Bulkhead lights flickered on in the cargo bay and they peered through the windscreen, high up on the freighter to look at their surroundings. There was nothing to see. The cargo bay was massive and, like everything else in the area, made of dirty concrete. It could have easily fitted in another six spaceships of this size with plenty of room to spare. The walls were bare and there was only one door that they could see. It started to slide open and Hal swivelled in his seat and leaned over to grasp Starfire’s wrist.
“I’m trusting you, Lieutenant,” he said, softly. “I don’t like trusting people, so I hope you ain’t going to let me down.”
“What do you mean?” Starfire tried to extricate her wrist from his iron grip and failed.
“You’ll see,” put in Tranter with a smirk. The door opened fully and Thirty Seven walked out into the bay. Starfire’s mouth opened to speak, then opened wider as another Thirty Seven clanked in. She looked closer. It wasn’t Thirty Seven. It looked like him, but it wasn’t him.
“What? Who?” she spluttered.
“Tranter, Hal,” Vermillion’s voice came over the com, “please bring Lieutenant Starfire to the visitor’s lounge. I would very much like to meet her in person.”
There was no aircar access to the ship in the cargo bay, so they had to leave the Josie the old fashioned way, which was walking down the stairs to get to the ship’s entrance ramp. Stairs would have been a luxury. Tranter had got as far as demolishing all the decks to make more room, but hadn’t installed anything else so the crew compartment hatch opened out onto a cliff edge of steel. Starfire looked over the precipice into the darkness below and shuddered. Several ladders had been roped to the remnants of the previous decks and after a perilous climb down four storeys, they finally reached the floor of the Josie’s hold and Tranter opened the side passenger hatch. Two more Thirty Seven robots had appeared and one of them held out its hand for Starfire to take as she stepped down the ridged ramp and out into the cold bay.
“Thank you,” she said automatically, and it answered her in Thirty Seven’s warm tones.
“You are welcome, Lieutenant Starfire. She stared at the seven foot high machine and Tranter grabbed wrist and pulled her away, still looking backwards at it. There was a strong smell of damp concrete, aviation fuel and dust as they walked across the massive area. They were aiming for the only door at the far end of the cargo bay, the bulkhead lamps at head height making their shadows look very long behind them. There was a short corridor beyond the door with an aircar access hatch open and waiting for them. They sat in it and Starfire looked from Hal to Tranter and back again, unusually silent. During the short journey, she opened her mouth several times to speak, then though better of it. The aircar slowed to a stop and the light over that hatch turned green. They all stood up to leave and Tranter took Starfire’s hand in his.
The hatch opened and Vermillion stood there. Starfire leaned back slightly from the shine but walked with Tranter to stand in front of the machine. She looked vaguely like Thirty Seven in a female sort of way, and was slightly taller. Where Thirty Seven was black, this robot was constructed of Copper, Bronze, Steel and Gold. Her face was contoured to give, pleasant, human-like features and her breast plate had been moulded to give the impression of a female shape underneath. Her legs were rounded, ended in sculptured bare feet and shaped along female lines. She stood there, looking like a beautiful, gleaming, art deco statue. Two tiny crimson epaulettes graced her shoulders and Starfire guessed that it was this that gave her the name.
She held out a graceful, silver and gold coloured hand and Starfire took it.
“Welcome, Lieutenant,” she said. The sound came out of a small, round hole where a human mouth would be, but there were smiling, female lips engraved around it. Her voice was definitely female and sounded gentle, but firm. “Walk with me.” They set off along a well-lit corridor, a five feet six human and a seven feet four robot. Tranter and Hal walked behind and Tranter whispered,
“That could have gone much worse.” Hal nodded quickly and followed the ill matched pair into what they knew as the guest lounge.
It was light and surprisingly airy inside, considering they were well below ground, and the furnishing was plain grey and light wood, but of excellent quality. They sat on a long couch and Vermillion perched on a low stool that put her head level with Starfire’s. Tranter made straight for the food replicator to pour three coffees and Starfire cleared her throat and blurted out,
“The replicator on that dog of a ship only had green tea, wanga curry and tomato soup.” She blushed furiously, then to her surprise, the robot let out a musical laugh.
