The Definitive SpaceFed Trilogy (SpaceFed StarShips Trilogy).: A thrilling, action-packed Sci-fi space adventure. (SpaceFed StarShips Series Book 8)

by Gerry A. Saunders

  So, they must have a warp crystal manufacturing facility on their planet, to have enabled them to make warp crystals for their own ships. And, logically, therefore, for ours.

  Yes. We must find out where they come from, then we should be able to find a means to return to Crilla.

  Then he groaned as he realized that to do that, he’d have to keep the intruders alive.

  -Ω-

  “Andromeda, I assume we're still sending our location transmissions. So, have we received any contacts yet?

  “No, not yet. But I have some good news on the warp drive situation. Ned has told me that he's hoping to squeeze about another hundred and seventeen million kilometers, from the drive.”

  “Might be enough to save our bacon.”

  “What is bacon? Ah. I have it in my database; it’s an old saying?”

  “Yes, quite right,” he replied. Thought for a moment, then added. “How many stealth drones do we have left?”

  “Three out of our original four I think. Yes. That’s right.”

  “I see you're still sniffing about in my brain,” he joked.

  Then ordered “Launch all three. But program them, to ‘talk’ to us only if we give them a pre-determined code. We don’t want the Crillons to know what the drones are sending us.”

  “OK. They will be away in three minutes.”

  -Ω-

  Arans watched the search data and images coming in from his ships. Suddenly a dot registered on the left of his screen. The image being sent from Commander Gratigo's ship.

  All four screens now showed the dot. They centered on it and zoomed in. There, in the middle was the golden colored ship.

  “Well done, Gratigo. At least you've got something right!”

  “Thank you, sir. I saw an infinitesimal disturbance, so I investigated it,” Gratigo replied.

  Arans thought for a moment, then made a decision. 'OK. We need to keep hold of this ship. I believe it’s time to use our en-globe pattern.'

  En-globe patterns were rarely used but were ideal in a battle situation to contain the enemy.

  “Form en-globe pattern,” he ordered. “Screens at maximum. Vents facing that ship. Anyone who fires on it, I'll blast you to dust. Acknowledge when exit data has been entered.”

  Ten seconds later, four acknowledgement symbols appeared on his screen.

  “Jump on my mark,” he said, counting down from five to zero. “Jump!”

  -Ω-

  Alarms sounded throughout the Andromeda, as four of the Crillon battlecruisers exited into Normal-space.

  Frank watched nervously, as the alien’s ships surrounded them, with one ship being placed in each corner of a ten-kilometre square.

  He could see the alien ship’s shields sparkling now and then as small particles collided and vaporized, and noticed that the business end of each vessel was pointed at them.

  'Why haven’t they just killed us off?' He wondered as he tapped a couple of icons.

  “I see them,” Susanna said, with a strained expression on her face.

  “It's possible they're having the same jump-range problems as us. Or maybe they think our home planet is closer than theirs. Either way, we know neither of us is able to go to Earth.”

  “I understand Frank. So?”

  “Well, they must have been expecting to go through their wormhole, and straight to their home planet, to replace their warp crystals, I would think. But now we've scuttled that plan.

  Susanna. Is your loose kind of Crillon language good enough to allow us to speak to them?”

  “Yes, but Andromeda should be more able to converse with them, than me.”

  “That's true, but you might get a better feel like if they're telling the truth, for example. So, I need you, Brian and Tom, to work together with Andromeda on this.”

  “No problem, we’ll link with the aliens and hope they want to talk to us.”

  “Good,” he replied, and Susanna's image disappeared.

  “Andromeda. I want the heads of departments linked together for a 3D conference. On my screen, in five minutes. Then we'll try to talk to the aliens.”

  “Yes, Frank.”

  -Ω-

  The four Crillon battlecruisers hung in Space around the Andromeda. With not enough ships to fully englobe it, they were unable to cover the up down positions.

  Arans, the Commander of this group of Crillon ships, wasn't worried. He knew that his four tubular-shaped vessels were devastating in action.

  He had his ships set-up. Their firing lines centered on the golden ship but staggered up and down, so that it was impossible to hit one of his own ships at the opposite end of the englobed square.

  He was in a conference with his ships. “We should destroy them now,” Commanders Gratigo and Gripan boomed together.

  “Use your heads. These aliens may hold the key that enables us to get back to our home planet,” snapped Captain Petar.

  Arans looked furiously at his ship's captain’s images displayed on his screen.

  “No, they can’t help us. It’s seems obvious that they don’t have enough jump quota left either. Nevertheless, do you really think they would come this far knowing they couldn't get home?”

  Arans paused. Then, “No. Their home planet must be closer than ours. Agreed?”

  “Agreed sir,” Petar said. “Assuming, of course, they came straight here. That means, if they expect to get home again, then their home planet must be within a radius of thirty to forty light-years.

  Arans nodded, “My thoughts exactly Petar.”

  Commander Gripan followed Petar, his face showing anger. “We must box clever, Arans. What makes you think they'll help us? Anyway, would their warp drives be compatible with ours?”

