by Darrell Pitt
“If they even bring her,” he said. “This whole gig with the Premier and the Stonekiller may just be a scam. Maybe he was intending to lead you on forever.”
“I know.” I shifted my eyes to the Russian Premier. He looked like he was ready to jump to his feet and attempt an escape. I hoped he wouldn’t make the attempt. Whilst I might not use the Stonekiller on him, I was more than prepared to subdue him. “Brodie could already be dead,” I continued. “This may have just been a big waste of time.”
“Not a complete waste of time,” he said. “I’ve always wanted to see Russia. Great place for a holiday –”
“You’re an idiot,” I informed him.
The Premier looked up at us as if we were crazy.
He was probably right.
We took the Russian Premier with us back to the Flex. Fortunately Chad was able to locate it in the midst of a wood several miles away. Climbing aboard, we located restraints in one of the compartments and handcuffed Alexi Kozlov to a seat in the rear. He looked none too pleased about being treated like a prisoner.
“What is this all about?” he demanded. “Am I being held hostage?”
“Uh, yes,” I replied.
“What are you after? Money? Is this a political protest?”
“It’s about those dolls,” Chad told him.
“Dolls?”
“Those Russian babushka dolls. The ones where you fit one doll inside another.”
“What about them?” The Premier looked at him in astonishment.
“They’re creepy. We’re holding you hostage until your government agrees to stop their manufacture –”
“Ignore him,” I told the Premier. “We’ll tell you later.”
I quickly checked his pockets, removed his cell phone and discarded it. Chad and I left Alexi alone in the rear compartment and closed the door behind us. We slumped into the pilots’ seats. I felt light-headed after the events of the last twenty-four hours. I looked across at Chad and he returned my glance with a weary smile.
“Let’s do Disneyland next time,” he said.
“Agreed.”
I set the autopilot. The Flex Fighter lifted up above the tree line into a clear sky. It accelerated higher and higher until the countryside was reduced to a patchwork quilt. Tension jangled at the edge of my senses. I was unsure as to what we were going to do when we met up with Graal, but for the first time in days I was feeling a little more confident.
I turned to Chad. “Thanks for being a friend.”
He was already asleep. Probably for the best. He would not be able to accept a compliment without some snappy comeback. I examined the controls one more time and decided to join him. A few hours’ sleep would –
The Flex Fighter was thrown to one side.
“Hey!” I yelled.
Chad was instantly awake. “What’s going on?”
A blast lit up the sky in front of us. A jet fighter appeared to our right, firing another volley across our bow. I activated the computer interface.
“Computer?” I said. “What’s going on?”
“This vessel is currently being pursued by three Russian-made Sukhoi Jet Aircraft,” it informed me soberly. “We are receiving a transmission from one of the craft.”
“Let’s hear it.”
The radio crackled into life.
“American agents.” The pilot spoke almost perfect English. “You will land your vessel, hand over the Russian Premier and surrender yourselves to authorities.”
I looked at Chad. “What should I do?”
“Didn’t you engage the cloaking device?”
I was so tired I had forgotten to activate it!
“Six more jet aircraft have joined the pursuit,” the computer said calmly. “They are forming a blockade around Flex Fighter B-22.”
We caught sight of one of the aircraft. It seemed to be only metres above our ship. It dove toward the windscreen. The Flex dropped in response.
“They’re trying to force us down,” Chad said.
“We can’t let that happen.” I peered down at the console. “Computer, show a schematic of the pursuit ships.”
A three-dimensional image hovered in mid-air above the console. The fighter planes had positioned themselves in a tight formation around us. We might be able to find a gap – but possibly not without hitting one of the other craft. We had already done enough damage for one day. I wasn’t going to kill an innocent pilot for doing his duty.
“What countermeasures do we have available?” I asked the computer.
“We have a full complement of chaff, decoys and dual signal capability.”
“Dual signal?” I asked. “What is that?”
“That information is classified.”
I looked at Chad. He shrugged. “Don’t ask me. I just stole the thing.”
Another shot was fired across the bow of our craft. It exploded ahead of us, rocking the Flex violently from side to side.
“If that’s supposed to be a warning shot…” Chad stirred uncomfortably. “They need to look up the word ‘warning’ in the dictionary.”
“Computer,” I said. “On my mark, deploy a complement of chaff, engage the cloaking device and initiate the dual signal…thingy. And give me flight control of the Flex.”
Chad looked at me. “Are you sure –”
“No.” I gripped the control stick of the aircraft. “But I’d rather crash us than have the onboard computer do it.”
“Twelve more fighter craft are closing in on our position from the east,” the computer calmly reported. “In addition, a group of super powered humans are approaching from the west.”
This was getting too crowded for comfort. “Computer. Give me flight control.”
I felt the craft shudder slightly. I had flown a Flex Fighter in a lot of practice situations, but never under these circumstances. And never against a squadron of experienced pilots. The radio crackled to life again.
“American craft,” the pilot said. “We will fire on your position if you do not immediately descend.”
Chad radioed back to them. “Klaatu barada nikto.”
“What the hell does that mean?” I asked him.
