Wanderer's Odyssey - Books 1 to 3: The Epic Space Opera Series Begins

by Simon Goodson

  Dash frowned. It should take the Starflame far longer than that to get clear. Then he checked the display and understood. Dozer had dropped all shields and was routing as much power as he could into the Starflame’s thrusters. Running at those levels for any period of time would damage the thrusters, possibly burn them out completely, but it was the right decision. The only decision.

  Timing would be everything, though. Thirty seconds would see the Starflame in with a chance of surviving the blast, but only with full shields – and those would take precious seconds to charge up.

  “Fifteen seconds to Starflame safe distance. Freighter’s engines are fluctuating badly. Ten seconds.”

  Dash was sitting forwards, gripping the arms of his seat painfully hard. They would make it. They had to make it. Dozer was one of the few left from the early days, and one of Dash’s closest friends. If he’d known Dozer was on the Starflame he would have ordered him onto another ship. He would never have trusted his friend to the uncertainty of Vella’s care.

  “Five seconds.”

  They were going to make it! Five seconds, plus maybe four or five for the shields to reach full power.

  “Four… three… two… thrusters are losing power. Shields coming online. Twenty percent. Forty.”

  “Come on, come on…” Dash didn’t even realise he’d spoken out loud.

  “Sixty… Freighter’s engines are well beyond redline… eighty percent… one hundred! Starflame’s shields are at full power.”

  Dash let out the breath he’d been holding. Dozer and the other’s weren’t safe, but they had a much better chance now. And every second that passed increased…

  “Shit!” Foster swore.

  Dash echoed him. Where the freighter had been there was now only a fast expanding cloud of energy. Within moments it had washed over the Starflame and the other fleeing ships. Then it hit the Anguish and the displays went dark as sensors were automatically shielded against damage.

  The next few seconds felt like long minutes to Dash, finally the display flickered back to life. It took several seconds more for the details to be fully updated. The freighter was gone, of course. No trace of it was left. Dash’s heart sank as he saw three of his retreating ships were also gone, including the Starflame.

  “Captain, the blast was far stronger than a freighter of that class should have managed,” Hackett said quietly. “We’re lucky not to have lost more ships. Suggest we treat the remaining freighters with great caution.”

  Dash shook off the ache in his heart. He’d lost far too many people down the years to let Dozer’s loss hurt him while the operation was still ongoing. There would be time for that later.

  “Agreed. Foster, send in the fighters. Any hint of the other ships pulling the same trick and we destroy their engines. I’d rather take the ships intact, but I’m not losing anyone else to do it.”

  “Aye, Sir. On it.”

  Dash sat back, thinking about the freighter’s destruction. His intelligence had told him the fleet carried valuable cargo, but had made no mention of their engines being out of the ordinary. Was the size of the explosion somehow linked to the valuable cargo? And if so, what was waiting on the other freighters?

  “Foster, update the plan. We’ll take the freighters one by one. I want to know what’s on them. Clear the first of cargo, then use that to house the prisoners from the other ships. I want no more than a skeleton crew on each ship we take. I don’t want to lose any more ships and men.”

  “Aye, Sir.”

  “Hackett, I want you to prepare monitoring for the ships we take. If the engines start doing anything unusual once we capture them I want to know about it immediately.”

  “Yes, Sir!”

  Hackett’s fingers flew over his keyboard. Dash knew that Hackett lived for challenges like this. With that worry taken care of Dash sat back in his chair, trying to think what other precautions he had to take. Not for the first time, it struck him that taking ships was the easy part. Hanging onto them after was far more difficult.

  Chapter 4

  Sal lay on her bed, thoughts yet again going back to her time with Markus, back to their last few hours together… not that they’d known it at the time. Even now, years later, her memories of it were crystal clear…

  * * *

  Sal sat on the cold stone floor, leaning back against Markus’s chest and enjoying the warmth from his body and his arms. Most of the other prisoners were asleep, huddled together to share heat or curled up under any scraps of material they could find. The air was damp and cold.

  Dim light illuminated the cell, but it showed nothing Sal hadn’t seen almost every day since she was born. Thick, solid bars. A floor that was stone in this case but was as often cold metal. No windows. Nothing to make their lives comfortable. Enough people packed into the cell to make it crowded, though on such cold nights that became something of a blessing.

  “I love you, Sal,” Markus whispered in her ear. “I want to stay with your forever.”

  Tears started to fall down Sal’s face, and she grabbed Markus’s arms to her.

  “I love you too,” she replied, turning her head as far as she could. “But I’m scared. You know there’s no way we’ll be able to stay together for long. Even if we get lucky and aren’t split up during the next two or three times they shuffle everyone up it's only a matter of time before they do another male-female split. And once we’re split up we’ll never see each other again.”

  “Don’t say that.” He held her tightly, nearly crushing the air from her. She didn’t mind. “Never say that. We’ll find a way. I swear to you that if we get split up then no matter how long it takes I will track you down again. I love you too much for them to ever split us up for good.”

  Tears poured down her face. Desperately wanting to believe what Markus, said Sal turned round so she could kiss him. Her heart ached at the thought of the separation she knew deep down would come. She tried to ignore it, to focus on the moment, on holding Markus as close as she could.

