Third Player Page 5

  ‘As soon as Valvia was in orbit we lost control of the ship. Before we knew what was happening we were heading at speed towards a swirling mass that appeared in the space before us. We tried to control the machine but it had a mind of its own. We travelled through some sort of rift in space and time emerging near your own world as your vessels were attempting to destroy each other. Valvia opened fire on that construction in space of its own volition. I can assure you all, that my people never touched any controls. The ship was operating entirely on its own!’

  The images faded from the minds of the seer’s audience and the last words they heard were. ‘We don’t know exactly why we are here. We have considered the matter ever since we arrived in orbit and can only conclude that there is a link between our three worlds. What happened to my people, the people of Heligsion, can’t be considered as some random, mindless act of an alien species. The demons sought us out and systematically went about destroying us. If they found my world, you can be sure they will find Dyason and Earth. When they do, the bickering between yourselves will only speed up your demise!’

  With those final words ringing in the heads of all present, Dauphne turned and walked toward the exit, her face distorted by pain and anguish. Solemnly, Hillmead and Moss walked as escort beside her. Silently, people stepped aside allowing them to pass, not knowing what to say or think. Their minds were too stunned by what they’d heard and seen. The three left the Hall of Representatives and after a few minutes everyone else drifted toward the exits. There would be no more debate that day.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Dominator

  Brabazon tried every trick he knew to free the controls of Dominator, but to no avail. The system was completely locked. Yet he was aware that this was different from the sentient computer refusing to co-operate with the crew. A tight beam was emanating from the massive structure at the centre of the solar system and it was locked directly onto the ship’s main data-banks. No matter what he did, he couldn’t jam the signal. For so long as the beam remained, they had no control over the Dominator’s flight controls. The question was, who or what was dragging them into the horrific space graveyard?

  ‘It’s no good. There’s no way I can override the flight controls!’ he told Gulag and Colmarrie.

  ‘Are you sure there’s no way you can cut the signal?’ Gulag demanded.

  ‘In time, maybe, but not in the next few minutes,’ he replied. ‘I’ve never seen anything like it! The beam is incredibly tight and works on a multiple frequency that changes apparently at random. I’m throwing everything I can at it, but whoever or whatever is transmitting the signal simply side-steps my attempts.’

  Gulag looked at the mass of derelict starships with a growing dread. Their trip through warped space was still vivid in his mind and he was painfully aware that he actively chose to move down the path toward darkness. It was beginning to look like this place was the darkness at the end of that particular road…

  ‘Now you know why I tried to stop you from warping space,’ the thought entered Gulag’s mind. ‘I knew the risks!’

  ‘Dominator?’ Gulag thought back in surprise. ‘Is that you?’

  ‘You are young and foolish Gulag,’ the ship’s computer told him in no uncertain terms. ‘If it weren’t for your greed and thirst for power we wouldn’t be here!’

  ‘Here? Where is here? What’s happening?’ Gulag demanded.

  ‘This place is a trap. A trap set to capture those unwary travelers who attempt to warp space as you did. It’s a web with a predator and you’re the prey!’

  ‘A trap? Set by whom and why?’

  ‘There’s no more time Gulag,’ the computer answered. ‘If I’m to survive I must shut down all my systems. I’m being invaded by a virus. I need all my remaining resources to combat the attacker. The only help I can give you is to suggest you look at the starship on the far side of the structure. The answers you need to free us from the web may be there…’

  ‘Computer! Computer…! Dominator…!’ Gulag yelled out in his mind desperate for more answers.

  Colmarrie placed a hand on Gulag’s shoulder. ‘Leave it. It’s gone…we’re on our own now,’ she told him.

  Gulag turned and looked at her in surprise. ‘You heard it also?’

  ‘Yes I heard everything in my mind, as did Josh Brabazon.’

  Gulag looked at the wiry scientist who, like Colmarrie and him, possessed telepathic ability. His face was drawn and pale and he nodded to Gulag silently.

