When Stars Fall (The Star Scout Saga Book 4)

by GARY DARBY

  “As I said, do with me as you will, but destroy this base, and ensure that the SlipShip, along with all the hyperfold research is destroyed, as well. Neither the Faction, nor the Sha’anay, nor the Mongans can have it.”

  He stopped and drew in a deep breath. “Nor the High Council either."

  Federov stared at Teng Rhee. He pressed his lips tight together, and his furrowed eyebrows created a deep notch in his brow.

  Shaking his head, Federov said, “Sir, destroy the infrastructure of this base, yes, that I understand. But destroy the ship and the data? I’m not sure I can do that. The Imperium needs this technology.”

  “Captain,” Teng began in an intense voice and pushed his face closer to Federov’s, “I understand your feelings. Nevertheless, please believe me when I tell you this.

  “I came out here because I obtained information that the Faction was either negotiating with the Mongans for their nova weapon, or they had already acquired the weapon.”

  He fixed Federov with a hard stare. “I still think that’s the case.”

  Whipping around, he swept a hand toward the SlipShip. “In fact, captain, we may not have found their nova weapon, but there’s a good chance we found their delivery system.”

  His voice became as hard as plas-steel. “And, Captain Federov, my information indicated that all of this was being directed by someone on the High Council.”

  Turning back to Federov who stared at him with a stunned expression, he said, “So you see, sir, if you, or I, turn over the SlipShip and all those data files to the High Council, it would be the same as giving it outright to the Faction.”

  Teng raised himself to his full height and met Federov’s eyes. “And for the sake of tens of billions of Imperium lives that just cannot happen.”

  Chapter Twenty

  Star date: 2443.097

  In the Helix Nebula

  Jadar Marrel bent over the Mongan ship’s slanted control panel. His body had grown taut, his eyes flicked over the glowing symbols that lay in neat rows across the board’s gray sheen. What did they mean and how could he have been so stupid, he kept asking himself.

  For what seemed an eternity, he and his two companions had gone over the strange symbols and odd-shaped devices, trying to decipher the weapons array.

  He straightened and ran a hand across his weary eyes. “What was I thinking?” he uttered aloud as if to himself. Tight-lipped, he turned to Jy and Dani. “Obviously, I’ve made a huge mistake.

  “Once the Argos crew figured out the remaining life support and engineering controls on this bucket, I shouldn’t have let them go, shoulda had them work out the rest of the control panel, especially the weapons array.”

  “Don’t blame yourself, sir,” Jy replied. “From how fast they got the ship up and running, everyone thought it would be pretty simple to work out the rest.”

  Shrugging just a bit, he said, “Besides, with all that was going on, they were pretty anxious to head inbound, and with good reason. It’s pretty hard to get a horse back in its stall after it’s busted down the gate and gotten loose.”

  “I know,” Jadar let out with a big puff of air. “Still . . .”

  As Jadar swept his eyes once again over the console, Jy said, “Yes, sir, but remember, we figured out enough on our own to get the thing flying so the rest of it shouldn’t be all that hard.”

  Jy screwed his mouth to one side, “Even if everything looks like Greek, or rather, alien Greek to us.”

  He tapped on the board’s convex surface where a cluster of Mongan symbols lay. “After all, once we knew what each character for navigation and flying represented, their flight profile controls aren’t all that dissimilar to ours.

  “You know, up is up, and down is down, and—”

  Jadar raised a quick hand. “I get it Jy.”

  Dani turned serious eyes to Jadar. “There is one possibility, sir, that we haven’t considered, that the weapon sensors and actual firing commands are voice activated.”

  Jadar grunted. “Best hope that’s not the case or our whole plan goes belly up even before we get started.” He eyed the two of them. “Unless either of you speak fluent Mongan.”

  Dani shook her head with a little upturn of her mouth. “Can’t even say hi or bye.”

  Jy ran a hand through his short-cropped hair, stopping to scratch at the back of his head. “We can fly, but we can’t shoot. We have tactical visual but no long-range battle sensors. ‘Bout the only thing we can do at this juncture is to spit in their eye as we scoot on by.”

