by T. R. Harris
“Yes, that renegade terrorist!” spat the Vixx’r officer. “However, he will soon be dealt with. And now as for the two of you….”
Robert and Drake held their collective breaths. Three more officers joined the first, and all had that same look of contempt and hatred most Vixx’r exhibited when in the presence of Humans.
“I suppose a compliment is due based on your loyalty to your mission; however, we Vixx’r do not offer compliments to Humans. Rather, I will file this report and pursue the whereabouts of the guards through other channels.”
He turned with his entourage and began to walk away.
“And what about us?” Robert called after him.
Without turning, the alien said, “Once the offload is complete…you are free to go.”
17
ROBERT was a nervous wreck. They were back in the pilothouse of the H2 and watching the excruciatingly slow offload of the two hundred crates from the cargo bay. There appeared to be only half the number of workers as had started the job and there were still almost a third of the crates to go.
The pair also monitored a screen that displayed the aft exterior of the ship where the crates were being neatly stacked among the thousands of their identical twins. Yet what caught their attention—and spiked Robert’s blood pressure—was when a smallish Vixx’r with a datapad approached one of the crates and began to finger in the lock combination.
“Are we charged for takeoff?” Bondel asked without taking his eyes off the screen.
“Always,” Robert answered, his eyes also glued to the monitor. “He may just be doing an internal count. All the boxes inside are also locked.”
“There you go with that optimist crap again,” Drake said. “When are you ever going to learn that things are often worse than they appear, not better?”
As the alien clerk reached into the crate and removed one of the smaller boxes, Robert sat up straighter in his pilot’s seat and pulled the safety harness across his chest. “In this case, you may be right.”
“Ah ha, progress.” Drake fastened his own harness while reaching for the virtual reality headset for the weapons systems of the H2.
“You better let me handle the weapons, Drake,” Robert said. “You’re a damn good pilot but you don’t have military combat training like I do; let’s trade.”
“I can handle it. I’ve had a little training, and in the H2, you’re the better pilot. After all, you grew up playing cops and robbers in one of these things.”
“You sure? This isn’t your basic weapons array. They have some pretty sophisticated stuff in here.”
“Just get ready to punch it; that bastard is opening the smaller box.”
Drake was right. The small Vixx’r had placed the two-foot square box on top of the other small boxes and was keying in the lock code. Even though Robert’s people back at the base had placed rocks of approximately the same weight as the geometric objects within the cases and then wrapped them in the same white packing material, they hadn’t bothered with doing a very neat job of it. As soon as the clerk opened the box he would notice the dirt on the padding, and then all hell would break loose.
“Leave the bay doors open until we’re out of the space station, that way any Vixxie hanging around back there won’t be a problem.”
“Ay, sir,” Drake answered. Robert looked over at him and could only see his mouth and bearded chin under the VR face shield. A wide smile stretched from ear to ear.
“If I didn’t know better, I’d say you’re really enjoying this,” Robert said to him.
“Gets the blood pumping every time I’m in a life or death struggle. We all have to die; might as well be in a fantastic battle in outer space against a race of slimy aliens.”
Robert turned back to the monitor just as the top of the small box flipped open. “Then it looks like these guys are going up against the wrong pair of Humans, and they don’t have any idea what’s about to happen to them.”
The alien frowned when he saw the dirty packing material. Then he pulled it back to reveal the contents of the box.
“Punch it, Captain!”
With the sails and masts neatly packed away, the H2 looked more like a bloated silver cigar than a sailing vessel, and without the neutron drive she relied on chemical engines for maneuvering propulsion. Kincaid ignited the aft engines, something that caused half of the vast landing bay to fill instantly with burning flame. Several dozen Vixxie were incinerated, as were a fair number of the neatly stacked crates behind them. The H2 didn’t have wheels, and instead screeched along the metal deck on skids resembling oversized skis.
Drake sighted the three massive bay doors in his display and fired off a Mark-11 plasma shell in that direction. Kincaid had to trust that the rocket would do the job, because his forward vision suddenly erupted in a flash of yellow and blue flame, obscuring his view of the doors. The H2 plowed into the roiling flame, and was instantly caught up in a huge expulsion of fire and atmosphere into the emptiness of space. Robert could see smaller ships, crates, loading equipment—and Vixx’r—all following them through the gaping hole in the side of the massive space station, as the air pressure inside blew everything that wasn’t nailed down out the opening. There were secondary explosions now circling the hole in the bay doors, and as Robert and Drake watched, half the space station suddenly exploded.
Kincaid checked his proximity screen, just as the signatures of three ships blinked on to his left. Others quickly followed.
“They may be having trouble figuring out what happened,” Robert said. “It might give us time to get away.”
“Don’t count on it, Robert,” Drake said, calling Kincaid by his first name for the first time he could remember. “Six contacts just changed course in our direction.”
“I see that. I’m heading for the fleet of four-masters. None of their signatures are strong, so they’re in standby mode and not likely to engage.”
“Quick, do some of that fancy piloting stuff. I just detected three launches.”
