by R. E. Weber
‘As you can no doubt see, we have sustained minor structural damage and lost efficiency in several systems,’ replied First Mentor.
‘Are we gonna make it home?’ said Theo.
‘The vessel will reach Polisium Prime intact,’ said First Mentor.
Home? Could it be that he was really now thinking of Polisium Prime as home? Just possibly. Despite all he’d been through, what he looked forward to the most was getting back to his drab quarters. Somehow, they now seemed homely and inviting. And then there were his friends. He couldn’t wait to see Weng and poke fun at his chubby cheeks, or tease Ruby with his bad jokes and watch her scowl. Anything, just as long as he saw them again. And then he thought that perhaps home wasn’t about a place. It was about people. The people he cared about.
Theo was deep in thought when he suddenly realised that the on-going status display had disappeared from his companion.
‘First Mentor. Where’s the status display gone?’
For several seconds there was no answer, and Theo was just about to ask again, when he received a simple one-word reply. ‘Standby’.
‘Standby?’ said Theo. ‘What sort of answer is that?’
But there was no reply. He was about to ask again, but then thought better of it. He had learnt by now that when First Mentor told him to do something, there was usually a good reason for it. So he just lay there in silence, wondering what was happening and, if he was honest, feeling a little concerned.
After a minute or so of silence, his patience had just about ran out, and he was about to ask, no demand, that First Mentor told him what was happening, when suddenly, there was a loud bang and the whole room shuddered.
‘Mist,’ shouted Theo, ‘what the hell was that?’
There was no reply.
‘First Mentor, please. What’s going on?’ Still there was no answer.
Then there was another loud bang and the whole room suddenly tipped sideways. Reaching out, Theo grabbed the edge of the bed and just about managed to stop himself falling onto the floor. As he gripped the edge of the bed tightly, a wave of pain shot up from his clenched hand to his shoulder, causing him to yelp.
‘First Mentor, please,’ gasped Theo. ‘I need to know what’s going on. You can’t leave me here like this on my own, not knowing, please.’
There was no reply and he was about to try and plead again when he heard a different voice.
‘Theo,’ said Orientator.
‘What’s going on?’
‘We are under attack,’ said Orientator, seemingly calm.
‘Attack? From who?’ said Theo.
‘The Star Shield Platform.’
‘The Star Shield Platform?’ said Theo even more alarmed. ‘Isn’t that supposed to protect us?’
‘It is…’ Orientator paused for a moment, ‘malfunctioning. It appears to have incorrectly identified our vessel as hostile.’
‘Please,’ said Theo, ‘let me see it.’
‘It would not be wise at this moment in time. First Mentor is currently pre-occupied deploying an evasive flight path and defensive measures. All its concentration is required for this.’
‘But you could do it, couldn’t you?’ said Theo. ‘You could help me see what’s happening. Please, I can’t stand it here on my own, not knowing what’s going on.’
Suddenly, there was another loud bang and the ship shuddered violently again, almost knocking Theo to the floor.
‘I need to see what’s happening,’ demanded Theo. ‘I want to see everything, the ship’s status, an outside view, everything. Immediately.’
‘It would only alarm you,’ replied Orientator.
‘DO IT,’ said Theo angrily. ‘I’m an operative of the Star Agency and I DEMAND IT. After what I’ve just been through, I can’t imagine anything worse.’
‘Very well,’ said Orientator. ‘I will patch you into the Defence Control matrix.’
Moments later, four separate video feeds appeared on Theo’s companion. Two were mostly empty with only background star fields visible. However one seemed to be of a distant moon or planet, which was growing slowly larger; he guessed that it was the forward view. But it was the last feed that really caught his attention, and he immediately recognised the object in the centre: the Star Shield Platform. And as he watched the image with rising panic, a bright pulse of light shot out from the platform heading rapidly towards the ship. Almost immediately, he heard a loud bang and felt the ship shudder violently. Then two intensely bright pinpoints of light shot away from the ship towards the Star Shield platform, exploding seconds later in a bright flash nearby. Return fire. Then the Star Shield platform attacked again, closely followed by a loud bang and shudder, which again almost tipped Theo off his couch. Continually, the ship returned fire, but the pinpoints of light seemed to be exploding either in front of or to one side of the platform. It appeared to have shields of its own. And they were holding.
