Solfleet: Beyond the Call

by Glenn Smith

  Geoff started playing the controls like a concert pianist. “They usually do,” he confirmed, “but the alarm sounds to warn us when an obstacle changes course with us!”

  Dylan nearly fell out of his chair as the ship accelerated hard and banked sharply to port. “Damn, Geoff!” he exclaimed. “You trying to kill us all yourself?”

  “Would you shut up!” Geoff demanded. “I’m trying to...” The forward portion of a very large vessel’s belly suddenly moved into view ahead of them and above, and then started slowly moving closer. “Maybe you should ask them if they’re trying to kill us.”

  Dylan and Verdai glanced at one another, then moved forward together and stared out through the viewport. Having closed to within what Dylan estimated to be no more than about fifty feet, far too close to identify, the vessel now held its relative position above them while both vessels continued sliding through jumpspace. “Hel-lo,” Dylan quietly greeted it for no particular reason. The he asked, “Any idea who they are?”

  “An idea,” Geoff replied.

  “Mind sharing with the rest of the class?”

  “More of Cortan’s warrior friends,” Geoff answered without hesitation.

  “In their own vessel?” Dylan asked. Then he turned to Verdai and asked him, “Do your people have the expertise to crew a vessel of their own?”

  “Unlikely, Eric,” Verdai answered, “but they are every bit as capable of hiring a ship and crew as you are.”

  “If they are more of Cortan’s warriors, I have to say that I’ve had just about enough of them,” Verdai commented.

  “You and me both,” Dylan agreed.

  “Maybe we should just give you to them this time,” Geoff suggested.

  Dylan glared at him but didn’t reply, then looked back out at the vessel. The last thing he wanted to do was send out a distress call. If anyone responded in time—and that was a very big ‘if,’—he would no doubt be identified quickly and be taken into custody, and then his mission would be ended for good. Still, he had to at least consider it, because whoever was inside that other ship could also bring his efforts to an end, and that threat was much more immediate. “Can we transmit a distress call?” he asked.

  Geoff checked the board, then shook his head and said, “Negative. They’re jamming all channels... except for one that is. And I’ll give you three guesses as to which one.”

  “Theirs,” Dylan guessed.

  “You win a cookie.”

  “Then let’s give them a call.”

  Geoff glared at Dylan for a moment as though he’d lost his mind, but then, apparently lacking any better ideas, he opened the channel and sent, “This is Captain Geoff Dehner of the Star Eagle, a private yacht, United Earth Federation registry U-E-F, C-L-C, eight-seven-three-six-three, to unidentified vessel paralleling our course at danger-close range. Please respond.”

  Silence.

  “Unidentified vessel, please respond.”

  More silence... for a few moments. And then, suddenly, the head and shoulders view of a dark-skinned man with a less than immaculately-groomed beard replaced the partial view of the vessel’s keel.

  “Guess again, Geoff,” Dylan mumbled.

  “Pirates?”

  “Bounty hunters, actually,” the man corrected him, speaking in an accent that sounded a lot like several accents mixed together. Then he bared his yellow teeth in a sort of grimace that Dylan assumed was supposed to pass for a smile. “So, you all live. Good for us. Cortan’s people should have known not to send a gaggle of boys to do men’s work.”

  “What do you want, Mister?” Geoff asked him.

  “Mister? Ah, yes. Please, forgive me, Captain Dehner. My name is Jonah Abdul Salam Zubari al-Arashi. You may call me Captain al-Arashi. My vessel is the Ice Dagger.”

  “I believe I asked you what you want,” Geoff said.

  “Yes, you did, but what we want seems to have changed in recent days. When we began this little jaunt, our commission was to find and capture your passenger and then return him to Naku-Wei, where we would turn him over to Warrior Cortan’s clan and collect our bounty. But, as it turns out, Solfleet is looking for a fugitive criminal by the name of Dylan Graves—a man wanted for several capital crimes—and they’re willing to pay more for him than the Naku are.”

  Dylan felt the heat rising in his face.

  “What does that have to do with us?” Verdai asked.

  “Your passenger is the criminal Dylan Graves.”

