Guardian Awakening

by C. Osborne Rapley

  Ignoring the guards for the time being, Tristan tried to access the ship’s computer. The computer challenged him, requesting a logon ID, but he pushed past it without any difficulty. The now familiar power and intelligence rushed through his mind. He was the ship. He pulled back with an effort, it was like a drug pulling him in; he had pushed too hard. He only needed control, not to be the ship. I must be more careful.

  He disabled the telepathic control systems and interlocks. The ship could now be handled by the Mylians. From his link he found that the ship, while compact, was heavily armed. Perfect!

  Could he reach the other ships? He tried, each computer had a unique identification. He accessed each ship in turn. This time he was more careful not to meld with the ship, just to control it. He could very easily become addicted to the power and resources of knowledge a full link gave him.

  He disabled their weapon systems and drives without alerting the crews of his presence. He returned his attention to those around him. They were looking at him expectantly.

  He whispered “Ready?” They all signalled with the thumbs up sign he had shown them.

  He turned his attention to the two guards. He lashed out, tearing their minds, and they fell silently, twitching and foaming at the mouth, blood gushing from their ears.

  “Now!” They broke cover and rushed up the open ramp into the ship. The four remaining crew members died without knowing what hit them. Tristan accessed the large ship at the far end of the field and set off a power plant overload alarm. All the Sicceians turned their attention towards the farther ship.

  Tristan’s Mylians settled into the captured ship without being spotted by any of the enemy.

  Da’ren sat himself in the pilot’s chair and fired up the engines while the rest of the crew took their places at the weapons consoles. Tristan released the weapons control computer for them and ensured that all the weapons were ‘hot’. Interfacing with the ship’s sensors and guidance system, he commanded Da’ren to take off. The hatch closed silently and the engines roared at full power. The Sicceians could only turn and stare as the small powerful ship rose from the ground. Tristan turned to the Mylians manning the gun control consoles.

  “Fire at will.”

  His companions’ shooting was deadly accurate; with a few low passes everything in the field was soon destroyed and burning, running figures cut down. The Mylians were exacting revenge for years of oppression and war.

  Having seen what was going on, the defenders from the colony poured out of the town to finish off the remaining Sicceians. Tristan’s ship remained overhead and cleared any resistance where groups of Sicceians tried to make a stand.

  Tristan monitored the sensors carefully. He had not forgotten the battle cruiser in geostationary orbit. Someone had obviously got a message through as the ship had started to move. Tristan left it for as long as he dared. The resistance on the ground was dying down and the Mylians were just mopping up. Tristan could safely leave them to it and take on the battle cruiser.

  He directed Da’ren where to go. The Mylian’s being unable to interface with the Sicceian ship’s computers were at a disadvantage. Visual sensors were only backup systems on Sicceian ships and not sufficient for battle conditions. As they accelerated toward the approaching battle cruiser, Tristan attempted to access its computer. He was still too far away.

  The blue of the sky gave way to darkness and stars. They were closing fast on the enemy ship. A beam of energy passed overhead, making their ship shake.

  Da’ren looked across at Tristan. “That ship will blast us out of the sky before our weapons are in range.” There was an edge of stress to his voice.

  Tristan gazed into the distance. “I know, but we are still too far away.”

  Da’ren started to Zigzag, making targeting more difficult. Another blast passed underneath them, making their ship pitch up. Da’ren struggled with the controls, bringing the ship back under control.

  “Now would be good, Tristan.”

  Tristan held up his hand for silence. He had a weak link, just a few more seconds as sweat prickled his forehead and between his shoulder blades. He gripped the arms of his chair. He was in. He had no time to gain access to specific systems, so he just shut the complete computer system down. Their little ship then fired everything it had at the battle cruiser.

  They overshot the drifting Sicceian ship. Da’ren looped up and over and lined them up for their second pass when the Sicceian engineers managed to bypass the main computer and bring the thrusters on line. The ship started to move away. Tristan, exhausted by the effort and strain, was unable to gain connection with the auxiliary system controlling the thrusters.

  Da’ren accelerated towards the retreating ship. They were overtaking it fast when the battle cruiser disappeared. The crew must have rebooted the computer to bring the ship’s Star Drive on line.

  They had no choice but to let it go; it was impossible to track a ship with an active Star Drive. Tristan slumped in his seat while the others hugged each other and whooped with joy. With Tristan’s help and leadership, they had turned certain defeat into victory and saved the surviving people of the colony.

  Da’ren landed the small craft, and they all disembarked to cheers from the defenders. The last Sicceians had been rounded up and the Mylians quickly dispatched them.

  Tristan, sick at heart, sat alone. Many of the Sicceian dead were females, any one of them could have been Aesia. His emotions skidded away from that thought like drops of mercury on glass. Even though she might well have betrayed him and left him for dead, she was in his head, the gentle warmth of her presence was like a caress in his mind, a caress that so easily turned to a raging fire at her touch. Now there was nothing but emptiness where she had been. He shivered and looked up at the starlight sky. There came a deep almost overwhelming sadness. He was conscious of the slow beat of his heart. It was a sadness that made him question his place in the universe, his reason for being. Aesia! What have you done to me?

