by Gary Weston
Chapter 228
‘Ok. Buckle up,’ said Syrup. ‘Powering up take-off thrusters, one tenth power.’
Su Kane said, ‘Thrusters at one tenth.’
Steve Crocker said, ‘Up to fifteen percent. That tank’s making one hell of difference.’
‘Up to fifteen,’ said Syrup.
‘At fifteen percent,’ said Kane.
‘Fifty yards altitude,’ said Syrup.
‘Go to twenty percent, one hundred yards altitude,’ said Crocker.
‘At twenty percent thruster power, one hundred yards altitude,’ confirmed Kane.
‘Firing plasma engines,’ said Syrup.
‘Plasma temperature rising,’ said Crocker. ‘Optimum temperature in three, two, one. At optimum. Engage plasma drive.’
‘Engaging,’ said Syrup. ‘One tenth plasma drive. One mile altitude. One twentieth power. Approaching outer atmosphere. Leaving planets gravitational pull. And hello, space. Just one problem. Where the hell are we going?’
It was Thorne who answered that, by collapsing in his seat.
‘Thorne,’ said Kane, anxiously.
Thorne had been sitting quietly to one side until the Masters probed his mind causing him to pass out. He suddenly became conscious again. ‘It’s as we suspected. We are off to Tryzon.’
Crocker keyed in the pre-programmed coordinates with the computer. ‘Ok. Ninety percent of full power and you can let the computer do the boring bits.’
‘Up to sixty, seventy…Ninety percent full power,’ said Syrup. ‘Engaging auto. And here we go, people.’
* * *
It had puzzled Thorne for a while why only the space-liner was going and not either of the fighters to escort and protect the big ship from attack by the D S I. Syrup had stated the obvious, that no D S I ship would fire on the space-liner with humans on board. The Masters knew that and used it to their advantage. Not only that, but if by any chance the D S I stumbled upon the Masters planet, the humans could be forced to fire on the enemy ships with the fighters cannons, and humans could even be used as a shield against return fire. Thorne found no flaw in her analysis. He thought of Shannon, left behind in tears, and prayed he could keep his promises to her that he would soon return for her. As the other three took care of the ship, he sat and wept his heart out.
Chapter 229
Chief plasma drive engineer Zena Morrison rapped on Commander Gordon’s door. ‘Sir. Just thought you’d like to know, Casey’s old bird is fit to fly again.’
‘Good. Has that cannon been tested?’
‘Before it was fitted, Sir, not on the ship. Not a good idea to go firing it off in here.’
Gordon sighed. ‘Probably not. Actually…’
‘Sir?’
Gordon winked and called Karma Casey. ‘Karma. Felix here. Yeah, I’m good. Except I have Zena with me. Got your old bird in good shape again. Only thing is, I had Zena fit a new cannon to the ship. Needed doing with all this pirate thing going on. Yes. Brand new. Now Zena’s in here, insisting we take the ship for a trial run and see if the cannon’s working ok.’ Gordon looked up at Zena frowning at him. ‘No. That’s the problem. I haven’t a pilot available, so I wondered if maybe you would, you know, just try your old bird out and make sure she’s ok?’ Pause. ‘You will? That’s great. Yes. I’ll have Zena get it towed out to the launch pad. Great. Thanks, Karma.’
Zena stood with her arms folded across her chest. ‘I insisted Casey took her old bird out, did I?’
‘Thanks for reminding me, Zena. I have Karma Casey on her way over right this minute.’
‘What are you up to, you old fox?’
Gordon said, ‘I’m just making sure Casey doesn’t want to fly any more. Nothing more sinister than that. Now. If you wouldn’t mind towing that ship to the launch pad, I would much appreciate it.’
‘You are a very naughty boy, Commander Gordon,’ said Zena, wagging her finger at him. ‘Remind me to reprimand you later.’
‘I look forward to it. Tonight at seven.’
* * *
‘Was this really your idea?’ Casey asked.
Zena had to look away. ‘Six of one, half a dozen of the other. The ship could use a try out, after all the work she’s had done.’ She tapped the yellow case of equipment she was holding. ‘I’m coming with you, to run diagnostics while you fly.’
