by A K Lambert
Kobios and Zeck had eventually come up with a smart little two stage diversionary plan—once they had stopped squabbling—which they hoped would give them time firstly to get into the sphere, and secondly get into orbit with a fighting chance of getting a march on the Trun.
With the plan in place, Kobios and Ventar’s group left the monastery.
A quarter mile from the lake, a tributary leading from the pass had dropped in height to thirty feet, and Kobios was able to signal the others to initiate phase one. Two of Zeck’s team, Stefan and Dall, left the monastery on a land speeder and set off in the opposite direction, heading north at maximum speed. Within five minutes one of the fighters was above the speeder, closely tracking it. The speeder turned in to one of the pass’s tributaries. The fighter couldn’t enter but could stay above the ever-deepening groove. Soon the speeder signal was lost to the fighter, and when it reached the tee junction with the main pass, it was unable to choose a direction to follow—north or south. Zeck hoped this would cause confusion and momentarily focus the attention of the battle cruiser away from other parts of the planet.
Thirty miles south, Kobios’ party was making slow progress. The dash to the lake wasn’t quite the rush she was hoping. Stevos and Hondry, after a quick fifty feet or so dash, slowed to a crawl as the low oxygen level took its toll on them. Prince Ventar wasn’t helping either, laughing and giggling with them at the back; totally oblivious to the predicament in which they found themselves. What does he know that the rest of us don’t? Kobios thought before sending Jake and Maot on towards the sphere, then physically dragging the Prince along with her, in the vain hope that each pair would arrive when the ones in front had boarded.
Stevos and Hondry finally exited the transfer bubble and boarded the ship. Kobios was ready to go and fired up the sphere. Back at the monastery, Zeck got the call to go to phase two and contacted Dall, who with Stefan, had doubled back close to the monastery via the pass and were back in telepathic contact. They immediately charged back out and headed north again, hotly pursued by Zeck. Watsin and Rase were driving their overland transporter, also heading north, but via an alternative route. Zeck was hoping it would become clear to the Trun within minutes they were both heading to a northern lake, and that they would naturally conclude they were dashing to their submerged ship.
Meanwhile, Kobios was heading south. She stayed a few feet off the ground, hugging the mountain range. After they had swung east, they began their ascent out of Thorrid’s atmosphere and into space. They would soon be detected by the cruiser but should be able to make the nearest wormhole unmolested. The question for the Trun cruiser commander was whether to wait for his two fighters to return or go straight after the sphere.
They made their choice. Kobios could see the battle cruiser heading straight after them. This chase to the wormhole will be close, she thought.
Now there was a decision to be made.
Bal Stevos, leader of Ventar’s Life Team—or what was left of it—looked around the small table on the flight deck of the delta sphere. They had escaped, for now, from the Trun battle cruiser that had been pursuing them. The question that she had asked of everyone sitting around the table was, ‘Where do we go now?’
With her around the table was everyone who was aboard the vessel.
Bal Hondry was the Prince’s cultural instructor. He was the other senior member of the Life Team and Stevos’s second in command. He was a timid man, but very smart, and great at organising all aspects of the Team.
Dom Kobios was Chief of Security, though she was now acutely aware that she didn’t have any security team left to be chief over. They had all made the sacrifice so they could escape. She was a tall and quite stunning Vercetian woman, and was famed as an excellent military strategist. Rumour had it that she’d advised Kam Major and was highly instrumental in the planning of the escape of the three Royals.
Camerra Maot and Camerra Jake were Ventar’s mother and father.
That just left Prince Ventar, who at fourteen years old was the youngest of the refugee Royals, though they all assumed there would be another four-year-old princess now on Verceti. Even at his young age, Ventar was central to all decision-making. He was an extraordinary Prince. Bal Stevos, widely recognised as one of the great team leaders, now wondered what else she could teach this young man. He had frustrated all of his tutors over the last few years on Thorrid by deciding what he wanted them to teach him, rather than the other way around. This method of education was particularly problematic for his physical instructor Bal Dall, as Ventar refused to do any physical or martial arts training, claiming that he would never need it.