“Yes, food would be last thing on Tranter’s list of priorities,” she swivelled her head towards him, “wouldn’t it, my friend?” Tranter looked hurt, so Starfire added,
“It was really delicious tomato soup, though.” She accepted her coffee, took a welcome gulp and leaned back with a sigh.
“You will wish to know about me and my associates,” said the robot. “You may call me Vermillion, I am not from your galaxy and I am nine hundred and thirty two years old. She swivelled her bronze head around to look at Starfire. Once, there were thousands of us, but now only seventy eight survive.”
“You sound human,” began Starfire, and the robot laughed.
“We were once human-like creatures, until a plague ravished our world. We built exoskeletal bodies and transferred our consciousness into them, while we could. Over the years, most of us have perished and I am the only Colour left.” Her voice took on a wistful note, “Sapphire, Magenta, Olive, Sienna; all gone.”
“Why do you live here in secret?” asked Starfire. “The knowledge you must possess…”
“This is precisely why, Lieutenant. We have great knowledge and technology at our disposal, but we have seen what can happen when it gets into the wrong hands.” Starfire looked baffled until Tranter put in,
“Rimek.”
“Yes, Rimek,” said Vermillion. A Citizen who so much wanted to be a Colour. He had the fault of pride and was denied every time he asked for promotion.”
“So,” began Starfire, “the Colours are leaders then?”
“Advisors and Councillors only, Lieutenant. We have no power, nor do we crave it. But when we came to your galaxy, poor Rimek saw the younger races and despised them. He saw them as his to rule, despite our advice. We had no recourse but to detain him.”
“That didn’t work out so well, did it?” said Starfire, dryly. Rimek was the dreaded Commissioner of the Galactic Police and second in command only to High Commander Roland of the New Aurian Federation. They had seized power a year ago in a military coup and the Rebel Alliance had sworn to defeat them.
“We are a peaceful people and we did our best, but Rimek was somehow damaged. We had no way of understanding or curing his hurtfulness. Sadly, he killed three Citizens when he escaped and a further six more humans when he stole their spacecraft and fled to the Aurian System. Since that day, we have lived here in secret. You, Hal and Tranter are the only other people who know we are here.”
“And Thirty Seven?” asked Starfire. Vermillion laughed again,
“Ah, Thirty Seven, the only Citizen to turn down the honour of a Colour. He says that human influence has damaged him beyond repair.”
“So, you have numbers then?” Vermillion laughed again,
“No, we have names like you, but they are unpronounceable to humans. Thirty Seven saw the number written on the side of a ship and liked the sound of it. He is a very brave Citizen who tried to recapture Rimek.
“All on his own?” asked Starfire.
“No Lieutenant. I was with him. We gave chase and there was a battle, not far from your asteroid field in the Kelorus Sector. Unlike Rimek, we were new to fighting and our ship was badly damaged.” The beautiful bronze head turned towards Tranter again. “Con Tranter came to our aid, and in doing so was wounded himself.” He looked down at his feet as she continued. “We shall always be grateful. He found th
is planet for us and we have been here ever since. One Colour and seventy six Citizens.”
“Blimey!” Starfire accepted a cigarillo from Hal and ignited it, breathing in the calming, perfumed vapour. The door opened and a black robot walked in. He had a yellow sticky note on his chest with the word ‘BOB’ scrawled on it. He bowed to Vermillion and spoke to Tranter.
“Your engines need a new Balance Converter, Captain Tranter. We have started to replicate one and it will be ready in two hours.”
“Damn it, Bob, can’t you make it any quicker? My friends here have to get to Terrell in a real hurry.” Tranter ran a hand through his black hair in despair and frustration.
“Did you get through to Mike?” asked Hal, trying to change the subject. He knew Tranter was upset. The one and only time Hal asked for a favour and Tranter felt he had let him down.
“Yeah,” he answered, “got through just before we went into hyperspace. Bit of good news there, Hal. Mike’s got a concert for the Marine top brass on Terrell next week. He’s going to get it changed for two days’ time. That should give us enough time to get there.”
