Starhawk s-1

by Mack Maloney

  But no sooner had he caught his breath than his instrument panel began blinking madly again. A viewing screen appeared out of nowhere — it smashed into Hunter’s helmet after a clumsy pop-in from God-knows-what dimension. The screen was displaying two very strange icons; they were moving from the top to the bottom of the field. A warning buzzer went off in his ear. He looked up from the screen to see a pair of aircraft coming in the opposite direction, heading right at him. Their noses were lit up with Z beams.

  Jessuzz, not again …

  In a heartbeat Hunter twisted right, and felt the bottom fall out from underneath him again. He was spinning out of control once again, the ground racing up at him. He blinked once. Nothing. He blinked again. Still nothing.

  The hell with this…

  He pulled back mightily on his control column and pushed the aircraft hard left. Something deep inside his power plant growled in response, but he ignored it and quickly recovered flight.

  Now he found himself on the tail of one of the aircraft. This contraption looked worse than his own. It, too, had wings, a tail, a large bubble-type canopy, and, Hunter would have bet, wheels as well. It was silver and had a large red-star emblem on its wings and tail.

  Familiar…

  He pushed his trigger. His nose cone erupted again, and the enemy aircraft vaporized into nothingness — only to be replaced by another. Hunter squeezed his trigger again. This aircraft exploded, too — and was replaced by another. And then another. And another.

  This must have been some kind of nightmare back where I was from, he thought. No sooner had he dispatched one enemy aircraft than another would slot in and take its place, almost as if its pilot were anxious for his turn to get slaughtered. Again, this went on for what seemed like an eternity — until finally Hunter smacked himself in the forehead and blinked.

  All signs of the enemy aircraft quickly disappeared.

  He took in a long, deep breath…

  That’s when another of the aircraft went right across his nose. Its cockpit was on fire, its pilot was struggling to get out. It seemed to hang motionless in front of him for a very long time. The pilot’s skin was searing right off his face. He was looking right into Hunter’s eyes, his mouth opened as if to scream…

  That’s when Hunter swerved violently to the left to avoid the flaming wreckage… and punched out of thirteen.

  He’d popped out over a vast stretch of aqua water.

  There was no solid ground anywhere that he could see. No triads, bridges, or islands. This was not a lake or a wide canal he was crossing. This was something else. The Western Ocean. It looked cool, calm, pacific. If he looked hard enough, he could almost see right down to its bottom; the water was that clean.

  The sun was coming over his shoulder now. He turned around and looked behind him. There wasn’t another racer in sight.

  He checked his instruments. All the weird weaponry had vanished, and his usual array of controls had reappeared. Everything seemed to be running fine. He was still moving incredibly fast, and just as before, it seemed more like the world was turning beneath him than he flying over it. He felt his body relax a little.

  Out of the corners of his eyes he could still see the people in the arena stands, cheering for him. Or at least he thought they were cheering for him.

  When he looked forward again he saw another blue screen coming right at him.

  Pow!

  This impact was even more violent than the first. The flying machine began vibrating so fiercely, Hunter found himself reaching out for something — anything — to hold on to. Once again, he grabbed the control column, with two hands, and held on. It took nearly twice as long this time, but finally the aircraft settled down.

  Once his eyeballs stopped shaking he saw that his cockpit was once more jam-packed with imaginary weapons. And he was back over the X-ray Earth again, all darkness and neon outlines, everything looking like it was there and not there, everything closing in on him just like before.

  But there was something very different going on here as well.

  A vid screen had appeared in front of him. It became one with his control panel, but strangely it seemed to be draped over his eyeballs as well.

  This screen was flashing a message in large red letters: RESET GAME — NOW.

  Next to these words was a three-dimensional icon that looked like an old-fashioned power switch.

  Hunter found his right hand reaching out to this switch and flipping it to ON.

  Suddenly the screen became filled with bizarre shapes and colors. His flying machine began rocking violently again. Outside, he could see that the neon world below had suddenly become very real. And now the ground was rushing by him at incomprehensible speed. But something was drastically wrong here — his inner ear was telling him so. A wave of vertigo ran through him, and in an instant he knew why.

  The surface below him was actually turning quickly in reverse. Although everything in his cockpit indicated that he was moving forward at a very high rate of speed, he was actually hurtling backward.

  Basic human instinct drove his hands to his controls — he had to stop this. But no panel he touched or button he pushed had any effect. It was as if his whole being were caught in a rewind. Not a pleasant feeling.

  This went on for what seemed like forever, which wasn’t that far from the truth — until suddenly it just stopped. The ground below him ceased turning in the wrong direction, and his flying machine regained some semblance of normal forward flight. Hunter took a deep breath and squeezed his steering controls very tightly. He was bathed in sweat.

  He caught his breath and looked out the cockpit to the surface below. It was night. He was over two very long roadways that were running parallel to each other. Thousands of wheeled vehicles were moving along these roads at relatively high rates of speed, half in one direction, half in the other. Most of the vehicles were traveling in one of four designated lanes. They all seemed to be in a great rush.