  Geoff and Verdai both looked at Dylan, who looked right back at them and said, “You know he’s just trying to get you to turn me over to him willingly, right? This is all about Cortan’s oath. Nothing more.”

  Geoff nodded and then looked back at the bounty hunter while Dylan hurriedly headed below. “Our passenger’s name isn’t Dylan Graves. It’s Eric Richards, and we know about the blood-oath Cortan swore against him. There’s no need to cover your intentions with lies. So just tell me, what exactly are your intentions?”

  “What lies?” the bounty hunter asked. “I told you up front that I’m a bounty hunter and I told you that my commission was to take your passenger into custody and return him to Naku-Wei. I have not lied to you.”

  “I’ve not lied to you, either,” Geoff pointed out. “This man’s name isn’t Dylan Graves.”

  “I’m sure that is what he told you.”

  Geoff sighed, seemed to think about his next words for a moment, and then said, “Well, regardless of what his real name might be, he hired me and my ship and crew to take him where he wants to go. That’s our commission.”

  “And unlike you, we do not back out on a commission,” Verdai added, “an act for which Cortan’s clan will make you pay dearly when they catch up to you, by the way.”

  “They paid me nothing up front, so they have lost nothing.”

  “You have a lot to learn about my people,” Verdai informed him.

  “Enough chatter!” al-Arashi shouted as Dylan returned to the flight deck, handcomp in hand. “Prepare to be brought into our shuttle bay and boarded! You will turn Mister Graves over to my crew! If you do that peacefully, I might release you afterwards!”

  “This man is not the man you’re looking for, Captain!” Geoff shouted back, pointing at Dylan as Dylan brought something up on his handcomp. “I will not simply...”

  “Enough!” the bounty hunter barked angrily. “You will turn him over to me willingly or I will take him by force!”

  Dylan held his handcomp up where Verdai could see its screen and whispered, “Verdai, get us the hell out of here before he takes this ship aboard his own. These are our new destination coordinates.” Verdai gazed at the handcomp’s screen, then turned his eyes to Dylan and stared at him as though he wasn’t sure whether or not he should listen to him anymore. “Verdai,” Dylan continued, “you know damn well what will happen if you let them take us aboard.”

  “Yes, I do, Eric... or Dylan... or whatever your name really is,” Verdai confirmed. “They will take you into custody and then let the rest of us go.”

  “That’s right, and you’ll all be free to go about your business... in deep space... normal space... decades away from the nearest jumpstation.” Verdai looked at him as though he hadn’t thought about that. “You’ll all starve to death, or if you’re lucky, die of old age before you ever reach another port.”

  Verdai turned his gaze on the controls and then dashed forward and hit the thrusters. The ship lurched forward and pivoted slightly, but then shook violently as a thunderous noise echoed through the hull, tossing Dylan and Verdai to the deck. Dylan nearly tumbled down the gangway but managed to grab hold of the railing and stop his fall. The gravity field fluctuated and for a moment Dylan felt as if he was going to fall sideways, but then the normal gravity returned.

  al-Arashi snickered with amusement, then said, “Nice try, Captain Dehner, but too slow. We’ve captured your vessel in our grappler and will begin reeling you into our bay very shortly. If you’d like to keep the damage t
o a minimum, I suggest you don’t try to escape again.”

  al-Arashi’s image faded out and the normal view through the viewport returned. All three men stood there quietly for the next several moments, but nothing happened.

  “Why haven’t they started taking us aboard?” Dylan then asked, thinking that maybe, as pilots, Geoff or Verdai might have been aware of something that he wasn’t.

  “I don’t know,” Geoff replied, still staring up at the other ship’s hull.

  “Look at this,” Verdai said.

  Dylan glanced over at Verdai—the Naku was doing something with the external camera controls—and then looked up at the viewport when a new image appeared. Just a few hundred meters aft, an Olympus-class Solfleet starcruiser was following them through jumpspace. “Well hello there, and welcome to the party,” he commented.

  “Looks like they’re transmitting a message to al-Arashi’s ship,” Geoff observed, looking at the sensor display.

  “Can you tap into it,” Dylan asked him.

  “No problem,” Geoff answered, reaching for the comm-panel. He tapped a button.

