by A K Lambert
Gunter’s ship was surreptitiously edging around sideways to the sphere. Camcietti could see that this was no ordinary cargo vessel. There was a mishmash of upgraded parts that were clearly from other, faster ships. The original two star drive motors ran down each side of the hull. Two-thirds of the way down the intake louvres, new silver drive sections had been fitted. Above and below were additional add ons. These didn’t have intake louvres; Camcietti had never seen the like. Maybe these booster units were the secret to the cumbersome vessel’s speed.
Grunter had been waffling. ‘I don’t think it’s anything serious. Just a reaction to the spices we use. But they do have an excellent shuttle pod. We do like it. So much so, we want its mother ship, which means you all need to come and visit us as well. Burp.’
Karach said, ‘Are you threatening us? We have more firepower than you. I won’t let you harm my officers.’
‘You wouldn’t shoot your own people, would you?’ Grunter replied with a belching laugh. ‘They are safe, as will you be. All we want is your ship. We are, after all, salvage collectors, burp, and we have the perfect buyer waiting for a vessel like yours. Burp.’ More laughing and belching out of frame—his crew joining in.
‘Now,’ whispered Camcietti to Constapal. ‘Go now!’
The sphere moved laterally just as the tractor beam from the salvage ship shot out towards them.
Karach, almost toppling over, shouted belatedly, ‘Get us out of here!’
Camcietti’s intuition and the subsequent unexpected acceleration of the sphere meant that, for the moment, they had stolen some valuable time on Grunter.
‘What about our people?’ asked Constapal, busily trying to get as much distance as possible between them and the salvage vessel.
‘Our capture is no good to them,’ said the Prince.
‘Head for that asteroid belt,’ said Karach. ‘There is cover to hide the Prince in a shuttle pod.’
‘Er, I am here,’ Camcietti sounded wounded. ‘Do I get a say in this plan?’
‘No,’ was Karach’s blunt reply. ‘I’m responsible for you, and I’ll not risk capture. Now, get in.’
Camcietti got into the pod, while Constapal calculated a route into the asteroids. The remaining members of the Prince’s Life Team looked on, their particular skills being of little help here. Karach held the door open, giving him final instructions. ‘Go to the fourth planet in this system—it’s inhabited—and wait for us. We will find you. Power down and stay silent for three hours before you go. Quick. That large one there, head for it.’ She closed the pod and then the airlock door. A minute later he was drifting towards an asteroid. Camcietti landed it with a bump, then powered down and checked the time.
Prince Camcietti went to the fourth planet. He put the pod into geosynchronous orbit, powered down pretending to be some space debris, and let the mini AI take a few readings of what was below him.
The AI’s report back to him suggested that the planet had no indigenous population, but had a scattering of outposts that appeared to be trading ports and a place for long-haul cargo vessels to lay up or get spare parts. It seemed a suitable place for anyone not wanting to draw attention to themselves. He picked an outpost and settled for a landing site about four miles away in a small wooded copse. He hit the go button and leant back in his seat, ready for the ride.
Eight hours later he was strolling into the port. He was wearing his grey robe, not having had time for a change of clothing, but with his hood in place, he would maintain some level of disguise even though he would look a little eccentric.
The port had a small main street with the typical amenities: shops, restaurants, a couple of small hotels. To either side were warehouses, little ones for storage up to large hangers for vessel repairs and maintenance. The top end of the main street led to a large open expanse where all of the visiting ships were parked. An impressive array of machinery from all corners of this part of the galaxy. This picture of technological diversity was Camcietti’s first real experience of the width and breadth of intelligent life that existed.
He needed to eat and drink so entered an establishment that appeared to advertise both. His found his senses smacked by a variety of exotic smells as he walked in. Food made up part of it, but another odour unknown him was also present. He looked for a quiet table and chose a corner and positioned himself with his back against the wall.
A grubby looking waiter took his order; water and a vegetable looking dish, sorted without getting into translator territory.
