The rank of guider was a secretive position in the Planetary Control Corps. Society in general and even some in the Corps were uncomfortable with the mental linking of humans and animals, but CENTRAL considered it necessary for the defense of the Fleet. Graduate women from the Academy with the brightest, most adaptive minds were chosen, and the training was intense. A high level of honor and dark prestige was associated with the skill. And if an officer ever became a renegade, the black market would pay handsomely for the skill.
She checked her instruments, confirming the status of the shielding. “All shielding restored to full levels, boss.”
Galen was pleased to have a guider/pouncer team, a defensive luxury not many ships had, and he was content with their performance. Although Estelle had been with him for two and a half standard years, he still harbored doubts about her loyalty. Only a former Victorian officer could have her guider training and possess a fully trained cat. No other organization had the resources for the extensive and complicated training necessary. By her own admission she was a renegade of the New Victorian Empire and willingly submitted to complete scans before he hired her. She hadn’t given him reason to doubt her, Galen just had a gut feeling. He didn’t trust women and he hated cats.
He had asked her why she went renegade. A woman with her abilities could go far in the New Victorian Empire. What would cause her to give up the benefits and luxuries afforded to her? Was it hatred for the Empire? What was it that made her not only walk away, but become an enemy of an Empire that would have cultivated her talents and awarded her handsomely for them? She said it was something on a personal level. Questions like these gnawed at Galen at less intense times, occupying his mind more than he wanted to admit. Did she hate the Empire as much as he did? For as long as he could remember, he and his twin brother Terran had despised the controlling, authoritarian government that had been in power for nearly five centuries. He hated the absolute rule by women alone. Total female rule was unnatural. Did not the male animals assume dominance and lead the others? Did not ancient history also prove the rightful place of men as rulers? He would never accept or submit to total rule by women. He would always resist in any manner he could.
Louis’s voice sounded over the COM system indicating one minute until the engines fired up. “I have the PCC ships on the NAV screen, boss. They know where we are headed and they are all on an intercept course. We may outrun some of them, but now we have to show our hand. Now we go back into the fire.”
Galen's ship was huge, five hundred meters in length, and was equipped with the armament of a Victorian cruiser. Everything was the best to be had. Louis had also added his own touches to keep one step ahead of the Planetary Control Corps technology.
Galen strapped himself in at the controls. He wanted his fingers on the trigger in the fight he knew was coming. He entrusted the piloting of the ship to Terran. He trusted him and the two had used the link for five years. As a guider and pouncer were mentally-linked together, a pilot and gunner could also be mentally-linked. A Level I interface was all that two humans needed or could endure. A deeper level interface would invariably lead to dominance by the stronger mind. A Level I interface had restraints and buffers to prevent total mental interaction, thus preventing dominance. Two linked individuals needed to fully trust each other and be well matched in thought processes. Having an identical twin made this easier to do.
Galen put on the headgear and hooked in the link. Terran was already connected and Galen felt the dream-like confusion of mixed emotions trying to focus as the interface gently pulled their independent thoughts together into the same flowing stream. Each maintained his individual side thoughts, like currents or eddies along the edges of a clear but frighteningly deep river. There were shapes in that deepness that took no form, but could be felt. Some were fearful, some vague, but all were seemingly at the edge of a dream and just out of reach. He wondered if a Level II interface lead to those depths but his thinking was interrupted as his thoughts come into focus with Terran’s.
“Welcome to dreamland again,” Terran thought.
“Right. I’ll feel better when we enter the Keyhole,” Galen thought. “Is it on time and in the same position? I've planned and waited a long time for this trip. My collection is nearly complete. The Empire is not going to stop me now, not when I'm so close.”
“It's always on time but the location continually shifts. The PCC ships won’t know the exact location either.”
The thirty second warning light flashed on. “Maximum starting thrust in twenty-five seconds,” Louis said.
Remembering to use his voice, Galen barked out commands. “Everyone strap in. Rough ride coming up!”
Check lights clicked on one by one as the rest of the crew members strapped in – six, seven, eight – nine – one more to go. “Johnny, are you in?” he said over the COM to his First Officer. The last light clicked on as the last seconds ticked off.
“Here we go!” said Louis, excitement in his voice. “Maximum starting power!”
The fusion thrusters shook the ship as they fired up to fifty percent. Any more would push the thrusters right through the ship, which was not designed for the substantially more powerful engines replacing the originals. The G-forces increased tremendously, pushing them into their specially designed gravity seats. The skin of their faces pulled back and their eyeballs sank in. The inertia dampers controlling the G-forces were at full, lowering the forces to a tolerable level, safely lower than the life crushing pressure of maximum starting thrust. Louis could now bring them up steadily to full thrust in fifty seconds, twice as fast as any PCC ships nearby. His fine tuning was paying off.
Galen and Terran were glued to the NAV screens, their thoughts racing together faster than verbal communication would allow.
“Where is that blasted Keyhole?” Galen thought.
