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

by Simon Goodson

  Dash cursed. He had forgotten. He quickly went over to the Commandant’s corpse and disabled all electronics.

  “We ready to go?” he called over the radio.

  “Aye, Sir. All prepped. Ready to lift off.”

  “Get us out of here then. Is that you, Hotshot?”

  “Of course, Sergeant. You wouldn’t trust anyone else to fly this tub would you?”

  “Definitely not,” Dash replied with a grin. “I’ll be up in the cockpit in a minute. Try not to shake me around too much.”

  They were in good hands. Cassie Ramirez had picked up the nickname Hotshot because she insisted on being the one to fly anything they ended up on which didn’t already have a pilot. She’d even sweet talked shuttle pilots into letting her fly several times. She was damn good, too. Dash had offered to sponsor a transfer to fighter pilot several times, but she had always refused. She enjoyed flying but loved serving on the ground, too. Dash hadn’t argued too hard. Having Hotshot on the team had saved their backsides several times.

  Now it was going to save them again. Getting out of the hangar was going to be easy, the docking bay doors were still open. Getting away from the immediate vicinity of the station would depend on whether the base defences considered them hostile or friendly. Then they had to break through the chaotic space battle outside, reach safe distance to jump and somehow avoid being followed.

  As Dash reached the cockpit they were about to leave the docking bay. Before he could strap in the ship lurched forwards. Dash crashed into the back wall, his suit absorbing most but not all of the impact. His wounded leg flared up again.

  “Bloody hell, Hotshot!” he complained.

  “Don’t blame me,” she snapped back. “Someone had the bright idea of blowing up a freighter before we had time to get clear! You’re damn lucky we weren’t smeared across the docking bay doors by that blast.”

  “OK. Sorry. Well done.”

  Dash dropped into the co-pilot’s seat, quickly strapping himself in. Several other troopers were buckled in further back, manning the stations covering shields and weapons, sensors and engines.

  “Now we find out if we’re still classed as friendly,” Hotshot muttered.

  She started jinking the ship around to avoid offering an easy target. Dash studied the display in front of him. The base weaponry remained silent, either the defences were out of action or the ship still registered as being friendly.

  “Hotshot, how agile is this bird?” Dash asked. “Can we risk running past the big guns?”

  “Hell, yeah! She’s a blockade runner. I’m not even scratching what she can do yet. She’s fast, too. I’m not sure we could outrun everything out there, but there’s not much that could keep up.”

  “Great. I think we should head out through here…”

  He sketched out a route that took them through the edges of a battle between half a dozen large pirate ships and several Imperial ships of similar size. Most smaller ships were keeping their distance, trying to avoid being swatted aside by the immensely powerful weapons crisscrossing space in that area. Dash’s plan would keep them amongst the pirate ships, not that there was any guarantee those wouldn’t open fire on a fleeing ship.

  “Looks good,” replied Hotshot. “I take it I’m free to improvise as needed?”

  “Of course. She’s all yours, Captain.”

  Hotshot flashed a beaming smile at him, then turned back to her controls.

  “Everyone secure for extreme manoeuvres,” Dash warned over the general channel. “Warn the civilians too. I’m giving Hotshot free rein to get us out of here.”

  “Bloody hell,” came Dozer’s reply. “I don’t think there’s enough straps in this ship to keep me safe from that!”

  “You’ll pay for that!” Hotshot sent back, but she was grinning. “Twenty seconds till the fun starts.”

  Dash checked his straps again. He’d experienced Hotshot’s flying enough times to know she always got the best out of a ship, and with this ship the best was going to be pretty spectacular.

  The twenty seconds raced by, as it reached zero they were nearly in range of the immense weaponry being unleashed by the heavy hitters from both sides in the battle. Then Hotshot let loose, and all Dash could do was hang on, even with the straps holding him in place.

  First came an immense kick in the back as the ship accelerated, then the ship started to buck and twist, tumble and spin, as Hotshot ensured no one would stand a chance of targeting them. Dash was pretty certain even the most agile fighter craft in the fleet wouldn’t have been able to track them well enough to take a shot.

  Of course that wouldn’t matter if they happened to stray into the path of the huge weaponry being unleashed around them. The plasma discharges weren’t a worry. Hotshot could easily see and avoid them. The intense laser blasts were another matter altogether, as were the solid munitions. Both moved far too fast to avoid. In the case of the lasers there would be absolutely no warning.

  Dash held on, trying to make sense of the display, but unable to. It was spinning and swirling far too quickly. He was pretty sure Hotshot was flying on instinct rather than instruments, that she was finding their way more by feel than anything else.

  “We’re through the main body of ships,” she called out. Dash took her word for it. He couldn’t tell. There was no letup in the crushing acrobatics either. They carried on, several times Dash felt on the verge of blacking out before a change of direction forced blood back into his brain again.

  Finally, they steadied out. For several seconds the cabin still seemed to buck and spin around Dash, his body taking time to adjust to level flight.

  “I believe you owe me a beer, Sergeant,” Hotshot said. “We’re well clear now. No one is following us. We’ll be able to jump in two minutes.”

