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

by Simon Goodson

  This time several emotions flew across Dash’s face. Surprise, worry, irritation and anger. By the time he spoke they’d all gone.

  “Really? And what makes you say that?”

  Dash’s voice was gentle, but there was no mistaking the steel underneath. His eyes locked on Jess’s, glaring a challenge. Jess felt almost physically rocked back and started to look away, feeling cowed. Then anger flared to life in his chest. No! He would not back down. This was his ship. These were his friends. Dash was a guest, and one with much suspicion hanging over him at that. Jess forced himself to meet Dash’s gaze.

  “This…” Jess said.

  He gestured towards a wall where a screen flashed into life. It showed Dash in slow motion, the reactions clear on his face for all to see.

  Dash and the others watched the screen. Jess watched Dash. Watched him and checked the Wanderer’s defences were ready for action. He didn’t particularly want to hurt Dash, he definitely didn’t want to kill the older man, but Jess wasn’t going to take any chances.

  For a moment Jess thought he’d need to use the defences. Anger twisted Dash’s face as he watched the slow motion display of his earlier reactions. His body vibrated slightly, as if straining to lash out. Jess waited, ready to fire the weapons the moment Dash moved.

  Then Dash took a deep breath, followed by another. The anger seemed to drain out of his body. Jess relaxed slightly as the danger seemed to recede, but left the weapons armed and targeted. He wasn’t convinced this wasn’t another ploy. Dash smiled tightly at Jess.

  “I just keep on underestimating you, Jess, don’t I? You’re right. Hackett’s betrayal cut me deeply. I lost someone recently. Dozer. My best friend and a great second officer. Hackett’s betrayal, following so close on Dozer’s death, made me realise how many of those close to me I’d lost down the years, and how few of those now around me I could truly trust.

  “Am I sure those I left running Desolation will be friendly? Yes. Am I sure they haven’t been replaced and possibly killed? No. And there’s no way of telling without going there. In fact, I’ll probably have to go into the base personally to be sure.”

  “Why lie?” Sal asked coldly. “Other than the obvious reason, you seem incapable of telling the truth.”

  Jess didn’t need his mind sped up to see the hurt on Dash’s face at her words. It must have been clear to the others, though Jess wasn’t sure Sal would let herself see it.

  Dash composed himself and gestured around the room.

  “I’m not exactly trusted. I don’t blame you. I led you into great danger, then brought troops aboard the ship who tried to kill you, and yet you’re having to trust me. You’re having to trust the base is what I say it is, and that you’ll be safe there. I didn’t think adding my own worries would be particularly constructive.”

  “So you lied,” Sal said. “Again.”

  “No… well, yes… but…”

  Jess stared at Dash in surprise. Sal’s attack seemed to have stripped him of all his confidence and certainty, leaving him tongue-tied. And Jess was pretty sure this was for real. He almost felt sorry for Dash. Ali had left him in the same state many times.

  “… it wasn’t really a lie,” Dash finally managed to say. “The people I left in charge of Desolation really would make anyone attacking them pay a heavy price. They aren’t invincible, though. I have no idea how big the movement to overthrow me is. It’s certainly possible it was big enough to take Desolation.”

  “You must be keen to get back in charge, then,” Ali said in a voice which could only be described as warm if it was compared to Sal’s.

  Dash sat for a moment, weighing up his answer, before speaking in a soft voice.

  “No. Not at all. It was never what I intended. One thing just led to another, and then I had too many responsibilities to stop, to change things.”

  “And now you don’t?” Jess asked.

  “I used to think so, but… no. There are other ways I can help people, make things better. You’ve reminded me of that, all of you. I don’t know what I’ll do yet, but things will be different.”

  “Won’t other people come after you if you do that?” Jess asked. He was intrigued now, despite himself.

  “Yeah. I’ll always be looking over my shoulder, unless I can make a totally clean break. Maybe I could come...”

