Starfire and The Planet Killer

by Christine Westhead

  "The main cargo bay is stuffed full of Rimek's ship," began Jed. "It's an exact replica like you wanted, but we've taken out as much as we can so that you can all fit in it. Let's get the Rising Star into hyperspace, then we can go over the plan, see what you think." Starfire raised her hand in salute,

  "You're the Captain, here Jed. I'm just gonna sit back and enjoy the ride for once."

  "We are two hours from normal space," Delta Ten's voice woke Hal and he sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bunk. He made use of the ship's vanity unit to clean his body and clothes, and met Starfire in the crew canteen. They programmed a meal from the dispenser and then called Delta Ten.

  "How long is the communication delay between here and Katraia?" asked Starfire, patting her mouth with a disposable napkin.

  "It is one jump away, so eight hours in all." answered Delta Ten.

  "That's cutting it pretty close," said Hal.

  "That's only the minimum, Mr Hal," began Delta Ten. "If nobody contacts Norbus from Katraia, we could be here for days without being discovered." Starfire brightened, visibly. "However, the longer we are here, the greater the chances of the real Rimek contacting Norbus Alpha." Starfire slumped again.

  "We'll just have to hope he doesn't," Hal finished his coffee and pointed to the medical kit in Delta Ten's hands. "That's for me, isn't it?"

  "I promise it will not hurt much, Mr Hal," Delta Ten placed the case on the table and opened it to take out a gleaming steel instrument. Half an hour later, Hal inspected himself in a mirror and smiled. "Nice work, Android. Not overdone, just a little roughed up."

  "I still say it would have been quicker and more realistic just to thump him one," put in Starfire "I would have done it."

  "Yeah, I bet you would," Hal glared at her. He accepted a shirt from Delta Ten and slipped it on. They had decided that Hal's customary black shirt would not have shown up any blood properly, so he slipped on a torn, white shirt and black waistcoat while Starfire was getting her wounds put on.

  "How do I look?" she asked as she stood up from the canteen table. Starfire wore a khaki flight suit she had made, using the Rising Star's replicator, but it had been roughed up, ripped and dirtied. Del had simulated dark rings under her eyes and she looked like she had a bruised cheek and a cut lip.

  "Not as bad as I do, but pretty roughed up all the same," Hal passed her the mirror.

  "Should you be scanned, the wounds will look real," began Delta Ten. "I have simulated two cracked ribs and substantial bruising for you, Mr Hal. The dried blood is your own, taken with the hypo and smeared onto your skin and clothing. The bruising is caused by a simple dye, which will fade within days."

  "You must not forget to act the part," warned Delta Ten. "You must feign difficulty in breathing and you would expect to be in some pain. Starfire glanced at her wrist link. "It's almost time, Del. You'd better go and get changed." The android collected his gear and stowed it back into the medikit before leaving the room.

  "One last 'rillo'," Hal took two cigarillos from the pocket of his black shirt on the table, passed one to Starfire and they sucked the acrid vapour into their lungs with a satisfied sigh. Hal twisted the little band just under the mouthpiece and dialled up silver, which meant they should have a slightly calming influence. Thirty Seven entered the canteen and studied them closely.

  "I believe you will pass even the closest of inspections," he said. "Jed will jettison Rimek's launch just before we enter normal space. It should look as though it has been flying in hyperspace. We must make ready to leave. Delta Ten is waiting for us. From the moment we enter the facsimile launch, we will remain in character." The other two nodded and they made their way to the rear cargo hold. They stopped off at the pilot section to see Jed and Lon, who swung around in their seats to greet them.

  "Impressive," nodded Jed in appreciation as he studied their fake injuries.

  "Just as long as it puts them off their guard," said Starfire. She raised her hand and Jed returned the gesture, grasping her fingers gently.

  "Good luck," he grinned cheerfully. "I'll wait on the edge of this system till you get back."

  "Thanks, Jed." He and Hal exchanged nods.

  "See you on the other side, guys," said Lon. He was the youngest of the Cloud brothers, barely twenty, and he was trying, without success to damn the excitement that rose in his chest and appear cool, like his hero, Hal.