  Jadar turned to Dani and asked, “You’re sure that there is no other panel or board anywhere on this ship that could conceivably be linked to their weapon systems.”

  Dani shook her head in response. “Sir, we’ve been over this ship top to bottom a half dozen times in the last day.

  “We’ve found the panels that are obviously for engineering, life support, even housekeeping, but nothing that even remotely resembles this board.”

  She slapped a hand on the dark panel. “Unless there’s a super secret compartment hidden away somewhere, the controls have to be in this room and the most logical place is right here, alongside the navigation and flight controls.”

  Jadar stepped back and ran a hand over aching neck muscles. Massaging his neck, he turned to pace the circular room, deep in thought. They could fly the ship easily enough, but they couldn’t fight it, and that was a central element of his plan.

  His walking back and forth brought him back to the control board, and he stared out at the narrow vu-screen that ran halfway around the room.

  Slow streamers of dark gray and green gas slipped past the screen, evidence that they were moving mere meters per second through the nebula cloud while they tried to decipher the weapon controls.

  He ran a hand over the one Mongan chair that must be the pilot’s seat because it was flush up against the navigation board. The remaining two Mongan chairs, which reminded him of short-backed captain’s seats, were spaced equidistantly apart and set away from the control panel in the center of the bridge.

  A noise caused him to turn to find Doctor Stinneli entering the Mongan control room. Stinneli gave a wave to Jadar. “How goes the battle?”

  “Not good,” Jadar groused in return. “It would appear that they’ve stumped the dummy.”

  He turned his back to the control board and leaned on it, arms crossed in front of his chest. “What about you, how’s your toy?”

  “Still has some holes in the pseudo-flesh that I’m not going to be able to adequately repair,” Stinneli replied. “I’ve got most of the nanocircuitry back online so I’m ready to test anytime you’re ready.”

  “At least that’s a bit of good news,” Jadar replied. “But we’ll hold off on your end until we’ve got the whole board plotted out, which may not be anytime soon at the rate we’re going.”

  “So,” Stinneli asked, “if you don’t mind my asking, what have you learned, or rather, not learned?”

  Jadar swept his arm toward the concave-looking control panel and answered in a hard tone, “What we’ve learned is that I made a monumental blunder in letting the Argos’s bridge crew go without determining how all the controls work.

  “And now, we’re stuck unless you’ve got any bright ideas.”

  Stinneli eyed the gray board and swept his hands over the console. “These are the flight controls, right?”

  “Yes, doctor,” Dani returned. “Logically, the controls for the weapons and sensors should be here, too.”

  “Hmmm,” Stinneli breathed out, “logical for who? You or the Mongans? Fill me in on what you know, maybe I’m far enough away from the forest that I’ll be able to see the trees.”

  For several minutes, Dani explained what did what on the board, after which Stinneli ran his fingertips from one end of the panel to the other, not saying anything, just gliding his fingers over the panel’s entire surface.

  When he finished, he murmured, “That’s interesting.”

 
“What, doctor?” Jadar asked.

  Stinneli didn’t answer but turned toward the three Mongan chairs. He glanced over at Jadar. “You know, what you’re looking for may indeed be here, but not where you think it is.”

  Jadar raised himself to give the doctor his full attention. “Go ahead, I’m listening.”

  “Well,” Stinneli began before standing next to the middle chair to slide his hands over the thin, padded, low back. “I had a chance to spend some time with your nephew before we went our separate ways. We compared notes, so to speak, on the Mongans.

  “Their three-way symbiotic relationship is incredibly fascinating to someone such as myself who studies XT anatomy and physiological behavior.

  “And the fact that they appear to transmit thoughts, images, mental activity between individuals . . . Well, it’s more than mind-boggling. Sorry, no pun intended.”

  Jadar watched the doctor who seemed to be investigating the chair with an intent expression. As Stinneli bent low to peer at the metallic arms, he said, “Doctor, I’m delighted that this piques your scientific curiosity, and in another time and place I’m sure all of that would be very fascinating to discuss.