Camcietti looked around the room. The clientele, although a diverse variety of species, were mostly unremarkable. He wondered why he would think that? After all, he should be feeling the wonder in this diversity. Maybe it was the seedy surroundings or the fact that everyone appeared to want to keep themselves to themselves. Two groups of aliens did stand out, though.
The odour that he couldn’t identify earlier appeared to be coming from a group of four rough looking traders who were the same species as the waiter. They were taking turns inhaling smoke from a pot in the centre of their table. As each of them took their turn, they momentarily paused and shuddered slightly, apparently receiving some mental stimulation. Rounded shoulders and large hook noses added to the impression that they were slumped over the table. When they looked around, only the slits of their eyes were visible, carved deeply into the ruddy coloured skin. It was as if even the dull light in the saloon was too bright for them. Between the four of them, they appeared to be watching everyone in the room, displaying a high level of paranoia. The one that faced him was certainly taking a keen interest.
The other group that interested him did so because of their outstanding visibility. The only word he could think to describe them was beautiful. In many ways, they were near identical to him with small ears and noses. But they had hair, rather than a head cap. It was the clash of their snow white skin and shockingly purple hair that made them stunning. There were five of them, deep in discussion with what he realised was a Fandom. They were obviously negotiating and had reached an impasse. The Fandom was getting irritated and passing wind excessively.
His meal turned up, and the waiter threw a note onto the table. The bill. Camcietti reached for the pouch containing his emergency survival funds and carefully selected one of the smallest diamonds in it. He handed it tentatively to the waiter with a questioning stare. The beaming look on the waiter’s face told him it was obviously a sufficient amount, and more likely very excessive. He pulled his hood back to allow himself to eat, took a mouthful of food and looked up to see one of the beautiful people staring straight at him. It was a girl. Young, maybe his age, eyes locked on his. She broke contact and turned back to join the negotiations. Her eyes were stunning, but Camcietti couldn’t help but feel there was a great sadness there as well. A haunting sadness. In that briefest of moments, he had felt an empathy with her race, as though a great tragedy had befallen them.
His meal finished, Camcietti got up to leave. The waiter indicated to him to use the rear exit as someone was clearing up a spill by the front. He exited the rear door, turned right into what was a blind alley, and turned back, only to be faced by the four smoking aliens, taking up an aggressive posture.
The largest of them pointed at the pouch on Camcietti’s waist, his other hand pointing to his own, so there would be no misunderstanding of their intentions, a crooked smile on his face. Camcietti was fairly sure he could overcome them and set his posture, readying himself for a fight. The larger alien pulled out a weapon, pointed it at him and fired, stunning him. As he staggered, the aliens relieved him of his purse, and the large one smashed him over the back of his skull with the butt of his weapon. Camcietti collapsed on the ground.
Camcietti awoke, and his surroundings slowly came into focus.
He was in a room, and he could feel the motion that only came with space travel. He was on a ship. It was some kind of recovery room, everything seemed to be blanched white and sterile. What has happened to me? he thoug
ht.
An alien entered. It was a girl, and she was beautiful, pale skin and striking purple hair, and those eyes. He’d seen those eyes before, they were so stunning and oh so sorrowful. She spoke to him.
‘Carsaress et mundross knanasee vontrupp.’
Camcietti knew his translation implant would now be hard at work.
‘Good morning, if it is morning, I am,’ he paused and tried again, ‘Where am I?’ He saw her touch her temple. She spoke again.
‘Carsaress of earlydross young vontrupp. Dimmistrag ‘ve fi estravon cradietek aire vet ‘oder fauxit plondraxi mouit. Bbrosk swazzik formundredred in ps‘drithlre...’
She was giving him ammunition for his translator. He would do the same. ‘The captain of the ship commanded his soldiers to adopt a defensive posture,’ he continued with the universal translation monologue.
They both waited a few moments, then repeated three more sets of dialogue.