“Hello?” put in Starfire, “any chance of letting a humble pilot know what is going on?”
“Mike is a good friend of ours,” said Tranter, proudly. “He’s kinda famous.”
“Really,” sniffed Starfire, clearly not impressed. She didn’t know anyone famous called Mike.
“He can get us into the Marine base on Terrell,” added Hal.
“Ooh, now you’re talking,” Starfire rubbed her hands with glee. “Can you give us any more information than that? Do you know if this concert is on the base or in Steel City somewhere?”
“Only that it’s for the top brass,” said Tranter.
“Well if it’s on the base it’ll have to be in the Officer’s Mess,” began Starfire, “there’s a concert room there. Just how famous is this Mike of yours?”
“You got no idea,” smirked Tranter.
“If he’s really famous, then it could be the Opera House in Steel City,” said Starfire, still unimpressed. Another Citizen walked in, carrying a pile of clothing.
“Since the replicator machine on Captain Tranter’s ship seems to be malfunctioning, we have brought these garments for you.”
“Thank you,” said Starfire, peering at the dark green coveralls, “I think.”
“We can’t walk around on Terrell dressed like this,” said Hal, pointing to his black clothing. “Hopefully Mike has contacted some people for me. We should have some decent identicards waiting for us on Terrell.”
“Friend Hal,” asked Vermillion, “will you tell me what is so important that you should all risk your lives by returning to the planet that wishes to capture you?” Starfire and Hal exchanged looks. Con Tranter hadn’t asked what it was all about, content that Hal would not have asked for help if it hadn’t been important. Starfire shrugged. There didn’t seem to be any point in hiding things now and she nodded to Hal.
“When we all first met,” began Hal, “General Dubois sent us to Serrell. Me and Starfire got separated from the others and got taken by some natives. We kind of pissed them off and they sacrificed us to their gods.”
“Bummer,” said Tranter.
“Anyway,” continued Hal, “it turned out that the sacrificial stone was some sort of transporter. We ended up in an underground city run by the Trenee.”
“The Trenee,” mused Vermillion. “I do not think I have heard of this race.”
“You wouldn’t forget them if you ever saw them,” put in Starfire. “Big; scales; wings; claws; teeth, staring red eyes. Nope, you wouldn’t forget them. Nice people though, when you got to know them.”
“They’ve been there for thousands of years,” added Hal.
“The dragons!” shouted Tranter, piecing Starfire’s description, jigsaw-like, into an image. “You mean the bloody dragons!”
“Yeah,” said Hal.
“They’re real then?” said Tranter. He turned to Vermillion. ”It’s a legend; a kid’s fairy tale,” he explained.
“Sometimes legends are rooted in facts,” said Vermillion. “What happened then, friend Hal?”
“We made a deal,” said Hal. “We sorted out a problem for them and they fixed up our ship. We promised not to reveal their existence to anyone else.”
“How come you’re telling us now then?” asked Tranter.
“Last night they called to us,” said Starfire.
“Do you know why they need you?” asked Vermillion. Starfire shook her head.
“Just terror,” she said. “We both felt mind numbing terror. Something horrible is coming and they can’t stop it.”
“And just how do you think you can help a bunch of Dragons?” asked Tranter.
“Won’t know till we ask them,” stated Hal, flatly.
“There’s no point in waiting for Thirty Seven to give us a destination,” said Raan as they sat in the Grennig’s crew lounge, “we know damn well where they’re going.”
“I know, Captain,” Erion took another sip of coffee, “but we depend on the Alliance for fuel. There’s no way we can afford to go to Serrell and back in the Grennig. Knowing Thirty Seven, he’ll have us do something to pay for the trip.” The com bleeped a little while later and Raan said,
“That’ll be Thirty Seven.”
“I have news, Major,” he said when Delta Ten patched him through. “Hal and Lieutenant Starfire are going to the Terrellian System.”
“No, really?” Raan muttered under his breath. Erion glared at him.
“Then we can go?” asked Erion.
