet. He knew Maxwell wouldn't and he didn't exactly want him to, but it still seemed the right thing to say.

Maxwell shook his head. “Um, I really don't think that would, you know, be a good idea.”

“Well, then I'm going to have to make you surrender.”

“No, no, I don't think it works like that. I mean that's just, you know, rude. Um, and I'm not, like, you know, a big fan of rude people.” Maxwell smoothed his hair back and then, without warning, did the last thing Red expected him to do. He moved forward and slapped the side of Red's face with his right hand. Red stumbled back, in shock not in pain (it really didn't hurt that much) and in his momentary imbalance, Maxwell was back in the sky and shooting off again.

*

“We're down to seven ships. They've cut our fleet in half and we don't have any way of stopping them.” The black-uniformed Nadirite motioned to a series of charts and images on the screen in front of him. “At this rate, in another three or four days, they'll have wiped us out. Do you have a plan, Erybus?”

Erybus placed his hands together and stared at the monitors. One of them was showing a video of one of the Nadirite ships under attack. Five huge Mobile Battle Units had surrounded it and were attacking it from various angles.

The Nadirite commander frowned briefly. If everything had gone according to plan, the ships would have been safe here on the boarder of the Void, and he could have concentrated all his attention on the really important thing--what was going on in the Altayra System. Of course, they had known all along that this was a possibility. They had known that General Kenton and the Arrns were in the area and that they might be sent to accompany them and attack the Nadirite fleet while the Corps dealt with matters in Altayra. It was not optimal, but they had known of the possibility. However, they had not suspected that the two mercenaries would join the battle. That had heavily tipped things in favor of the MBUs. All the best Nadirite defenses could not withstand the hammer of the giant white mecha, and all their gauges and sensors were helpless to detect the whereabouts of the chameleon mecha which always seemed to appear at the worst place at the worst time.

“We are going to have to sacrifice the fleet, of course,” responded Erybus calmly, though not without a slight flicker of annoyance. “We were prepared for this eventuality, though it is certainly unfortunate.”

His subordinate tapped his fingers against the table for a moment and then pointed out: “We could outdistance them. Especially if we retreated deeper into the Void. They have no way to follow us.”

“That is exactly the problem.” Erybus clasped his hands behind his back. “We cannot risk the possibility that with their target gone they would turn their attention to other things. Considering Colonel Arrn's connection to the Corps, it is possible that he would take the MBUs to Altayra.”

“But, sir--”

“We cannot take that risk.” For a moment, a flicker of anger passed through Erybus's calm demeanor. “If the plan in Altayra succeeds, the loss of a few ships will be worth it. But it is already a risky venture--the introduction of the MBUs into the equation would mean nothing but more risk. We can't afford to take those kind of chances. I must return there shortly myself to make sure matters are still progressing as planned.”

The subbordinate nodded and then began cautiously-- “Where is the Intimidator? I thought perhaps he might possibly be able to help us. His powers--”

“Are not great enough to take on these MBUs on his own,” finished Erybus, rather shortly. He was annoyed. Annoyed because he actually didn't know where the Intimidator was. Employing him had probably been a mistake. But they needed weapons and he had access to a black market supply of them. And since he seemed to have some kind of personal ax grind with the Corps, he had seemed like a logical ally. But Erybus disliked putting his trust in anyone who did not share the ideals of the Nadirites--which Maxwell Million certainly did not. And his insistence on playing a lone hand most of the time could prove troublesome. Of course, Erybus had taken precautions so that, whether Maxwell liked it or not, he could keep an eye on him. But somehow the young man had found a way to circumvent his precautions and at that exact moment he had no idea where he was or what he was doing. And considering the delicate balance of his plan, a wrong move on Maxwell's part might be detrimental to everything.

Erybus tensed his body and forced his mind to calm itself. He pictured his irritation and concern slowly defusing itself through his skin and dissipating in the air of the ship. What difference did it make? He was worried and angry. But what did it matter? What were worry and anger? They were just emotions and emotions were just chemical imbalances in the body of an unusually large carbon-based organism. It wasn't as if they meant anything, as if they could change anything.