  “But if you don’t mind my asking, just what does this have to do with our immediate and pressing problem?”

  “What?” Stinneli mumbled as if distracted by Jadar’s question.

  “Oh, sorry. But did you ever stop and consider why there is just one chair for what you call the flight controls, but you have these other seats completely apart from anything else in this room?”

  “I just assumed that they were for the Mongan triad to sit in the control room,” Jadar answered. He swept a hand toward the chairs. “Like you said, they always seem to work in a set of three.”

  Stinneli bent down to run his hands over the end pieces of the chair’s two side arms. “True,” he answered, “they do seem to operate under the philosophy of 'equals among equals’.”

  He continued to run his hands over the armrests. “But there are two odd things that strike me here.

  “First, why only one chair for the navigational controls and not three? Yet, you have three chairs, two of which are are not only set apart from the control board but also centered exactly in the room.

  “And on the flight board you have keys and symbols, none of which Scout Thorne found on the teleportation device.”

  He stopped running his fingers over the chair, and a smile crossed his face. “Ah,” he muttered and raised up to motion for Jadar to come over. “Without pressing,” he instructed, “slide your fingers over the ends of the chair arms.”

  Jadar let his fingertips caress the cold, shiny metal. He turned to Stinneli with furrowed brows. “Three slight indentations,” he stated.

  “Right,” Stinneli replied as he checked the other two chairs. “All three have the same pattern, which, by the way, follows the pattern on the teleportation device.”

  Gesturing toward the flight panel, he said, “When I ran my fingers over that, I didn’t feel any depressions, which I found odd. That left the chairs.”

  He stepped back and ran a hand over his chin. “I suspect that the Mongans may use this activation process only on particular systems, and if my suspicion is correct, this may hold the key to your problem.”

  “Doctor, are you suggesting that the chairs activate the weapons control array?” Dani asked.

  “Maybe, or for all I know they might link to the teleportation device,” Stinneli answered with a small smile. “Anyone care to volunteer and find out?”

  Jadar stepped to the middle seat and by wriggling and squirming, fit his body into the undersized chair. “All right,” he asked, “what’s next?”

  Stinelli took out his personal compu, entered a few commands, and then murmured, “I need to look at a digi-photo before we go further.” He stared at his display for a few moments as he ran his fingers over the depressions and then smiled.

  “The Mongans that you took off the ship,” he explained, holding up the compu for Jadar to see the photo. “Two have the same band pattern, but the third doesn’t.

  “If I understand what your nephew discovered, the Mongan with the differing design is the alpha in the group and these depressions correlate to their rings.”

  Jadar slipped his fingers over the depression and nodded. “I see, narrow, wide, narrow. But what order do you press?”

  Stinelli met his Jadar’s puzzled eyes. “Let’s hope that they keep it simple and go by the neck pattern.”

  “All right,” Jadar answered. “I’ve got the sequence.”

  He gestured toward the group and ordered, “Everyone, clear the control room. If this thing does send me spinning off to who knows where, I don’t want any of you caught up in it.”

  Jadar watched his three teammates troop out of the compartment and into the side passageway. “Clear?” he called out.

  “Clear, sir,” Jy shouted back.

  “Then, here goes,” Jadar responded.

  With a tentative finger, he pressed on each depression according to the alpha Mongan’s bands that striped its neck.

  Instantly, the three chairs slid together back-to-back in a triangle. "Bumper cars, Mongan fashion,” Jadar grunted.

  A moment later, the control room disappeared, and he was seemingly outside the ship, with streamers of green and yellow nebula gas flowing past, around, and over him. He couldn’t help but suck in a quick breath.

  The sensation was if he sat on a magic carpet with nothing to hold him up.

  The temptation to reach out and see if he could run a hand through the wispy gas was almost overpowering though he dared not take his fingers off the end rests.

