“We have an emergency. I need you to assume monitor activities for this watch while we take care of him.”
“Yes, Senior Monitor.” Digs accepted the sudden promotion with no elation whatsoever.
“You are currently operating your training techniques within Vector Two, yes, of course, that is how I heard of you. Very well, carry on.” He started to turn away, then stopped. “No, wait. There is a message on the table there for the diplomat. Along with a manifest. A ship left Avanti by lightway at the start of our watch. It’s all there. Report in when you finish your watch.” Then he turned away in dismissal.
As Digs directed their floater back toward the training station, Wander asked, “What was that all about?”
Digs shrugged miserably. “It happens sometimes, or so I’ve heard. The beast gets the better of somebody and tears him apart. First time I’ve ever seen a senior monitor break, though.”
There was none of the banter that had come to signal their growing friendship as they hooked in and began the power-up routine. The training task was simple, though Wander did his best to mask the fact. Each training period, they directed their attention back to Avanti, then began working outward, tracing the lightways, learning the myriad of interconnecting lanes and stellar configurations that made up the inner Hegemony star chart. Avanti was ever the starting point, an anchor for their work. Yet because Digs was always there and vigilant at the onset of each training period, Wander had been unable to leave a second message.
This time, however, was very, very different.
The power-up complete, they made what was now a swift and steady approach to Avanti. But just as they arrived and turned away, Wander found himself overwhelmed by Consuela’s love.
There was no mistaking the fact that it was she. Words were not necessary. He felt it was Consuela, knew it was she, knew it was a gift for him. A gift of her heart. And a single, fleeting, urgent message.
He felt the passion of her awakening affection, the sadness over his departure, the determination to find him, the longing hope that they would soon come together once more. All of it was there, bound together by the indelible strands of her love.
Wander felt his own heart fill to the bursting point at the same time that Digs was jerking away, pulling back, powering down. He allowed himself to return to the training station, knowing that she was no longer on Avanti, certain that he would carry her gift forever.
Digs tore off his headset, asked, “What was that?”
Wander found it surprisingly easy to play at calm. “What was what?”
“You didn’t feel that?”
“Feel what?”
“Nothing.” Digs’s hands were shaking as he set the headset down on the table between them. “Are you sure you’re all right?”
“Yes.” Wander watched him rise unsteadily to his feet and felt a faint glimmer of hope. “Aren’t we going to train?”
Digs looked at him in disbelief. “You really want to go back?”
“Sure. You said I needed to work as hard as I could. I’m ready.”
“Maybe you are,” Digs said, looking askance at his own headset. “I couldn’t do it again now.”
As calmly as his stuttering heart would allow, he suggested, “Then let me go alone.”
“What?”
“It’s got to happen sometime. I’ve seen how you order the power-up. Why don’t you let me give it a try?”
Digs appeared to be having difficulty focusing on what he was saying. “Sure, if you want. I think, yeah, maybe I’ll go report to the diplomat about . . .” He glanced at the papers given to him by the monitor. Color was gradually returning to his face. “About this ship. Flagged planets are supposed to be kept on constant watch, and, anyway, what better way for him to think you’re getting blasted than to send you off so early on your own.” He stopped and looked down at Wander. “Sure you can do it?”
“Don’t see why not.” Almost there. Almost. “I just go back to Avanti, right?”
“Yeah, and stay there. We’ll start mapping again next watch.” Another disturbed glance at his headset, then Digs moved toward the floater. “I won’t be long.”
Wander watched as the yellow stone platform flew up toward the distant roof, holding back as long as he could manage, before fitting on his headset. His heart thundering with anticipation, Wander did the mental reach as he had observed Digs make, and gave a silent shout of exultation as the power-up began.
With eager swiftness he reached out and forwarded himself to Avanti. The task was relatively easy. The system only had four lightways radiating outward, and the monitor had said that the ship had left on that very watch. They had to be somewhere nearby. They had to.
He raced down one after the other, identified the ship on the third lightway he scouted. Felt his pulse soar as he centered in, focusing upon the ship, and sending the single word message.
Consuela?
The sudden response was all he could have hoped for, and more. The scream of joy and heartache and love and passion almost shattered his heart. He reached down, focusing as tightly as he could manage. I’m here.
Wander, Wander, Wander.
We may not have much time. I need to do this first. Did you get my coordinates?
A second voice broke through the emotional flood from Consuela, a clearheaded response to his query. Pilot Dunlevy here. Yes, she heard and recorded. Perhaps you could repeat for safety’s sake.
Swiftly Wander recoded the star chart location, then added, The transition ended just beyond lunar orbit, not on land. There was a hyperspeed radio squeal sent just after we came out of n-space. I assume it was an identification signal. I did not get a chance to identify it. Sorry.
Can’t be helped. There was a pause, filled with the sweet scent of Consuela’s longing, then Dunlevy was back. Captain Arnol asks what can you tell us of surface defenses.
Swiftly Wander described what he had seen of the raging storm and the castle’s canyon. I know nothing about other defenses, but if I can I will try to check. This palace and power chambers are beyond huge. I am working from a cavern big enough to hold a city.