  Tristan sat on one side and watched the Mylians celebrating. They kept a respectful distance from their newfound saviour and let him sit on his own in peace. Silently, a woman brought him a plate of food, bowed and disappeared back into the celebrating crowd.

  He held the plate but his head had started to ache. The swirling music, the cloying scent of death spun through his senses. Sickness shook him, so he closed his eyes and rocked forward. The ground was cool and damp. The last thing he remembered were gentle hands lifting him.

  Chapter Ten: The Fight Back

  The sun felt warm on his face as he turned on his side and pulled the covers up over his head, he hovered in that place between awake and asleep, relaxed. Aesia had asked him something, what was it? No, she had left. Memories came flooding back and Tristan sighed.

  He opened his eyes. He was in a small room. The window had a cloth covering it, but sunlight was streaming through around the edges. As he sat up a queasiness gripped him. He lay back down and looked at the ceiling, it was dirty and cracked.

  Where the hell am I? He sat up again, this time more slowly. The giddiness did not return, so he swung his legs round and stood up. He was naked. He glanced round the room. His clothes were neatly washed and pressed in a pile on a chair.

  He dressed and went to the door. He opened it slowly and looked out. There were no Sicceians nearby, just a feeling of emptiness. He stepped out into a small corridor with a door at the end.

  He walked to the door at the end of the hall, opened it and stepped through. He found himself in a small neat kitchen. A young female with a little child sitting at a table in the centre of the room regarded him intently.

  Tristan remembered his folded clothes. “Hello. Did you wash my clothes for me?” She nodded. “Well thank you very much.” The young female inclined her head and smiled at him. Tristan smiled back.

  She put the child down stood and bowed. “Sir, the Mayor has asked to see you immediately you woke up.”

  “Oh, OK. Where do I ha
ve to go?”

  “We are only a block away from the town square.” She paused for a moment. “Head across to the main street then turn left. The town square will be directly in front of you.”

  “Thank you.”

  Tristan stepped out of the building, across a small square and into the main street as the female had directed. People were hurrying about, females with small crying children, older children, old males, and a few younger ones. They all turned to stare as Tristan passed.

  Some of the older children fell into step with Tristan, making a small procession as he made his way across the main square to the Town Hall. He walked up the steps. A guard nodded and pushed open the door, ushering Tristan in. This time as he walked in, most people stopped what they were doing and looked up.

  Morden was seated at the same untidy desk with maps and communicators scattered about on it, presiding over the same chaos as the first time Tristan had been there.

  When Morden saw Tristan, he stood, walked round the desk, and grabbed Tristan’s arm. “Thank you, Thank you. You saved us all!”

  Tristan glanced round at the chaos. “So what’s going on at the moment?”

  Morden looked downcast. We are clearing up, burying, and mourning the dead.”

  “How many serviceable ships are left Morden?”

  “I don’t know, why?”

  “Because the colony has to be evacuated.”

  Morden stared at Tristan, his mouth open and closed wordlessly for a few moments before he found his voice. “We… we cannot leave our homes and all we fought and died for.”

  “You must. The Sicceians are not going to forget about this and leave you in peace!”

  “But I don’t know how many ships there are left.”

  “Are any of the Sicceian ships salvageable?” Tristan asked.

  Morden shook his head. “I don’t know. All this is too much for me.”

  “You are the person in charge,” Tristan protested.

  “Only because there is no one else,” Morden sighed. “I was a member of the town council responsible for children’s schooling before becoming mayor. The military leadership were killed during the first attack. I was the only one left who would take over.”

  “The thing is, Morden, it’s only a matter of time before the Sicceians return. The amount of time you have depends on how far away the nearest Sicceian battle group is. The cruiser that escaped would be sure to make for them at all possible speed.” Tristan frowned. Someone needed to take charge and get these people off the planet. He sighed “OK then, you need to get organised. Do you mind if I start to get things moving?”

  Morden looked relieved. “No, please do.”

  Tristan called over one of the solders loitering by the door. “What’s your name?”

  “Dalry Sir.”

  “Right Dalry, I want you to round up all the military personnel, ships’ crews and civic leaders who have survived and be back here with everyone in three hours.” Dalry looked at Morden, who nodded. Tristan turned back to Morden. “Do you know where Da’ren is at the moment?”

  “Yes, he was over by the landing field.”

  “Make sure the people Dalry rounds up are kept here in the square. Tell them there will be an announcement at midday.”

  Morden nodded. “Of course, and thank you.” Relief that he no longer had to make any decisions was etched all over his face. Tristan smiled to himself; since I left Earth events seem to be constantly taking me over.

  Tristan took his leave and walked to the landing field. He found Da’ren working on the small ship they had used during the battle. He looked up as Tristan approached. “Ah, you’re awake.” He patted the ship’s hull. “This will make an excellent armed freighter for my supply runs.”

  Tristan shook his head. “Da’ren, we have to organise an evacuation, you know as well as I do that the Sicceian ship will be back with reinforcements to exact revenge for their defeat.”