Erybus thought back to his childhood, growing up on the planet whose name he had taken for his own. It was one of many worlds ruined by the shockwave which passed through the universe when the homeworld fell. For hundreds of years, the survivors of that disaster had some how eked out a living on the ravaged surface of a planet which never should have supported life. Lost in the Void, incapable of supporting even the most elementary forms of technology, it seemingly was only dumb luck which had ever allowed man to survive there. As it was, the people who lived there lived as little better than animals--gouging out a meager existence day by day only so long as brute strength enabled them. And yet in some way for some strange reason they had continued to do it.

Why had they done it? Why had the people of his planet continued to live? What caused them to fight a hopeless fight with extinction which they were doomed to lose in the end? Blind instinct and the torturing insanity of their own emotions.

It was in this background that Erybus had begun to understand the nature of the universe. Obviously, the universe itself was not a place where people were supposed to exist. Their very nature was inconsistent with the world in which they existed. People were driven by their thought and their feelings and could barely escape the idea that those thoughts and feelings had some meaning in the world. But of course they didn't--they couldn't have, any more than a ghost could operate a machine. He remembered among the people of his home planet--some of them had been sad by their lot in life, others had been angry. But their sadness didn't alter anything and neither did their anger. And why should they? Their world had been ruined by scientific processes, processes that had no connection to the feelings some people might have about result. He remembered still the strange, irrational happiness his mother had had when his little brother had been born. But that birth would still have happened whether she was happy or not. The feeling didn't create the event. And her happiness hadn't prevented him from being killed in a rockslide seven years later. She had been sad then--but her sadness hadn't made him any more dead than he would have been otherwise.

That was when Erybus had begun to understand the nature of Oblivion--though it would still be several years before Nadirite agents had come to the planet and transformed it into their base, taking a few youths like Erybus into their service and exterminating everyone else. The only real thing that existed was existence itself, the brute fact of actuality which transcended all our feelings about it. From an infinite distance away, all the ebb and flow of existence, all the twisting and turnings of reality, would seem a single, simple solid thing--that thing was Oblivion, the ultimate, undifferentiated reality, mere existence as such. Which was also, logically, nonexistence--at any rate, it was an existence so much unlike human thought of existence that it might as well be nonexistence. It was not that and not this. Its existence could only be expressed in negatives, but the main thing about it was a complete absence of all human passions, emotions, and thoughts. It was apathy, the loss of all desire and individual consciousness and therefore of all happiness and unhappiness. All human feelings and intelligence were but weak scribbles on the walls of this reality, scribbles which would fade quickly away.

That was why he was particularly pleased to have been given this assignment of challenging the Corps in the Altayra system. It seemed right on so many different levels, even aside from the advantage the Nadirites would gain for their warfare if they succeeded in the plan. But almost more than the actual tactical advantage success would bring, Erybus wanted to make the Corps see reality. He knew the little Code which ruled their actions, an artificial code of honor, an empty pride and dignity based on supposed moral principles. It was all so childish, so superficial. Could they really believe that ultimate reality cared about their little Code, their honor, their sense of justice? What was the concept of justice, anyway, but a contrived attempt of human beings to force their own futile will unto a universe which had no part in it? Both for the sake of their plan and for his own satisfaction, it would be best if he could force the Corps to convert to the Nadirite cause. He didn't have much hope of that. But if he could at least force them to come face to face with the reality of their own helplessness, their utter irrelevance and smallness before the face of Oblivion--that would be enough for him.

“Sir--” began his subordinate, interrupting his internal monologue.

“Play for time as much as you can,” answered Erybus turning away. “Matters on Altayra must progress quickly if we are to succeed at all. Make the MBUs pay for every inch they gain. Now, I must return to the Altayra System. Really,” he added, more to himself, “I had better check up on Maxwell and find out what he's doing.”

*

Red had been shocked and humiliated when Maxwell has slapped him and then escaped--but not so much that he lost much time getting back on Maxwell's trail. Still, his momentary confusion had given Maxwell a significant lead again.

“There's no way in the Cosmos he should be this fast,” he commented out loud to no one in particular. “He's never been able to move like this before.”

“Certainly, there is something peculiar about this,” agreed Green, who had nearly caught up by now. “I can only assume that he has increased the power of his exoskeleton in some manner. Given that no one--including Maxwell--fully understands its nature and limitations, it is not inconceivable that something has increased its functionality.”

“Whatever. He's not going to escape again.”