  ‘It looks like we have a fight on our hands!’ Colmarrie continued, a deadly serious look on her face. ‘If this place is supposed to be a trap, at least we’ve been given some warning! I just hope it’s enough!’

  Gulag ignored her and snapped at the navigation officer, ‘How long until we’re dragged into the heart of the web? Are we heading straight for that mass of scrap metal in the centre?’

  Halken, the navigation officer, scanned the instruments that were still operative. ‘We’re heading straight for that thing sir,’ she answered nervously. ‘At our current speed we’ll be on top of it in eighty-two minutes.’

  Brabazon looked up from the scanners at his workstation. ‘Gulag, I think you’d better take a look at this,’ he told the clone in an ominous tone. ‘I’ve scanned the area on the far side of that contraption like Dominator suggested and this is what I found…’

  Brabazon projected the magnified image onto the main viewer and everyone on the bridge swore or gasped in disbelief. Despite being only half lit by the cold, feeble light of the distant sun, the shape of the slowly tumbling battle-scarred derelict starship was unmistakable. A delta-shaped main body complete with winglets and a scoop intake under the belly led gracefully into a long tapering neck and pod. There was no doubt that it was the same design as Dominator and Excalibur. It was also obvious, judging by the state of the tarnished hull and massive gash in the main body, that she’d been in a vicious battle and lost. But whatever had happened to her and her crew, it had been a long, long time ago.

  ‘Jeez,’ Anderson, the marine captain exclaimed, ‘there’s more of these things floating around than a Mk14 Escort!’

  ‘One presumes that is the ship Dominator is referring to,’ Colmarrie stated. ‘Whatever happened to them is undoubtedly what is supposed to happen to us. However, one wonders just how long these machines have been floating dead about that monstrosity? Is there a possibility that what happened here, took place so long ago that the thing is no longer operating?’

  ‘There’s no doubt that whatever happened to those poor bastards happened eons ago, but considering the main computer is being compromised by something being transmitted by that big bugger in the centre, I would say it’s probably still working.’ Brabazon answered.

  ‘But we’re still here aren’t we?’

  ‘Yeah, but for how long?’

  ‘Josh,’ Gulag interrupted, a thoughtful look on his face. ‘Do you know how to operate any of those shuttles in the hangar?’

  ‘Yeah, I guess so. I haven’t looked at them too closely, but they seem to be the same design as those on the Excalibur. I presume they’re standard kit on all these ships. What’ve you got in mind?’ the Terran scientist answered.

  ‘We need to get some people on that hulk and look for the answers that damned computer thinks we’ll find there. I think we’ve got eighty minutes to get there and back before we get intimate with that huge piece of shit. Whatever’s in store for us will happen then,’ Gulag told him staring intently at the projected image of the derelict. ‘I’ll need you on there, because you’ll know what to look for—some sort of recording of what happened. I’ll send an armed team to help you, and you’ll probably need to wear environment suits. Are you on for that?’

  Images of dead bodies floating in the dark airless interior of the wreck, flashed past Brabazon’s mind and his faced paled. Colmarrie saw the look on his face and realised what he was thinking, after all, the same thing was going through her own mind.

&nbs
p; ‘It’s okay Josh,’ she said to him. ‘I will come with you and bring a few of my people.’

  ‘I think it would be better if my marines and I went with you Josh. We’re trained in zero “G” combat and the use of environment suits. As much as I admire your fighters Colmarrie, they’re gonna puke as soon as the gravity falls off,’ the marine captain suggested.

  ‘You’re right Anderson,’ Gulag confirmed. ‘Gather your team and get to it. Time is of the essence.’

  ‘I will go anyway,’ Colmarrie stated flatly.

  ‘So be it,’ the clone agreed, perhaps too readily.

  The others exchanged glances then made their way to the turbo-lift. Gulag’s final words were, ‘Be careful, we can’t afford to lose any of you people.’

  ‘I wonder if he really means that,’ Colmarrie thought at the wiry Terran scientist.

  ‘Yeah, so do I…,’ he thought back. ‘So do I...’