  "We should be back within four hours if all goes well," said Starfire. She threw Lon a cheeky grin and they left the pilot section.

  Delta Ten was waiting at the hatch of the fake launch and ushered them inside. He wore the black uniform of a Galactic Police Captain and metal wrist binders dangled from his hand.

  "Put these on," he commanded. "You must sit at the rear, behind a force wall. It will not be very comfortable, but we cannot risk changing the launch's basic design to ensure your comfort. Starfire and Hal squeezed onto a small, hard bench behind the two recliner pilot chairs and waited while Delta Ten fitted the metal binders onto their wrists. Thirty Seven settled his great metal body into the port pilot seat and revolved his head 180 degrees around to look at them.

  "From now on, I will be Rimek," he droned in a flat, metallic monotone. I have studied his mannerisms and I will react as he would in any given situation, even if we are alone."

  "Understood," murmured Starfire.

  "Let's get on with it," said Hal. Delta Ten activated the force wall and the small rear section sparkled faintly as a wall of energy closed it off.

  "Ready the engines, Captain Ryden," Thirty Seven's horrible voice droned and Delta Ten, acting the part of Rimek's assistant and pilot, Morgan Ryden, flicked his hands over the controls.

  "Yes Commissioner."

  "You ready to go, down there?" Jed's voice came over the com system.

  "Affirmative, Captain," answered Delta Ten, stiffly.

  "I'll give you a five down then I'll open the belly doors and decelerate." Although the Grennig and the Rising Star were sister ships, there were a few differences in their design. Where the Grennig had its main cargo entrance at the rear, under the engine array, The Rising Star had cargo doors in the floor as well. These had been installed by Con Tranter at Jed's request so that they could jettison any illegal cargo while being chased by the customs authorities. It happened a lot and Jed decided to keep the doors, even after he and his brothers joined the Rebel Alliance and stopped their smuggling ways.

  Starfire and Hal lifted their bound wrists to grasp the hanging straps as there were no restraint harnesses in the back. The launch had been placed directly over the cargo doors and it dropped down through the floor as soon as they opened. Delta Ten steered into the maelstrom that was hyperspace and gunned the rear engine as soon as they were clear of the Rising Star. It was another one of Jed's 'risky' manoeuvres and, as usual, despite all the odds, it paid off and they shot forward to emerge in normal space at the entrance to the Norbus system, looking as though it had just left hyperspace.

  "Unidentified ship, this is Norbus Alpha Port Control. Please relay your ident code and state your business."

  "This is Commissioner Rimek's Launch on official business," answered Delta Ten. "Please stand by for recognition code." He passed his hand quickly over a glass panel and pressed his fingers over the coloured sections in quick, graceful movements.

  "Welcome, to Norbus, Commissioner. Please head for Norbus Alpha and lock on to the landing beam. We will guide you in from here."

  Huddled in the back, Starfire and Hal looked at each other, no trace of their concern showing as the first part of their plan to steal the Planet Killer clicked into motion.

  Chapter 16

  The following morning saw Raan and Erion huddled over a map of the Palace which was laid out on a table in their control room at the Labyrinth. People had been keeping out of their way, which suited Raan down to the ground as he didn't feel like exchanging cheerful banter.

  "The problem's going to be causing enough trouble to get
Rimek riled, but not enough so that he wants reprisals," mused Erion.

  "The Coronation'd be a good time," said Raan, tapping the portable comp screen with the scribe. "Everyone will be at the Palace so they'll only have a skeleton crew guarding the ships and equipment."

  "I'll put it to Raemond, see how many teams he can put together." Erion walked out into the bright artificial light of the courtyard and spotted Raemond and Rigondal in deep conversation with a harassed looking man, carrying a medikit. They saw her approaching and waved her forward.

  "This is Doctor Reel," Raemond introduced the man. "I'm afraid Marcan isn't going to make it."

  "Are you certain?" she asked.