  They’d only been together a few short weeks, but those weeks had been the happiest Sal had ever known. Truth be told, they were the only truly happy times she had known. Every moment of pleasure had been tainted, though, had carried the shadow of the inevitable time when they would be separated forever.

  What they couldn’t possibly have imagined at that moment was quite how soon it would be. Sal dropped off to sleep for what felt like only a few minutes, then was woken by blazing lights and a blaring hooter. Guards flooded into the cell, separating prisoners into two groups. Sal tried desperately to hang on to Markus, but several guards pulled them apart. Sal was forced further into the cell, while Markus was dragged out kicking and screaming. When Sal tried to force her way out after him she was beaten to the floor by two guards.

  In the end the guards only took eight of the prisoners, out of nearly ninety in the cell, but that made no difference to Sal. Markus was gone, torn from her life, and with him went her broken heart.

  * * *

  Sal jerked awake, blinking in confusion for several seconds before she realised she was in her cabin on the Wanderer. She must have fallen asleep while thinking about Markus, then thoughts had transformed into dreams. She could still feel the warmth of his body against her back, his arms wrapped around her, his soft voice in her ear.

  For a moment the sensation was so strong she wondered if she had somehow brought him back from her dreams, but when she turned over there was only an empty bed. Markus was gone. Despite his promise, she knew he would never be able to find her. In fact he was almost certainly dead. When the guards pulled so few prisoners out, and were so picky, there was a particularly unpleasant, and dangerous, task to be tackled. Occasionally, very occasionally, one prisoner would survive such tasks and would then spread the word on returning to their fellow prisoners. Normally all died.

  Sal closed her eyes again and settled down to sleep. Despite the pain that accompanied them she wished for another dream of Markus. In some
ways those dreams seemed to be her only true chance at happiness.

  Chapter 5

  “Captain, the last batch of prisoners are on the freighter you chose, the Reliable,” Foster said. “We have control of the remaining freighters.”

  “Good. Hackett, did you find anything unusual?”

  “No, Captain. I would have told you if I did!” Hackett replied resentfully.

  “I know. Sorry. I’m just jumpy. I don’t like losing ships at the best of times, and losing one like that… never mind. Have we found anything unusual with the cargo or engines of the other freighters?”

  “No, Sir. Nothing. I’ve been analysing our recordings of the explosion, though, and I think I know what they did. Even at the end, when the engines were fluctuating badly, the containment fields were still running. But they were being used to prevent the engines blowing while increasing the instability, not to prevent the explosion.”

  “I’ve never heard of that. Would it explain the size of the explosion?”

  “Yes, Sir. I’ve never heard of it either, but I can’t think of any other explanation for the readings. You couldn’t program it either. Someone had to be doing it manually… right to the end.”

  “Damn. Someone was bloody determined to ensure we took no prisoners from that ship. Can we spot if someone tries the same trick in the future?”

  “Already programmed in, Captain,” Hackett replied with a smile.

  “Good. Foster, any reason we can’t get out of here?”

  “No, Sir. Are we taking the prisoners back with us or selling them on the way?”

  “How many did we get in the end?”

  “A little short of four hundred.”

  “Far more than we can absorb, then. Set a course for Mufrid Prime. The farms there always need more labour.”

  “Sir, the Gakarst mines are closer and will pay a lot more,” Foster said.

  “No!” There was steel in Dash’s voice, and anger too. “Most of them would be dead within six months. I won’t have that on my conscience. They’ll have to work hard on the farms, but they’ll get fresh air and have at least a reasonable life expectancy. Set course for Mufrid.”

  “Aye, Sir,” Foster replied hastily, turning away.

  “Foster.”

  Dash’s voice was quiet now. Foster turned back to him.

  “We may not be angels, Foster, but we can choose not to be devils. We’ll make a handsome profit from this raid. We don’t need to top it up with blood money.

  “Aye, Sir.”

  Foster turned away again. Dash could tell he wasn’t convinced, but he would obey the order. Dash sat back in his seat, pondering yet again the difference between most of those he now led and the few who had started out with him. He couldn’t blame them. Everyone who ended up a pirate had a tale of hardship to tell. Many were once slaves themselves, or faced slavery when circumstances turned bad, but that led to contempt for other slaves rather than empathy.

  It was understandable. Empathy would lead to caring, and caring led to despair. The Empire was awash with slaves, trying to change that was impossible. Dash had seen many strong men and women destroyed by seeing the horrors of slavery and having no way to stop it.

  He’d come close himself in his early days of piracy, before accepting there was nothing he could do. Well, not quite. Dash had focused on the small things. Sparing a few people when he could, being choosy about where he sold people. When possible he took slaves back to base where the work was still hard, but reasonable food and even basic medical care would be provided.

  It was an unusual way for a pirate to behave. Some had mistaken it for softness, in the early days. They had soon changed their mind, or died at Dash’s hands. His crew were fiercely loyal and disciplined, traits that were passed on to those who joined as time passed.