Stevos repeated herself, ‘Where do we go now? Do we look for another temporary home?’ She sighed. ‘It would be tough. We’ve lost half of our team and are lacking in so many specialist sectors.’
‘What about returning home?’ said Jake. ‘It might be safe.’
‘How will we ever know that?’ countered Maot.
‘The High Council told us they would let us know when it was safe to return,’ Stevos replied. ‘How? I don’t know.’
‘They have ways and will contact us when the time is right,’ said Ventar.
How on Preenacette does he know that, thought Stevos.
Ventar continued, ‘We should locate to another planet until they do let us know. One more wormhole and the odds of the Trun ship finding us will become minuscule. If we take Rofaxi 12 we can get to here—the Sol System—in four months. We can find sanctuary there, with Tauriar’s Life Team.’
‘Tauriar’s team?’ echoed Kobios, to no one in particular.
The others stared at Ventar. In the blink of an eye he had sorted their dilemma out, and none of them could think of any reason to oppose his idea, never mind question his rationale. He smiled at them, stretched his arms, and said that he was tired and would go to his sleeping quarters for a while.
Bal Stevos looked at Hondry, then Kobios, then Jake and Maot. ‘Sol it is then,’ she said.
Jake and Maot Camerra sat opposite each other at the tiny table in their sleeping quarters, both lost in thought. Their son had amazed them again.
‘How does Kalter know what he knows?’ his mother asked. A question she had asked so many times before. ‘Is he in contact with the Princess? It was those Humbs. They did something to him.’
‘This was never how things were supposed to be,’ Jake said. ‘Whisked away days after selection, and here we are fourteen years later, stuck in the middle of nowhere, not knowing if we’ve helped or hindered the cause.’
‘We should have already told him,’ said Maot. ‘He’s old enough.’
‘He knows,’ Jake replied. ‘He always has. He reads our minds. I’m certain,’ He looked knowingly at Maot.
‘You’ve always said that.’ Her glance back at him showed a certain disbelief.
‘You know as well. Our son is not interested in the past, or that he is a Trun, not Vercetian. He wants to reunite Preenasette.’
‘So. What do we do? Amdorma would have told everyone. We still have a job to do.’
Jake looked into his wife’s eyes. ‘I don’t know. I just don’t know.’
Chapter 34
The Battle Cruiser
The Outer Regions of the Solar System - 2013
* * *
The Trun TC cruiser eased forward away from the rapidly closing placid wormhole. They had arrived at about two-thirds of the way in from the heliopause—the outer rim of the solar system—and the sun. All was static in the silent vacuum of space.
From the outside, the only movement to be seen was remaining sub-atomic particles of exotic matter blinking out of existence, unable to exists outside of the wormhole. A light show that no one would ever see.
Inside the cruiser, preparations were being made to activate the quantum star-drive. Two large propulsion units dominated the sides and rear of the vessel, comprising nearly half of the total ship. They began near the front as wide, flat, rails, their size increas
ing as they ranged towards the rear. They finished by wrapping around the entire back of the ship where two massive exhaust funnels discharged the ion particles from the quantum drive engines. The central part of the cruiser was cone shaped and smooth with a domed front. That portion housed the bridge, navigation and tactical stations. The upper central part of the cone contained the cargo bays, crew quarters, medical facilities and recreation areas, while the bottom housed the hanger bays for four 3W fighters and a TW Sphere. At the rear of the cone were engineering, the space garden, and manufacturing; making this the perfect long range self-sufficient spacecraft. The only imperfections on the smooth hull of the craft were the three rows of fifteen cannon turrets, two positioned either side of the base of the ship and one along the top.
* * *
Inside, Mancer was talking to Captain Rapha, ‘How long before we reach Earth?’ He was anxious to get this job done and get back to Preenasette. He would be taking the TW Sphere back with the captured princess.
‘Twenty days, based on travelling at one hundredth light speed—standard interplanetary safe travel mode. You will need to instruct me to proceed faster than that Sir, and we will need to instigate some additional safety protocols,’ the Captain replied matter of factly.