  “Commander,” came a voice overriding his security settings.

  “What is it?”

  “Sir, we keep picking up small anomalies. Every time we focus on them, they move. They are like shimmers in space that are there for just a moment, then move to another position.”

  “It seems as if the alien’s ship is not alone, Arans,” Petar noted. “Could there also be stealth ships?”

  “No, the anomalies are too small, sir,” came the other voice.

  “But we agree there are some things out there, so see if you can get a lock on them. Then blast them!” ordered Arans.

  “Yes, sir.”

  The three officers waited for Arans to continue. “Get a linguist online, I’ll try to talk with them.

  -Ω-

  Ned had been able to squeeze a little more out of the warp-drive, and Andromeda was now able to jump approximately one AU or one hundred and seventeen million kilometers.

  Frank started the 3D conference, with images of all heads of departments showing on his main screen.

  “Susanna, are we ready to try and talk to these butchers?”

  “Yes, we're all linked into your feed.”

  “OK, let’s go.”

  “We’re having trouble in trying to keep our stealth drones out of their targeting sensors, Frank,” interrupted Andromeda. “But we're still one step ahead, at the moment. Ah, the alien Commander is calling us.”

  “Be nice Frank. Be nice,” Susanna advised.

  “Of course I will. I don't want to be blasted either.”

  “Don’t forget there's video,” Andromeda cautioned. “He might see through your bluff.”

  “OK, we'll see. Patch this to us all, now.”

  Arans face appeared on all their monitors. The face was just like Axon's, but with deeper ridges and darker skin.

  “I assume you're Arans?” Frank said. His words being auto-translated into Crillon and sent by Andromeda.

  “At what instance, do you want me to end your existence?”

  Chapter 26.

  A Game of Possibilities.

  Arans almost fell out of his seat, and his Commanders mouths dropped open in unison. If Aran’s face had been human, it would have been bright red.

  He quickly composed himself
. “It's your existence that will end!” he snarled. Then, watching the strange face on his monitor, he decided it looked weak. The skin was all wrong, and it had hair.

  “You seem to know a lot about us. How is that possible, when we know so little about you?”

  “Easy,” the strange being on the screen said. “When we took out your captain Axon's ship, we salvaged his survival pod. Not very nice of you leaving his crew to die like that, by the way.

  We found a lot of information on his computer, and on that antiquated drone of his. You really should get an upgrade.”

  Arans swore and thought, 'He's very sure of himself.' Then said. “You used Axon's pod well, and lost me a ship. But you are alone out here, with no jump-drive.

  I say that you will do as I tell you!”

  The ‘creature' seemed to grin back at Arans

  “Am I alone? You know that some of my weapons are out there and that you can’t see them long enough to hit them. You also know that my force fields will protect us long enough for my stealth’s to destroy all of you.”

  Arans knew this creature was right. From the shimmers his crew had detected earlier, it was clear they must have stealth-weapons.

  He thought of saturating all space around them with particle beams. But that would more than likely damage his ships.

  More importantly; destroying the 'creature's' ship, wouldn't help any of them to get home.

  “I see that your translator has mastered our language. What are your species called, creature?” Arans sarcastically asked.

  “We are called homo-sapiens or humans,” Frank replied. “You can call us humans.”

  “Very well, human. By what name are you called?”

  “I am Captain Frank Richardson. A bit of a mouthful, isn't it? Just call me Captain. Like you, there's only one Captain IC in our fleet.”

  Arans felt uncomfortable again. 'He refers to ‘a fleet,' he thought. 'Maybe he's just bluffing?'

  “Your ship is certainly different from anything we've encountered.”

  The human smiled, “I'm sure, but this is just an old model. Our new models could easily take your ships out. Just like that, with a puff.”

  -Ω-

  Andromeda flinched at that remark and gave Frank a mental jolt in the brain. “Ouch. Sorry Andromeda,” he grunted.

  Short messages flicked continuously to and from his department heads, who were watching and listening in.

  Ned prompted. “Ask him how he thinks he'll get home without a wormhole.”

  “How do you expect to get home now, Arans?”

  The alien’s face stared out at him for a few moments. “Human, we will destroy your planet if you don't help us,” he threatened, then paused, turning to look at something else near him.

  “He's in a conference with his ships,” Tom flashed an update.

  A message from Tim worried Frank. “Something is happening back at the defunct wormhole location,” Tim said. Having noticed that the wormhole was now point-four light-years behind.

  'Andromeda,' Frank thought. 'I need information on what’s going on back at the wormhole. Can we send one of the stealth drones back to see?’

  ‘It's being done.'

  Arans face looked back at Frank's image. “I've just heard that some of my Fleet Twelve ships have exited their jump, close to our wormhole’s location.”

  “Ha,” said Frank. “More ships, with nowhere to go.”

  Arans almost exploded. “Have you a death wish human?”

  “No, of course not. Have you, Arans?”