  “Oh shit!” Jess shouted as a warning chimed in his mind. “We’re only thirty seconds out from Desolation!”

  Dealing with Dash had distracted Jess. The others looked shocked, even Dash. Well, the other humans. Sometimes Jess could read some of Teeko’s body language, but mostly the alien was a closed book, as it was now.

  “At least we won’t be wondering about our reception much longer,” Sal said darkly.

  Jess just grunted as he forced his mind to its maximum acceleration. Only seventeen seconds remained, but that was far more time than he needed with his mind accelerated by his implants. He quickly brought the Wanderer to battle ready status, then reviewed the pattern for dropping out of jump space.

  The Wanderer would drop out slightly after the other ships, putting her closer to the base. She was far tougher than the three freighters. If the reception was hostile then Jess hoped to buy enough time for the other three ships to escape before the Wanderer had to jump out.

  Ideally he would have been on the flight deck as they arrived, but there was no time now. It made no difference to his ability to control the Wanderer, everything was done through the implanted interface that meshed with his brain, but the flight deck had chairs better suited to violent changes of direction. Jess mentally shrugged. There was nothing he could do about it now.

  Then he settled down to wait. With only a few seconds to go he felt the familiar presence of Ali as she activated her own implants. Sal followed soon after. Neither spoke. Nor did Jess, but he drew comfort from having them near, and knowing they would offer advice if he needed it.

  They couldn’t keep up with the speed of his thoughts, though. The implants they carried in their heads were nowhere near as extensive as Jess’s own. His implants made him an essential part of the ship. A terrifying prospect when it first happened, yet something he happily accepted now. In fact, he found it hard to imagine life without the Wanderer’s presence. Wherever he went the connection remained.

  Jess’s implants were special, the ship had told him. Only one set ever existed at a time, used to link the ship and its captain, though captain didn’t do the reality justice. Jess felt he was part captain, part navigator, part advisor and part biological computer component. It was a view the ship hadn’t denied.

  Sal and Ali’s implants were much simpler, allowing them to connect to the ship and control robots and drones. The implants allowed them to accelerate their thoughts, too, though not anywhere near the level Jess could.

  The moment arrived. The Wanderer tore its way back into real space, just after the three ships it escorted. They emerged almost on top of the bulky pirate base, a number of combat ships and several wicked looking free floating defence platforms.

  Jess immediately started to send out the codes Dash had supplied, hoping that they could avoid a fight. He kept his mind accelerated, making sure he’d be ready for any attack.

  Now he experienced the downside of accelerating his thoughts. The wait to discover whether the codes were accepted or not would have been torture at the best of times. Now Jess had to wait for what would feel like chunks of an hour to him, rather than seconds, all with virtually nothing changing around him.

  He gritted his teeth. Whatever happened he was determined to be as ready as possible. If that meant waiting for hours of subjective time then so be it. For the sake of his friends, and the ex-prisoners on all four ships, he would wait to see if the response was friendly or hostile… however long it took.

  Chapter 5

  Dash tensed as the Wanderer dropped out of jump space, not that there was much he could do. If they were attacked it would all be down to Jess. Dash still didn�
�t know how Jess achieved that control. Jess, Sal and Ali had been reluctant to discuss it. Another sign of how little they trusted him.

  Screens flickered to life, showing the base. Dash had only seen it in person once before. It looked unchanged. The core was a long lattice cylinder which was extremely strong despite being more open space than material. Something like a hundred ships were docked with the core, from fighters right up to a frigate. Massive weapon turrets projected at regular intervals along the core, packed with enough firepower to see off all but the largest of warships

  At the centre point of the cylinder was the living area of the base. It was small compared to the base’s total size, but still large enough to hold several thousand people comfortably if needed. In reality, it rarely had more than a couple of hundred.

  The Wanderer was already in range of the heavier weaponry. If the codes weren’t accepted then they’d know pretty damn soon. As they waited the seconds seemed to stretch out almost endlessly. It felt familiar to Dash. He’d endured the pause before conflict, potential or certain, more times than he could count. Still… this was taking too long.