“I just have one small task for you, Major.”
“Here we go,” said Raan, softly.
“Two very important passengers wish to be taken to Aristona. It is virtually on your way so you will not be out of hyperspace for long.” Erion and Raan looked at each other.
“Where do we pick them up, Thirty Seven?” asked Raan.
“They are already waiting in the Cantina hub. I shall send an aircar for them. They will be with you in three minutes.”
“Is there anything we should know about them, Thirty Seven?” asked Erion.
“Only that he is an esteemed and brilliant engineer,” he answered. “General Cloud and his team saved him from certain imprisonment on Norbus Two and brought him here. Aristona has agreed to take him in and hide him so that he may continue his research.”
“Professor Lear and his granddaughter are in the aircar to the Grennig,” Delta Ten’s voice cut into their conversation.
“Come on Major,” Raan rose from the table, “let’s go meet our passengers.” The internal aircar hatch slid open and the professor and his daughter stepped out of it and straight into the Grennig’s hexagonal hall.
“Welcome to the Grennig,” said Erion, raising her hand in the Aurian ‘hands free’ gesture. The old man, and he was very old and badly scarred, placed his palm against hers, linked her fingers and squeezed them gently. She motioned to Raan at her side. “And this is Captain Raan.” The old man bowed and stepped aside.
“This is my granddaughter, Adrianna.” She was beautiful; five feet five of Aurian perfection. Long copper hair was styled and coiled around her doll-like face and her honey coloured skin was flawless. Huge amber eyes glowed with intelligence and when she spoke, her husky voice carried with it a hint of laughter. Erion put her age anywhere between eighteen and twenty five, but it was hard to be sure because her features and skin were perfect.
“It is a pleasure to meet the famous Major Erion Dubois,” she said. “You are a hero of mine.”
“Thank…..” began Erion, but the girl had moved on. “And the celebrated Captain Raan of the Aurian Space Marines,” she curtseyed low. “It is an honour to meet you, sir.” Raan grinned and bowed his head.
“Call me Raan,” he took her hand. “Allow me to escort you to your quarters.” They walked down the circular staircase and stepped through the hatch that led to the crew lounge in a faint cloud of very e
xpensive perfume.
“Professor?” Erion pointed down the stairs and the old man and Erion followed them. The Grennig was not a passenger ship. It had six berths but they were for the crew and contained all that was necessary for basic needs. Because they had made Delta Ten a free machine, he had his own cabin so technically, there was only one spare. Erion decided to put the professor in Hal’s cabin and give the spare one to Adrianna.
“Here you are, Adrianna,” Erion opened the hatch and stood aside to let the young woman inside first. She stood in the centre of it and twirled around like a small child.
“It is perfect, Major,” she exclaimed. “Look, grandfather, a little table and everything.”
“It’s just a table, Adrianna,” he said. Erion had placed a welcoming little flower in a glass on the bedside table and the young woman picked it up, sniffed it with a perfect nose and stroked it thoughtfully against her face.
“And your berth is here, Professor,” Erion showed him to the hatch next door. It hadn’t taken long to get it ready. Apart from some of Hal’s spare, black clothing, one white shirt and his gun cleaning kit, there was nothing else of a personal nature in it.
“Captain Raan, can you show me around your ship?” asked Adrianna.
“Sure,” he said, “when we’re in hyperspace.”
“You are the ship’s pilot?” she said in her husky voice, clearly impressed.
“That is enough, Adrianna,” said the Professor, sternly. “The Captain is a busy man. He does not have time to act as your personal escort.”
“I’m sorry, grandfather,” the girl looked bereft and stared at the floor.
“And the Vanity Unit is here, at the end of the hall,” Erion pointed to the personal cleaning booth in a pathetic attempt at distraction.
“Hey,” Raan hooked a finger under the girl’s chin and lifted it up. Two shining amber eyes gazed steadily at him and, unusually for Raan, his heart lurched a little bit. “Would you like to come and sit in the crew compartment when we take off?”
Starfire and the Space Dragons: A Grennig Crew Adenture Page 3