She said, ‘Good afternoon, my name is Hadra. I’m a Rammorian, and you are on our ship. What is your name?’
‘Daviss,’ replied Camcietti, totally unaware of the fact he had given his birth name.
‘Where do you come from?’ she asked.
Camcietti paused, a strange look on his face. He was wrestling with something. ‘I don’t know,’ he replied, staring into those sad eyes.
Chapter 33
Ventar’s Choice
Sadalmelik System - 2012
* * *
Ventar’s delta sphere appeared out of nowhere next to a fluorescent purple gas giant in Sadalmelik system. The light from the wormhole closed inwards upon itself and blinked out of existence. All traces of their route here were now gone. The vastness of space temporarily tamed by the momentarily linking of separate places and times. Placid wormholes had opened up the galaxy to any race that had achieved quantum drive space travel and had discovered how to find the starting points and predict their destinations.
‘Have we lost them?’ said Ventar’s father Jake anxiously.
A very frustrated Dom Kobios let go of the ship’s two joysticks, slipped her feet out of the stabilising pedals and slumped back into her seat. ‘Yes, I think so.’
Dom Kobios, Chief of Security, was the only one in what remained of the Life Team that could pilot a sphere. But her skills were limited, and it was one bumpy ride through this latest wormhole.
‘You did very well,’ said young Prince Ventar, placing a reassuring hand on Kobios’s shoulder. She looked at the prince, and as always, was amazed by the calmness he displayed for one so young. ‘It’s much more fun bouncing off the walls of a wormhole than going straight through it.’
The young prince tried to ease the tension that was thick in the air. They had been on the run in space for the last fifteen days, following their dramatic escape from Thorrid, the planet they had been inhabiting.
An uneventful escape from Preenasette had seen Ventar’s Life Team arrive at Thorrid, after a thirty month journey. They suspected they had been detected not long after landing, but a week in stealth mode revealed nothing. Engineer Seca Watsin’s theory was possible echoes in the already overly sensitive sensing equipment and a false alarm declared. They landed on a small deserted island in this pre-industrial world, where they would stay while searching for a permanent place to live.
They needed a remote location, as the indigenous population were so different to them. No amount of holographic manipulation would allow them to blend in. What appeared to be an old abandoned monastery, high in the foothills of a mountain range, seemed perfect.
They needn’t have worried, though. The Humbs—as their translator would eventually declare them—soon found them, and were not the slightest bit bothered about these strange beings in their midst.
At first, they appeared comical to the Vercetians, but it soon became apparent that these creatures were masters at appearing to be busy, but never actually achieving anything.
By age three, a young Prince Ventar was a favourite of the local Humbs.
These hexapods spent most of their time on all six legs, only rising to use the claws on the front pair to carry out menial tasks. The prince was now tall enough to look straight into their faces. The Humbs’ huge eyes were on either side of their head, at the ends of their jawbones and supported by copious folds of tissue. Ventar would stare into one of the eyes and listen intently to the clicking that constituted their speech. The Vercetian translator had only ever managed to decipher basic broken sentences.
The young prince, however, seemed to be in continuous communication.
Over the years, the Life Team concluded that the Humbs were stuck in time, and had not developed nor degraded from their current level of technology. They had found evidence that they had been at this same stage for tens of thousands of years. Seca Rase, the team’s scientist, studied this aspect of the Humbs over an extended period, convinced that this stagnated development flew in the face of all understanding of every species internal drive for advancement.
Hardly a day would go by without the prince interacting with the Humbs. Stevos thought it charming at first, but over time suspected it was turning into an obsession and would like to have stopped it. But Ventar was growing into a lovely boy and was devouring all the teaching they could throw at him. So, she eventually stopped worrying. His mother and father couldn’t stop though, and always felt a particular stress at Ventar’s closeness to the strange beings.
Life carried on uneventfully for ten years on Thorrid, with the members of the Life Team filling their days as best they could, waiting for the High Council to make contact, as they had promised.