  “I don’t like this,” Dash said quietly. “If the codes were good we should have received the acknowledgement by now.”

  “And if not?” Ali asked.

  Dash gave a grim smile.

  “Then we’d either be glowing wreckage or plastered to the floor as Jess flew evasive manoeuvres to get us clear.”

  “What’s happening then?”

  “I wish I knew. The codes must have at least bought us some time. My guess is there’s some sort of discussion going on. And that’s bad.”

  Ali went to answer. Dash expected her to ask why it was bad, but Jess interrupted her.

  “Codes have been accepted. They’re asking to talk to you, Dash.”

  Jess slumped slightly where he sat. The strain of waiting seemed to have hit him particularly hard. Why? It hadn’t been that long. Was it somehow related to his control of the ship?

  Dash didn’t have time to follow up on the thought. A screen in front of him flared to life, showing a familiar face.

  “Knuckles! Am I glad to see you,” Dash said.

  “Hello, Boss. What brings you to our neck of the woods?” answered the man with a big smile.

  Dash studied Knuckles for a few moments. He looked older than the last time Dash had seen him, but it had been several years. He looked tired, too. Knuckles was one of the very few left who had been with Dash when he broke from the Empire.

  His real name was Tom Dunton. Short and with a slight frame he’d been one of the calmest of the troops, renowned for never losing his temper or getting into a fight. Until one day a bearlike trooper from another squad picked a fight with Dozer…

  * * *

  Normally Dozer could handle himself in any fight, but not when the first hint it was starting was someone hitting him over the head with a heavy chair leg. Dash had seen the security footage. The blow was brutal. It was a miracle Dozer wasn’t killed.

  Dozer hit the ground almost unconscious. The thug landed two solid kicks to Dozer’s stomach. The third didn’t connect. Tom crashed into the attacker, pushing him back a whole step. The thug grinned down at the man who didn’t even reach his shoulder. Tom had saved Dozer from a severe kicking, but now he was the focus of the brutal trooper.

  The fight was a complete mismatch. Tom managed to dodge a hook which would have taken his head off. Then he sidestepped a brutal jab, but that put him right in the way of another hook. This one connected solidly with the side of Tom’s head, lifting him off the floor before dumping him down on his back.

  And that should have been that. The thug clearly thought it was, as he stood grinning. As Tom fell onto his back he twisted, turning it into a back flip which landed him on his feet. Without a word he closed on the thug again.

  Another thunderous cross sent Tom ducking, bending down low, but this time he lashed out. His open palm smashed into the thug’s knee. Then, on the way back up, he lashed out against the thug’s stomach, chest and the elbow of the still swinging arm.

  By the time Tom stood up straight again, the thug was collapsing. He ended up on the floor, curled up in agony. Tom simply walked past him to help Dozer, not even looking tempted to put the boot in himself.

  News of the fight soon spread, and before long someone had hacked into the security system and the whole squad was watching Tom’s exploits. Someone had commented on how little he looked like a bare knuckle fighter, and that was it. Tom had a new nickname. Knuckles.

  * * *

  Looking at the man on the screen made Dash realise just how many years had passed. It was well over twenty years since Tom picked up his nickname, closer to twenty-five.

  “I was in the neighbourhood and thought I’d look you up,” Dash said.

  “Yeah, right, Boss. There is no neighbourhood here. And you’ve turned up with four ships we’ve never seen before. Are you dragging trouble with you?”

  “You worry too much. No wonder you’ve lost most of your hair.”

  It was an exaggeration, but Knuckles’ hairline had receded a long way over the years.

  “It’s pretty bad, I’ll give you that. I’ve lost some in the centre, but there’s still lots clinging on at the sides, thank the stars.”

  “If you say so. I’m not picking a fight with you.”

  That made Knuckles smile. The line had become a standing joke after he earned his nickname. Not that anyone had picked fights with him before.