“Red! Stand down!” Gold's voice shot through the communicator. Red glanced up and saw Gold's armor shooting forward from the opposite direction, with Black coming up at a tangent behind him. With Gold and Black on one side and Red and Green on the other, Maxwell veered to one side.

“Be aware that he is moving a significantly accelerated speed,” Green warned.

“He won't be moving at all in a minute or two.”

“Well, that sounds fun,” added Black.

“We have already clashed with him once but he escaped,” Green explained. “He attacked Red and was able to get away.”

“He attacked you?” asked Black, with a note of surprise. “I thought Maxwell was too much of coward to try that much--even on Red.”

“It's fine.” Red's voice rose slightly. He wouldn't necessarily have chosen to bring up the attack. “It didn't hurt at all. He hits like a girl.”

“And getting hit by girls is something that Red has a lot of experience with for some reason or another.”

“We can stop him if we surround him.” Blue's voice spoke unexpectedly as she and Silver appeared, cutting off Maxwell's line of retreat.

Gold growled something under his breath and then fired off an order, seeming just a tad reluctant. “Right. The six of us can form a cordon around him and keep him from escaping. You know your places.”

The six members of the Corps spread out slightly, forming a six-point circle with Maxwell at the center. For a moment, Maxwell moved one way or another, but as the six closed in, he seemed to give up and dropped to the ground.

The Corps dropped also but retained a small degree of altitude. They realized by now that giving Maxwell any chance to escape was a mistake.

“OK, guys, can't we just, you know, talk about this?” asked Maxwell, as the Corps closed in on him.

“I'm not sure that's really your best option at this point,” responded Black.

Red had paused for a moment, expecting Gold to make some kind of speech or formal accusation, like he usually did. But he didn't. Instead, he broke rank suddenly, and shot forward at Maxwell, and, landing briefly directly in front of him, sent his fist straight at his face.

And his fist went straight through Maxwell body. There was a flicker of light and Maxwell vanished and the six members of the Corps found themselves surrounding an empty spot of ground.

“I can't believe you actually fell for that.” From somewhere, Maxwell's nervous chuckle sounded clearly, though somewhat less nervous than usual. “It's like, you know, the oldest trick in the book. Sorry--but I really didn't think it would work. Ah-hem, anyway--this appearance of the Intimidator has been brought to you curtesy of Liquid Fusion Holograms. If you want to know what the real Intimidator has been doing, you might head back to Altayra Rex. Over and, you know, out.” His voice died away and there was silence on the bleak surface of Altayra Vorphintus.

When Maxwell vanished, all the Corps froze for a second, even Gold who stood awkwardly in the middle of his punch.

“Well, Maxwell has more brains than I gave him credit for,” said Black, with her usual indifference, after a moment.

“That was certainly an unexpected maneuver,” remarked Blue at almost the same moment.

“How is that even possible?” Red was gaping at the empty space where Maxwell should have been. “We saw him so clearly--and he--he slapped me.”

Blue nodded. “That's the distinctive feature of Liquid Fusion Holograms; by utilizing atmosphere moisture, they become temporarily solid. It wouldn't be enough to do much, but you said yourself it didn't hurt when he hit you.” She frowned. She seemed to have become a different person--her manner was completely free of her normal sarcasm. “There's probably just enough atmosphere moisture here for that to work, even as dry as it is--but I don't understand where he was projecting from. Holograms usually have a far more limited range. Green, do you have any data?”

Green seemed the most upset. He had torn his hat off and now was standing there (still in armor though without his helmet) twisting it in his hands as if in agony. “I can't conceptualize any way in which any of this is possibly happening,” he said, his voice higher and more irritated than any of them had ever heard it before. For a moment, even with all his problems, Red remembered the fact that Green was the youngest of them.

“So he was never here at all?” asked Red, still trying to get straight in his mind what had happened.

“He was here.” Gold had remained frozen for almost a moment, but now slowly, almost painfully, he drew himself together. “No hologram could have stood up to that kind of punishment. A Liquid Fusion Hologram can only become solid for a second or two--especially in atmosphere this dry. We fought for almost twenty minutes.”

Blue's eye gleamed for a second and she turned towards him. “You fought with him?”

Gold didn't answer so Black did. “He and White ran into him earlier, but Maxwell was able to escape. But I saw enough of the fight to testify that it had to be the real Maxwell Gold was fighting then. He must have headed off planet immediately.”