‘No, no,’ Mancer said. ‘Just desperate to get this all over and done with.’ Captain Rapha was facing a smiling Mancer now. ‘Unless we have a squadron of Vercetians on our tail and you want my help, the helm is completely yours, Captain.’ He continued, ‘Still no sight of Sub Commander Tray’s sphere?’
‘Nothing, Sir. Right now I can only assume is that he’s on the planet, if anywhere at all.’
‘This is worrying.’
Four days out from Earth, the battle cruiser was a frenzy of intense activity; final checks and adjustments to the sphere, the fighters and all manner of equipment that hadn’t seen any action for the duration of their journey.
Captain Rapha was standing over the surveillance technician’s console, making sure Sub Command Brawn was entirely focused. They were now in prime territory for a Vercetian advance monitoring satellite to pick them up. Their search droids were scouting the way ahead. Rapha and Mancer were not overly concerned about being detected early—it was just luck as to whose technology would discover the others’ first. It would be good to reduce the Vercetians warning, though—less warning and hopefully a mistake made.
A report came in as he was watching.
‘A Vercetian satellite has been found and destroyed. An eighty percent chance of our detection, Sir,’ Brawn said in a dejected voice.
‘Not to worry,’ Rapha said, ‘carry on and let’s assume we haven’t.’
Mancer joined them. ‘Any news or contact from our scouting party yet?’
‘Nothing,’ Rapha said. ‘It’s as if they didn’t arrive.’
‘Let me know when we do make contact,’ Mancer said, a quizzical look on his old battle-weary face.
Chapter 35
An Interpreter Required
Earth. South Africa - 2013, Friday
* * *
Janet Kilkenny, CIA’s Assistant Deputy Director for Science & Technology, paced the hotel corridor in Pietermaritzburg, South Africa, hands on hips, her whole demeanour shouting frustration. A delayed flight the evening before and now her interpreter Malcolm having come down with some mystery bug and a doctor who seemed to be taking an age. All this and a meeting with her Chinese counterpart only a few hours away.
‘He has Salmonella food poisoning. I’m afraid he’s going to be laid up for between two and seven days,’ the doctor finally informed her.
‘He’s not in any grave danger then?’ asked Janet.
‘No, not at all, though he will probably feel awful for at least the next twenty-four hours. He needs plenty of liquids to stay hydrated.’
‘Thank you, Doctor.’
‘Not at all. I can get someone to get this medicine from the drugstore. Instructions for use will be clearly labelled. I’ll be on my way now.’ His polite nod was missed by Janet as she turned away.
Damn it. I’ll have to cancel, she thought. But that would appear weak. The image of the sneaky Chinese negotiator smiling as his interpreter told her something entirely different would goad her. She needed a good translator.
She popped into see Malcolm, and it was clear from the poor man’s face he was suffering. Back at her room, she called Henry at the American Embassy.
‘Henry, my translator has food poisoning. I need someone fluent in Mandarin for this afternoon’s meeting. Can you help?’
‘Good morning to you too, Miss Kilkenny,’ replied Henry J Jones, a chief attaché at the American Embassy. ‘Give me an hour, madam, and I’ll see what I can pull out of the hat.’
‘Sorry, JJ,’ Janet said in a thick Irish accent trying to atone for her curtness. ‘Do your best, buddy.’
Breakfast was delicious. Not eating on the plane to Durban had left her famished, and decidedly healthier than Malcolm at the moment. The full English helped her demeanour no end. Her phone rang while she was savouring her second cup of coffee.
‘Speak to me, Henry!’ Janet was now giving it her full Bronx. He was one of her favourite colleagues.
‘As you wish, Madame,’ he said, continuing his best English butler impression, happy to play along with Janet’s little game. ‘Unfortunately, Mandarin interpreters are a little thin on the ground here in South Africa. But, Gertrude at The British Embassy has got an MI6 support officer who she says is quite good. Not interpreter standard, but the best I can offer.’
