Third Player Page 10

  Jenson cursed. How the hell was he supposed to protect the Heligsion when they refused to allow him to do his job! ‘Daal! I wasn’t intending to fire at the shuttle! I’m just trying to get them to allow us to complete a scan of the vessel’s interior! For all we know, they could have half a battalion of storm troopers on-board!’ he thought back at the Heligsion leader.

  ‘We must give peace a chance Group Captain!’ came the reply. ‘What hope is there for any of our races if we cannot learn to trust each other? We are holding out our hand of friendship to the Dyason people and they are making the first steps to accept it. Now please, cease your hostile actions!’

  Jenson swore, but did as he was asked. He had to respect the Heligsion’s wishes or it made him no better than the Imperialists he despised, but he hated doing it. ‘Han, stop scanning the shuttle and close down your weapons systems,’ he ordered Sandpiper.

  ‘What? You’ve got to be kidding boss! Those bastards are hiding something in there!’

  ‘I know Han, I know,’ Jenson replied in a voice filled with frustration. ‘But we’ve been ordered by Daal and we’ve got to respect his wishes. Just do as he asks.’

  ‘Shit!’ Sandpiper swore closing down his armament.

  They escorted the Xyion all the way to the main docking bay, underneath the main hull of the Valvia, without incident. Jenson was still suspicious that the Imperial shuttle was hiding some manner of nastiness in its hold, but there was nothing he could do about it, even if there was.

  ‘Well that’s our job done for the moment,’ he called to Sandpiper as the two Flyships peeled away from their position and began one last circuit of the Valvia before making for their own docking port. ‘We’ll just have to wait and see what happens next.’

  Just as he said this an alarm indicator flashed on his main VDU and he received another mental call from the Valvia’s captain.

  ‘Group Captain, we are receiving a distress call from a vessel on the far side of the first moon Silago. It’s from a supply shuttle heading for the moon-base there. Its lost all it’s electrical systems and their air scrubbers have packed up.’

  ‘Roger that Captain. We’re receiving their distress call as well. But I don’t know what you want us to do about it. We’re fighter ships, not equipped for rescue work.’

  ‘I am aware of that Group Captain, but your Flyship’s artificial singularities provide vast amounts of power. If you were to get to them and set up a microwave beam, they could get their air scrubbers working again. At least until a rescue ship from the moon-base could get to them.’

  ‘Surely the moon-base could get to them soon enough anyhow,’ Sandpiper asked entering the mental conversation. ‘Why do we need to go?’

  ‘The Imperial navy committed nearly all its vessels in the last battle. They don’t have the resources to mount a rescue mission immediately. It will take them nineteen Terran hours to get to the damaged shuttle,’ Daal informed them.

  ‘Well that’s what they told you,’ Sandpiper retorted, ‘but that ain’t necessarily the truth! Besides what about the peace delegation. That shuttle that has just docked is still a huge security risk.’

  ‘Gentlemen, your suspicion and lack of trust is likely to be a major stumbling block in the negotiations. Don’t you appreciate that your participation in a rescue mission would be seen as a willingness to work with, rather than against the Imperial forces?’ the Heligsion reasoned with them. ‘As to your concern about the other shuttle craft. I have just been informed that the Xyion has landed and the peace delegation has safely disembarked. Your concerns are unfounded.’

  ‘Come on Han,’ Jenson called over the comm. link to his friend. ‘I’m not keen on this idea any more than you are. But we’d better do as Daal asks. The distress call might just be genuine, in which case we should go to their assistance. This time though, we’ll go with our weapon systems on and tracking!’

  ‘Well, if you say so boss, but the whole thing still sucks!’

  The two Flyships peeled away and blasted off toward the Dyason moon, their long-range scanners on and weapons armed.

  The Heligsion medic once more checked the vital signs of her sole patient, which had remained unchanged since the Terran had been delivered to the Valvia. The patients heartbeat was regular, his breathing deep and even, blood pressure normal. In fact there was nothing apparently wrong with the white haired old man who lay motionless on the couch. To the casual observer the Terran was simply in a state of deep slumber. However, there appeared to be no way to bring the patient out of his state of unconsciousness. He was, to all intense and purpose, in a deep coma.