  “Bloody good flying, Hotshot. I think I owe you a whole keg of beer this time. Now all we have to do is find a way to shake off any pursuit. Any ideas?”

  “Actually, yes, Sir. We really picked the right ship, not that there were many to choose from. This ship’s jump engines are massively overrated. I think we can use them to blip.”

  Dash smiled. Blipping was a technique few knew about. It was possible to enter jump space and drop back out again immediately. Doing so was exceptionally difficult. It was no use dropping back soon after, even ignoring the time it took for jump engines to cycle, as both the entry and exit points would leave scars on real space which could be tracked. Blipping involved hitting jump space and immediately dropping back out. The energy demands were orders of magnitude higher than were needed for normal jump travel. Even amongst those who knew of the possibility very few would go to the expense of getting suitable jump engines fitted.

  “You’re sure?”

  “Yep. This ship is relatively small, but the jump engines are immense. They could probably push a frigate into jump space. We can definitely do the trick.”

  “Great. Plot in three short jumps. No, make it five. Make it look like we’re trying to leave a difficult trail to follow. Then do a blip and take us on a random course for ten minutes. Then two more jumps, then another blip. Then one more, just to be safe.”

  “Sure. Then what, Sir? Where do we go after?”

  “I honestly have no idea. Just get us somewhere safe for now. I’ll start working on our destination.”

  “Sir.”

  Dash settled back in his seat. With everything that had happened so far he’d had no time to think ahead. Now he had to. Getting home would be impossible, in the short-term at least. They were the wrong side of the Quarantine Zone. There was no way they could travel through without being inspected and closely scanned by Imperial forces, and that would swiftly lead to their arrest and court martial.

  He needed to find them somewhere safe. But where could a bunch of Imperial troopers on the run go? And what about the civilians? They too would be killed if Imperial forces learnt who they were. The incident which led to the Commandant’s death showed that. So he now had to worry
about more than a hundred civilians as well as his troopers.

  He felt the weight settle onto his shoulders, but refused to let it drag him down. Considering what could have happened they were in a surprisingly strong position. And besides… he didn’t have to deal with all the problems alone.

  “Dozer,” he sent over a private channel as he unstrapped himself. “I need a word…”

  Chapter 10

  Silence fell across the group as Elizabeth finished explaining Sal’s need to track down Markus. Sal felt herself shrink inside, sure the others would object to the crazy idea. Jess spoke first.

  “Well, of course we’ll help, but I don’t know where we’d start. I think Elizabeth is right, it’s pretty certain we won’t be able to track Markus down.”

  Sal felt tears burning her eyes at the unexpected support.

  “I agree,” Ali said. “With no leads though…” She let the sentence trail off.

  “We have more than you know,” Elizabeth said brightly. “Though it will still be near on impossible to track him down. We can at least narrow the search, though.

  “First up, we know you and Jess were held by Imperial forces, so Markus must have been too. The Empire never sells slaves so that means he should still be under their control. That narrows the scope a lot. It removes independent ships, stations and planets as well as those run by pirates.

  “The other reason it’s good news is that the Empire will actually keep some records about their slaves. Not a lot, but far more than anyone else. We might be able to dig up details from there.”

  “But how can we do that if we have nothing to search for?” asked Ali.

  “We have more than you think. The Wanderer’s records will show where you took her from, and therefore where you were last prisoners. We have your picture, Jess’s too, which we can use to search with. If we can backtrack the places you’ve been held then we narrow the search for Markus greatly.

  “There’s a downside to this, though. If we start accessing Imperial records and searching for information about where the Wanderer was taken and who was in the area then we will probably trip alarms. We’ll be leaving clues which could lead back to us.”

  “We can minimise that if we interface via the Wanderer,” Jess said thoughtfully. “Not eliminate it, but reduce it a lot. It’s still an exceptionally long shot, though. Sal, we’ll need you to describe Markus as best you can. Anything distinctive will help, but so will things like his height. Anything that will let us rule out some of the potential matches.”

  “I can do that,” Sal said, smiling.

  Much of the weight and darkness had lifted from her. She knew the odds of finding Markus were still vanishingly small, but at least they were trying now. Whether they found him or not she would always know they had tried.

  “We should run different searches,” Ali said. “Searches for different places and people.”

  “Why?” asked Jess.

  “To confuse anyone who notices the pattern. We search for people at random times and places. If we run several hundred searches then it makes any connection to our escape less significant.”

  “Good idea,” said Elizabeth approvingly. “Now, what else do we know…”

  Everyone sat quietly for a while. Sal’s thoughts went back to Markus, to the last time she had seen him. Of course!

  “He was chosen for something, something specific. They pulled him and a few others out of a large group. It wasn’t random, they picked them carefully.”

  “That’s good,” Elizabeth said. “Something like that is much more likely to have records associated with it. If we had a picture of Markus then I’d almost say we were in with a chance.”

  “Wait… maybe we do!” Ali said, excitement charging her voice. “Sal… can you send me an image of Markus… through the ship I mean.”

  Excitement coursed through Sal. Of course! She was used to swapping messages and images with Jess and Ali through her interface to the ship, an interface that Elizabeth had refused, but she’d never thought of using it this way.

