The Star Cross

by Raymond L. Weil

  “Lansing is reporting a fluctuation in their hyperdrive power retainment system,” reported Ensign Pierce. “Their chief engineer says it will take about twenty minutes to check it. He advises that we don’t jump until they’ve completed their diagnostics.”

  “Understood,” answered Kurt. “Tell them to get it done as quickly as possible.”

  On a main viewscreen appeared the Lansing, among the largest and more modern cargo ships in the fleet. That was one of the reasons the ship had been chosen to accompany the fleet on this mission.

  “It’s dangerous to remain here too long,” warned Grantz. “This part of the empire is heavily traveled by Profiteer ships.”

  The minutes passed slowly by, as they waited for the Lansing to finish their diagnostics, so they could determine if it was safe to jump into hyperspace. The tension in the Command Center mounted as every extra minute spent in this system risked the chance of detection. Suddenly warning alarms sounded, and a red light flashed above the sensor console.

  “Unknown contacts emerging from hyperspace,” reported Lieutenant Brooks nervously. “Distance is two million kilometers.”

  “Put them on a viewscreen,” ordered Kurt, leaning forward in his command chair.

  “Tellurites,” muttered Grantz unhappily, as he saw the ships and identified the markings. “They operate a midsize fleet.”

  “Who are Tellurites?” asked Lieutenant Tenner.

  “One of the smaller worlds in the empire,” Grantz informed him. “They operate a number of small fleets, similar to this one, which routinely prey on inbound cargo ships.”

  “Give me a ship count and type,” Kurt ordered from Sensors, as he listened to Grantz.

  “Eight escort cruisers and one battlecruiser,” reported Lieutenant Brooks. “They have turned and are moving toward us at a high rate of acceleration.”

  “How long until the Lansing has completed its diagnostics?”

  “Five more minutes,” Captain Randson reported, his eyes focusing on the admiral. “We could attempt to jump and hope the problem with the hyperdrive system on the Lansing is only a computer glitch.”

  “No,” Kurt answered, shaking his head. “We can’t afford to lose the cargo ship. It has the gold on board that we’ll need to complete our mission on Kubitz.” Kurt thought over his options. “The fleet will jump as soon as the Lansing has completed her diagnostics and confirmed there are no problems.”

  “The Tellurites will attack as soon as they’re in range,” warned Grantz, his large eyes narrowing sharply. “They will show your crews no mercy. They want the cargo ship and possibly your passenger ship as well.”

  Kurt activated the ship-to-ship comm frequency. “All ships, stand by for combat operations. Newton Princess and Lansing, you’re to stay behind the Star Cross and our two light cruisers. We’ll give you covering fire, until we’re ready to jump.”

  “What if the Tellurites don’t fire?” asked Andrew, looking over at Grantz. “They may want to negotiate first.”

  “No!” Grantz said emphatically, shaking his head. “They won’t negotiate. They won’t leave any witnesses to their attack.”

  Kurt gazed at the tactical screen and the rapidly approaching ships. “Grantz, contact those ships and tell them to stop their approach, or we’ll fire on them.”

  “It won’t do any good,” Grantz said with a frown, as he walked over to the communications console.

  Ensign Pierce changed to the frequency Grantz indicated, and sat there listening, while he warned the inbound ships in the Profiteer language. It only took a moment for a reply to come back.

  “They’re demanding you drop your shields and power down your weapons,” Grantz reported grimly. “They say, if you do, that they’ll only search your ships, take whatever valuables they may find, and then allow you to go on your way.”

  “Fat chance of that,” muttered Captain Randson.

  “They can’t be trusted,” reiterated Grantz, his large eyes gazing intently at Kurt. “You should fire on them first.”

  “They’re nearly in weapons range,” warned Lieutenant Brooks with a look of concern.

  “Stand by to fire,” ordered Kurt, reaching a decision. He could feel his pulse race. “Both light cruisers and the Star Cross will target the battlecruiser with our particle beam cannons. Ignore their lighter units for now.”

  “Good decision,” commented Grantz, folding his arms across his chest and gazing expectantly at the viewscreens.