Theo looked at the bottom of each feed and noticed various status messages scrolling by, some of which he didn’t immediately understand. But there was one that remained visible constantly and made perfect sense:
Shield Strength: 57%
And as he watched, he could see that it was dropping. Fast.
Then suddenly, the Star Shield platform stopped attacking, and for several seconds nothing else seemed to be happening.
‘What’s going on now?’ said Theo. ‘Are we out of range? Are we safe?’
‘I am afraid not,’ said First Mentor suddenly.
‘But it seems to have stopped attacking,’ said Theo.
‘No,’ said First Mentor. ‘Its close range attack weapon has now reached its effective limit. It is now preparing long-range attack drones.’
In front of the Star Shield Platform, several tiny pinpoints of light appeared, almost as if a door had opened releasing a swarm of bees. For a moment, the lights just floated in front of the Platform. Then they began to race towards the ship. As Theo stared at the video feed, another wave of dizziness swept through him and he felt the urge to be violently sick.
‘Ha.. h….have you called for help?’ said Theo, his heart now thumping hard in his chest.
‘A distress call has already been sent,’ said First Mentor calmly.
Theo waited for First Mentor to continue, hoping that there was more: that help was on the way and all was going to be well. But there was nothing except silence.
‘AND?’ replied Theo angrily.
‘We have received no response,’ said First Mentor.
‘Why the hell not?’ said Theo, the panic rising again in his voice. ‘There must be somebody who can help.’
‘There would appear to be no vessels in the Athonesis system which can assist us,’ said First Mentor.
‘But what about Polisium Prime? Surely they can send help?’
‘As you know Theo, the distress call will not reach Polisium for approximately two hours. This is due to the time lag…’
‘Two hours?’ interrupted Theo, alarmed. ‘We’ll be….’ he swallowed hard as he tried to spit out the next word, but somehow his mouth wouldn’t open.
‘Theo,’ said First Mentor. ‘I had hoped to spare you this conversation for another time, but I believe it is only fair that now, as you are observing the unfolding events, nothing is kept from you.’
‘WHAT CONVERSATION?’ yelled Theo angrily? ‘What are you talking about?’
‘You must prepare yourself for what is to come,’ said First Mentor calmly.
‘So what is to come?’ said Theo, feeling both angry and sick.
‘Theo, I’m sorry,’ said First Mentor, ‘but I need to inform you that the firepower of the attack drones that have just been launched, is far too powerful for this ship to repel before we reach the Quantum Portal on the Athonesis Moon.’
‘WHAT DO YOU MEAN?’ said Theo, shaking with rage.
‘It means that I cannot conceive of any possible scenario under which we can survive this attack.’
Theo lay on t
he couch open mouthed, letting the words sink in. ‘Any possible scenario under which we can survive this attack’.
‘We are going to…’ Theo paused again. ‘We are going to die, Mist. Is that what you are saying?’
‘Theo,’ interrupted Orientator. ‘All Star Agency personnel are trained for this possible outcome. In our haste to send you on this mission, we did not feel it was appropriate and therefore did not assign any time for this. In hindsight however, it seems that this may have been a mistake. For that we….’ he paused for a moment, ‘apologise to you.’
‘You train people for death?’ said Theo. ‘I don’t believe I’m hearing this.’
‘It is only proper,’ said First Mentor, ‘that Star Agency personnel should be prepared for this outcome. It is always a possibility, however remote.’
‘But it sounds like you’re just giving up,’ said Theo. ‘I nearly died on that planet down there. My heart stopped. You rescued me and restarted it. Now you’re telling me after all that, after all I’ve been through, I’m going to get killed here, lying on this bed. NO WAY. IT CAN’T HAPPEN LIKE THIS. Send another distress call and keep sending it. Keep sending it until you run out of power.’
‘It is pointless,’ said First Mentor flatly. ‘If there were any vessels within range which could reach us in time, then we would have received a response by now.’
Theo paused for a moment, not knowing what to say. After all, what was there to say? Nothing except perhaps one question: one single heart-stopping question. A question that stuck deep in his throat before coming out of his dry mouth. ‘How long?’ said Theo. ‘How long before we’re destroyed?’