‘I wondered why you were suited up. Ok. Off we go.’
Casey and Zena entered through the airlock and they sat side by side on the flight deck. Zena connected her equipment to the consul data ports.
‘Ready for preflight checks,’ said Zena.
Casey went through the preflight sequence, taking her time rather than doing her instinctive routine perfected over many years.
‘Preflight sequence complete,’ said Casey.
‘A perfect score,’ said Zena. ‘Now the take-off sequence.’
Casey had to force her hands to slow down. What normally took her three minutes, was down to four and a half. ‘Take off sequence complete. Plasma temperature at optimum.’
Zena said, ‘Temperature confirmed. Take off sequence a perfect score. Up we go, Captain Casey.’
Casey took off slowly with the landing and take-off thrusters as Zena checked every output from the consul. They did a complete slow orbit of the planet, then Casey took them out of atmosphere. She had to admit it, it felt good to be back on the old bird.
‘You acting as my shooter, Zena?’
‘We women are good multi-taskers, but even you can’t shoot and fly at the same time. We’ll hit the target ranges in the desert.’
Casey said, ‘Ok. Hang onto your helmet. Re-entering atmosphere in three, two and here we go.’
The marsillium coating protected the outer hull as the friction built up the heat to 1650 degrees centigrade. Zena checked the readings were within design parameters which they were.
‘One minute for the desert target ranges,’ said Casey.
‘Cannon armed and ready,’ said Zena.
‘Coming at the targets,’ said Casey. Which was when she took the ship on a complete double barrel-roll.
‘Hey, wow!’ said Zena, blasting another layer off the sandstone rock-face.
Casey laughed. ‘We can’t make it too easy for the shooters. Gotta keep it real.’
‘If I throw up in my helmet, I’ll never forgive you, Casey.’
‘How is the cannon?’
‘Peachy. Now take me home will you? I got some serious reprimanding to do and I’m just in the mood.’
Chapter 230
It was time to test the theory. Sam Thorne was well practised at keeping his thoughts “quiet”, his temper even. He locked himself away in the tiny toilet compartment, the one reserved for the space-liner crew. From the rear of the toilet unit he retrieved the small bag he had stashed there earlier. In the sink he spread out one of the four pieces of cloth. They were roughly one square foot each. Taking the top off a container, he poured the cooking oil onto the cloth, soaking the cloth liberally with just less than one quarter of the contents. He picked up the cloth and worked the oil so that it soaked it entirely. Then he placed the next piece of cloth in the sink and squeezed the excess oil from the first cloth onto the second cloth, so as not to waste any of the precious oil. Thorne repeated this until all four pieces of cloth were soaked.
Next, he took another container and unscrewed the lid. He poured the course sand into his hand and carefully sprinkled the sand over each oil soaked cloth until they were completely covered with a thin layer which stuck to the surface. Picking one cloth up, he held it and shook it gently. The sand stuck to the oil, just a few grains falling off.
He placed one piece onto his head. Looking in the mirror fixed to the wall above the sink, he adjusted the cloth to ensure his whole head was covered. He grinned at his own odd reflection. The cloth was hardly a fashion statement. It was time to test the principle. This would either work well, or…
He left the other three cloths in the sink and unloc
ked the bathroom door, checking the coast was clear. He couldn’t risk one of the other three discovering his plan too soon, alerting the Masters with their thoughts.
He saw nobody and went out to the wall that separated him from the Masters. He imagined the evil creatures swimming in the tank, plotting their plans to dominate the human race. He felt his emotions, his anger, rage within him. He started to think harder and clearer than he had done in years, targeting his thoughts directly at the Masters.
‘You nasty, evil, big lizards. You think you have us beat, don’t you? Yeah? You think you have all the smarts? Come on. Show me what you got. Come on. Give me your best shot, you slimy sons of bitches.’
He concentrated every ounce of hatred he felt for the Masters, willing them, daring them to attack his brain. Nothing. Had he tried that without the cloth, he would have been severely punished, if not just killed by the Masters.
‘Gotya.’