  Andrew focused on Kurt. “That might let their lighter units get in some hits.”

  “True,” Kurt replied. “But, if we can take out their battlecruiser, the lighter units may turn back.”

  “Do we fire first?” asked Andrew, looking unsure. Then, in a quieter voice, he added, “What if Grantz lied to us about what the Tellurites said?”

  “I didn’t lie,” Grantz said, overhearing Andrew’s comment. “I signed the contract. You can trust me.”

  Kurt gestured toward the tactical screen and the rapidly approaching Profiteers. “Does that look like a peaceful formation?”

  Andrew shook his head and went to stand behind the tactical station, in case he was needed.

  “Weapons are ready to fire,” reported Lieutenant Mays, as she spoke to her tactical officers. “Targeting the battlecruiser with our particle beam cannon.”

  Kurt toggled on the ship-to-ship communications. “Lock particle beams on target and prepare to fire.”

  “Combat range,” Lieutenant Brooks said, her face whiter than normal.

  “Fire!” ordered Kurt, his eyes focused sharply on the tactical display.

  “Firing,” reported Lieutenant Mays from Tactical.

  -

  From the bow of the Star Cross, a dark blue particle beam flashed forth to strike the energy shield of the inbound Tellurite battlecruiser. From the Dallas and the Sydney additional beams lashed out, striking the alien ship. The enemy’s screen flared brightly, and then one of the beams penetrated, striking the bow section of the vessel. A brilliant explosion erupted when the beam struck the hull, and debris began drifting away from the ship. The ship’s energy screen seemed to flicker, and another particle beam penetrated it, blasting a huge glowing gash in the side of the now partially disabled Tellurite battlecruiser.

  The two light cruisers turned broadside and opened fire with their laser turrets and railguns, pounding the weakening shield with their fire. Then the screen failed completely, and the weapons fire from the two light cruisers tore open compartment after compartment rapidly disabling the battlecruiser.

  -

  “Launch a Hydra missile,” ordered Kurt between clenched teeth. “Let’s finish her off.” He wanted this battle over with as quickly as possible before any of his ships could be damaged. With their fleet so far from Newton, there would be no way to implement major repairs.

  From the Star Cross a small Hydra missile launched from one of the ship’s missile tubes. The missile contained a ten-kiloton warhead, which smashed into the Tellurite battlecruiser. The ship vanished in a brilliant flash of light, as a small sun appeared in its location.

  “Your missiles travel too slowly,” commented Grantz, shaking his head in disapproval. “If the defensive batteries on the battlecruiser were still functioning, they would have easily intercepted it.”

  “Tellurite battlecruiser is down,” confirmed Lieutenant Brooks, the color returning to her face.

  The Star Cross shuddered slightly as an energy beam from one of the inbound escort cruisers struck the ship’s shield.

  “Grantz, contact whoever is in charge over there and tell them, if they don’t withdraw immediately, we’ll destroy their other ships.”

  Grantz quickly stepped back over to the communications console and sent the message.

  “The Tellurites are breaking off,” Lieutenant Brooks reported.

  On the tactical screen, the inbound Tellurite ships came to a stop and then reversed course.

  “They agreed,” Grantz said
with a grin. “They apologized for the attack and said it was a misunderstanding. They didn’t like losing their battlecruiser.”

  “Why would they apologize?” asked Andrew with a frown.

  “So you won’t file a complaint with the Controllers at Kubitz,” Grantz explained. “In a failed attack, and, if it can be proven the Tellurites were guilty, they are required to pay for any damages they may have caused.”

  Andrew shook his head in disgust. “That’s one hell of a legal system you have.”

  Grantz shrugged his shoulders. “It works and keeps the peace between the worlds of the empire.”

  “The Lansing reports the diagnostic scan is complete, and they did find a small malfunction with the energy system,” Ensign Pierce reported. “The fault has been corrected, and they’re ready to jump.”

  “Let’s get out of here, before someone else shows up,” Kurt ordered. “We have one more jump, and then we’ll make the final one to take us to the Kubitz System.”