  “...of the starcruiser Katana to unidentified vessel. You have captured an unarmed vessel of civilian registry. Request you declare your intentions. Respond, please.”

  al-Arashi’s answer came in the form of a laser cannon shot fired at the Katana, but the beam deflected harmlessly off of her hull.

  “That wasn’t very smart,” Dylan remarked.

  “Unidentified vessel, you will cease hostile actions and power down your weapons, or we will be forced to engage you. You have...” The voice suddenly cut off.

  “Geoff?” Dylan inquired.

  “Someone’s contacting us,” Geoff advised him, looking down at the comm-panel again. Then he switched over to the other channel and advised the unknown caller, “You have the Star Eagle. This is owner-operator Captain Geoff Dehner. Go ahead.”

  “Captain Dehner, this is Lieutenant Commander Seeba Trellion. I’m the chief of security aboard the Katana. Your passenger, the man you know as Eric Richards, is actually a fugitive by the name of Dylan Graves—possibly another alias. He’s wanted by Solfleet legal authorities for several serious offenses. You are ordered to maneuver into a position outside our hangar bay and stand by. We will bring you aboard. Once we’ve taken him into custody, your statements will be taken and we’ll transport you to the nearest jumpstation so you can return home.”

  “The vessel has us grappled,” Geoff advised the security chief.

  “They won’t for much longer.”

  “And what about our money? Whoever our passenger might be, he’s promised to pay us quite a bit for our services, and so far he’s only paid a tenth of the agreed upon fee.”

  “Are you telling me that you knew who he was all along, Mister Dehner?”

  “No, no! I just...”

  “Because if you are...”

  “I’m not! I’m just telling you that he owes us a lot!”

  “Commodore Kihoe will have to verify it, but I suspect Solfleet will see that you’re fully compensated for your trouble. However, if you fail to follow my instructions to the letter, you’ll all be taken into custody and your vessel will be impounded.”

  “Fine,” Geoff acquiesced. “As soon as my ship is free, I’ll comply. Dehner out.” Geoff closed the channel, then turned to Dylan and said, “I don’t know what the hell you’re up to or what you’re running away from, Eric... or Dylan... or whatever the hell your name is, but I don’t want any part of it. Losing my ship to the authorities was never part of our deal.”

  Dylan sighed. What was he going to do? He couldn’t ask anything more of these people, could he? They’d already gone through so much because of him already. Then again, his mission was vitally important and he was down to his last month—perhaps even his last week. If he didn’t reach the Excalibur soon, it was going to be too late. He was going to have no choice but to pursue the alternate course of action that he’d come up with a few minutes ago—the course that he’d tried to have Verdai set them on—and he really, really didn’t want to have to do that. “I understand that, Geoff,” he finally said. “Let’s just see how this plays out first.”

  Verdai had pulled up external camera images of the other two vessels and was displaying them on the smaller console screens. No sooner did Dylan glance down at them when the Ice Dagger fired once more on the Katana. As best he could tell, the beams bounced harmlessly off of the starcruiser’s hull plating, but this time, rather than transmit another warning, the Katana fired back, striking their grappler and breaking the Star Eagle free.

  “Geoff, get us the hell out of here!” Dylan yelled as he suddenly lunged for the flight controls. But Geoff grabbed him from behind and pulled him back.

  “You heard what they said!” he shouted. “They’ll take my ship if we try to run!”

  “al-Arashi is turning his weapons on us, Geoff!” Verdai warned as he fired the starboard thrusters. “Do as he says or they will destroy us!”

  “Star Eagle, this is Commander Trellion aboard the Katana! You are ordered to stand down and prepare to be brought aboard! Star Eagle, come in! Damn it, come back here!”

  As soon as Verdai had maneuvered them well out of the line of fire he plotted a coarse for the coordinates Dylan had given him and engaged at full power.

  * * *

  “Enemy vessel is veering off, Commodore!” Beacham shouted.

  “Easy does it, Ensign,” Kihoe responded, raising his voice no more than necessary. Then he ordered, “Fire lasers across their bow and a spread of low-yield torpedoes at their weapons banks and fire.”