According to Senior Pilot Grimson, it used to house an entire battle squadron.
Wander took great comfort from the sound of the familiar names. Where are you headed?
Take note, came the crisp response. Here are our trajectories as close as can be identified, given the likelihood of battle and perhaps pursuit. Quickly Dunlevy imprinted what they knew of the pirate’s stronghold. This is at present a best-guess only. Afterward we shall make a delivery at Selanus, a planet with the following coordinates. A swift image was passed on, showing a star system farther along the same lightway which they traveled en route to the pirate stronghold. From there we are scheduled to deliver this vessel to Yalla. Do you know the system?
Negative.
It is a star system not too distant from your coordinates. We have a possible buyer for our vessel there. Here is the star chart. After it was passed over, there was another moment’s pause, then, Arnol suggests you give us seven days for identification of the pirates and attack. We cannot take longer than that and maintain our cloak of secrecy. After that we shall make our delivery on Selanus, then head for Yalla by direct transition. Another pause, then, Now that we have contact with you, Captain Arnol has decided to wait in silent orbit one-half parsec beyond the Yalla system’s outermost planet for a standard day. If we hear nothing further from you, we will make directly for Citadel.
Citadel, that is truly the name of this place?
As far as we can tell. No record exists of the star chart you have passed on. Have you recorded our coordinates and time plan?
Affirmative.
Arnol emphasizes that we may make better time than stated. If you are unable to make further contact, expect us when we arrive. Scout Consuela will attempt to make direct contact as soon as we break from n-space, but there will be no chance to wait and try and contact you once we arrive at the Yalla system.
Our only hope is to maintain surprise. We shall attack without delay.
Understood.
Then I shall break contact. A brief pause, then, I look forward to making your acquaintance in person, Scout Wander. Until then.
A moment’s silence, and they knew they were alone. Then Consuela said, I never knew what hope meant until now.
Or love. He reveled in her intimate presence, then asked, Can you try to leave me more messages?
Yes, oh yes.
Wander sent images pinpointing places where he would look. If there is anything more you can tell me, include it there. But be careful. Others can sense your communications.
I’ll try.
He felt her reaching out, sent his own heart surging across the immeasurable distances, wasting not a second with hesitation or self-conscious doubts. There was no time. His imprisonment had never felt so complete or so void of meaning. Their hearts touched because their lips could not. They yielded to each other with a grace and a passion that left words far behind. They soared in joyful union, a new heart song lifting them beyond space and time and distance and separation, one borne by the ecstasy of shared love.
Then Wander sensed the approach of another, and reluctantly, sadly, gently, he separated himself. Needing no words to convey how he felt or what he thought. Allowing himself to be powered down, away, out of the heart’s embrace.
He opened his eyes to find Digs looking down worriedly at him. “The diplomat wants to see you. Now.”
Wander raised himself with a sigh, walked to the floater, watched the cavern floor disappear into the distance, yet seeing almost nothing at all.
She was with him still.
Chapter Fifteen
The diplomat glared at him across the expanse of his cluttered desk. “Every day, every hour I am tempted to rid myself of you and the risks you represent.”
“I’m not a risk to anybody, Diplomat,” Wander replied quietly, his eyes still on the floor at his feet.
“Of that I’m not so sure.” He inspected Wander coldly. “Was there some design behind your being sent to Avanti?”
Wander’s surprise was genuine. “I didn’t even know the planet existed until we arrived there.”
“Perhaps, perhaps not. Even so, why did Grimson choose that particular training flight for you?”
“You’ll have to ask the senior pilot,” Wander replied feebly, recalling their panic-stricken departure.
“Indeed I shall. But in the meantime you will forget this girl you left behind on Avanti and watch yourself very carefully. Another such maneuver and you will find yourself terminated in the slowest and most painful manner possible. If you wish to survive this day, you must accept that the outside realms no longer hold anything for you. You have no family, no lover, no friends except those made here. In the meantime, you will be watched constantly, your actions carefully assessed. Is that clear?”
“Yes, Diplomat,” he answered miserably, realizing that his chances of communicating with Consuela again had just been destroyed.
“Very well. Now get out of my sight.”
****
“Who’d have thought it possible,” Guns said cheerfully. “Me, traveling with a pilot and scout both and liking it. Not to mention risking my hide to rescue another. Times surely do change, eh, lad?”
“Yes,” Rick said quietly. Up one moment and down the next. A hero on Avanti, lauded by his shipmates, but nothing to Consuela. Her friend. The consolation prize offered a loser. Her friend.
They traveled the transport tube down the vessel’s vast central channel toward the weapons hold. They passed level after level of factory chambers and storage holds, any one of them large enough to swallow the ship that had brought Rick to Avanti and have room left over for more.
Guns caught sight of Rick’s face. “What’s eating you?”
“Long story.”
“You had a perfect run first watch, that should be enough to cheer anybody up.” Guns eyed him keenly. “Still pining over that scout?”
Grimly Rick nodded his head.