“No idea,” he said. “They said it on that old movie, The Day The Earth Stood Still. It sounded cool.”
“Great.” I returned my attention to the display. “Computer, ready countermeasures.”
“Countermeasures ready.”
“On my mark…now!”
I felt the Flex shudder as chaff – a type of shrapnel normally used to give a false reading to radar – erupted from the rear. At the same time, I saw another signal on the display. It was dangerously close. Too close. It was literally on top of us.
“What’s that other plane doing?” I screamed in panic. “It’s right on top of us!”
“That is the Dual Signal,” the computer intoned calmly.
I ignored it and searched the three-dimensional display for a gap. One had appeared. Slightly behind us and above – but the new ship was in its way. I gripped the control column in frustration.
Where had the other ship come from?
“It’s not real!” Chad yelled. “It’s just a decoy!”
Not real –?
I ignored the image of the new ship and pulled back on the column. We flew straight through the new vessel and slipped through the gap in the surrounding fighter craft. I took us away from the mass of aircraft, rising high into the sky above them. Examining the display, I saw that most of the remaining ships were still in formation, although one of them appeared to be in severe difficulty.
“What’s the status of the Russian fighter craft?” I asked the computer.
“Most of the fighter craft remain in position. One was struck by the chaff deployed from this craft,” the computer said. “The pilot has ejected safely from the vessel.”
Thank goodness, I thought. And the dual signal –
“It’s a hologram,” Chad said, reading my mind. “The fighter craft think th
ey’re still following us.”
I returned the plane to autopilot and collapsed into the seat. This was rapidly turning into the longest day of my life. I checked the timer on my wrist compass. I still had fourteen hours till I was due to meet Graal.
“Computer,” I said. “Wake us in ten hours.”
I don’t know if it replied, because I was already asleep.
Chapter Twenty-Four
“I’m sorry,” Tomay said. “The Council has decided to hand you over to the Tagaar.”
“That’s all right,” Brodie said. “We can handle ourselves.”
Brodie felt furious, but she tried not to show her anger to the alien leader. She suspected the vote had been very close. Now they had to deal with the fallout from that decision. She asked if she could speak privately to the others for a moment. Tomay looked worried, but he nodded and left the waiting room.
“What’ll we do?” Dan asked.
“We can look upon this as an advantage,” Bax said.
“Really?” Ebony replied. She felt annoyed and disappointed that her plea to the Council had been ignored. “How is this to our advantage?”
“We wanted to leave Sartaria,” Bax said. “Now is our chance.”
Brodie nodded. “We can surrender and then fight back at the right moment.”
The others agreed. It seemed like the best course of action. Brodie led them into the Council Chambers. Tomay was obviously expecting a fight and he looked immediately relieved when Brodie told him to take them to the square.
They followed him through the endless shanty town of buildings. It amazed Brodie that Tomay – or anyone – could find their way through this endless labyrinth. People stopped and pointed at them as they passed. At first Brodie thought they were simply curious because they were strangers, but after a few minutes she realised many of the inhabitants were angry.
“Are they unhappy with us or –” she began.
“I think they’re angry with the Council,” Ebony said.
“But if the alternative is to allow the Tagaar to execute their own citizens –”
“They hate the Tagaar. They probably consider any collaboration with them a crime.”
They finally reached an open area adjacent to the hull of the vessel. A large group had assembled and it appeared more were joining them with every passing moment. Some looked curious. Others looked downright hostile.
An enormous door, measuring about fifty feet across and twenty feet high, was built into the hull. A warning alarm started to ring and the door started to slide upward. Two Tagaar warriors, armed with assault rifles, appeared in the gap. They aimed them at the crowd. Another Tagaar warrior followed them. The bright light behind them reduced their forms to silhouettes.
Tomay stepped forward. “We have brought the strangers!”
The crowd parted, revealing Brodie and the others.
“You are pathetic!” the third warrior yelled. “That girl has more courage than all the slave scum living in this ghetto!”
Brodie peered at the warrior and realised it was Breel, the ship’s commander. She wasn’t sure if she should accept the comment as a compliment, then realised it was – in a strange way. She was trying to formulate a reply when Ebony pushed past her. The smaller girl raised her fist at the warriors.
“The Tagaar are bullies!” she yelled. “You have no honour! You lie and you cheat!”
The three warriors levelled their weapons at the petite girl. “You will be sorry, child!” Breel snapped. “We’ll reduce your planet to a cinder that will float –”
Brodie’s memory of the next few seconds would forever remain a blur. Whatever Breel had wanted to say would forever remain a mystery because Ebony chose that moment to attack. Within seconds she had crossed the area in a sprint, transmuting two machete knives in mid-air. The two soldiers on either side of the commander were completely taken by surprise; obviously no one had stood up to them for so long they had forgotten what resistance looked like. Ebony struck down Breel with a double blow.
“Revolution!” she cried. “Revolution!”
One of the warriors fired ineffectively into the deck. The other stumbled backward. Brodie was so amazed she didn’t know what to say, but Dan took up the cry immediately.