  This place below him looked like the Earth, but certainly not the one he’d just come from. It was almost pastoral. He could see many trees and fields and valleys, and hundreds of tiny houses scattered off in every direction. The moon was hanging high overhead, like a huge orange ball, illuminating it all.

  Hunter’s flying machine was flying roughly five hundred feet above the long, ribbonlike roadways. Two huge green bridges were right below him; they spanned a fairly wide river, which by looking off to his left, Hunter could see emptying into a vast ocean. He checked his direction indicator and found he was now traveling due south.

  “Okay, now what?” he heard himself say.

  No sooner were the words out of his mouth than he looked down at his cockpit display to find it had changed dramatically once again. Most of the flight control indicators had vanished. They’d been replaced by a second large video screen with lines of alphanumeric information pulsating across it.

  Suddenly one line of information froze on the screen. It began flashing in large red letters: The Princess is in peril. To successfully complete this segment, you must rescue her in the time allotted…

  A small clock then appeared in the upper-right-hand corner on the video screen. It began flashing: 120 seconds. Hunter felt his flying machine shudder a bit. Another message flashed onto the screen: Failure to complete the task will result in termination.

  Hunter blinked once, and the game clock began ticking down…

  This is crazy, he thought. But he knew he had no choice but to do as instructed. It was the word “termination” that bothered him the most.

  But how was he supposed to save “the Princess” when he didn’t know who or where she was?

  No sooner had that thought gone through his head than the video screen began flashing again. One of the vehicles moving on the busy road below was being highlighted in the center of the screen. It seemed to be going faster than the other vehicles, and it was weaving into and out of the designated traffic lanes.

  No sooner had Hunter’s
forward viewing device attained a lock on this particular vehicle than a message began flashing in bright red letters across his eyeballs: Hurry… she is in mortal danger.

  By this time the game clock had ticked down to 108 seconds.

  Hunter had no idea what to do — he would have to improvise. He lowered his altitude to about 150 feet.

  When the designated vehicle took a sharp right-hand turn, leaving the main roadway by way of a smaller, curving one, Hunter turned his aircraft and followed it.

  The vehicle drove onto a much thinner roadway; no other vehicles could be seen on it. The vehicle traveled at high speed for a half mile on this road until pulling onto a dirt path and driving toward a small lake that was nearly surrounded by overhanging trees.

  When it stopped in a parking area near the water’s edge, Hunter was waiting for it.

  He’d jammed his flying machine into hover mode and was now hanging about 100 feet above the small lake. No sooner had he stopped moving than his video screen changed fields again. Now it was flashing a menu of sorts. The options read: Bright blue light. Whirring FX. Yellow Beam. Flashing lights: red, white, amber.

  Hunter looked down at the vehicle. He saw that some kind of tussle was going on in the rear seat. There were only two people inside the vehicle, yet one seemed to be fighting with the other.

  Hunter looked at the game clock ticking away on his video screen. It was now down to 89 seconds.

  88… 87…

  Purely on a guess, Hunter hit the options-all portion of the screen. The entire menu began flashing. An instant later his flying machine erupted in an explosion of sound and light. Just like that, he was emitting a bright flashing aura of red, white, and amber. A whirring sound filled his ears. A incredibly intense beam of yellow light shot out from the belly of his machine. It bathed the vehicle below him in an almost phosphorescent glow.

  Now another option popped up on the menu screen. It read: Initiate power outage. Hunter hit the options panel — and every electrical light within ten miles of his location instantly blinked out.

  Another option now appeared. It read: False time shift available. With a shrug of the shoulders, Hunter hit that as well.

  That’s when everything just stopped… except the clock in the corner of his video screen.

  It was down to 54 seconds.

  Now Hunter saw the side door on the vehicle open and a young girl jump out. She began running frantically away from the vehicle, looking over her shoulder at the bombastic display being caused by his flying machine as it hovered above the lake. Hunter could not see her face — all he could tell was that she was wearing a skirt and white shoes, and her top was partially torn away. She had long hair and it whipped behind her, back and forth the faster she ran.

  He checked the game clock. It was now down to 41 seconds and counting.

  “Am I doing this right?” he wondered aloud.

  There was no way to tell.

  He kept the bright yellow beam pointed on the parked vehicle. He could see the remaining figure inside, frozen in fear by the bright light and the noise his flying machine was making.

  Hunter looked up again. The girl was now running down the single-lane roadway. His time was down to 29 seconds. Strictly on intuition, he hit the False time shift option again, and everything began moving once more. The wind was back in the trees, the ripples were back on the water.

  That’s when he saw another vehicle approaching the small lake from the direction of the major roadway.

  It had whirling bright blue lights on its roof and was emitting a strange whooping sound. The girl ran into the middle of the roadway and waved her arms, causing this vehicle to stop. Two men in uniforms jumped out and went to her aid. That’s when Hunter’s video screen began flashing: Princess saved!

  Good work!