“It’s somewhere in the designated area, probably on the far side. Scanners will pick it up soon. Wait, it’s there – near the edge – ten minutes away,” thought Terran. “Look! Nine PCC ships! We’re ahead of five already and with luck we can beat three more coming in from the sides. That leaves one directly ahead and any more that might be cloaked.”
“Cloaked? I thought they didn’t have that technology on these small patrol ships.”
“They don’t, yet. But if they have another cruiser in the area, it will be. All we can do is wait and see.”
“Full thrust in ten seconds,” Louis said, straining against the G-forces. “Dampers at one hundred ten percent. All circuits holding.”
Galen watched the seconds count down to zero and felt the increased rumble and vibration as the two Zenkati fusion engines roared like a matched binary star, somehow harnessed and barely controlled. He loved the raw power of his star ship. The vibration and G-forces shot up oppressively but started leveling off as the dampers struggled to compensate, slowly gaining. The heavy gravity began to subside and Galen smiled, and laughed to himself. Action like this is what he lived for, and his eyes gleamed with the rush of adrenalin.
“You’re ready for the fight, aren’t you,” Terran thought, chuckling in his mind. Not a mocking laugh, but of understanding and camaraderie, as two knights side by side eagerly joining the battle, laughing as they ride forth to a nameless enemy.
“Shields up and guns out!” Galen said. “We have a fight ahead!” He twitched in his seat, straining against the subsiding G-forces. The smile on his face was one of pure anticipation and pleasure.
Chapter III
“Their ship is firing up the engines, Ma'am. Look! The acceleration is incredible! How can they possibly survive?” Archer said, her eyes wide as she stared at the screens.
“It's impressive,” Rogerton said. “Remember, they have Franelli. Bestmarke was no fool when he acquired him years ago. Those two are a dangerous combination, genius and ambition. It's rumored that Bestmarke interfaces with another human like a guider/pouncer team. Franelli, no doubt, worked that one out.” She looked up from th
e screens, disgust in her voice. “Franelli would have been on our side, but for the Compu-Court. Efficiency at all costs – the cost this time has been dear.”
A junior officer broke in. “Two minutes to intercept, Ma’am. Shall we raise our shields and ready our weapons?”
“Do it. Status on our sister ships, Warden Archer.”
“Five behind him and three at the sides, but they cannot intercept. Bestmarke has outrun them all. Only we are in his path now, and we have seen his armament. We are out-gunned, Ma’am. Remember what he did to the Laurel and Ship Three,” she said, her voice trailing off. Rogerton could sense her fear, a legitimate fear.
“We alone can't go against him. He is heading for the Keyhole with only our small ship in his way. He could go any other direction and outrun us, yet he continues toward the Keyhole. Why?”
She studied the weapons inventory only to be interrupted by the ninety second intercept warning. “Deploy all the projectile mines we have and target them in the enemy ship’s path. On my mark!” Rogerton said. “Kolanna, get us out of here! Full thrust, full rear shielding! Now!”
The Planetary Control Corps ship lurched as its single fusion engine roared to full power. Speeding away from the oncoming ship, five projectile mines were deployed with a burst, like sparks from a campfire. The PCC ship continued its arc and began to pull away on a course perpendicular to Bestmarke’s oncoming ship.
“Sixty-seconds to mine intercept,” the soft voice of the computer said.
“Go to one quarter thrust and hold,” Rogerton said. “We'll see if there are any pieces to pick up. Take us out of weapons range, Kolanna, and change to a parallel course. Keep the shields at full strength, focused towards his ship.”
“Full strength, Ma’am?” Archer said.
“Yes, keep them at full strength. Never trust Bestmarke. He is a despicable man lacking any honor. He hates the Empire and has resisted all of our efforts to deal with him in an honorable way. Franelli has emboldened him in his arrogance. It will be a momentous day in the Empire when both of them are in custody – or dead.”
**********
“Projectile mines”, Terran thought. “We don’t need those.”
“Getting worried?” Galen thought, grinning as he glanced at Terran. “We’ll just pick them off with the hyper-lasers.”
“It won’t work on these. They’re shielded.”
“Then we’ll use the pulse-cannon to break down the shielding. Then the hyper-lasers.”
“It won't work. Recharge time on the cannon is one and a half seconds. We may destroy a couple of mines before the rest unload. Two projectiles per mine, if they’re standard issue. At best, we’ll get two mines. That leaves three mines, six projectiles. Can Estelle and the cat handle what's left?”
“Leave them out of it! We can handle this!” Galen thought, his temper flaring and his raging anger clouding the river of their combined consciousness. Frightening waves and deep whirlpools seemed to grow as if a vast dark storm were approaching. Terran’s calming thoughts, like clear skies peeking under the edges of that darkness, seemed remote and insignificant. But gradually, over what seemed long moments, which in fact were only seconds, Terran’s steadiness soothed the rage from Galen’s mind. The waters calmed as the murkiness gave way to clearing, even to the greenish depths of their mysteriously joined consciousness.