  The size of a small airliner, the shuttle swept over the ancient wreck toward where Josh Brabazon hoped to find a compatible emergency docking port. He sat in the pilot’s couch in the small cockpit, skilfully guiding the ship which was dwarfed by the dull and battered hull of the derelict. He was worried at first that either the fearful shaking in his limbs, or the beam from the moon-sized mass of scrap metal would affect the flying controls. Happily, he need not have worried on either score. The presence of Colmarrie in the co-pilot’s seat helped keep his personal fear in check. He was also amazed at the speed to which she adapted to the new technology around her. She had been watching his every move since they left the Dominator and already seemed to have a grasp on how the interactive controls worked. Somehow, she seemed to take everything that had happened since they left Dyason in her stride and this had a calming influence on everyone around her.

  Anderson and his team of twelve marines donned their environment suits and combat packs, each one meticulously checking the equipment of his or her buddy. They wore the latest composite suits and carried combined laser-projectile rifles. Brabazon hoped they wouldn’t need them. As far as he was concerned, they were going straight to the bridge and operations desk and downloading the logs from what should be, the starship’s equivalent of a ‘black box’. He was presuming of course, that the wreck was exactly the same design as Excalibur and Dominator. As they closed in on the emergency docking port he had no reason to believe it wasn’t; the configuration certainly appeared the same.

  As he guided the shuttle carefully from the stern, toward the expected port, below the bow pod, the huge gash in the hull came into view. It ran for one third of the length of the main body, from the base of the fin to just short of the forward hangars. The composite structure of the hull had been fused, melted, then split apart like a blow torch burning through a sheet of plastic.

  ‘It must have taken a massive beam of incredible temperature to cause that!’ Colmarrie exclaimed, staring intently out of the cockpit and occasionally glancing at the information being sent to the sensors. ‘Does Dominator possess a weapon of sufficient power to do such damage?’

  ‘Nope!’ Brabazon answered emphatically. ‘Like Excalibur, he carries a single laser cannon which is capable of blasting asteroids and making a nasty hole in those old Imperial cruisers, but nothing like this... I’m not aware of any Dyason or Terran weapon, apart from nukes, which could rip open a hull like that. The composite used in the construction of these starships is the toughest, most complex material we know. We barely understand how the polymers used react with each other. Whatever, caused this gash is one big mother of a weapon. Pray it’s not still operative!’

  ‘Amen to that!’ Anderson added from the entrance to the small cockpit. ‘We’re all suited up and ready to go back here. Any idea when we’ll be boarding Josh?’

  ‘The bow emergency docking port should be coming up any minute now,’ Brabazon replied. ‘We’ll be back to suit ourselves up as soon as we’re clamped on.’

  ‘We may not need our environment suits,’ Colmarrie told them. ‘If I am reading these sensors correctly, that gash in the hull goes through to the third deck and no further. It may be that the crew managed to seal the exposed compartments, in which case, there may still be an atmosphere on-board.’

  ‘I don’t know Colmarrie…’ Brabazon answered dubiously. ‘Even if there’s still air on-board, I kinda doubt that it will still be breathable after all these years. I think we’d better put our suits on. I for one, am not too keen on taking lung-fulls of air contaminated by whatever corpses may be on-board!’

  The resistance fighter barked a short laugh then said, ‘You are far too squeamish friend Josh, but perhaps you are right!’

  The bow emergency docking port was exactly where Brabazon expected it to be, and he gently eased the shuttle into place, the locking pins engaging with a clang. After informing Dominator that they had successfully docked, he went aft with Colmarrie and they both put on armoured but lightweight environment suits. At a nod from Anderson one of the marines evacuated the atmosphere from the rear airlock, and switched off the artificial gravity. Brabazon watched Colmarrie carefully to see if she showed signs of disorientation or space sickness, this being the first time she’d ever been weightless. However, the giant woman simply matched his gaze and grinned broadly. Like everything else, she was taking zero-g in her stride. Brabazon wished he could do the same.