  Then, he received a thought message from Susanna. ‘Don't make him mad Frank. Please.’

  -Ω-

  Arans took the incoming call from Fleet Twelve's Commander IC.

  “Welcome Tarcan, it's good to hear from you.”

  There was a pause while their inter-ship hyperlink was set up. Giving them about a minute's delay, over the point four light-years distance between them.

  Their hyperlink system could work up to a distance of a few light-years.

  Tarcan looked shaken. “What's happened to the wormhole Arans? I've five battlecruisers left. We need to enter the wormhole now.”

  “Join the club Tarcan,” he said with a sneer. “The humans, well that’s what they call themselves, destroyed it.”

  “What!” thundered Tarcan? “You let them do it.”

  “Don't be a fool,” he snapped back. “I fought hard, but lost a ship in doing so. Now I only have four ships remaining.”

  “Well, I have five. So, I'll take command from here on.”

  “No, you won’t,” Arans said. “Because I hold the key to getting back to Crilla.” Then asked. “Is the crystal production ship with you?”

  “No, it's missing, along with six of my battlecruisers.”

  Frank's voice interrupted the two commanders. “We'll be going now unless you want to talk to me further?”

  If Arans and Tarcan were in the same room, they would have looked at each other in disbelief.

  “What,” Tarcan growled. As an image of a human appeared on his screen.

  -Ω-

  At the same time, Tarcan's face showed on Frank's screen, and on the screens of those linked-up.

  'How long will it take for the drone to reach the newcomers?' Frank asked, using his implant to communicate with Andromeda. He knew he had to be careful of what he said out loud, and needed to avoid showing any expression.

  'One minute seven seconds,' she replied.

  The stealth drone had created a tiny warp-footprint, aided by Andromeda's entry pulse and was hurtling at faster than light speed towards the alien's Fleet Twelve.

  Frank could see Arans conferring with the all his captains.

  This had continued for more than five minutes before Arans realized that his connection to the human was still open. Arans swore, moved; then the image shrank to postage stamp size, with no audio.

  'Something he doesn't want to share,' Frank thought.

  Susanna's image flashed on his screen. She left a message. 'Our understanding of their language has considerbly improved Frank,' and was gone.

  Andromeda's voice sounded in his implant, ‘The stealth drone has reached its target, and I’ve opened a secondary screen for you to view. This won’t be seen by them.'

  'Outstanding! Can we tap into the conversations between Arans and Tarcan?'

  'Yes, but there'll be about a two-minute delay. I don’t dare to use the same hyperlink clock as they might detect it. But, I'll predictive-time correct so that it will feel almost normal.”

  'OK. That's fine,' Frank mentally shot back.

  -Ω-

  Arans and Tarcan seemed to have reached an agreement over the control of Fleet Twelve. With Arans now in charge, for the time being.

  Looking back at the human's face on his screen. Arans seemed even more annoyed than before. Tarcan, though still point four of a light-year away, appeared to be looking over Arans shoulder.

  “What makes you think, you can just go, Human?” He asked, but saw no change, or recognition of the alien having heard the question, then remembered to reset the screen size and audio. He repeated the question. The human just smiled.

  “Well? Arans asked.

  After a moment, the human began to speak. “I can't see anything useful that we can, or want to do for you.”

  “You are very sure of yourselves.”

  “Well, let’s see,” Frank added. “We know about the state of your ships here, Arans. We know there are only five Fleet Twelve ships at the defunct wormhole. Out of their original thirteen.”

  He paused to let that sink in. “We've also destroyed three ships so far, and you appear to have lost another seven. Leaving you with just nine available, out of nineteen. Plus, most of your ships are almost out of jump quota.

  Unfortunately, your crystal production ship is one of the missing seven. That means; without replacement crystals, you'll have. Nada! So basically, you're all dead. Correct so far?”

  Arans felt
himself shaking. “Go on, you seem to know more than you should,” he ordered the being on his display.

  “OK. Let’s take Tarcan's five ships. Most could just make it back if the wormhole is still there. But it's not. Their ships force field strengths are well down, at least one thousand peripheral lines per centimeter less than ours. So not a threat to us.”

  -Ω-

  Andromeda interrupted, informing Frank that the stealth drones had each managed to put a torpedo into one of the ships; the stealth drones carried two of these micro-tipped nuclear weapons, for just such an occasion.

  “Shall I go on?” Frank asked.

  “Yes. Well, as for Tarcan's fifth ship. That's a real problem now. Its warp core looks like it’s ruptured close to its Antimatter container. Frankly, I would move the rest of your ships if I were you Tarcan,” Frank said, continuing his bluff.

  Frank watched Tarcan's image disappear as Arans turned his head and said, “Tarcan! Answer me. What's happening?”

  “We won't see that detonation for over six months in real time,” Andromeda said. “But Arans will soon see it on his link. Watch that screen behind him.”

  Sure enough, after a few moments, there was a flash, but the link stayed open to Tarcan. 'H’m, not Tarcan's ship then,' Frank thought.