  The patients condition wasn’t unknown to the Heligsion medic, who was experienced in disorders which involved telepathics. It was clear that the ancient Terran known as Myrddin had for reasons of his own, vacated his mind. It was impossible to know where his mind had gone roving, or how long it would be before he decided to return to his body. Until he did, there was very little anyone could do except to ensure his vacated body was kept warm and nourished. The rest was down to the Terran.

  Her readings taken, the medic returned to the lab next door to continue her studies and catalog the DNA samples they’d brought with them from Heligsion. It was important work that had to be done and in a small way, it helped her come to terms with the devastating loss of everyone she loved. The massive store of DNA on-board the Valvia was their one last, desperate hope for the future.

  It was because she was so intent on her work that she failed to notice what was happening back in the infirmary. There was a rushing sound and the still air of the sick-bay became a maelstrom of swirling air, fighting to fill a vacuum. It was only when flashes of lightening arced across the infirmary that the medic looked up from her work. She dashed back into the sick-bay just in time to see the body of Myrddin fade, become insubstantial, then finally disappear. The single sheet he lay under, fell to the floor and the couch was empty. The ancient Terran had returned to claim his body and take it with him.

  The damaged shuttle tumbled slowly above the dark side of the moon. Jenson could clearly see that there’d been some sort of explosion at the rear of the ship, close to the main engines. An access panel had been blown away and gas was still venting from ruptured pipes, crystallizing into what looked like, an icy snowstorm. His scanners showed that there were eighteen people on-board and a cargo of containers in the hold. It actually looked like this was a genuine emergency.

  ‘Unidentified shuttle, this is World Defence Force Flyship, Alpha One do you read?’ he hailed on the Imperial navy’s frequency. ‘Can we be of assistance?’

  ‘Alpha One, this is supply shuttle Bilgao,’ came the weak static-ridden response. ‘We would be grateful of any assistance you can offer.’

  ‘What is your status Bilgao?’ Jenson asked.

  ‘Our main coolant tanks have exploded,’ came the reply. ‘We’ve lost nearly all our engine coolant and have had to shut the power down. The explosion also took out our main oxygen tank and we’ve not got enough current to power the air scrubbers. We’re breathing just the cabin air and that’s beginning to go foul.’

  ‘Roger that Bilgao,’ Jenson responded thinking fast. ‘There’s nothing I can do for you until you stop your vessel from tumbling. Do your control thrusters work?’

  ‘We have some emergency propellant left. I’m not very good at manual flying, but I can give it a try,’ the pilot of the damaged ship replied.

  ‘Okay I’ll talk you through it. Then once you’re on an even keel we can try a microwave link that’ll feed power to your scrubbers,’ Jenson told him.

  The pilot of the wounded Imperial shuttle then began to attempt to correct the tumbling of his vessel with short, manually operated bursts of his control thrusters. At first his attempts only made matters worse, but after a few minutes Jenson judged he could see an improvement in the ship’s attitude.

  So intent were Jenson and Sandpiper on the actions of the shuttle pilot they failed to notice the glint of
light on metal and composite approaching them from the other side of the moon. Sandpiper was supposed to be keeping a look out, but as his scanners showed nothing he was distracted by the action going on below. It was only when the twin beams of laser cannon fire swept in front of the nose of his Flyship that he realised they were under attack.

  He piled on the power and desperately willed his fighter around to face his attackers. ‘Break, break, break!’ Sandpiper urgently called to Jenson. ‘We’ve got X34 Snubfighters, descending on us!’

  Jenson reacted instantly to the call from his wingman, hauling his Flyship around as a Snubfighter flashed by, scant metres from his wingtip. ‘Shit!’ he swore to himself. ‘How could I have been so bloody stupid!’