  Hunter looked at the ticking clock. It was now down to 11 seconds. He quickly yanked the flying machine out of its hover mode. He had to get out of this crazy place. He pushed his throttles forward, and an instant later, he was streaking along at treetop level. He began looking for a blue screen through which to escape. But once he got back over the major roadway, he found not one but dozens of blue screens. They were erected alongside the roadway, and they had words and numbers bathed in a reflective glow displayed all over them.

  Which one do I go through? he thought.

  The game clock was ticking down. Nine seconds. Eight seconds… Seven… Six.

  That’s when Hunter saw a much larger screen about three miles off to his left. It was at one end of a huge area where several hundred of the ground vehicles were parked. Strange shapes and colors were flashing across this screen. But as soon as Hunter pointed the nose of his aircraft toward it, it turned the unmistakable color of misty blue. This had to be it: his way out.

  He pushed his throttle full forward and, with less than 0.01 second remaining on the game clock, slammed the flying machine right into the blue screen.

  Or at least he thought it was a blue screen.

  Suddenly he was moving forward at a speed faster than his senses could comprehend. The surface below him was flashing by in one long, blue blur — it was the reverse of the sensation earlier when he’d found himself streaking backward.

  Fast forward.

  That was it. He was stuck in fast forward.

  Now came a violent crashing sound. His eyelids snapped shut and stayed that way. Hunter tried to open them, but they would not cooperate. This was not good. How could he blink if his eyelids refused to yield? He reached out for the controls and gave the stick one mighty yank backward. His machine shook from one end to the other. He felt like he was spinning out of control. His power plant let out one long scream.

  But then came a flash of light so intense, he could feel its warmth on his retinas even though his eyes remained closed.

  Then, just like that, everything settled down. He opened his eyes and took another long, deep breath.

  He was back over land again.

  Passing below were great cities, golden deserts, lush forests. He rocketed over a vast plain, which was dotted with high, snow-topped mountains not unlike those back on Fools 6. Hunter could see the eastern ocean ahead of him. Beyond that lay Big Bright City and the finish line. He had not slowed one iota. Still, it felt like he was just leaving the starting line.

  He turned around to check his six-o’clock position. No one was behind him.

  When he looked forward again, he saw the third screen coming.

  He hit it really hard. Again, his machine was shaking down to its rivets. Passing from one dimension to another was not so good for his chassis. He lost control of his aircraft for a third time, but quickly did the two-hand trick, and as soon as his eyeballs stopping juggling, he was able to get the aircraft back under control.

  He looked around him, expecting to be over the X-ray world again, but this was not the case. He was no longer streaking above the distorted image of the Earth. He was in space. Outer space. The real one, this time. Endless blackness with trillions of twinkling stars, some bright, some dim, the Earth nowhere in sight. Hunter looked at his hands. They were shaking. He looked at his instruments. There were no weird weapons this time. His original equipment returned and everything seemed to be working, even though his flying machine was definitely not adapted for space travel.

  At least he didn’t think it was.

  He tried to get his bearings. The vastness before him was dizzying. He still had the sensation of unfathomable speed, but this piece of space was so immense, it was like he was not moving at all.

  So what was going on?

  Why was he here?

  His reply came an instant later.

  They appeared as two faint lights at first. Way, way off, coming out of a star formation that looked somewhat familiar. The two specks grew larger very quickly. Hunter could tell this was not some kind of transdimensional optical illusion. These weren’t fake meteorites, or death moons, or crappy versions of his own aircraft. These two objects
were real—and they, too, were traveling at a tremendous speed.

  And, of course, they were heading right for him.

  In the big thirteenth dimension, everything just seemed to come his way.

  In the hairbreadth of time it took him to make a quick turn to the right, the two objects were nearly on him. Moving incredibly fast. One seemed to be following the other — or maybe chasing it. Neither made a turn toward him, thank God. Hunter yanked his flying machine left again and banked to a roughly intersecting course. Would he able to see the two objects as they streaked by… or would they be just a blur?

  As it turned out, they were a little bit of both.

  The first object was gigantic… and familiar. It passed within a mile of him. Hunter got a damn good look… and felt his jaw hit the top of his helmet brace.

  It was the Blackship — the same Blackship he’d shot out of Supertime during the attack on the BonoVox. There was no doubt that this was the same vessel. Its control bubble was shattered and smoking, its tail section was still on fire. What’s more, a string of dead bodies seemed to be trailing behind it, like expired puppets on a thousand-mile-long piece of invisible string.

  What the hell is going on here?

  But even more incredible was the spacecraft hard on the crippled Blackship’s tail.

  Everything that flew in the Empire came from one basic design: the triangular wedge. But this thing chasing the ghostly Blackship was not like that. This craft was completely different.

  It was round.

  A perfect circle.

  Saucer-shaped.

  16

  Back at the Circus

  Erx had barely struck the match when suddenly there was a commotion off to his right.

  A flash of light. A cloud of dust. A mighty gasp from the crowd.

  “By the one true God!” Berx exclaimed.

  It didn’t seem possible, but Hunter’s racer had reappeared at the starting line. A thin trail of smoke indicated it had arrived from the east — yet the faint contrail he’d left upon departure was still visible in the west. His flying machine had disappeared not two seconds before. Now it was back again.