Then the visitors arrived.
A Trun battle cruiser appeared in orbit out of nowhere, barely giving the Life Team time to get under cover of their protective shield. If it hadn’t been for Ventar telling Stevos to call all members back immediately, some would have been stranded and readily detectable. They were safe for now, but the Trun had dispatched two fighters to sweep the planet’s surface systematically. Sooner or later, they would pass the shielded monastery, and in this technology free environment, would detect them easily, and the game would be up. They needed to escape, but the delta sphere was six miles away, in the nearest lake.
Kobios gathered everyone together around a large old and knotted wooden table. Most of the team were now seated. ‘We need a plan. A distraction, to allow the prince to get to the ship. Thoughts, please?’ She sat down, so as not to distract them, allowing everyone to think.
Stevos, the team leader, spoke first, desperately aware that this scenario should have been anticipated and thought through years ago. ‘What if we split the team? Half will escort the Prince to the ship, while the other half distracts the Trun.’
‘It’s a certainty the diversionary group will get caught,’ said Hondry. ‘The ultimate sacrifice.’
‘The Trun Commander has no interest in killing anyone,’ said Ventar. ‘He just wants me.’
‘I wouldn’t be so sure about the killing part,’ replied Kobios.
‘Oh, I’m sure,’ Ventar said, not even looking up, his hand on the table, his finger circling an enormous ringed knot.
Kobios glanced at Stevos. The “he’s at it again” look.
Ventar smiled. ‘But it’s a good idea; the diversion, that is. The time has come for us to leave this planet.’
‘Okay then,’ said Kobios. ‘If you agree with me Stevos, I suggest we split thusly: Yourself, Hondry, Zeck, Jake, Maot and the Prince go. The rest of us remain.’ Her manner indicated she wanted a fight.
Immediately, Seca Zeck, Kobios’s second in command, rose from her seat opposite and leant forward, hands spread out on the table in front of her, apparently not happy and staring at Kobios head on. ‘Your primary responsibility is to the prince. I should be in charge of the diversion.’
Kobios adopted an almost identical posture from the other side of the table, the two females faces almost touching. ‘And what do we do for a pilot?’
Zec
k held her ground. ‘Okay, so you’re all over the place in a wormhole conduit,’ There was a glint in her eye and the hint of a smile as she emphasised the one thing she was better at than Kobios, ‘but in normal space, you’re every bit as good as me. And in everything else you are better than me—that’s why you should be with the Prince.’
Kobios backed down slightly as Zeck continued, ‘Boss, I know you’re up for the fight, but this isn’t one,’ She softened her voice. ‘It’s a diversionary tactic, first and foremost. You need to be with the Prince.’
‘That’s settled,’ said Ventar, putting an end to the argument. ‘We’ll go via Watsin’s Pass and leave within the hour.’ He looked at Stevos for approval.
She nodded her head. ‘It’s the plan on the table, Vercetians, so let’s get to it. Kobios, kiss and make up with your number two and come up with some ideas for diversionary tactics. Preferably, not based on blowing the Trun into the back of beyond.’
Kobios scowled at Stevos, then back at Zeck, who was now sporting a beaming smile, happy to have, for once, got one over her boss.
Watsin’s Pass was a topographical marvel.
A thin pass traversing the circumference of the foothills around the monastery, it was only about fifteen feet wide, but its perfectly vertical sides were four hundred feet high. It looked as though a higher being had used a hacksaw to cut a perfect groove into the rock. Every so often a similar groove, at right angles to the pass, headed out towards the plains, eventually losing all the majestic height. The furthest Seca Watsin, the team’s engineer and a natural explorer, had travelled the pass was four hundred miles to the north, and its beginning (or end) and five hundred and fifty miles to the south where it swung east and appeared to follow the mountain range a good way further. This natural—or God made—pass also provided a hiding place from any form of low or high-tech detection devices. They would remain unseen for most of their southward journey.