  “Finally,” Andrew said, his eyes focusing on the admiral.

  “We’re nearly there,” Kurt said, knowing what Andrew was thinking. “A few more hours and we’ll reach Kubitz.” Kurt just hoped that all the abductees were still there and hadn’t already been sold at one of the slave auctions. Grantz had confided to Kurt that, in all likelihood, the auction hadn’t been held yet, but that time was growing short.

  As the Star Cross and her fleet jumped into hyperspace, Kurt wondered what was ahead of them. They were in an unknown section of the galaxy depending on an alien, whose people had nuked Earth, to guide them. So many things could go wrong that he was afraid to even think about them. Kurt’s eyes shifted over to Grantz, who was leaving Command Center with Lieutenant Tenner. If the conniving Profiteer had lied to them, it was doubtful any of them would ever see home again.

  Chapter Nine

  “Emergence in five minutes,” reported Captain Randson, as he waited anxiously for dropout.

  “We will be detected immediately,” Grantz informed Fleet Admiral Vickers. He stood next to the admiral, observing the activity in the busy Command Center. “The entire Kubitz System is covered by a series of hyperspace detection satellites.”

  “We’ll inform them that we’re here to make some military purchases and to check out the slave markets,” spoke up Lieutenant Marvin Tenner. He and the other members of the First Contact team had spent a lot of time speaking with Profiteer Grantz about the Kubitz System and what they could expect when they arrived.

  “Fleet is at Condition Two,” added Captain Randson, impatient for them to arrive at their destination.

  “All ships will come to a dead stop once we emerge,” ordered Kurt over the ship-to-ship comm. “We will make no overtly hostile moves. Once we have established communication with the Controller station, Profiteer Grantz will explain to them why we’re here.” Kurt, Grantz, and Lieutenant Tenner had devised a plan that should allow them to go to Kubitz. Kurt just hoped everything worked out. It made him nervous being so dependent on the Profiteer and the information he had provided them.

  “It will be necessary for me to go to the station and pay the fees, so your ships can stay in the system and be under protection of the Kubitz defense forces,” Grantz reminded the admiral.

  “Lieutenant Tenner and I will be going with you,” Kurt informed Grantz. He wondered why the Profiteer was so insistent about them not accompanying him. Was there something on the station he didn’t want Kurt to find out?

  “Emergence,” called out Ensign Styles.

  Kurt felt the Star Cross drop back into normal space. He grew tense waiting for the screens to clear. Grantz had made it clear that the fleet should leave their energy shields down and their weapons at minimal power.

  “Contacts!” called out Lieutenant Brooks, as her short-range sensors detected numerous power sources. “I’m picking up a large number of ships and one truly massive structure.”

  “That would be the Controller station,” commented Grantz, as he looked over at the admiral. “They should be hailing us shortly.”

  “We’re being challenged,” Ensign Pierce reported, as a demanding voice came over her comm console.

  “I’m detecting a squadron of six small warships accelerating toward us,” added Lieutenant Brooks. “Ships are two hundred meters in length and heavily armed.”

  “Kubitz police ships,” Grantz informed Kurt. “I better explain to them why we’re here and make arrangements for us to go to the station.”

  “Do so,” Kurt ordered, unhappy that Grantz seemed to be the one in charge of the situation. Kurt needed to find some way to correct that.

  Grantz stepped to Communications and quickly established contact with the station. He spoke quickly in the Profiteer language and, at one point, seemed to become aggravated, as if he were arguing with whomever he was speaking with. He relayed a few more terse sentences and, at last, appeared satisfied and cut the comm channel.

  “It’s done,” he said. “We may approach the station, and we’re to stop at fifty thousand kilometers. From there we’re to take a shuttle to the station and pay our fees.”

  “What were you arguing about?” asked Captain Randson, his eyes focused intently on Grantz. He didn’t trust the Profiteer.

  The Profiteer laughed and slowly shook his head. “They weren’t happy to see a group of unknown and obviously heavily armed ships appear unannounced. They were demanding a fee nearly three times normal. I managed to talk them down to the normal fee, explaining that you would spend a large number of credits on Kubitz. Unfortunately I also had to offer a small bribe.”