  "His vital organs were damaged when he was shot," answered the doctor. "He needs a transplant, but we don't have the facilities here. If I can't get him to the hospital in Katraia Prime, he will not last more than two days."

  "What would be his chances if we could do that?" she asked,

  "Slim at best," answered the man. "The journey to Prime would more than likely kill him. He is very weak."

  "I'm sorry doctor," Erion passed a weary hand across her eyes, "I can't risk the whole operation on the slim chance that you could get him to the town undetected and well enough to stand treatment. Do what you can to keep him comfortable." She sighed heavily and then seemed to pull herself together and turned towards Raemond and Rigondal. "We need to go over some things with you. Can you come to the control room?"

  "Sure," began Raemond "Would you like to see Tomas?" Erion shook her head as they walked through the door.

  "I'm probably the last person he wants to see right now. How's he taking it?"

  "Not good," answered Raemond. "You remember what he was like in the caves."

  "Oh damn," sighed Erion. "It's hard I know but I just can't jeopardise the whole mission for one man." Raan looked up from the console and joined them round the small table, taking the comp pad with him.

  "What's up?"

  "It's young Tomas," answered Erion. "It looks like his brother isn't going to make it after all."

  "Poor kid," said Raan.

  "More people have returned from yesterday's raid," began Rigondal. She looked close to tears. "I don't think there will be any other deaths, but that still puts our losses at eight if we include Marcan."

  "The Police lost a lot more than that," said Raan. "We told you this wasn't going to be easy and more of you are going to be lost before this is over."

  "It has to be done if your people want to be free," Erion touched her hand, gently. "Rigondal, the ball is rolling. We can't stop it now."

  "I know," she sighed, "I had no idea…." She tailed off and suddenly blurted out, "I just wish there was some other way."

  "Well there isn't," put in Raan. "Your brother's coronation is in three days time. They'll expect us do something so it'll be pretty well guarded. We're too small a force to do any real harm, so I propose we go for general annoyance."

  "Annoyance?" Raemond looked confused while Raan continued.

  "Jed will be back here in a few days time and all hell is going to break loose here. We don't want Rimek to leave or contact anyone, 'cos that'll blow their cover, and we don't want any reinforcements arriving before then either. We want him to think he is in control here but we don't want him to get suspicious. He knows we're here and he'll be expecting us to try something. He won't want to call in the Marines because that'll mean he can't cope with a few peasants and he won't want to admit that. If we push him too far though, there's no telling what he might do. Don't forget he's a machine and he doesn't have any compassion in him."

  "What do you think we should do then?" asked Rigondal.

  "I want to harass the Police, set a few booby traps, blow up a few more of his fighters without too much loss of life. He thinks the whole Grennig crew is still here so he'll be expecting trouble and this is what we do best. He's made a tactical error in arranging this coronation because it'll mean folks coming here from all over the planet and your rebel friends should be able to just walk into the town without too much trouble."

  "The Palace guards are mostly on our side, apart from a few loyal to Farrell," admitted Raemond. "That means a lot of the Galactic Police will have to be put on Ident Control."

  "The walls and gates around the town and the Palace have been restored," said Rigondal. "The Police have set up barracks outside the town and are stopping everyone for checks already." She caught sight of the comp pad on the table. "What's that for?"

  "Rimek and Farrell have set up their base of operations in the Palace dungeons," began Erion. "I want to let them know they aren't as safe as they think they are down there."

  "I know most of the secret passages around there," she Rigondal, eagerly. "Why didn't you just ask me?"

  "Because what you know, Farrell will know and he'll be waiting for us," answered Erion. "It's too risky to use the tunnels, we'll have to sneak in another way. Besides that, Rimek thinks you and Raemond are dead. That's our ace in the hole and I don't want to play it until I can use it to the greatest effect."

  "No, you are wrong. I think the best way forward is an attack from the tunnels," began Rigondal, raising her head high. "We should storm the dungeons and..." To her amazement, Erion sighed in disgust and turned away. She walked outside without a backward glance and shut the door firmly behind her.

  "What was all that about?" asked Rigondal.

  "You mean you don't know?" asked Raan.