  He pressed the second set of depressions and an iridescent panel of yellow and orange Mongan symbols appeared in front of him and waist-high.

  After examing the alien icons and characters for several seconds, he slid two fingers toward the last set of depressions.

  He couldn’t see that anything changed, so with extreme care he brought his hands away from the arm rests. Everything seemed to remain as earlier, and he was about to reach out and touch a glowing symbol when he heard, “Colonel Marrel! Sir, are you okay?”

  “Yes, Jy,” he called back. “I’m fine. Tell me, what do you see from there?”

  “Uh, you disappeared inside what appears to be an opaque, silvery sphere,” Jy answered. “We can’t see you, just the sphere. What about you? What do you see?”

  Jadar thought about it for a moment. “You know,” he mumbled, “seeing is believing.”

  In reverse steps, he pressed on the three depressions. In response, the nebula and the radiant symbols disappeared and the chairs returned to their original positions.

  Jadar pushed himself from the chair as the others joined him. “Whew,” he said with a whistle. “That’s pretty incredible.”

  He motioned toward the other two gray chairs. “Dani, Jy, hop aboard and get ready for quite a ride.” In rapid words, he explained the activation process and what to expect afterward.

  With the other two scouts in the adjoining seats, Jadar activated his chair. A moment later, he was once again gazing at the swirling gas cloud as if he were speeding through it outside the confines of the ship.

  “Oh my,” he heard Dani gasp from his left. “Now I know how a witch feels when she rides her broomstick.”

  “Whoa!” Jy yelled from the right.

  “What’s wrong?” Jadar returned in a worried voice.

  “I moved my head up and the whole sky just rotated ninety degrees. Hold on,” Jy called out, “let me try something.”

  A few seconds later he said, “Colonel, this thing works similar to a heads-up display; it follows your head movement in any direction, just don’t move too fast, the first time, I experienced a little vertigo.”

  Little by little, Jadar moved his head and found that he could move the scene through a full three-hundred and sixty-degree view in all directions, up, down, below the ship, a full flowing panorama of
the gas clouds as they zipped past.

  “Amazing,” Jadar remarked as he glanced at the glowing board. “Do either of you recognize any of the symbols on the panel?”

  “I think—” Dani began, when out of nowhere a laser bolt pierced the nearby gas cloud, illuminating towering gas clouds.

  “What was that?” Jadar demanded.

  “Sorry,” Dani answered, “I think I just found the control function for their laser weapon.”

  “How about we discuss it before you press any buttons, scout,” Jadar commented dryly. “Would just be our luck that you hit the seat’s ejection button instead of firing off a laser round.”

  “Yes sir,” Dani answered meekly.

  Several hours later, with the help of Stinneli, the four had determined the logic symbols for the laser weapons. After that, it didn’t take long to understand the characters for the long-range sensor array for what they started calling the “battle pod.”

  Jadar called a halt. “Let’s take a break and talk tactics, I think we may know enough now to go forward with our plan.”

  The three chairs slid apart, and the scouts stood up to massage tired and cramped muscles. “You’d think that with all their technology that they’d at least come up with a comfortable chair,” Dani groused and bent over to stretch out her back.

  Not wanting to sit in a muscle-cramping Mongan chair anymore, Jadar leaned up against a smooth bulkhead and slid to the floor. He unwrapped a field ration and took a bite.

  Motioning to Stinneli, who sat in the pilot chair and swiveled it around to face Jadar, “Doc,” Jadar said after swallowing, “any idea of the link range from your sensory suit to the ape?”

  Stinneli shook his head. “We never tested it beyond normal field operations, and that was only out to about fifty kilometers. This was a test prototype, so the comm processors are fairly low grade.”

  “And it doesn’t have any auto-programming abilities?”

  “None whatsoever; wasn’t in the design specs for this first-run model because we were testing the connectivity and synaptic responses between the human controller and the SimLife in the field.”

  “So,” Jadar mumbled after taking another bite, “we’ll have to assume that we might only have a one-time ‘fire and forget’ scenario once we put the ape in the saddle.”