"Well," Erion began with a sigh, "we won't be much use to anyone unless we can find someone to repair the Grennig."
"We will have to find another shipwright," began Gant, "and build another repair station."
"Good luck with that," stated Starfire. "I can't see it happening any time soon. There won't be anyone who will come close to Con Tranter."
"He was a good man," admitted Gant, softly. "He will be missed." The privacy settings switched off momentarily as Thirty Seven appeared at the table.
"I propose a toast," began the sultry voiced Elkrist. "To Tranter, wherever he is."
"Tranter!" They all raised their glasses in a sad solute.
"Well, thanks guys!" Hal, Raan and Jed stood up, guns drawn, and the remaining mourners sat with a selection of expressions on their faces ranging from amazement to disbelief. Tranter came into sudden focus just behind Thirty Seven, a gold band cigar in his hand and a broad smile on his face. He looked a little pale, but apart from that, he seemed totally unharmed.
"How the hell did you get here?" asked Jed, composure returned. Tranter seated himself at the table, seemingly oblivious to the shock his sudden appearance had caused.
"Well I'll tell you," he helped himself to Hal's drink and continued, "a couple of years ago, I found this old cargo ship; a real alien job and I guess, hundreds, maybe thousands of years old. I brought her back here and showed Thirty Seven. We managed to get inside it and I found the Rebel in the hold. It must've been new, 'cos when I touched it, the darn thing nearly fried my brain. Thirty Seven reckons it read my mind,'cos when I came to, the hatch was open and it knew what I was saying. We also found some matter transporter stations in there; all parcelled up and ready to go. We picked out the two that looked like they might work and I put one in the back of Thirty Seven's office and put the other one on The Rebel. Tried it out using booma fruit, but that was as far as it went. Anyway, when I decided to take out those Federation cruisers I figured I'd be dead anyway so I had nothing to lose. I set my ship to detonate and activated the transporter two seconds before." He grinned, weakly and winked at Erion. "Told you I had a plan."
"Why didn't you let us know?" demanded Erion. "All this time I… we've been thinking you were dead."
"That was my doing, Major," stated Thirty Seven from where he stood behind Tranter. "We assumed the transporters were not meant for humans and decided that they should only be used as a last resort. I fear that proved to be the case as Tranter was almost dead when he arrived on the receiving pad. I put him on life support and decided not tell anyone about him in case he did not survive. I did not want to raise hopes, only for them to be dashed again."
"Well, you're here now," grinned Jed. "You crafty old space dog! How many more lives have you got left?"
"Only the good go young," put in Buck Cloud, "we should have known he would find a way out of it."
"Well, I can't see it ever working again," sighed Tranter. "From what Thirty Seven tells me, I ain't got no ships and I ain't got no base."
"You can use our limited facilities here until we can sort something out," said Thirty Seven. He tilted his head in Erion's direction. "The Alliance will fund the repairs to your ship as they were incurred on our behalf." This drew admiring glances from the Grennig's crew.
"Also, we have an important mission for you and you'll need a fully functioning ship as soon as possible," added Gant. He turned to Hal. "You would also be needed on this mission." Hal raised his grey eyes to meet Gant's face. He hadn't spoken at all since they had returned to the Cantina and stared into his drink as Gant continued. "You always knew your anonymity would be compromised as soon as you accepted General Dubois' mission, didn't you?"
"Yep," sighed Hal.
"There is now a further bounty on your head from the Blass Estate, plus the reward that the Federation has put out for your capture. Your details will be on every Federation data base and it is no longer safe for you to work alone." Hal nodded.
"I know," he said, softly.
"Your talents are desperately needed by the Alliance, Hal. Will you consider joining the crew of The Grennig, for at least one more mission?"
"Sure. I owe them a debt. They came for me on Kessel." He saw the faces of the Grennig crew light up briefly, before he added, "Just for one mission. Then I have to disappear."
"Good," began Gant. "We've reserved a suite for you all on the lower levels. It's not a premium suite I'm afraid, but it's better than you'd have on your ship. Have a meal, freshen up, watch a show, play pan, get some rest, whatever you desire, funded by the Alliance. We will meet to discuss the mission in Thirty Seven's office through the Gateway at say, eighteen hundred tomorrow?" He nodded to Tranter, "We'll get you up and going again as soon as possible." He deactivated the privacy settings and rose from the table.