He returned to the toilet and picked up the three treated cloths and took them to the flight-deck. The others turned to stare at him, their expressions puzzled. Crocker looked as if he were about to say something, but Thorne silenced him with a finger to his own lips and a shake of his head. Thorne knew he had to work fast and placed a cloth on each of their heads. Now he could speak. Su Kane looked as if she was about to remove the cloth off her golden locks, but Thorne held it on her with the palm of his hand. Now he could speak.
‘Everybody trust me. The Masters can’t read our minds when we wear these.’
‘Have you gone completely insane?’ asked Captain Syrup.
‘No,’ whispered Thorne. ‘Listen and let me explain. It was Smithers who came up with the idea. I could kick myself for not thinking of it myself, ages ago. The crater. We know the Masters can’t read our minds if we are inside it. A meteorite landed there, probably millions of years ago. I have no idea what it was made of. But whatever it was made up of, mixed with the sand that was already there. I’ve made a cloth for each of us, impregnated with that same mix. And it works, damn it, it actually works. I just tested it. That metal alloy wall wouldn’t stop them reading our minds. It’s made of the same alloy the ships hulls are made of, and I know they can penetrate that with their minds. Same for our helmets’ He tapped Syrup on her head, streaks of oil staining her face. ‘This works. As long as we maintain these and wear them, they can’t control us.’
Crocker stood up. ‘You, my friend, are a damn genius.’ The men shook hands and hugged. It became a happy group hug. They were four happy humans.
Chapter 231
Commander Gordon hardly went home, these days. Although, the base with the ships, the maintenance hangers, was what he tended to think of as his real home. The people he worked with were his family. Zena Morrison was more than just family. He liked to think as adults, they shared more then just an “understanding”. He smiled at the memories of the night before, his back and buttocks still tender from Zena’s more than enthusiastic reprimanding. He enjoyed the pain, and she knew just when enough was enough. The love making afterwards was always an exploration of new heights in pleasure.
He sat alone in the communications room, the lights dimmed, the thousand tiny lights from the controls casting eerie spectral shadows around the room. He was as one with his world, trying to give back as much as he took from it. He stretched his back and neck, contemplating yet another coffee, when there came a bleep. Just the one. He waited. Nothing more happened. Ignoring it, he was about to go to make coffee, when there came another bleep. Then another.
‘What the hell is that all about?’ he asked himself.
The bleeps had a pattern, he realised. Some bleeps shorter than others, but this was no random electrical anomaly. There was something familiar about it. Something that took him back more than forty years. Then it hit him.
‘Computer. Record incoming messages.’
‘Computer recording.’
Gordon became excited. He understood what the language was, even though he couldn’t translate it into words. His mind was taken back to his school days, and a teacher called Barlow. Baggy Barlow, because of the ill fitting clothes he always wore.
‘And that is Morse code,’ Barlow beamed as the bored class listened to the dots and dashes.
‘Yeah, Sir,’ a snot nosed Felix Gordon asked. ‘But what good is it now? It’s old stuff.’
‘And maybe one day, this old stuff might just save your life, Gordon.’
Gordon, now back in the communications room, realised the significance of Baggy Barlow’s prophecy. He listened intently to the message, until he got to the point when he was certain the message was being repeated over and over.
‘Computer. Translate and print out.’
‘Computer translating. Computer printing.’
Gordon scanned the printout. He spent four minutes working the consul, sending messages both in Morse and with speech, then he raced out of the room, ran faster than he had in years, dived into his buggy and drove off.
* * *
‘This had better be very good, Felix.’
‘Better than good, Joy. Is he in?’
Raven was in and not over any moon to be woken up at three in the morning. ‘Felix?’
‘Boss. Sorry. No. Actually, I’m not. You have to read this.’
Joy scowled at Raven who just shrugged with his “what can I do about it” expression on his face.
‘I’ll get the coffee,’ said Joy, storming off.
Raven waved Gordon inside and they sat together in the lounge.
‘This you need to see,’ said Gordon, handing over the computer printout and waited for the reaction.
‘Damn. No mistake?’