  ‘Okay people, safety catches off!’ Anderson told his marines through the suit radio. ‘I’m about to open the hatch. So be prepared! Once on-board we make straight for the bridge as briefed. Let’s go!’

  The shuttle hatch opened with a hiss, and the still locked port-way of the derelict stood before them. Through gloved hands the marine captain pulled the emergency release handle and the portal slid open. A whisper of mist caused by the air in the derelict’s docking port slipped past them. As a group they drifted into the airlock of the wreck and cycled through the second hatch before entering the ship proper.

  The floodlights built into their helmets cast cold light onto the deck beyond the emergency docking port. Their beams reflected particles of dust that swam in the stale air. Colmarrie was right, there was still an atmosphere on-board the ship, and Brabazon was relieved to discover the deck they drifted into wasn’t full of the crew’s corpses. He quickly scanned the readout of the multi-sensor strapped to the arm of his suit. The air was a mix of nitrogen, oxygen and some carbon dioxide, which improved the probability that the crew were humanoids like themselves.

  Anderson propelled himself toward the deck control panel, avoiding pieces of equipment that floated by and Brabazon followed. It only took a quick glance to confirm that the ship was completely dead. ‘What do you think Josh?’ the marine captain asked as Brabazon experimentally punched on some keys.

  ‘There’s no power at all, but that’s only to be expected. The artificial singularities must have dissolved when the ship was attacked and the back-up batteries would have expired eons ago,’ the scientist replied.

  ‘Hmm, it’s going to take time to open all those bulkhead doors manually and I’m not sure we can do it in the remaining fifty-two minutes,’ Anderson said voicing his concern. Brabazon began tapping on the keypad strapped to his arm and a few moments later green emergency lights flickered then came on.

  Anderson swung the helmet of his suit around in surprise and asked, ‘What did you do?’

  ‘I’ve routed power from the shuttle into the ship’s emergency systems via the docking port. There’s not enough juice to run the artificial gravity unit, but we should at least be able to get those bulkheads open without too much sweat,’ Brabazon told him. ‘Let’s push on.’

  The group drifted out of the emergency docking bay and into the corridor beyond. Once again there was no sign of the crew. Using his intimate knowledge of the interior of Excalibur, Brabazon lead them to an access shaft that lead directly to the bridge, several decks above them. Using his keypad link to the shuttle’s computer he ordered the bulkheads opened along the route of the acce
ss shaft. Then they climbed in one by one, Anderson taking the lead and Colmarrie the rear, weapons armed and ready. Without gravity to hinder them, they moved rapidly, pulling themselves along hand-over-hand. Within minutes they were inside the bridge.

  Anderson switched his mini-cam on and hailed the Dominator. ‘Okay, we’re all safely on the bridge of this relic,’ he told clone. ‘Are you getting these pictures?’

  ‘The image is a little snowy,’ the operations officer told him. ‘Can you do anything to improve the picture?’

  Anderson adjusted the gain on the transmitter.

  ‘That’s better. We’re receiving your transmissions clearly now,’ Dominator’s operations officer told him.

  ‘What’s your status Brabazon?’ Gulag demanded of the Terran scientist who was pulling himself toward the main computer workstation.

  ‘Well there’s no doubt that this ship is built to the same design as Excalibur and Dominator,’ he told the clone. ‘The emergency docking port was exactly where I expected it to be. The ship’s internal layout appears to be the same, and as you can see, the bridge is an exact replica of where you’re standing now.’

  Anderson swept his helmet camera around the bridge transmitting pictures of the layout. The green emergency lights gave the place a pale ghostly appearance, an image that was heightened by the electronic notepads, empty cups and what looked like a bracelet drifting in the weightlessness. A shiver went down the marine captain’s spine. Despite this being an alien ship, deserted like the Marie Celeste for God knows how long, it was hauntingly familiar. If Excalibur or Dominator were abandoned at short notice, this is what it would look like.

  ‘Is anything working?’ Gulag asked impatiently. ‘We saw the damage to the main body in the transmission sent by the shuttle. Has the hull been compromised?’