  Da’ren looked nervously at the sky. “Yes, I suppose you’re right.”

  “Are any of the Sicceian cruisers or troop carriers serviceable?” Tristan asked.

  Da’ren shrugged. “I don’t know.”

  “So Da’ren, can you assemble your crew and quickly assess if any of them are salvageable, bearing in mind we will only have a few days to make repairs?”

  He nodded and looked away from Tristan’s direct gaze. “Yes, you are right. All I was thinking of was us getting out of here.”

  “Good, get to it then.”

  Da’ren hurried off to round up his crew and get started.

  By the time Tristan returned to the town square, a small crowd had assembled. Most were military personnel, but there were many civilians as well. They fell silent when Tristan appeared. He made his way through the crowd to the entrance of the Town hall.

  He walked in and found a sturdy table. A youth leaning against the wall was watching him. Tristan beckoned him over. “Are you busy?”

  The youth shrugged. “No.”

  “Then please help me outside with this table.”

  “Yes Sir.”

  Together they lifted the table through the door then placed it at the top of the steps.

  “Thank you.”

  The youth shrugged and walked to one side.

  Tristan jumped up on the table and surveyed the filling square. The murmur of voices stilled and alien faces turned towards him.

  “First, I would like to thank you all for coming. I know you are all excited and looking forward to rebuilding your lives after defeating the Sicceians. Unfortunately there are now some hard choices to make.” He heard one or two groans in the crowd. “This was only a setback for the Sicceian’s. One ship escaped.” He paused and looked at the sea of faces. “We must all leave. The Colony has to be evacuated.”

  There were shouts from the crowd “Why? No!” And a general murmuring of discontent swept around the crowd.

  Tristan held up his hand for silence. After a few moments the noise from the crowd died down so he continued. “Have you forgotten so soon? Only a few days ago you were all preparing for the end.”

  A richly dressed female standing in the front row shouted, “Yes, but we defeated them with your help. Why not the next time?” There was a general murmur of agreement.

  Tristan looked over the gathered crowd and sighed. “They were defeated due to surprise and their numbers were few. A much larger force will be another matter all together. They will want revenge, nothing will be left standing. We must leave now while we still have the chance.” Tristan paused to let it sink in. “You will not be forced, but I strongly advise you to join the evacuation while you can.”

  There was a general murmur and shifting of the crowd. Tristan sensed the mood had shifted towards acceptance of the situation. “Those of you who wish to leave, please be ready at a moment’s notice. Just have necessary personal belongings packed ready as space will probably be limited.”

  He paused, the majority of the crowd looking at him. “Are there any officers or ship’s captains here?” he asked. Five hands rose. Please can you come forward, I need to talk to you all.” Tristan jumped down from the table as the crowd began to disperse.

  The five who raised their hands, including Dalry, stood in a small group on the bottom step. They turned and faced Tristan as he walked towards them. “Right, gentlemen, I need two of you to take as many people as you need and assess the number of serviceable ships we have. The remainder of you must divide up the people here and split up the colony into sections and count the number of survivors we actually have in each section. I want you to report back to me by this time tomorrow, please.” They nodded and he left them to get on with it.

  Tristan walked back to the landing field. He found Da’ren with his crew working on one of the Sicceian cruisers.

  “Tristan, just the person we need. I think this ship is serviceable, but the computer system is beyond us. There are only a few access ports, and it needs a direct telepathic connection to access its
higher functions. Can you check the status for us please?”

  Tristan nodded. He connected with the computer and requested a system check. The computer reported the ship was almost fully functional except for a pressure leak on the fuel feed to the port engine, and one of the starboard pulse lasers was damaged. Most important of all a twisted bulkhead had caused the outer pressure hull to crack. Tristan turned to Da’ren and told him of the fuel pressure leak and the crack in the pressure hull. “Also, see if you can get parts from the other ships to repair the pulse laser. We are going to need all the firepower we can get.”

  “OK Tristan.” Da’ren and his crew rushed off to repair the faults with the ship.

  Tristan walked back to the town. The day was now warm and sunny, the countryside green and lush. He was getting used to the altitude and now breathing without any difficulty. He stopped for a moment, savouring the peace. I can see why they would want to stay here. He sighed, it would be so easy to take a small ship and leave. These aliens had been fighting one another long before he knew they existed. He could return to his normal life, as since that day, when he rescued Aesia from her ship, the pains in his head had stopped. At the thought of Aesia his stomach twisted. If he could find Earth his life would never be the same again. He turned towards the ruined town. Two children were playing hide and seek. They noticed him watching them play. They both stopped and waved at him then returned to their game. I can’t just leave them. It had fallen to him to get these people away to safety. Perhaps when they are all safe I can get a ship and go home.

  He squared his shoulders and resumed walking towards the centre of town. He had not gone far when his stomach rumbled. He had completely forgotten he had not eaten all day. When he reached the main square he looked around for the house he had woken up in. It was across from the HQ building. He walked towards it and knocked on the door. Being unsure what the social norms were with these people, he thought it best not to just walk in. The young woman opened the door cautiously. When she saw it was Tristan, she stepped back and smiled. “Yes Sir?”