  "Look," began Rigondal, "if our people are going to lay down their lives for you, you have to tell us everything and clear it with me."

  "Oh, we do, do we?" snapped Raan. "Now, let's get something straight right now, Princess. We aren't asking anyone to lay down their lives for us. If you want, we'll just get back on our ship and blast off from this storybook in space and leave you to it." Rigondal's face was white with shock.

  "I don't understand..."

  "Too right, you don't," Raan tried to keep his voice calm but he was failing rapidly. "I shouldn't have to remind you that we lost three good friends yesterday that laid down their lives for you. More of our friends in The Rebel Alliance will be putting their lives on the line because your family was stupid enough to invite the Federation here. This place is awash with intrigue and there are spies on every corner. Look at Estrada; you said yourself you'd known him since you were a child and yet he betrayed you: and you want us to tell you all about our plans for the attack?"

  "But surely we ought to know something," put in Raemond.

  "Erion once told me that in any fighting force, there must only be one leader. If you want it to be Rigondal, we'll pack up and go and I'll chance getting a message to Jed and Thirty Seven to call them off. If you want it to be us, then you're going to have to learn to take orders from a pair of ex Aurian Marines 'cos that's the way it'll have to be." Rigondal and Raemond exchanged worried glances while Raan calmly waited for their reply. Not for a moment did they think he was bluffing and it suddenly occurred to them both that they could just be out of their depth. It was easy to toss ideas into the arena when there was someone there to advise you if you were wrong, but Rigondal suddenly realised that none of them had the experience to fight a war and Raemond, experienced as he was in the ways of intrigue at court would be no match for Farrell, now he had the backing of the Federation.

  "We'll do as you say," Rigondal looked at Raemond for confirmation and he nodded quickly. "Please tell Erion to come back." Raan walked out to the door and stuck his head out. Erion was sitting on a folding chair with her ankles crossed upon each other.

  "Well, are we going home or not?"

  "We fight on, Major."

  "Right then," she stood up and walked towards him. "We have less than three days to plan a nice little coronation present for Prince Farrell."

  "What do you reckon?" asked Raan as they walked back into the room.

  "I think we should try to knock out the ground assault weapons and the Planet Hoppers. They can do the most damage t
o small strike teams."

  "What about the actual coronation?" asked Rigondal.

  "They'd expect that," answered Raan. "What we could do is plan for an attack to disrupt the crowning ceremony and hope some of the Prince's spies pick up on it." Erion saw the look that crossed Rigondal's features and for a moment, she looked as though she was going to speak, but then stilled her words unsaid.

  "I know what you're thinking," began Erion with a smile. "It would be humiliating and gratifying to ruin your brother's big day, but it would accomplish nothing. Our aim is to take out as much of the opposition's armoury as we can before Hal and Starfire get back here with the Planet Killer." She stopped herself and continued, "Jed gets here with the Planet Killer. I mean Jed." She looked down for a moment and Raan stepped in.

  "Don't forget that every weapon we destroy is one less that they can use against your people," he said, softly.

  "We've learned that they've moved all the vehicles from Pinnacle Flats and replaced them with Wasp Fighters," said Raemond. "Most of the mobile guns and armoured cars are in a compound inside the Palace Grounds." They all looked up as the door opened and a young lad, no more than fourteen years of age, ran into the room and thrust a small comp pad into Raemond's hands. He took a few seconds to read it, then raised a pale face to the others.

  "What is it?" asked Raan.

  "The Police," he gasped. "They've taken a hostage from every house in the town and they say they'll execute them all if we don't surrender."

  "What's the deadline?" asked Erion.

  "Three days." Raemond looked horrified. "It is going to be part of the Coronation ceremony!"

  "Good, that gives us enough time to get ready." Erion ignored Rigondal's accusing look.

  "It also gives us many more volunteers," began Raan. "There won't be any fence sitters left that would support Farrell after this news gets out."

  "They will be staying put in their homes, but most of the men will back us when we make our move." Raymond smiled, grimly. "They think they have subdued our people, they will find out that they have roused a sleeping dragon instead."