by Chris Ward
‘Stillwater!’ Jake cried.
Lia looked from one to the other with a look of bemusement.
The elevator doors slid open. Five Tolgier guards in a semi-circle leveled proton cannons. Caladan threw his hand up in the air, but Jake stepped forward.
‘Tis true, the revolt be in full force,’ he said. ‘You’d best allocate a larger consignment of troops to quell the feisty rebels before they overflow their tank.’
The two guards in the center, both wearing the crests of higher ranks, looked at each other. ‘Yes, sir,’ one said.
Caladan glanced at Lia, who looked down at herself, wondering what appearance Jake had given her.
‘The commander here offers kind words of apology for the troubles his prisoners have caused,’ Jake said. ‘Rock Haven’s security will be informed, and alternative forms of confinement will be considered.’
‘You’re a grub,’ Caladan whispered to Lia.
‘And the princess here—’ Jake indicated Lia, who grinned at Caladan, ‘—would like to thank you for allowing her safe passage. Her people will reward you generously. Is her shuttle ready?’
The two higher ranked guards looked at each other. ‘Yes…of course,’ the first said.
‘Take us to the hangar, please,’ Jake said. ‘With the greatest of urgency. A rebellion waits for no one, does it?’
Still wearing a look of confusion, the head guard turned to two of the others and barked instructions in a language Caladan could only just understand. He smiled at a couple of phrases he picked up ‘show these delegates some respect’, and ‘our heads are on the block if they’re not transferred to the fueling station safely’.
The two guards led them to a small hangar containing three interplanetary shuttles sitting at dock. As soon as the elevator doors were closed, Jake turned on the guards, raising his blaster. ‘We have no more use of your service now, but we thank ye kindly.’
Lia knocked his hand aside, the blast firing harmlessly into a ventilation grill set into the floor. As Jake frowned at her, she said, ‘You might be a journalist, but you’ve read too many stories. Kill these men and they’re of no use to us.’
‘What are we supposed to do with them?’
Lia waved her own blaster at the guards. ‘That terminal over there. Ensure a shuttle is ready for launch and is upgraded with clearance codes to get us right across Quaxar System.’
One of the guards raised a shaking hand. ‘Access to these shuttles is through a vertical hatch. Will you need special assistance for the … um, commander?’
‘I can climb a ladder,’ Caladan growled.
Lia suppressed a smile as she shook her head. ‘He secretes a special chemical that allows him to stick to most surfaces. But thank you for your kind offer.’
With Lia’s blaster still trained on them, the two guards went to a terminal and removed the remote-locking on the nearest shuttle then activated the launch sequence.
Jake climbed up the ladder into the shuttle while Caladan waited for Lia. ‘Quickly,’ he said. ‘You know the moment we’re onboard, they’ll betray us, don’t you?’
‘Try to slither if you can.’ She gave him a wink. ‘Keep up appearances.’
Lia climbed up. Once she was out of sight, Caladan lifted his blaster and blew out the terminal. He turned it on the two guards, but at the last moment he had a change of heart and adjusted the settings to stun.
‘Compassion must be catching,’ he muttered as he watched the two men twitching on the floor beside the wrecked terminal. ‘Better be careful about that.’
With only one arm, it was quite a struggle to climb a ladder. He was only halfway up when it rose on its own, however, lifting him into a lower entrance bay, the hatch closing beneath him.
Jake stood nearby, next to a control panel. ‘Thought you needed a little assistance, my friend.’
‘Thanks. Where’s Lia?’
‘The cockpit.’
Lia was already in the pilot’s chair. Caladan looked at the view-screen and saw the hangar doors opening, lights on either side indicating the presence of a magnetic field keeping the vacuum of space at bay. From deep in the shuttle’s intestines, the engines hummed. With a sudden growl, the shuttle lifted into the air.
‘Hang on.’ She jerked a lever forward and they roared out into space, the magnetic field automatically opening to allow them through.