“Well, I’ve changed my mind about the likes of her, and I’m man enough to admit I was wrong. But I still say a warrior’s got no business messing about with scouts or pilots either. They’ve got their world, lad, and we’ve ours. A man’s got to hold tight to his duty. Especially before a battle.”
He caught the sudden edge to Guns’ voice, felt the sudden adrenaline surge in response. “You’re right.”
“’Course I am. Watched too many good men go down because their minds weren’t on their weapons. Wouldn’t want to see that happen to you, lad.”
Their own hold came into view through the transparent tubing, and instantly Rick felt his burdens lighten. Spread out before them were an even dozen of the jet black fighters, their attendants busy with last-minute adjustments. “I’ll be okay.”
“Sure you will.” Guns clapped him on the back as they stepped from the tube. He raised his voice and called across the vast hold, “Now where is that lazy good-for-nothing Tucker?”
“Lazy, my granny’s back teeth.” The beefy senior petty officer came stomping up. “Been down here drilling my boys into line and waiting for you overpaid sky divers to roll your carcasses out of your bunks.”
Rick ignored the glower Guns gave in return. Their skirmishing was well known, and mostly show. His attention was already caught by the sight of his ship. His ship. He walked over to where his two other squadron pilots stood waiting. “Everything okay?”
“Ready and waiting,” they confirmed. Both were seasoned airship jockeys and had a good ten years on him. But neither seemed eager to disagree with his promotion to squadron leader. His battle with the pirates upon the approach to Avanti was well known throughout the ship, and from what he had heard, continued to improve with each telling.
“Mount up,” he said, echoing the order he had heard from Guns.
Rick walked under his own ship, which hovered effortlessly just above head-height. He nodded to the deck supervisor, who gave him a cheery thumbs-up. He then looked up and said, “Open Blade Three.”
A split appeared in the formerly seamless surface, and from this new portal sank his seat. Rick climbed on, felt the surface mold to his form, then said, “Load Knight Three.”
It was Guns’ idea to call the Blade officers “knights.” Any battle squadron worth its mettle needed something to bind them together, he had insisted to Arnol. Something that would set them apart, make them feel special. As if they needed anything more than a Blade to make them feel special, Rick had thought, but said nothing.
The squabble between Guns and Tucker had erupted that very same day.
The Blade cockpit was more than spacious for one man. The view was spectacular. He was encased in what from the inside appeared to be a transparent bubble, which melded into the sweeping dark Perspex of the Blade’s nose and sides. His controls were ranked on padded armrests which could be withdrawn or brought forward as required. Everything was functional, efficient, and thrilling.
Once again, his sense of prescient knowledge was there to help steer him through the vast array of new technology. Rick had caught on so fast Guns had assigned him as a training instructor for both his squadron and the third, taking on the other two himself. His run of the earlier watch had been the first for all of them operating as a team, and his two squadrons had far outshone those operating under Guns. The senior weapons officer had been as proud as if he had invented Rick himself.
Guns’ voice sounded over the intercom. “Power up, Knights. Arm for blanks and seal your firing circuits. Then count off.”
Rick fired the ship’s main drive, leaned his seat back to a forty-five degree angle, drew the weapon console up and over his head. He keyed the console for blanks, which meant he would have every sensation of actually going into full battle, but all weapons would be blocked from firing. He heard his two fliers acknowledge, then reported, “Squadron two, powered and sealed.”
“Same drill as before
,” Guns ordered, once the count off was completed. “Target is the aft hold. Squadrons One and Three, adhere to me. Two and Four, take orders from Knight Three. Lift off in thirty seconds. That is, if the battle squadrons think maybe they can shake the lead out.”
Tucker’s response came growling through his intercom. “Just be glad we’re on the same side, me boyo. Else me and my boys’d make mincemeat of you and them fancy machines.”
“Thirty seconds it is,” Guns said, the smile clear in his voice. “All together now, let’s make this one count.”
Outside, the safety light shifted to green, signifying that all the deckhands were behind safety doors. Rick felt his pulse hammer faster still, both from the sight of the great outer doors rumbling open to reveal the vastness of space and because of the surging currents of power that permeated every shred of his being. The Blades were wired similar to standard weapons consoles, with the extra thrill of being keyed directly into a main transport power-board. Not to mention the additional excitement of flying.
The two squadrons under Guns started forward. Rick checked his six Blades, was satisfied to see them conform to pattern. Behind them rested the bulky cargo transporters, refitted internally to become ground-troop carriers. All of them operated under Tucker’s command. Rick thought the squarish transporters looked like oversized city busses, minus paint and wheels.
“Waiting for you, lad,” Guns said.
“Squadrons Two and Four,” Rick responded. “Move out.”
Steadily he glided across the hold, through the vast steel portals, and into space.
****
“I wonder if I could have been mistaken about the girl’s sensing abilities,” the diplomat mused aloud. “What if that blasted transport skipper was lying?”
The battle-hardened guard captain shrugged disdainfully. “Have the local emissary bring the captain in for questioning.”
“Impossible. Captain Arnol blasted off with a new mining vessel scheduled for delivery.” The diplomat smiled, a chilling grimace. “I’ve arranged for them to have a little accident en route.”
The Dream Voyagers Page 24