In a moment the H2 reached the first set of huge four-masters and began to wind its way between them. In reality, the ships were easily dozens of miles apart, but at the speed they were traveling they seemed to flash past like trees along a roadway.
Robert put the ship into a spiral to confuse the sensors on the incoming missiles. He felt the ship jerk as Drake fired off his own salvo of countermeasures. The resulting barrage created a wall of explosions and a limited-range electromagnetic pulse that rendered the incoming missiles inert one by one.
“Dang, that was impressive,” Robert said. “Couldn't have done it better myself—”
“Watch out!”
Robert brought his attention back to piloting just as a light cruiser emerged from behind an upcoming four-master. On the computer before him, Robert saw that all eight of her cannon doors were open, and soon white-hot energy signatures flashed from all of them.
Kincaid pressed forward on his control stick, sending the H2 diving below the cruiser before pulling it back to circle the much larger craft. More energy eruptions escaped from the starboard side of the enemy vessel, yet Robert continued to loop around the other ship.
In a tremendous flash, four of the missiles—now caught up in the arching path of the H2—impacted each other and exploded. The resulting concussion caused more of the shells to come within detonation proximity before finally three of the missiles arched in so close to the hull of the cruiser that they locked on and struck the vessel on the main deck between masts three and four.
Robert sped away as a massive explosion shook the H2. The ship surged forward and began to tumble head over tail. The inertia created from the spin was more than the internals could counteract, and Drake’s VR headgear flew off and smashed against the ceiling of the pilothouse. Robert’s hands were torn from the control stick, which added yaw to the tumbling motion, throwing the two occupants back and forth against their restraints.
“Do something!” Drake yelled.
&nb
sp; Robert was able to get both his hands on the end of his left armrest and pulled himself forward with all his strength. When he was about to be forced back in his seat again, he reached out with his right hand and grabbed the elusive control stick. He screamed as it felt like his fingers were being ripped from his hand, but he held on, with the stick pulled completely back toward him. For a moment he didn’t know which would happen first; his fingers would give way or the stick would break off in his hand. Either result would be catastrophic.
The stick held, however, as did his hand, and the H2 began to steady out, albeit still in a tight spiral. With the pressure on his movements reduced somewhat, Robert managed to place a foot on one of the pitch pedals and began to work the stick and the pedal until a semblance of control was regained.
And then the ship jerked again. ‘What the hell?”
“Ships closing, I just fired off a salvo.”
Robert raised his eyebrows in shock and amazement. Drake had somehow managed to regain his senses enough to lock on and fire a barrage at the incoming enemy vessels. He checked his threat screen. Two of Drake’s missiles found their mark and now they were being chased by only four ships instead of six.
Robert wove the ship in between a series of the huge four-masters, causing their pursuers to lose sight of them. He also became aware that the Vixx’r wouldn’t fire any missiles while the H2 was within the maze of huge ships, afraid an errant shot would destroy one of them.
Kincaid punched the sub-light speed up to max and then directed the H2 up and out of the mass of inert ships. He yanked the control stick to starboard before bringing it back all the way to port. “Stand by, Drake,” he commanded. “I’m coming up behind them.”
“I see that. Now you want me to take out all four of them?”
“That’s the idea. I got us here, now it’s up to you, hotshot.”
“But my VR set is gone.”
“By the looks of things you don’t need it. These are the last of the active ships on my screen. We get past them, it should be smooth sailing out of here. Can you do it?”
“Never said I couldn’t,” Drake said with a devilish grin. “Just get us on their six and I’ll take it from there.”
“Yes sir, Mr. Drake.”
The four Vixx’r ships were caught off guard by Robert’s maneuver, having expected him to stay within the protected confines of the four-masted fleet. Now they began to separate, two to each side, as Robert swept up behind them.
The ass end of a midline destroyer was known to be its weak point, and Bondel managed to plant three missiles each into the two ships breaking off to starboard. Not waiting to witness the resulting explosions, Robert changed course toward the two ships screaming away to port. No longer was the H2 the hunted, it was the hunter, and the two Vixx’r pilots knew it. They began to circle back, hoping to reenter the main part of the Vixx’r conglomeration of ships and stations that made up the huge base in space, seeking protection in numbers.
Drake anticipated their move and sent a barrage of nine missiles ahead of the Vixx’r ships, leading the targets perfectly. By the time the destroyers’ commanders realized what was happening it was too late. One of the ships was bombarded by five missiles that blew it to pieces. The second one took a hit to the aft section, taking out her sub-light engines. The H2 flashed past without wasting another missile on the ship. She was dead in the water.
Robert released the masts and unfurled the sails, and five minutes later the H2 was safely in light-speed and heading away from the alien base.
18
FIRST-Master Gaolic studied the image again and shook his head. It was Kincaid, all right. There was no mistaking the distinctive look of the Human.
He was tempted to speak in English, so as to keep them keen-edged with the language of the Humans. Instead he spoke in Vixx.
“How bad was the damage?” Gaolic asked the four other Vixx’r in the room.
One stepped up to his desk. “Most of the modules had already been applied so the bulk of the crates in the bay were empty. We still have enough to complete the installation within the fleet. The station, however, will have to be abandoned. It is beyond repair.”