As soon as they were away, Lia climbed out of the pilot’s chair and offered it to Caladan. She took a co-pilot’s seat, and Jake strapped into a passenger birth at the rear. Caladan scanned through an inventory screen displaying the shuttle’s credentials. A basic commercial vessel with only two small cannons to discourage pirates, it had no real speed or armor. It was designed only for ferrying passengers from a space-docked starship down to a planet.
Caladan brought them around, bringing the cross-shaped fueling station and the lumpy prison ship back into view.
‘What are those little dots?’ Jake asked. ‘Space dust? They remind me of the fireflies I used to watch at sunset on a midsummer’s day.’
Caladan frowned at Jake, wondering if the journalist had designs on adding poetry to his repertoire. ‘If only we could be so lucky,’ he said. ‘They’re fighters, coming from the fueling station. I told you it wouldn’t take long, would it?’
‘What now?’
‘Those guards pulled a number on us,’ Caladan said. ‘This thing isn’t capable of stasis-ultraspace jumps, and I bet they knew it.’ He scrolled through the inventory, looking for something that might help them. ‘If we increase to maximum cruising speed, we’ll have just enough power to reach Ergon-7.’
‘What’s that?’ Lia asked.
‘Ergogate’s smallest moon. It orbits just outside the asteroid belt. It’ll take three or four Earth-days to get there, though. I hope there’s some food on this thing.’
Jake grinned. ‘All we need is Stillwater.’ He held up his flask. ‘Trust in the mighty liquid, and it’ll see us safe.’
‘Let’s hope so,’ Caladan said.
‘What’s on Ergon-7?’ Lia asked.
‘No idea. All we’ve got listed is that there’s only a trace gas atmosphere, so we’re unlikely to find any settlements above ground. There might be nothing there. It’s pretty remote.’
‘So, you want to use our fuel reserves to take us somewhere which might be uninhabited, from where we won’t have enough fuel to return?’
‘Yes.’
‘You’re crazy.’
Caladan smiled. ‘Does that still surprise you?’
Lia shook her head. ‘No. Set a course.’
‘I already did.’
In the rear-view-screens, the fighters dropped back as the shuttle picked up speed. Within ten minutes the fueling station and the prison ship would be a speck, indistinguishable from the background stars. And within an hour, they’d be cruising at a couple of million Earth-miles an hour, enough to intercept Ergon-7 in its orbit within three Earth-days.
Caladan leaned back and put his only hand behind his head.
‘OK, escape sorted,’ he said. ‘Now, what does this shuttle have in the way of entertainment?’
7
Beth
The robot had a shoulder cannon that followed Beth’s movements as she shifted from side to side. She was still angry at herself for failing to notice it, but she had expected the ship to be unmanned. The data Davar had hacked from the spaceport’s mainframe computer had noted the ship’s crew as being held on remand under suspicion of smuggling. It had failed to mention a droid.
‘Don’t shoot me.’ She slowly lifted her hands, wishing she was brave enough to pull her blaster and take the robot out. ‘We’re not dangerous, I promise.’
‘My programming tells me I ought to judge that for myself,’ the droid said.
‘Really, there’s nothing to worry about. We’re just borrowing your ship for a while.’
‘The captain will be deeply upset. While my programming suggests she might sympathize,
a theft is still a theft.’
‘Just lower your gun long enough to let us get Davar to the medical recuperation tank.’
While the robot had been speaking, Paul had inched closer to Beth. ‘Do you want me to rush him?’ he hissed.
‘You wouldn’t get more than halfway,’ the robot said. ‘And you’d only get that far because I’ve been left uncharged and am operating on auxiliary power. In addition, my audio sensors have a hundred times the capacity of yours. I can hear a pin drop on level four.’
‘No,’ Beth said. ‘Best not try to rush him.’
‘So what do we do?’
‘We try to reason with it.’
‘I am identified as a he,’ the robot said. ‘It relates to the audio producer I’m installed with. It’s nothing personal.’
‘That’s nice. So, what do you want from us?’