  “Not questioning your tactics sir, but... low yield?” Major Hansen asked him.

  Twin beams of crimson lashed out beyond the Ice Dagger’s bow as torpedoes impacted and exploded over several different areas of her hull, badly damaging or destroying a number of her weapons banks while sparing those same areas of her hull.

  “I’m not trying to kill them, Major,” Kihoe then replied. “I’m just trying to scare them into compliance.”

  “Of course, sir,” Hansen said.

  “All weapons banks damaged or destroyed, sir,” Beacham reported. “Minor damage to hull plating as well.”

  “Very well. Communications, hail them and advise...”

  The Ice Dagger suddenly vanished from the screen as though it had simply winked out of existence, and despite his usually calm demeanor, Kihoe practically leapt to his feet. “What just happened?” he inquired. “Where did they go?”

  “They dropped out of jumpspace, Commodore!” Beacham reported, every bit as shocked as he was.

  Hansen couldn’t believe his ears. Who in the galaxy would be crazy enough to drop out of jumpspace so far away from a jumpstation? They might be lost out here for years. Decades! Hell, for all he knew they could be centuries from everywhere!

  Commander Walker watched Kihoe closely as the commodore returned to his seat. “They weren’t the ones we were sent out here after anyway, sir,” he reminded the older man, hoping more than anything else just to raise his friend’s spirits a little bit.

  “No, Mister Walker, they were not,” Kihoe agreed. “You’re absolutely right.” He pressed a button on the console mounted to the arm of his chair. “Kihoe to flight operations.”

  “Security Chief Trellion here, sir,” the answer came. In Hansen’s opinion, Trellion did not sound like a man who had anything good to report.

  “Have you folks down there brought the Star Eagle aboard yet?” Kihoe asked him.

  “I’m afraid not, sir,” Trellion replied, regret evident in his tone.

  “Why not, Commander?”

  “Sir, they escaped while our attention was on the other ship.”

  “Oh, no,” Walker murmured, drawing Hansen’s attention to him.

  “Very well, Mister Trellion. Bridge out.” Kihoe closed the channel and then looked over at Walker and quietly said, “Here we go again, Commander.” Then he issued his orders
. “Ensign Beacham, try to locate their jump nacelle signature again. We found them once, so we can find them again.”

  “Uh, sir?” Beacham responded. “That isn’t going to be so easy this time.”

  “Explain, Ensign.”

  “All the weapons fire and explosions. Any trace energies the Star Eagle might have left behind have been totally wiped away.”

  “The captain of the Ice Dagger obviously wanted that ship or someone on it very badly, sir, or they never would have risked something as stupid as firing on us to try to get away,” Walker pointed out. “My guess is that they’re still after it.”

  “But they dropped out of jumpspace, Commander,” Kihoe returned.

  “At least, we think they did. Readings are sketchy at best in jumpspace.”

  Kihoe looked forward and stared at the small violet-blue jumpspace donut in the center of the otherwise black screen again, obviously considering his options. Then, a few moments later, he said, “Yes, I quite agree, Commander. Ensign Beacham, add the Ice Dagger’s signature to your search parameters. If you find it, pass the information on to the helm.”

  “Aye, sir.”

  * * *

  “So what do we do now?” Geoff asked. Everyone except Stacy had gathered in the galley to discuss their options. “Do we go find the nearest Solfleet facility and turn him in or do we take him where he wants to go?”

  “I promise you,” Dylan began, “that if you take me where I want to go, I’ll protect you. You won’t be arrested.”

  “Why should we believe you?” Geoff asked him, his tone challenging. “You’re a wanted fugitive from the law—a criminal.”

  “Allegedly,” Nicole clarified.

  “It’s not like that at all,” Dylan told him, although it actually was exactly like that.

  “You lied to us about your name... allegedly. Why would you do that if you didn’t have anything to hide?”

  “I’m not the one they’re looking for, Geoff.”

  “I don’t believe you. I’m not buying your bullshit.”

  “On the other hand,” Garcia spoke up, “with what he’s promised to pay us, you could buy a lot of other stuff. Spare parts, systems upgrades, enhancements to the amenities.”