‘At the current rate of shield depletion, I estimate 3.2 Seh’nu,’ said First Mentor.
‘Then we do have time,’ said Theo. ‘Send the message again.’
‘There is no purpose in this,’ said First Mentor, ‘and besides, we should conserve power.’
‘FOR WHAT?’ said Theo angrily? ‘We’re going to die anyway. What’s the point? Just send it again. You never know, we might get lucky.’
‘It isn’t possible,’ said First Mentor. ‘We need to despatch a final status snapshot drone. This will consume much of our remaining energy reserves.’
‘A WHAT?’ said Theo angrily.
‘We need to download a node memory core dump, ship status report and situation summary to a drone, which will then be despatched to Star Agency command for review. In essence, this drone is what you might term a black box.’
‘Black box?’ said Theo. ‘You mean like they have on airplanes back home to find out why they crashed?’
‘Correct. Except that the drones can return to their point of origin.’
‘Why do we need to waste our time with that?’ said Theo. ‘Why can’t we just send the message again?’
‘Protocol requires that we….’
‘SEND THE MESSAGE!’ yelled Theo. ‘SEND IT AGAIN, NOW!’
‘Theo,’ said Orientator, ‘you must have the courage to face the inevitable outcome of this situation. You must…’
‘SEND THE DAMN MESSAGE,’ screamed Theo. ‘I’m not ready to die. Not yet. If you don’t wanna send it, then let me. DO IT NOW. THAT’S AN ORDER.’
For a several seconds there was no reply. Then finally, he heard First Mentor’s calm voice again. ‘Your opinion is noted. Please select the option I have just sent to your companion.’
Theo stared at his companion. Right in the centre of the screen there was a red pulsing symbol consisting of four linked circles. For a moment, he stared at the option, his heart thumping hard. Then he selected it:
Star Agency emergency distress channel.
Select
Automated distress call
Verbal distress call
Quickly, Theo selected Verbal distress call and began to speak.
‘Pre-operative Logan, requesting immediate assistance. Please respond. Star Agency vessel, registration Alpha 3572 under attack from Athonesis Star Shield platform. Emergency, please help. Shields failing, ship badly damaged….’
For a moment, Theo paused, not knowing what else to say. Then he simply added ‘please, I don’t want to die. Anybody. Any being that can hear me. Please help.’ Then he selected Send:
Full spectrum distress call sent.
Theo took a long, slow, deep breath. ‘Thank you, First Mentor,’ he said finally, his voice surprisingly calm.
‘You are welcome,’ replied First Mentor.
Theo was trying hard to think of a reply, when there was a sudden succession of loud bangs and the ship juddered violently. He looked in horror at the rear view on his companion. The drones, which had closed in on the ship, were bobbing and weaving like angry wasps, firing multiple energy pulses, each of which caused the ship to shudder violently. He checked the shield status again:
Shield Strength: 36%
Then there was an enormous bang and a massive jolt, and Theo was hurled off the bed onto the floor, landing with a loud crunch. As he landed on his side, he screamed in agony and instinctively rolled away onto his back to escape the pain, certain that his arm had been broken. But even lying on his back, his whole left side was throbbing in agony as if he’d just been hurled bodily out of a first floor bedroom window. As he lay staring at the ceiling, gasping for breath, his vision began to lose focus. But even though his own eyesight was failing, he could still read his companion messages clearly, even though part of him wished he couldn’t:
Inertial Suppressors: Non-functional.
Theo didn’t even bother to try and climb back onto the couch. Aside from the pain, he knew it would be a waste of time. So instead, he just lay there, watching in horror as the drones continued to attack:
Shield Strength: 31%, 30%, 29%….
Then, as he continued to watch the screen with sickening dread, he saw something incredible. Ribbons of light and energy were snaking out of the back of the ship and heading towards one of the drones. Mist! As Theo watched in awe, the tendrils of light reached one of the drones and began to swirl around it. Within the swirling vortex, he could see what looked like dancing sparks of energy flickering across its surface. First Mentor was attacking the drone.