  The next few minutes were chaotic as Jenson and Sandpiper did their utmost to keep the highly manoeuvrable Snubfighters off their tails. The pair were soon separated in the melee and it became an individual battle for survival. Jenson managed to get a beam several times on a Snubfighter and loosed off a vicious salvo of laser fire, knocking at least one of them out of action, but the odds were desperately stacked against them. Their weapons-lock warnings sounded many times. Both Terran pilots saw gunfire flash past their machines, hitting non-vital parts of their ships several times, but never finishing them off. However, Jenson wasn’t about to kid himself that they could keep the Imperial fighters from eventually taking them out.

  Desperately he called the Valvia, but his comms unit was being totally jammed. Jenson couldn’t believe there were so many fighters. He’d thought the Imperial navy had lost nearly all its Snubfighters in the conflict for the battle-station, but there were several squadrons of them here. So where the hell had they come from? Even as he desperately performed a flick roll to throw his latest pursuer off his tail, he realised the answer had to be the moon-base.

  Remembering the flying exercises he’d practiced with Moss on the Earth’s moon, Jenson desperately shoved the nose of the Flyship down toward the surface of the Dyason moon. Sandpiper saw his boss’s actions and followed suit, jinking all the way. The Snubfighters, surprised by their actions, paused briefly before pursuing and this was all the Terran pilots needed to even the odds a little.

  Jenson dropped into a deep canyon and two Snubfighters followed him. Sandpiper, managing to gain the lead on his pursuers dropped into the same canyon. He piled the power on, accelerating as fast as he dare within the close confines of the ravine as huge cliffs of moon rock sped past only metres from the tips of his stabilisers.

  He closed the gap on the rear of the two X34s following Jenson, who were wildly firing at the Flyship, but hitting only the rocks to each side of the fighter. Using the interactive flight system, he willed his ship as close to the rear Snubfighter as he dared then, before the Imperial pilot became aware of his presence, he opened fire with his own laser cannons.

  The Snubfighter disintegrated into a fireball with alloy and composite flying in all directions. Sandpiper was forced to haul the nose of his fighter up to avoid the debris and shot out of the canyon like a cork out of a bottle. As soon as he came into view the other Snubfighters descended upon him.

  Jenson saw and felt the explosion of the pursuing X34 and was relieved when his friend avoided the fireball and reappeared still in one piece. Now he just had to get rid of the other leech. The canyon they were speeding through was about to come to a dramatic dead end. At the last possible moment, Jenson willed his Flyship vertically away from the solid wall of rock. The Snubfighter which had been slowly closing the gap on the Flyship, left it too late to take avoiding action. It flew straight into the rock face.

  Jenson didn’t waste any time congratulating himself on his flying skills. He whirled his machine around and headed back to the dogfight taking place just above the moon’s surface. Sandpiper was being hunted by at least another dozen Snubfighters, and with a sinking heart Jenson saw another squadron of X34s descending from orbit toward them.

  ‘Group Leader Jenson, Squadron Leader Sandpiper!’ a new voice hailed him on the comm unit. ‘We have no wish to destroy you or your vessels, but we cannot allow you to return to the Valvia.’

  ‘Screw you!’ Sandpiper yelled defiantly now that the jamming had been temporarily lifted.

  ‘An admirable spirit I’m sure,’ came the Dyason reply, ‘but one that is entirely pointless. You are heavily outnumbered and have no chance of escape. This situation has become a little out of hand. I request that you break-off combat and allow my fighters to escort you here to the moon-base.’

  ‘Who the hell are you and why should we comply?’ Jenson snapped back.

  ‘My name is administrator Polesy head of the Imperial secret service. I’m talking from the operations room of Silago moon-base. I apologise for the necessary subterfuge that bought you here, but it is vital that you land here so that we can meet face to face.’

  ‘You must think we’re stupid Polesy!’ Jenson snapped back still closing in on the Snubfighters surrounding Sandpiper’s Flyship. They had, for the time being at least, pulled back from their pursuit. ‘As soon as we land you’ll hold us as hostages in a bid to gain control of the Valvia. I’m not prepared for that to happen!’

  ‘That is not the case Group Captain,’ Polesy responded. ‘The Valvia is at risk, but not from myself or any of my men. If you land here we can prove to you that the Imperial secret service has access to certain artifacts that have a very important bearing on our current predicament.’