  “Let me try…” she said.

  Concentrating hard she formed an image of Markus, drawing heavily on one particular memory, then she sent it to Jess and Ali. A bright smile lit up Ali’s face.

  “Got it. Let me bring it up on the screen…”

  A man’s face appeared on a nearby screen. Sal stared at it for a few seconds.

  “No,” she said. “That’s not it. It looks familiar, but it’s not right at all.”

  “I don’t think I made a mistake…” Ali said. “That’s how the image looked, isn’t it Jess?”

  “Yep, definitely,” Jess said.

  “But it’s not right,” Sal insisted.

  “Try sending another image,” Jess said. “Use a different memory.”

  “All right,” Sal said with a sigh.

  She thought back to another memory, one from when she first met Markus, and sent it over. The image on the screen flickered and changed.

  “No, it’s still not right,” Sal said, heart sinking. “It’s similar again, but not right.”

  “Try another image,” urged Jess.

  “Why?” she snapped back. “What good will it do? We’ve already proved it won’t work!”

  “Please Sal, just one more. From a different memory again.”

  Sal fought back tears. Dealing with her memories of Markus had been hard enough before, now she was being forced to talk about it and drag over the memories. The failed images hurt badly, each was a reminder of how far she was from Markus.

  Swallowing hard she concentrated once more, this time on a memory of Markus laughing at something. She concentrated as hard as she could before sending the image over, ensuring it was as complete as she could make it.

  The image on screen flickered again, and once again it showed a stranger’s face which held a hint of familiarity. Sal crumpled, feeling crushed. Anger and despair warred within. Despair won out.

  “Wait…” Jess said, face creased in concentration.

  Nothing happened for a few seconds, then the screen flickered again. A fourth face appeared. It still wasn’t Markus, but this time the image was much closer. The face on screen could have been an uncle or brother to Markus, or maybe a cousin. In an instant hope replaced despair within Sal.

  “Yes… no… wait… that’s closer. It’s not him but it looks similar enough to be a relative. Where did you get that from?”

  “I had the Wanderer combine the three images,” Jess replied smugly. “It looked for common features between them, and then tried to blend the features where there were differences.”

  “So my memories of Markus are wrong?”

  “I don’t think so. Not exactly. I think it may just be the way our brains store memories. Certain parts are more clearly held than others. If you can repeat the process, think of other memories and send them over, then I think we can get a much closer match.”

  “Makes sense,” said Elizabeth. “But don’t show Sal the results until the end. There’s a danger her memories will be altered by the compound image she keeps seeing.”

  “Can you do it?” Jess asked. “It won’t be too much?”

  “I can do it,” Sal insisted. “For Markus’s sake, I can do it.”

  “Remember, finding him will still be an exceptionally long shot,” Elizabeth reminded her. “And even if we find someone who matches the image it might not actually be Markus.”

  “I know… but at least it’s a starting point.”

  “If we get the chance to launch a search of Imperial records then we need to discuss it before starting,” Jess said. “We need to talk about the risks and decide whether to go ahead. I’ll set the Wanderer to perform passive sweeps all the time, though. It will search any video footage it takes directly or manages to intercept for the image.”

  “Thank you!” Sal said, emotion heavy in her voice. “Thank you all.”

  “Hey, we’re family, pretty much,” replied Jess. “Of course we’re goin
g to help you. Now, are you ready to send over some more images?”

  “Ready and itching to get started!”

  Sal closed her eyes and focused again. For once there was no sadness at the memories, instead the images triggered hope. Sal settled down to wracking her brain for more images.

  * * *

  The slowly rotating image of a man’s head rotated on a screen. Sal stared at it. It wasn’t Markus, but it was very close. Much closer than a brother would look. Jess had assured her that the search could be made somewhat fuzzy, looking for a close but not exact match.

  They had the image now. There was no need to keep it on display, but Sal had remained staring at the not-quite Markus on the screen. The others had left her to it. She knew she’d need to step away eventually, let the image die even if she planned to view it again. She was putting the moment off. Shutting down the image would feel like losing Markus again.

  They’d discussed what to do next. The main plan wasn’t changed. They needed documents for the Wanderer and had chosen a likely station to get them from. Passive scanning for Markus would be running while they were there, and Jess thought they could try to run some active scans too on any poorly protected systems.

  All that lay in the future. For the moment Sal sat still, both staring at and through the image on the screen. Lost in the many good memories she and Markus had managed to squeeze into such a short time. Tears occasionally ran down her cheek, but a smile accompanied them every time.

  Chapter 11

  Twenty years earlier…

  Dash and Dozer soon realised there was only one path open to them. They were in a pirate ship rigged for running blockades. The Empire would kill them if it ever found they were alive. They had a group of civilians who needed somewhere safe, as did the troopers. They had to turn pirate.

  In the beginning they focused on hitting Imperial targets. Dash and his troopers had a burning anger over not only the position they’d been put in but the betrayal of what they had thought they stood for. Attacking Imperial targets made them feel they hadn’t truly gone rogue and that their targets were deserving.