For what seemed like an eternity, Theo watched as First Mentor engulfed the drone with a glowing, spinning column of light. But despite its efforts, the drone was still attacking. And the ship’s shields were still dropping rapidly. 24%, 23%, 22%. For a brief moment, he’d felt just a tiny glimmer of hope. But now his heart had begun to sink again.
Then, as suddenly as it had started, it stopped. The energy weapon stopped firing and the drone just seemed to turn on its side and drift away, lifeless. First Mentor had disabled it. The coils of light unwrapped themselves from the disabled drone and swam gracefully across space until they reached a second drone. Then First Mentor began to attack again.
‘Go, Mist,’ shouted Theo excitedly. He looked back at the other drones. How many more were left? Seven. He looked down at the shield status.17%, 16%, 15%. ‘It’s taking too long,’ said Theo out loud. ‘First Mentor will never disable them all in time.’
‘Correct,’ said Orientator. ‘All First Mentor is doing is extending our remaining time to allow us to safely despatch the final snapshot drone.’
‘No he’s not,’ said Theo. ‘He’s buying us time – time to escape.’
‘I am sorry Theo but this is not the case. We still cannot survive this situation.’
‘The shields,’ said Theo. ‘What happens when the shields reach zero?’ Then he realised it was a stupid question. He knew exactly what was going to happen.
‘Once the shields reach zero power, the drones will be able to compromise the ship’s hull. It will then take only seconds to…’
‘But what about the pods?’ interrupted Theo. ‘Can’t we escape in them?’
‘No,’ said Orientator. ‘The release mechanism was damaged when the ship collided with the canyon floor. And in any case, the pods would not be able to repel the drones’ fir
epower long enough to reach the quantum portal.’
Theo could no longer speak. After all, there was nothing else to say. That was it. It was all over. Soon his life would be coming to an end and all Mist was doing was delaying the inevitable. He looked back at the shield status, which was still dropping.10%, 9%, 8%. He looked back at Mist again to see that it had disabled a second drone and was moving onto the third. But it was all too late. Any moment now…
‘Theo?’
‘Yes, Orientator?’ said Theo angrily.
‘I believe your people have a saying in circumstances such as these.’
‘Yeh,’ said Theo. ‘I can think of a few.’
There was a slight pause before Orientator continued, his voice now quieter and shakier than it had been before. ‘It…it has been an honour to be acquainted with you.’
For a brief moment, Theo stopped watching the attacking drones, shocked to the core at what he had just heard. Orientator had seemed so calm throughout the attack. Now suddenly, there was a sense of panic in his voice.
‘Erm I don’t know what to…. erm. I mean, you too I guess,’ said Theo, with a cold shiver of fear shooting up his spine.
‘I am... afraid,’ said Orientator. ‘My family...’
Theo didn’t say another word as a tiny tear rolled down one cheek. Then he looked back at the shield status:
3%
2%
1%
Theo closed his eyes and waited. But even though his eyes were squeezed shut, he could still see his companion screen. Then the display changed again and he stared at the message in stark terror:
Shield: Non functional
*
What happened next, seemed to take place in slow motion. Theo had been so busy watching the Star Shield Platform and attack drones to the rear of the ship, that he’d scarcely paid any attention to the forward view. Now suddenly, he noticed it. The moon ahead of them was much larger now than it had been moments ago and they were close, really close! The Quantum Portal couldn’t have been more than about a minute away at their current speed. So near and yet so far. Then, as he stared transfixed at the moon, a bright arc of light appeared around its edge as the distant sun burst over the horizon. Despite its distance, it was still incredibly bright, and for a moment it seemed like the most wonderful sight in the Universe. His final sunrise! Then the sun seemed to dim, and as he squinted, he thought he could just make out what looked like a tiny spec moving in front of it. Was he seeing things? Probably. It was just wishful thinking: a last desperate hope that he might be rescued in the nick of time. Then the spec seemed to disappear and the sun brightened. It had to be his imagination. Then he saw it again: the sun’s brightness dipped and a tiny spec seemed to pass quickly in front of it. Now he knew he wasn’t imagining things; there really was something there. No not something, somethings! Then a dark shadow flicked briefly over the Ghost Wing, closely followed by another, and suddenly two huge shapes were racing towards them at terrifying speed, their edges glinting in the distant sunlight. Ships!