‘No, Boss. The computer, in fact all our computers, are programmed with Morse code. Nobody bothers to learn it these days of course, including me. But computers understand it.’
‘Ok. Oh. Thanks, Joy. Sit down. You’ll want to hear this.’
Joy sat as Raven read the printout. ‘This message is from Captain Mabel Syrup aboard the Space-liner Princess the third. We were captured by slaves of the Masters.’
‘Those monsters again?’ said Joy. ‘Sorry. Go on.’
‘These are the coordinates of their planet. Over two thousand humans are captive there. We have discovered a way to block their thoughts.’ Raven looked at Gordon. ‘Oily rags with sand on them? Really?’
Gordon shrugged. ‘Whatever works, right?’
‘I guess. To continue. We have thirty seven Masters in a tank in our ship. They cannot read our minds or control us, but we are using Morse to avoid speaking out-loud. We are on route to Tryzon. The Masters intend to colonise Tryzon.’ Raven growled, ‘Over my dead body they will. Right. It then goes on, the Masters on our ship cannot harm us. You must rescue the others. Take great care.’
‘This is it, Boss. This is our chance.’
‘I know. I also know we have already lost good people. Captain Mark Fuller and Sergeant Tammy Belle for example. Great D S I officers. Gone with their ship.’
Gordon said, ‘All the more reason we go after them, now we know where they might be. Boss. Say the word.’
It’s what Boss’s did. Make the tough calls. ‘Ok. Contact General Millet…’
‘Done, Boss. He has all the information and the coordinates. He’s on his way. I have also acknowledged Captain Syrup, in Morse of course.’
‘Great work, Felix. I also want that space-liner intercepted…’
‘Captain Casey is already on her way to her ship. It now has a laser cannon. No shooter, though.’
‘My turn, Felix.’ Raven put a call out. ‘Agent Tilly Jordan. Boss. Stop swearing at me. I know the time. Grab your suit and join Casey on her ship. You heard. Get going.’
Hanging up, Boss said, ‘She really has to learn to control the volume on her new voice.’
Chapter 232
‘No, Sir,’ said Captain Dorran. ‘We cannot get more speed out of this ship. And yes. I am positive of the route.’
‘Sorry
, Captain. I just…’
‘Shorty,’ said Dorran. ‘Do us all a favour and get the General off my flight-deck.’
Shorty stared up at Millet. ‘You gonna come quietly, or do I have to get physical?’
‘You wouldn’t dare.’
‘Try me.’
Millet knew he was beaten. ‘Ok. I surrender. I’ll come quietly.’
‘Wise move,’ said Shorty. ‘Now come and do something generally and rally the troops.’
‘I know,’ said Millet. ‘I’ll go rally the troops.’
Shorty winked at Dorran. ‘The man’s a genius.’
‘Right,’ said Millet. ‘Let’s pretend I’m in charge…’
‘A bit of a stretch, but I’ll give it a go.’
‘And you actually act like a real captain.’
‘Radical, but anything is possible.’
Dorran said, ‘I’ll put you on ship to ship, Sir.’
‘Thanks,’ said Shorty.
‘I meant, the other Sir.’
‘Ok, you grunts,’ said Millet. ‘Good news. We are on our way to rescue our people. Captain Luppino. You getting this?’
‘Loud and clear, General.’
‘Right. We are thirty two hours away from our destination. It’s our old enemy, the Masters.’
Millet allowed a minute of his troops expressing their opinions about the Masters and called for order.
‘Quiet. We can’t just go in all cannon blazing. Gagonjet Singh?’
‘No blazing cannon’s, Sir. Not unless you say otherwise.’
Millet said, ‘Correct. There are over two thousand people down there, and I intend we rescue each and every one of them. Be prepared for anything and make me proud.’
‘Yes, Sir,’ came the reply.
Chapter 233
‘You’re my shooter?’
‘It was Tagg’s idea, Casey,’ said Tilly Jordan. ‘He wanted a D S I agent out there. I’m it.’
‘As long as you can shoot straight, it’s ok by me. Come on. Let’s get this bird in the air.’
Eleven minutes later, they were blasting out of the atmosphere, heading for Tryzon.