‘Okay, Henry,’ Janet said after a few seconds. ‘I’ve come too far not to see them.’
‘I’ll arrange for her to come to your hotel at lunchtime. Her name is Amanda Walker.’
‘Great, thanks, Henry. I owe you,’ Janet said, signing off.
‘I’ll add it to madame’s long list,’ Henry said.
The meeting went well. Amanda had missed a few bits of the conversation and misinterpreted a few gestures, but on the whole, she thought Janet was pleased. It was 5.45pm, and Janet had no more engagements for the day. ‘Fancy some dinner, Amanda? You’ve got me out of a hole today. I’ll pick up the tab. Well, the Agency will.’ She smiled warmly at Amanda.
‘Yes, that would be great,’ Mandy replied.
‘A colleague recommended an Italian restaurant on Mayflower Street. Fancy that?’
‘Yes, Janet.’
‘Let’s go then.’
The meal was good. Both ladies chose the spaghetti bolognese and a great bottle of Chardonnay. They chatted about the meeting and general life in the CIA and MI6, and about Anglo-American relations. The waiter cleared the table and Janet ordered cognacs to complement their coffees.
‘So, how does the daughter of a British cabinet minister become a member of MI6?’ Janet asked, seemingly happy to chat on a more intimate level.
Mandy was feeling a little tipsy now, but was enjoying Janet’s company. She felt she could be slightly more open with her than she would normally be. This woman was, after all, nearly at the very top of the CIA and certainly not a security risk. ‘The thrill and the adventure I suppose,’ she said. ‘Not that it’s all that. Most of the time it’s quite mundane, but it does have its moments. I was also part of an adventure when I was a teenager, and that’s spoilt me for accepting mediocrity.’
‘An adventure? Is it one you can talk about?’
‘Well, not really.’ Mandy knew she’d slipped up and tried to change the subject. ‘How old were you when you joined the CIA?’
‘I was twenty-four with a passion for technology,’ Janet said and carried on telling her what she had hoped for from joining the CIA.
Mandy sensed that Janet backed off somewhat, aware of her awkward response. Knowing she had touched on something that should have stayed off limits.
Janet continued, ‘Though my real passion is astronomy. Before my current promotion, I was attached to NASA, tracking NEO’s,’
‘NEO’s?’ Mandy a
sked, trying to recover her composure.
‘Sorry. Near Earth Objects. They include asteroids, comets and any of the thousands of satellites that now orbit Earth. We were tracking—they still are—objects that might collide with Earth, and in my official capacity, what other countries were sending up there. Your father would know all about it. He’s well known in this field.’
‘My father has his grubby fingers in many things astronomical. Sounds interesting,’ Mandy said. ‘I see the connection with the meeting today now. I must admit, I was a little confused as to what it was all about. Concentrating too hard on the translating didn’t help.’
‘Which you did well, my dear,’ Janet smiled. ‘When are you heading back to England?’
‘My work here is finished,’ said Mandy. ‘But I plan to stay on for a few days. An Irish friend of mine is riding in the downhill mountain bike world championships the day after tomorrow. It’s only an hour’s drive from here. I’m going to support him.’
‘Not Jon O’Malley?’ Janet had a puzzled look on her face.
‘Yes, do you know him?’ Mandy could feel the tone of her voice noticeably cooling.
Janet seemed to lack confidence for the first time today. ‘Of him. He’s Irish after all. And I have dual USA/Irish citizenship.’
Mandy changed the subject, talking fashion for professional women. But she was desperately trying to fit together all of the pieces of a small jigsaw puzzle. She was convinced that Janet knew more about Jon than she was willing to admit. It’s wasn’t as though he was a famous mainstream athlete. And her position, the NEO’s and all that entailed. Did she know about Grace and her Life Team? Her head was spinning.
Janet paid the bill and suggested they walk back to her hotel. ‘I’ll get you a cab from there.’
As they approached the hotel, Amanda was at a fever pitch. She had to say something. ‘How do you know Jon? Do you have a professional interest in him? Is he in danger?’