  ‘What sort of artifacts?’ Jenson demanded suspiciously.

  ‘Artifacts found here on our moon that give a clue to the origins of Excalibur, Dominator and Valvia. Artifacts that tell us why and by whom, the Heligsion were attacked,’ came the dry, matter-of-fact response. ‘In truth Group Captain, you now have no option but to land here. I guarantee your safety if you comply with my request, and I guarantee your destruction if you do not. I don’t have the time to argue this matter with you any further. What is your answer?’

  ‘I think we’d better do as he says boss,’ Sandpiper called from his Flyship which was now floating stationary, surrounded by Snubfighters. ‘Throwing this many fighters at us is a very persuasive argument! Besides I’ve got a hunch that this guy really does want us to see his private artifacts. It’d be rude to turn down a invitation for dinner. I’m just sorry I didn’t pack a tuxedo.’

  Despite the dry humour Jenson heard the strain in his friends voice. Han was right, this was a stand-off they couldn’t possibly win. There was nothing they could do for the Valvia, or any one else for that matter, if they were spread all over the star system. A fair amount of effort had gone into setting this trap. It was time to find out why.

  ‘Okay you win Polesy!’ he called the head of the Imperial secret service. ‘Call your hounds off and we’ll pop in for tea.’

  ‘I’m so glad you see it my way,’ was the response. ‘My X34 fighters will escort you in. I look forward to seeing you in a few minutes.’

  Jenson closed formation on Sandpiper’s laser-scarred Flyship and together they let themselves be herded toward the Imperial moon-base.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Dominator

  Gulag gently eased himself out of Colmarrie’s mind and stared thoughtfully at the main viewer on the bridge of the Dominator. The Captain’s logs on-board the derelict were a revelation, but raised as many questions as they answered. What was the final fate of the crews of all those ships? Did the same fate await them? Why hadn’t Dominator been attacked outright? Was the 2323 computer system still functioning? What about the Starweb? And who had added to the original space station to create this bizarre planetoid?

  There were so many questions and only one way to find the answers—they would have to leave Dominator and board the planetoid. Gulag’s stomach tightened into knots at the thought. There was something about this place that filled him with dark foreboding. He clenched the padded edges of the captain’s couch determined not to let his emotions show to the rest of the crew. He knew they’d be looking
to him to show an example. If he showed any weakness, the hotch-botch inexperienced crew, was likely to fall apart.

  His thoughts were interrupted by the second officer. ‘There’s something happening out there sir!’ the officer told him. ‘I think you’d better take a look.’

  ‘Put it on the viewer,’ Gulag demanded.

  The external cameras showed a long telescopic arm extending from the gloom toward Dominator. As they watched it made contact with the hull, locking onto one of the docking ports. It was obviously an extending corridor, and an invitation to leave their ship. Gulag wondered if there was a reception committee waiting for them to open the hatch.

  ‘Get a security squad down to that docking port now!’ he snapped at his second in command. ‘I don’t want anything coming through there! Nothing gets on-board! Do you understand?’ Kallke nodded in acknowledgment and distributed the necessary orders.

  ‘Then, I want a boarding party of fifteen armed troopers—include some of Colmarrie’s mutant fighters among that lot. They might as well make themselves useful. And get the systems engineer down there too. I’ll lead the boarding party. You’re in command until I return Kallke. Is that clear?’ Gulag ordered, rising out of his couch and making for the turbo-lift. This was the time for action. They’d been forced to sit helpless while they were dragged into this planetoid, but enough was enough. Now they’d find out who, or what, was playing with them.

  ‘Yes it is sir, but err…’ Kallke stuttered.

  Gulag paused in mid stride and turned to face his second officer. ‘What is it Kallke? Spit it out man!’

  ‘What if something happens to you on that thing sir? What do you want us to do?’ the officer finally raised the courage to ask.

  ‘If something happens to us, don’t send anyone else to find us! You get that umbilical contraption away from the hull, blast away with the heavy laser cannon, find some way to fire the engines up and ram your way out of here!’ Gulag told him bluntly, his face cold and deadly serious.