“That’s better,” Terran said. “We need control now and clear thinking. There is always a way out. Space has many directions.”
Galen steeled his self-control and opened the defense channel. “Stelle, can you and the Pouncer handle...”
“Maybe nine, eight for sure. If you clear one mine, we’ll get the others,” Estelle said. “You have fifteen seconds. Awaiting your command.”
The command was obvious as Galen fired the pulse-cannon. He fired again after it recharged and continued to fire three more times. First one pulse and then another flashed out from the ship like hot blue stars, streaking to their targets. The first one hit the mine, causing it to glow a dull red, quickly brightening to orange, and flashing white as its temperature soared. It exploded in a brilliant burst of light. The second pulse intercepted the second mine and destroyed it. The third, fourth and fifth mines were destroyed, too, but not before the last three had unloaded their shield piercing projectiles.
“Nine projectiles!” Estelle said. “You have to give me control! There are too many for partial control! I must have total control of the ship! Ten seconds!”
Galen looked in dismay at the NAV screens. Cursing, he muttered something about standard issue and tapped in the code that gave total ship control to the defense cube.
“I know you don’t trust her,” Terran thought. “But at the moment, she’s the best we’ve got, she and Tommie.”
“Don’t remind me. We’ll all be feline fricassee if they don’t pull us out. It will happen quickly, if that’s any consolation.”
The ship trembled as Estelle mentally coaxed the engines to one hundred-ten percent. For brief periods they could handle that and more without overheating. The projectiles bore down on them in a great pincer-like pattern. The three closest were ten seconds away on the lower port. Estelle banked hard to upper starboard and pushed the engines to one hundred-twenty percent. The projectiles banked hard in pursuit, straining to catch the ship. The hard turn spread them out far enough that she and Tommie gained a few more milliseconds between each projectile, enough additional time for them to catch the deadly incoming intruders.
Flipping the separator switch off and engaging the mind-link, Estelle felt her thoughts racing across what seemed like a vast, closely trimmed, bright green lawn, stretching off into infinity. It was filled with small, smooth, round bumps or hills, and shallow valleys between. Everywhere was the same smooth, bright green grass, bathed in golden yellow sunlight. Every time she saw it she was amazed and briefly awed, like a baby seeing its first brilliant spring flower or butterfly. “The playing field,” she thought. An orange striped tabby cat, glistening in the sunlight, sat on the nearest small hill. He looked at her with anticipation, his ears straight ahead, and his eyes a soft golden glow.
“Play?” thought Tommie with almost a musical quality. “Play?” he thought again with more insistence.
“Yes, play!” thought Estelle with anticipation. She projected affection and well-being to ensure calmness and total concentration on the task at hand. “Let’s start now.”
Tommie went to a heightened alert, scanning the area all around. From a distance away he saw the first three projectiles approaching. The program made them appear as small white rats scurrying straight for them – small distinct white shapes over the green bumps of lawn.
The speed of the cat amazed Estelle. Like a shot he bounded forward to the back side of a hill, tail twitching, and awaited the first rat. It didn't swerve, but came straight over the top. He pounced and grabbed it in his outstretched claws. Estelle mentally hit the trigger. In a dynamic burst the hyper-laser swept out, vaporizing the first projectile. Tommie saw the rat disappear and shifted his attention to the next. He caught it without any difficulty and Estelle triggered the laser again. Each one became progressively more difficult. The ship jerked and banked hard again and again following Tommie’s pattern as he hunted down the projectile rats and Estelle triggered the hyper-laser.
The last two came together and Estelle could see the danger if Tommie could not reach them in time. “Quick, Tommie! Quick!” Estelle thought, suppressing her anxiety. Tommie’s ability was unusually keen, which was why he had a TMC-7 rating. Although he was near exhaustion, he did not give up as a lesser ranked cat might have done. He leaped toward them and with great maneuvering caught number eight. Estelle fired and number eight disappeared.
Number nine, the last one, was running toward Estelle. It was apparent it would reach her before Tommie could get it, she had to slow it down. Banking the ship hard to starboard, she mentally rammed the engine controls to one hundred-fifty percent. The ship shudd
ered violently and the inertia dampers struggled as the increasing G-forces pushed them back in their harnesses. The warning light and horn jolted on screaming thirty seconds to fusion overload.
“Come on, Tommie – just one more – you can do it.”
Tommie turned and looked back at the white rat, half way to his partner. The rat was moving more slowly as the ship’s speed increased, but steadily it drew nearer to Estelle. Tommie was weary but he lunged forward, straining, his thinking distracted by the heavy gravity. The rat was six meters from Estelle and gnawing as if trying to chew through something. All at once it resumed moving closer. Another horn and flashing light snapped on. “Shield breach! Shield breach!”
Tommie leaped faster. Four more bounds and he would have it. The rat was two meters from Estelle. With a last powerful jump, Tommie was on it, claws and teeth gripping tight. This one wouldn’t get away.
TROPHY Page 2