Green was still twisting his hat in his hands, but he commented with relative calm, “The planets of Altayra are close together and exist within a single inertia frame so Maxwell could easily travel to one of the others under the power of his exoskeleton.”

Gold turned suddenly on Blue. “If Maxwell had gone off planet, you should have known about it, shouldn't you?”

Blue stared at him without blinking. “I know you don't tend to listen to what anyone else says, but I told you back on the ship that my powers aren't functionally normally in this system and, anyway, since I am unable to locate Maxwell exactly with my powers even under good conditions I was making no attempt to monitor him.”

“That all sounds like an excuse. We had one chance to capture Maxwell and you let him slip off the planet--”

“I let him slip off the planet?” Blue's eyes seemed to become darker and colder. “Silver and I never came within sight off him until three minutes ago--and by that time, as it turns out, the real Maxwell was already off planet. You, on the other hand, are the only one of us who actually came within physical distance of him. If anyone let him slip out of their fingers, it was you.”

Gold drew himself up, floating an inch or two off the ground, his face hard and angry. “You're not going to throw this back on me. Your job in the Corps is locating things--if you can't do a simple thing like that--”

“I certainly cannot fail at my job any more fully than you are at this precise moment,” returned Blue, still cold and calm. “You're supposed to be our leader and yet you fell right into Maxwell's trap--after letting the real Maxwell escape.”

“I'm the leader. But I don't have a power like yours. If it comes to that, why couldn't you detect that Maxwell was only a hologram?”

“I do not recall your ordering me to do that, Leader." There was a cold, almost poisonous emphasis to the word. "And, anyway, this system is causing my--”

“Yeah, I know all about that. And I can't help wondering if it's all a big, fat lie. After all, none of us can actually prove whether your powers are working or not.”

Blue and Gold were standing directly across from each other, both levitating a couple of inches above the surface. Both had their helmets off and both, in their different ways, looked incensed.

And then, without warning, Red moved forward and teleported so that he stood directly in front of them. “We don't have time for this. Didn't you hear what Maxwell said? He went to Altayra Rex---Valencia could be in danger. The whole planet could be in danger.”

Red always jumped into things and spoke before he thought. But in this case, he had thought (though briefly) before he acted. He knew that Gold would probably be angry at him for interfering--Gold usually was angry at him at any given point in time. But he couldn't help it. He couldn't bare this thought of them standing there arguing when Maxwell might already be on Altayra Rex doing--well--who knew what.

Gold phased on his helmet and then spoke, his voice seeming strangely calm after his anger of a moment before. “Tracking down Maxwell is definitely our number one priority at this point in time.”

Green shoved his hat back on with an abrupt motion. “Maxwell being lose in this system is certainly to be avoided, sir. He is--he is proving to be a more dangerous opponent than we had previously supposed.”

“But we don't have anyway of guaranteeing that he really went to Altayra Rex. He could have been lying to us.”

At that moment, White finally put in an appearance. Red hadn't really noticed her absence until she dropped to the ground beside them. She had her helmet phased on so it was hard to gauge her expression, but her voice sounded strangely tight and constrained. Red assumed she must have heard the whole argument over the comms and it had upset her. Or maybe it was the news she brought that had upset her.

“I was in the ship when I received a call from Altayra Rex. It was garbled--they have very outdated communication equipment--but it seemed to be urgent. I think Zortan and Rothmar were calling for us to come back there immediately, as if something bad had happened.”

Gold's fist tightened, and then he barked out: “Corps, return to the ship. We'll leave for Altayra Rex immediately.”

*

Given the urgent nature of the situation, the Corps didn't even bother landing The Crystallair. Instead, they left it in orbit and using their armor came down through the atmosphere, landing at the palace.

Zortan and Rothmar stood in the courtyard as if waiting for them, although they couldn't have known the exact time they would arrive or if they would come at all. Zortan seemed stolid as usual, though his hands were clasped nervously. But Rothmar's face was so dark with anger that he looked inhuman, and he stood with a slight crouch as if he was with difficulty constraining the strength of his emotion.

“What's happened?” asked Gold as they landed. There was no question that something had happened.

Zortan stared at him with cold, empty eyes. “Her highness--Princess Valencia--she has--has been kidnapped. By someone who calls himself the Intimidator.”

To be continued...

Comments

Popular Posts