‘An explanation. This is a privately-owned vessel of which you have assumed control. That is an offense against galactic law in all known systems.’
‘I’m aware of that.’
‘So explain. It won’t help you, but it will pass the time.’
Beth shrugged. ‘We align ourselves with the Defenders of the Free. Have you heard of them?’
‘I’ve picked up some information via intercepted transmissions. The Defenders of the Free are a fleet of volunteer spacecraft planning to go to the aid of the stricken Trill System while the governments of the Estron Quadrant still bicker and debate over what to do. The most recently received transmission stated the defenders counted seventy-five ships. For comparison, Ergogate alone boasts a space navy of a hundred and ten.’
‘What’s your point?’
‘None. I’m merely mentioning the statistics. Trill System’s Space Fleet, the largest in the Estron Quadrant, boasted more than eleven thousand major space battleships—not to mention thousands of drone fighters—yet it was crushed in a few weeks.’
‘So? We can’t just stand by and do nothing. There’s a Bareleon Helix eating Trill System from the inside out. We can’t let the system fall.’
‘It’s too late for that. It’s already fallen. According to data filtering its way out through the wormholes, Overlord Climlee now rules Trill System. At his command are five thousand Shadowmen ships, with a complement of more than one million Evattlan warriors for his ground infantry. That is in addition to the Bareleon Helix, a planet-eating, half-organic, half robot monstrosity.’
‘Space Cthulu,’ Paul growled, putting his hands together in a gun motion then firing off an air-shot at the wall. ‘Damn, if I won’t erase that mother from existence.’
‘My captain would like to achieve the same goal,’ the robot said. ‘But she understands wanting and doing are two different things.’
‘Can we please take Davar to the recuperation tank?’ Beth said.
‘I’m not stopping you.’
‘But your cannon—’
‘Will destroy you if you attempt to operate this ship. I have no aversion to you aiding your injured friend. The recuperation tanks are in the medical bay. That’s on level two, in the second door out from the central elevator. Or the stairs, as we’re currently using, until it’s fixed.’
‘Which level is this?’
‘Level one. For some quirk of engineering, this ship counts its levels from the flight cabin down. Along with the flight cabin, we have the living quarters here. Level three is mostly maintenance and storage, while the entrance hatch and the cargo bays are on level four.’
Beth nodded. ‘Thank you.’
‘My pleasure. There is an automated gurney in the cupboard to your left. Let me be of assistance.’ The robot moved forward, reaching for the cupboard.
As soon as his back was turned, Paul pulled his blaster and pressed it against the robot’s head. ‘Stand down, you metal ape,’ he growled. ‘We’re in control now.’
A ticking chuckle came from the robot’s chest. ‘Blast away,’ he said. ‘My head unit is merely for familiarity. My vital components are protected in a heavily armored section in my rear.’
Paul frowned and swung his gun toward the robot’s lower back. As he did so, the robot turned, snatching Paul’s wrist and lifting him off the ground. Paul squealed as he dropped the blaster. ‘You humans,’ the robot said, shaking his head. ‘Don’t you understand a joke?’
The robot towered over her, giving instructions while she installed Davar into the recuperation tank. It was an antique compared to those Beth had known, but since most of the upgrades over the last fifty years had been cosmetic, it would still do its job. As she set the controls on the upper surface and put a hand on the glass as though to wave goodbye—even though the jelly-like substance that would preserve him had already reduced Davar’s features to a smear—the robot tutted with approval.
‘Your friend should see an improvement in a couple of weeks. Despite its obvious age, this machine works well.’
‘Can you free Paul now?’
‘You mean Little Buck? I’m afraid not. A little time to himself will allow him to tune his emotions to an acceptable level.’
Beth inwardly scowled but felt grateful not to have suffered the same fate. The robot had removed Paul’s weapons and interred him into a prisoner transportation cell on level three. Paul was too headstrong to be allowed on the bridge until sides had been established, claimed the robot, who now insisted on calling Paul Little Buck, each time following it with a flash in his eyes, as though it were another joke, one only he understood.