  “A bribe!” blurted out Andrew, his eyes bulging. “Why a bribe?”

  “Everyone skims from the top,” Grantz explained evenly. “The bribes aren’t large, and the Controllers are aware of them.”

  “Ensign Styles, take us to fifty thousand kilometers from the station,” Kurt ordered with a frown covering his face.

  It concerned him that they were already paying bribes. Grantz had casually mentioned this to Kurt earlier, but he had dismissed it as Grantz merely trying to get his hands on more gold. They were about to enter a culture they knew very little about.

  As the small fleet moved slowly toward the assigned coordinates, the long-range sensors showed the rest of the system. Kurt stared in awe at the sight of the Controller station on the viewscreen, easily forty kilometers in length and ten in width. On its surface were a number of what looked like small habitable domes, one to two kilometers in diameter. Around the station were over four hundred ships of various types in orbit, a count validated by the ship’s sensors. Most of them anywhere from ten to seventy thousand kilometers out.

  One other thing the sensors reported was that the station was very heavily armed with ion cannons, energy projectors, and what appeared to be hundreds of hyperspace missile tubes. In near orbit of the station were twenty squadrons of the small police ships. Also hundreds of shuttles were traveling back and forth between the ships in the outer orbits and the station.

  “Busy place,” commented Captain Randson.

  Kurt nodded, as the viewscreens put up images of different ships of every size and configuration. Some nearly boggled the mind.

  “It’s one of the biggest trading centers in the galaxy,” bragged Grantz. “Many ships come to Kubitz, because they can buy things here not available anywhere else in the galaxy.”

  “And each has to pay a fee just to enter the system,” muttered Captain Randson, shaking his head in disbelief.

  After a few more minutes, Ensign Styles turned toward the admiral. “We’re in position, sir.”

  “Very well,” Kurt said, “let’s board the shuttle and get over to the station.”

  “Are you sure you don’t want an armed escort?” Andrew asked. “We have some Marines I can assign. We don’t know how safe it will be over there.”

  “It might be wise, Admiral,” added Lieutenant Mays. “I can arrange for a security team.”

  “No we
apons,” said Grantz, shaking his head. “They’re strictly forbidden on the Controller station. You have nothing to worry about. No violence of any kind is allowed.”

  “I’m sure we’ll be safe,” Kurt said, drawing in a deep breath. “Let’s get going.” He looked around the Command Center as they left, seeing the concerned looks on the faces of his crew. They were just as worried as he was about their current situation.

  -

  Kurt watched nervously as the small shuttle neared the massive station. He wondered how many years it had taken to build this monstrosity. It made Newton Station seem insignificant. Kurt sighed and looked over at Grantz, who sat near the pilot, giving him instructions for landing. The Profiteer was in constant communication with the station, as he passed on their directives.

  The shuttle entered a large airlock and shuddered slightly.

  “What was that?” asked Kurt, seeing the startled look on the pilot’s face.

  “Atmospheric retention field,” Grantz answered simply. “It’s a weak energy shield that prevents the air inside the landing bay from escaping.”

  Brilliant lights illuminated the inside of the massive bay. Hundreds of shuttles were either docked or sitting on landing platforms. Very few shuttles were identical, and hundreds of beings moved about.

  “We’re to land on Platform 218,” Grantz informed the pilot. “It’s over there.” Grantz pointed to a landing area where lights blinked.

  The pilot carefully followed the Profiteer’s instructions and set down the shuttle with scarcely a jar. “We’re down, sir,” the pilot reported. “Atmosphere outside registers as near Earth normal.”

  “Let’s go,” Grantz said, standing up. He paused, and looked at Kurt and the lieutenant. “There will be an armed reception committee, as this is your first time here. Once the fees have been paid, the armed escort will leave us.”

  “This should be interesting,” Lieutenant Tenner said, as he stood up.

  Kurt nodded his head in agreement and, bending over, picked up a case, which contained two small gold bars, then looked over at Grantz. “Lead the way.”