“Revolution!” he yelled. “Down with the Tagaar!”
“Freedom!” someone in the crowd yelled.
“Kill the Tagaar!” another voice rang out.
Ebony dove to one side as the Tagaar warriors recovered. They opened fire on the crowd. People screamed and ducked for cover. Some people were hit. Dan focused on a piece of sheet metal on one of the makeshift rooves. It flew through the air and struck one of the warriors, killing him immediately.
The remaining warrior continued to fire as he withdrew through the door. Ebony climbed to her feet.
“Revolution!” she yelled.
A hundred voices had already taken up the cry. Several other people were cheering at the death of Breel and the warrior. Brodie and her friends caught up to Ebony. Dan slapped her on the back.
“You’re amazing!” he said.
“Not really.” The girl blushed in the pale light. “I just don’t like bullies.”
Zena appeared at their side. “We’ve got to press the advantage,” she said. “With this many people we may be able to take over the ship.”
They started forward, but the door had started to slide shut. Dan focused on it and buckled it out of shape. It ground to a halt. By now they could hear a chant of voices ringing behind them. The revolt seemed to have spread across the length and breadth of Sartaria within seconds. It seemed the whole society had been like a powder keg waiting to explode. All it needed was a match – and Ebony had provided it.
“Well done, girl,” Brodie said as they started up the corridor.
“Thanks,” she said. “Now we just need to take over the ship.”
It immediately became obvious that this was going to be easier said than done. The single guard at the far end of the corridor was joined by another group of warriors. Ebony formed a shield and Ferdy wielded it before them as the aliens began firing at them. Brodie looked back and saw a multitude of people starting down the tunnel with makeshift weapons. Most of the weapons looked like they were tools used for metal working.
“Anyone got any ideas?” she asked.
Ebony turned to Dan. “You remember the baseball manoeuvre?”
“Do I ever?” Dan smiled. “Bat ‘er up.”
Ebony focused on the air before the shield and created a steel ball. Dan sent it flying toward the approaching troops. They heard a scream and the sound of running. Ebony and Dan repeated the procedure half a dozen times.
“Ferdy does not like it when we hurt people,” Ferdy said. “But we have to fight back if people shoot at Ferdy and his friends.”
“Absolutely,” Ebony agreed.
“In 455AD,” Ferdy continued, “Roman Emperor Petronius Maximus was stoned to death by an angry mob after only seventy-eight days on the throne.”
“Uh, I didn’t know that.” Ebony raised an eyebrow. “I don’t think we’ll be meeting him today.”
“Obviously, friend Ebony.” Ferdy looked at her as if she were dumb. “He is dead.”
“Thanks for clearing that up.”
Brodie looked past them up the corridor. The Tagaar were nowhere to be seen. She urged the others forward until they reached another door. By now the corridor was very full of people. Brodie was sure they had a good chance of taking over the entire ship if they could access a store of weapons.
“Ferdy,” Brodie said. “We need firepower for these people. Are you able to hack into the Tagaar communications system?”
“I can.”
He smiled at her.
“Uh, will you do it, please?” Brodie asked.
“Of course.” He laid down the enormous metal shield. Pulling open a nearby panel, he manipulated the wires for a moment. A series of hieroglyphics appeared on a small computer screen. After a
few minutes he drew back from the panel, frowned and punched a few more buttons.
“How are you doing?” Brodie asked.
“Ferdy is well.”
“Have you succeeded in hacking the system?”
“Not yet,” he replied. “Ferdy first had to learn the Tagaar language and counting system. The language contains almost a million words while the Tagaar use a Base-12 numeric system.”
“Oh.”
Ferdy continued to punch buttons on the panel. He made a satisfied sound after another minute. “There is a weapons storage area one hundred metres to our left and one floor up.”
Brodie examined the wall. “This looks pretty thick. Maybe we should –”
Ferdy punched a hole straight through the metal, revealing the room beyond. He tore a jagged gap in the wall so large that two people could fit through at a time.
“It is not so thick,” he said. “See?”
Chapter Twenty-Five
I was awakened by the sound of a droning alarm. Opening my eyes with difficulty, I tried to bring myself back into wakefulness. I saw a view screen and a control panel. Chad was sound asleep in the pilot’s seat next to me.
Where was I?
I can’t say it all came flooding back to me. I’d been through too much over the last couple of days for that to occur. Instead, my memories returned in a piecemeal fashion. Last of all I remembered that the Premier of Russia – Alexi Kozlov – was handcuffed to a seat in the back of the Flex Fighter.
Oh hell. How had I gotten myself into this mess?
The alarm continued to sound. I turned my focus to the control panel. A light was flashing.
“Holy hell,” I muttered. “Computer. What is the source of the alarm?”
“Main power has dropped to ten percent.”
“Why has the power suddenly dropped?”
“Power loss is due to normal consumption.”
Normal consumption? This was weird. One of the staff at The Agency had told me the power supply for one of these would last for years.
“What’s using the power?” I asked.
“Life support, engines…” The computer’s voice droned on, listing a multitude of ship wide systems. Then it said something that caught my attention.