‘So, what happens now, robot?’
‘I prefer to be referred to as Harlan5.’
‘Um, sure, uh, Harlan5. What happens now?’
‘Well, I guess I will have to consult my programming. However, I suggest that, channeling the spirits of space cowboys of old, we attempt to make a deal.’
8
Raylan
Entering the Bareleon Helix was like flying into a giant, shifting maze. The small shuttle moved at less than a thousand kilometers an hour as it followed the escorting fighters through the churning, tentacle-like arms and the mountains of earth and debris that had once been the surface of Feint, Trill System’s most populated planet. It looked unrecognizable from the days when his fledging mercenary band had terrorized it, the great cities, off-worlder-built landmarks, and breathtaking natural features all bulldozed into heaps of indistinct rubble to be fed into the Helix’s immense processing plant. There it would either become fuel, parts of the endless production line of ships, or fused to one of the Bareleon-pure used to pilot them.
Raylan wanted to feel pleased—he’d spent time in the torture chambers below Feint’s capital of Whorl and discovered the civility displayed on the surface to be a mere mask of the atrocities committed beneath. Intelligence bred cruelty, and he had suffered for it. Of course, eventually they had let him out, and he had spent the century since quietly planning his revenge.
Now, however, another deal needed to be struck. With Feint well on its way to assuming the featureless appearance of an asteroid, perhaps it was time for the Helix to move on. Raylan, assuming the title of Overlord, had no intention of being the supreme ruler of an empty star system. Part of him regretted involving the Helix in his endeavors, but it had decimated Trill System’s Starfleet, leaving the scattered remnants easy to pick off for his Shadowmen allies.
The shuttle dipped under a tentacle several miles across as it drew a mountain of earth larger than a city standing on end in toward the Helix’s core. Raylan laughed, jumping a little, his feet leaving the ground. He replaced his surprise with a snarl, refusing to show fear to Commander Kyle Jansen, who stood beside him, a look of horror on his face.
‘I guess that was once Whorl. Good riddance.’
‘Our current location suggests we are over the south pole, so most of that mound would be ice, rock, and a few research stations.’
‘I didn’t request clarification. Do you enjoy the presence of your fingernails, Commander?’
Kyle involuntarily wiped a h
and on his overcoat. ‘My apologies, sir.’
‘Feint got the reckoning it deserved,’ Raylan said. ‘The rest of Trill System will suffer the same fate.’
At least it was best to allow the staff to believe so. If he could convince the Helix to move on, he’d be more than happy. No point being a conqueror if you couldn’t enjoy the spoils of war. And the way things were going, within a few months he would be overlord of nothing but worthless debris.
Ahead, the fighters touched down on a floating landing pad attached to the underside of one of the Helix’s inner arms by fine wires that resembled a robotic spider’s web. Their shuttle landed between the fighters, and they waited for a communication signal. After a few minutes, the transmitter on the pilot’s dashboard crackled.
‘You have been cleared to enter the audience chamber,’ came a robotic voice. ‘Be warned the atmosphere is no longer breathable.’
Down in the exit bay, Raylan, Kyle, and a group of guards donned protective gear and waited for the hatch to open. Raylan allowed the guards to leave first—a gesture of safety but little more; the Helix could blink the shuttle and his crew out of existence in a moment should it choose—then had Kyle go next. Any lurking assassin might consider the former Galactic Military Police Commander to be Raylan himself, but again, nothing happened. Ralan, his head held high to add another inch to his diminutive frame, went last, striding down the gangway as though he, and not the Helix, were the dominant life-form present.
There appeared no way to get off the floating platform until a huge tentacle snaked out of nowhere and came to a rest by the platform’s edge, an upturned metallic plunger carrying plastic bench seats which Raylan and his party took. The tentacle rushed off again, carrying them away, the wind howling around their flexiglass space helmets and tearing at their uniforms, threatening to pull them off the perilous tentacle altogether. It pitched them down to where great rumbling machines continued to reduce Feint’s surface to sand and dust.