Tranter was about to answer, then looked up as he realised all conversation and music in the Cantina had stopped. Jed Cloud stood up and glared at everyone again. "All right, you bunch of bastards, I made a mistake. He ain't dead after all!" He smacked his hand over the privacy controls and the Cantina faded away to a blurred background once more.
"What will you do now, Tranter?" asked Elkrist, pulling Jed gently back to his seat again.
"The Alliance needs a repair station. I've talked it over with Thirty Seven and we're setting up in business here in the asteroids. There's another little planet like this one not too far away from here. I'm going to clear a path through the asteroids and start again."
"You're welcome to come with us if you want," said Erion, "not that I know where we're going, or what we're going in."
"Or you can come in with us," grinned Jed Cloud.
"Thanks for the offer, guys, but I'll stick with what I know and that's the scrap spacer business. The way you lot fight, you're going to need an emergency repair station all of your very own."
"Thanks for the vote of confidence," said Raan.
"You're on your second ship in less than a month," pointed out Tranter, "and this one is combat damaged."
Gant nodded politely to everyone and deactivated the privacy settings. He would have left, but was interrupted by a call on his wrist link. He moved away from the others and placed his left wrist to his right ear and frowned in an effort to hear what was being said above the music and sounds in the Cantina. He returned to the group and said, "A routine scan has picked up another transmission emanating from this position. Raan slammed his beer glass down in disgust and Starfire said,
"For frag's sake!"
"Not again!" gasped Erion.
"You appear to be the source," said Gant, pointing a finger towards Starfire. Two tough looking young men appeared at their table. Although they were dressed in casuals, it was obvious by their stance that they were Cantina security of some kind. "Would you please go with these two men?"
"This is ridiculous, Gant," said Erion. "After everything we've been through, do you think we could still be traitors?"
"It's all right, Major. I'll go with them. I haven't anything to hide." Starfire left with Thirty Seven and the two young men.
She returned fifteen minutes later twirling a tiny silver sphere between finger and thumb. "The medics just took this out of my arm," she said. "When we were on Kessel, I was processed through customs. I had to have a medical and they gave me a pretty hefty shot. Hurt like hell too." She rubbed her arm.
"Why didn't the scanners pick it up on the Grennig?" asked Raan.
"It's a new signal," explained Starfire. "The tech guys said it's something to do with sub particle ether rays or some shit like that." She handed it to Gant, who studied it briefly and passed it along. "It's a fluke it was picked up at all. One of the Little Rocks was passing by and recognised the Federation frequency from the Battle Ship we just had the fight with. Now we know about it, we can update our scanners to look out for it."
"We really got to start taking better care of these Little Rocks," said Tranter. "I'll work out a way to save 'em before they blow themselves up.
" Starfire's mouth dropped open, and she glared accusingly at Tranter.
"But you said….."
"That explains why the G Police caught up with us so fast on Kessel," broke in Raan, quickly, "and how Roland found us at Tranter's base. They must have been tracking us."
"This puts a whole new slant on things," mused Erion, ever the tactician.
"Eh?" said Jed. Colour had returned to his face now that he realised Tranter really was alive and he wore his usual expression of amused bafflement. It was all an act, and many a foe had learned the hard way that Jeddoh Cloud was not the laid back simpleton he appeared to be. Erion turned to face him.
"They might put trackers in all their servants on Kessel for all we know, Jed, but they would be set to a local frequency. This was set to an open Federation channel. They must have known who we were as soon as we landed on Kessel. They could have taken us at any time, but they didn't. That means they have bigger plans for us."
"Oh great," muttered Raan, darkly," I always wanted to be part of a bigger plan."
"The signal cannot leave here because of the magnetic fields, but we haven't deactivated it yet," said Thirty Seven. "Lieutenant Starfire had an idea."
Epilogue
Three parsecs and four days later, a Federation strike force landed on a high, windswept plateau above a jungle on a remote, outer edge planet. It was dark, cold, windy and raining. Roland stood with his Commissioner of Police, watching the scene in front of them with his back to the wind and his hat pulled down. He gazed upon the frenzied activity with bored indifference and raised the collar of his waterproof cape against the howling wind. They were watching half a dozen troops slowly close in on a gaily wrapped parcel sitting on a flat rocky plinth. The tableau was lit from above by powerful yellow lights, which showed up the rain in waves as it lashed down. A young captain hurried up to them and saluted, smartly.