  As the ships started to move off the pain of losing Dozer was like a blade stabbing in Dash’s chest. He felt the loss of every one of the original crew, but Dozer had been his closest friend. Heart aching, his thoughts went back to the fateful day that had changed everything.

  Chapter 6

  Twenty years earlier…

  Seated behind the pilot and co-pilot, Dash braced himself as the assault ship dropped out of jump space. The scanner lit up with hundreds of enemy contacts. Some started moving immediately, closing in on Dash’s lone assault ship. The fighters alone would make mincemeat of his ship, and many larger ships backed them up.

  “Come on… come on…” Dash muttered. “Where are you?”

  The seconds stretched on and the pirate fighters raced towards them. Then, finally, the display started to flare blue as more and more Imperial ships dropped out of jump.

  “Sorry, Sir,” the pilot said. “We must have jumped too early. The cavalry’s here now.”

  “Thank the stars!” Dash replied. “It’s still going to be tough, though.”

  “Yes, Sir. We’ll get you through. Don’t you worry.”

  “These pirate scum are no match for our fleet! We will sweep them aside!” declared the man sitting to Dash’s right.

  Dash forced a neutral expression onto his face. Political officer Tassalt was a necessary evil, but one that Dash would gladly do without. Dash was convinced Tassalt was also a complete idiot. He’d been with Dash’s team for nearly two months, had been there through a dozen major encounters, yet still believed every force they faced was vastly inferior.

  Yes, the pirates couldn’t match the discipline of the Imperial navy. But they were tough and resourceful and often mounted weapons, armour and shields which made them more than a match for Imperial ships of the same size. They were tough enough opponents normally, but now they were defending their home base. Like cornered rats they would be at their most dangerous when fighting was their only option.

  “Hang on, it’s about to get rough!” shouted the pilot, as the first wave of pirate fighters closed in.

  “Dozer, did you hear that?” Dash called over his suit’s radio.

  “Aye, Sir. We’re all buckled in and sealed up back here. Just tell those fly boys to get us there safely, then we’ll do the rest.”

  “Will do.”

  Dash smiled to himself. Dozer had ensured everyone was ready to go. Dash had expected no less. Dozer had been his number two for three years, and they’d been close friends for much longer. He’d met Dozer the day they both enlisted and something had clicked. Assigned to the same squad, they had climbed the ranks together. Dozer always refusing any promotion that would have taken him out of Dash’s shadow. He always insisted Dash was the better tactician, while he was far better at slapping the men into line. Dash had to admit Dozer was right on both counts.

  Now Dash headed up a team of thirty, plus Dozer. His team had proven so successful he was allowed to pick and choose who joined when team members died or left. It truly was his and Dozer’s team now, packed with well disciplined, loyal and above all good men and women.

  And that, of course, was part of the reason for Tassalt being with them. The Empire didn’t fully trust its own men, especially not those who built such a tight-knit team. The political officer was there to observe, and report on, their every move. Many teams had one assigned, but Dash had noticed that over time he had been assigned those with more and more hard-line views.

  “Whoa!” shouted the pilot.

  The ship bucked as weapons fire hammered the shields. Dash’s stomach lurched as the pilot started to throw the assault ship around. Heavily armed and shielded for their size, assault ships carried relatively few weapons. They were designed with a single purpose in mind, getting troops to the target in one piece. In theory they weren’t particularly manoeuvrable, either, but Dash knew the pilots and engineers often made unofficial adjustments.

  Judging by how much the ship was pitching around they’d really gone to town on this one. Dash certainly wasn’t going to report them. Those adjustments gave him and his men a much better chance of survival. Tassalt seemed completely unaware the ship was performing
well beyond its specs, or possibly self-preservation was keeping his mouth shut.

  The battering eased as a wave of Imperial fighters streaked past, pouring fire into the pirates. A series of vicious dogfights broke out, giving them a few seconds breathing space.

  It didn’t last long. Soon they were within range of the larger pirate vessels. Once again the pilot threw the ship through turns and weaves that should have been far beyond it. Dash tried to relax, letting the tight webbing hold him in place and focusing on the display. He saw another assault boat pull ahead of them, its pilot sacrificing agility for speed. Dash winced at the move. It was straight from the tactical manual, and deserved to stay there. The pilot must be a rookie. Noting its call-sign, Dash opened a channel.

  “Assault Fourteen, start evasive manoeuvres immediately!”

  “Negative,” came the reply. “We are following standard fast burn insertion.”

  “I know what you’re doing,” Dash replied angrily. “And you’re going to get yourselves and everyone on board killed! Now start dodging before the big ships get a lock on you!”

  “This is Commandant Jasel,” a new voice cut in. Commandant was the official rank for a political officer. “The pilot is following my orders. Clear this link immediately.”

  The connection dropped out.

  “No you idiot!” Dash hissed between clenched teeth. “You’re all going to…”

  He trailed off into silence as the inevitable happened. One of the large pirate ships opened fire with its heavy weaponry. Weapons designed to tackle corvettes and frigates cut through the assault boats shields as if they weren’t there. Assault Fourteen became an expanding cloud of plasma.

  “Damn it!” Dash spat, angry at the senseless loss of so many lives.