  Dash struggled to keep his face neutral. They’d worked out the coded conversation based on Tom’s hair several years before. The answer had sounded innocuous, but it actually told Dash that the base was under occupation. The hair clinging at the sides comment was good, though. It meant that most, if not all, of the docked ships remained loyal.

  “Seriously, Boss, how can we help you?”

  Dash grew solemn.

  “Three of the ships are packed full of slave transports. We need to get all of them offloaded, set the slaves free, then give them food, water and whatever medical treatment they need. The Wanderer has a full load too, though they’ve already been freed.”

  “Wow… you don’t do things by halves. That’s going to be a lot of people. You won’t want to leave them here. Best thing would be to offload them directly onto other ships. Saves moving them twice.”

  “That’s what I thought. Can we make arrangements to do it straight away?”

  “Sure, I can coordinate that. Are you coming aboard? We could catch up over some beers.”

  “Definitely! Once the prisoners are freed, though. Knowing how the Empire treats its slaves I doubt we can save everyone, but I wouldn’t feel right relaxing until we’ve done everything we can. Start working out where you want them offloaded to. I’ll speak to the four captains and work out how we can get people off quickest.”

  “Sure thing, Boss. It’s good to see you.”

  “You too, my friend. You too.”

  Dash killed the connection, trying to decide how much to tell the others. They didn’t place much trust in him. Would they believe what he had to say? Or should he keep quiet and get himself transferred to one of the warships, even if that would mean jumping back into the role he’d played for far too many years?

  Compounding his worries was the thought of Knuckles. Dash knew that whatever happened his friend would likely end up dead, and it would be because of him. That was a heavy weight to carry.

  Chapter 6

  Greenseed Station

  “Incoming ship, Sir,” called out the watch officer.

  Marsh jumped slightly, pulled from a near doze. He was pulling eighteen hour shifts in the command chair. There was nothing for him to do most of the time, but he wanted to be there whenever a ship approached.

  The only reason he didn’t spend all his time there, sleeping upright, was that he’d noticed his officers starting to copy the example he set. While he could get by, dozing in his chair at times if neces
sary, they needed to be sharp all the time.

  “Who is it?” Marsh asked. The call and response had almost become ritual now, the words seldom varying.

  “I can’t tell yet, Sir. It’s small, though. Too small to be a freighter. I think it’s a cutter.”

  “Damn.”

  It was a bad sign. Everyone in the room was suddenly on edge, far more so than when the Silver Tramp had approached. Marsh felt rocks settle into his stomach. This was going to be a bad one. He could feel it.

  “Comms, get me a connection to them,” Marsh snapped out. “Right now.”

  “Aye, Sir.”

  Within seconds a face appeared on the screen in front of Marsh. His heart sank. Staring back at him was a woman with dark circles under her eyes and greasy hair dragged up on top of her head. The camera was on a wide angle, letting Marsh see six children strapped into the seats behind her. One looked to be only a year old, the rest were a spread of ages up to five or six. A couple shared similar features, but the others didn’t look related to each other.

  The woman spoke, tears threatening to fall from her eyes.

  “Thank the stars! We found you! We found you!”

  “I’m sorry,” Marsh said gently. “I don’t know who you think you’ve found, but it isn’t us. We can offer you food and limited supplies, but nothing more. Stop your ship immediately and we can discuss what supplies you need.”

  “No. No, no, no, no, no. We’ve found you. Everyone knows about you. You’ve managed to stay safe. To keep yourselves secure. And you’re doing good too. Giving away food to keep people alive. You can do it. You can keep the children safe. You must!”

  “I’m sorry.” Marsh’s voice was firmer now, though still soft. “We cannot allow you to approach. Slow down now or we will be forced to destroy you.”

  “No. No you won’t. You’ll protect them. I’ll make sure you do.”

  She had a crazed look in her eye now. The look of someone who had been spread too thinly for too long.