"The signal definitely emanates from the box, Sir. Our scanners can not pick up anything dangerous, but may I respectfully suggest you withdraw." Roland sighed heavily, pulled up the collar of his waterproof cape a little further and snuggled down into it.
"I am cold and wet, Captain. May I respectfully suggest that you send in your drones and open the damn box!"
"Yes sir!" The young man turned and sprinted away into the orange gloom, pointing and shouting orders as he went. Roland turned to his second in command.
"I hope I have not misplaced my faith in you, Rimek. May I remind you that I had those miserable 'Terrys' in my grasp on Kessel and could probably taken the traitorous Major Dubois and Captain Raan as well. If you do not want to end your days as a robo butler, you had better pray that we are wrong as to the signal here." Roland gazed up at the seven foot black robot with disdain. It looked exactly like Thirty Seven, but much more menacing somehow and when it spoke, its horrible, metallic monotone droned on.
"While I was masquerading as the robo butler on Con Tranter's base I realised that this new Alliance could cause setbacks to our plans. The Rebels and their base must be destroyed as our first priority. The advantage that we would have gained by killing the traitors from the ship Grennig was far outweighed by the possibility of obtaining the Cantina's co-ordinates."
Roland stroked his long, beaded moustaches. "The trouble with you Rimek, is that you can only think logically," he said. "What makes perfect sense to you would be incomprehensible to an Aurian. Of course the Grennig crew is nothing compared with the destruction of the Cantina, but we have a saying on Auria; 'It is better to have one wanga on your plate than two in the woods.' And yes, I know you don't understand what it means, Rimek, which is the point I am trying to make."
"We know the quadrant where the base is hidden now," Rimek's voice rumbled on it its horrible monotone.
"We had a good idea where it was anyway, from the woman, Jemmi," cut in Roland. "All I need is one of them in my grasp and we can use the new mind turning device on them to give us the exact location."
"But would not the Rebels immediately relocate as soon as one of their own was captured?"
"More than likely," answered Roland, "but we could get other information from them. We know there are those loyal to the Rebels in our ranks, but we do not know who they are."
"I understand," droned the robot. "I have also found that drugs, blackmail, extortion and physical torture will often reveal what I want to know."
"Yes, well everything has its place, Rimek."
"Sir!" called the eager young Captain, "we are about to send in the drone."
"Do it, then." snapped Roland. "Come on Rimek, we'll go behind this rock just in case." The little drone was spherical, about a metre high and covered with various arms and appendages. It hovered forward, buffeted slightly by the wind, and stopped at the parcel, shining a beam of light over it. The small package looked a sorry sight as it sat on the rock. The bright red ribbons were saturated and hung limply over the sides and the wrapping paper was torn and sagging. The robot extended an arm and pulled slightly at it. There was a muffled report and bits of tinsel and streamers cascaded into the air to the accompaniment of party hooters. The little robot backed off quickly and almost overbalanced, rising to wobble back to the waiting captain.
"Look!" Rimek pointed skyward. A little parachute blew towards them, carried by the high winds. Underneath it was a small box. One of the troopers caught it and hurried towards Roland with it in his hands.
"The signal emanates from here, Sir," he said breathlessly. "Shall I open it?"
"Go round the other side," ordered Roland. "Open it there."
"Very well, Sir." He disappeared behind the boulder and returned with the little silver ball in his hand. "There was a note, Sir." he said, holding it out in an important fashion. "It is addressed to you." Roland snatched the damp paper and read it quietly, his face showing increasing anger and frustration. There were only seven words on it, each written in a different hand.
"Roland, you areshole, better luck next time!"
The end
The Grennig Crew will return in:
Starfire and The Planet Killer
……………..o0o……………
Other books by the same Author:
Living on the Cheap - How to survive on a small income and get yourself out of debt
The famous knitting machine series
Easy Peasy 4 Ply Socks
Easy Peasy 4 Ply Mittens and Gloves
Easy Peasy 4 Ply Hats and Scarves
Easy Peasy 4 Ply Slippers
About the Author
Christine Westhead was born in Coventry in 1953.
She writes knitting machine pattern books and has published several short stories for magazines.
She moved from Coventry in 1994 and now lives in a little croft in the North East of Scotland with her husband, Allan and an assortment of pets.
© Copyright Christine Westhead 2016
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or used in any manner without the express written permission of the publisher, email: [email protected], except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
This is a work of fiction. Any names or characters, businesses or places, events or incidents, are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
Starfire at Traitors Gate Page 26