Gaolic considered the series of events that had taken place over the past few days and tried to work them out. Some things were obvious while others were more obscure. “Kincaid came to the base with a load of the modules, yet after a forty-hour delay in the delivery and without the Vixx’r crew. What do you make of that, Faalis?”
The Second-Master sat down in chair facing the desk; the other two Vixx’r of lower rank remained standing. “I would assume he opened the crates and found the modules. The other scuttle ship within the Crinous convoy self-destructed upon entry by raiders from Kincaid’s group, yet with no guarantee that the modules weren’t discovered beforehand. What I’m left with is the conclusion that he knows of the existence of the modules and that they have importance to us. Whether he knows their purpose or function is still a question.”
“He surely would not have brought the shipment to us after having acquired it,” Gaolic said. “I believe he has retained the units and that was the reason he destroyed the station and the cargo stored within.”
“Then he could learn of their function, if not their purpose,” said Faalis with concern.
“Precisely.” Gaolic tapped his fingers on the surface of his desk. “I must contact the Supreme Mahala. I have an idea yet I do not have the authority to enact it myself. Please set up the link.”
“They will not be happy with this latest event, First-Master. Your idea may gain attention, yet the consequences for your future could be dire.”
“That is a very astute observation, Faalis. Are you still willing to follow me, up and until the time I am relieved?”
“Yes, First-Master, I was merely stating a fact.”
“Of course you were. Now get me that link. There is no time to waste. The fleet launches in two days.”
*****
KYLE Patel couldn’t believe his good fortune. He had been skating on thin ice for the past three months, ever since he had launched his defacto coup against Victoria Simms and her supporters. The President of the UPE was now under house arrest and awaiting prosecution for bringing great risk to the people of the UPE. Patel’s people still scoured the statutes for solid grounds to make his charges stick—so far without any luck—and so this latest communique from the Vixx’r was like a godsend to him.
The conference room filled quickly. Here, in this little room, the first steps toward galactic peace would be taken. History would remember him.
He had called in the senior members of the governing council—those loyal to Simms as well as those who were not—and was prepared to present to them with the message that would vindicate all his efforts. There would be peace, and it was Kyle Patel who would be its author.
“The Vixx’r are making this offer in an attempt to save the peace process,” Patel said. “It only goes to show how serious they are, and how President Simms was wrong to doubt their sincerity.”
“There is a difference between sincerity and trust, First-Secretary,” said Loren Howell, one of Simms’s most ardent supporters. She met Patel’s eyes with an intense glare. “Like everything thing else we know of the Vixx’r, this offer could be simply a ruse.”
“Yet they’re offering to withdraw from the Reaches,” said Zander Blanchard. “That was Victoria’s main objective when she enlisted the help of Robert Kincaid.”
“But at what cost, Zander?” Howell shot back.
Patel cleared his throat. “We have to decide quickly. The proposition placed on the table by the Vixx’r is this: they will cease hostilities in the Midlands, abandon all claims to the Reaches and retire to the Shadowlands. The Scuttle Ceremony is tentatively scheduled for three weeks from today. There will be peace between our two races, something that was not possible under the previous administration. Prior to this, we only had a ceasefire in the Midlands and a promise of further negotiat
ions. Now we will free the Reaches of alien occupation and restore peace to the remainder of the UPE.”
“And what of the Shadowlands? What of the people still there?”
“It is a small sacrifice, in my opinion. Besides, we gave up on the region six years ago. Those left in the Shadowlands are a fair trade for saving millions of other Human lives elsewhere. Besides, they have undoubtedly become acclimated to Vixx’r rule.”
“And what of Kincaid?” Loren asked. “Are you seriously going to do what the Vixx’r want?”
“Almost single-handedly Kincaid has threatened to upend the peace process, something that if left unhandled could result in the Vixx’r withdrawing their current offer. Then what would we have, Madam Councilor? War and more of it? Is that what you want? Millions would die on both sides, needlessly. And Kincaid is from the Reaches. His precious homeland will be free of Vixx’r domination.”
“So make him an offer.”
“We have tried to reason with him but the man is insane. His hatred of the Vixx’r has made him unable to see the truth. It is in our best interest to see that he’s stopped.”
“And so you’ll send a Human fleet into the Reaches to kill fellow our Humans.” It was a statement, not a question.
“Of course I will, if it means we can have peace after twelve long years of war.”
“So you’ll do what the Vixx’r haven’t been able to?”
“I will do what I must to bring peace to the UPE, and right now the gravest threat to that peace is the renegade Robert Kincaid. Yes, I will send whatever forces I have against him and his pirates, and I would question the judgement and loyalty of anyone who wouldn’t.”
Patel’s statement was anything but obscure. He had already asserted his will over the Presidency of the UPE, as well as the Council. He would treat Loren Howell the same as he had Simms if it meant preserving his legacy. Kyle Patel would bring peace to the UPE, even if he had to arrest every last member of the Council and send whatever force he had to against the pirate known as Captain Malicious.
