Guardian Awakening

by C. Osborne Rapley

  That left the cruiser in the debris field. They had restarted the ship’s systems and were turning to gain a firing position. They were now too far away for Tristan to regain control so he commanded his crew to accelerate their ship and loop it up and round, bringing it back behind the turning cruiser. His gunners fired again. They scored a lucky hit, and the engines of the enemy cruiser exploded almost immediately.

  As he was concentrating on the battle he had lost track of what was happening with the final transports. “Da’ren, did the transports get away?”

  “Yes, Tristan, the last one just left.”

  “Right, time for us to go as well. Fire up the Star Drive and get us on route to Mylia.”

  The Star Drive engaged and Tristan slumped in his seat. The crew started to clap and then broke out into cheers. They had taken out a far superior Sicceian force with one single cruiser, an element of surprise, and Tristan. As usual, the effort had totally drained him, so he rose and staggered to the captain’s quarters. They all rose as he stood, and a Mylian took his arm as he opened the door to the captain’s quarters. She helped him to his bunk and removed his boots. Tristan fell almost immediately asleep.

  Tristan woke to the smell of cooking. He looked around, trying to orientate himself. A clean set of clothes were neatly folded on a chair placed against the far wall. He stood, went to his washroom, and got dressed. He walked through to his dining room and found Elvath preparing him his breakfast.

  She turned her head as he walked in. He smiled. “I thought it was you as soon as I saw the way my clothes were folded. What are you doing here?”

  “Well I was appointed to look after you and I can’t do that on one of the transports can I?”

  Tristan shook his head. “I suppose not, no. What about your son, where is he?”

  “Oh, he is asleep in my cabin,” she replied.

  “Look,” Tristan said. “You don’t have to do this, you know. I can look after myself.”

  “I want to be here. Someone as important as you should not have to look after himself, and anyway, where you are, Sicceians get whipped, and that’s something I want to be part of!”

  Tristan sighed and said nothing, but in his heart he knew that the task he had set himself was going to be almost impossible to achieve. An end to this war was going to be a long and difficult path.

  During the two-week trip to Mylia, Tristan worked with the crew and made them exercise until the ship’s systems and operation were second nature to them. It amused him to think that his Navy experience and training was being put to use in such a strange and unexpected way. Most of the ship’s systems had manual overrides and other than requiring his presence to keep the computer operational during the flight, the crew could handle the systems as well as any Sicceian. Tristan gave instructions that they should shut down the Star Drive well before they reached Mylia. He did not want them to think a Sicceian cruiser was attacking and get them blasted out of the sky.

  Chapter Eleven: Mylia

  The Star Drive shut down on the outer reaches of the Mylian system, and Tristan handed command of the ship over to Da’ren. It would be far safer for a Mylian captain to bring the ship to his home planet.

  Tristan retired to the Captain’s Ready Room and watched events unfold from there. Communication was established and several hours later an escort fleet surrounded them. The Mylians were being cautious. A Sicceian ship in normal circumstances could not be operated by any species other than Sicceian. A large battle ship drew alongside and secured the cruiser with lines. They then sent over an armed boarding party. Da’ren sent an escort to conduct them to the bridge. Tristan went to stand behind Da’ren as the boarding party walked on to the bridge. They seemed relaxed as they surveyed the Sicceian cruiser command centre and the Mylian bridge crew. Da’ren walked forward to greet the officer, who had a friendly smile on his face.

  “How did you manage to capture and operate this?” the officer asked as he took Da’ren’s outstretched hand in his.

  Da’ren turned towards Tristan. “With his help.”

  Tristan noticed the officer’s expression change from friendliness to suspicion “What is it?”

  “He is Human from a planet he called Earth.”

  The officer did not let Da’ren finish. “Secure it.”

  Tristan stood still as two of the boarding party drew their guns.

  Tristan’s crew jumped to his defence. “No - he is our friend, we would all be dead or Sicceian prisoners without him.”

  “I’m sorry, but I have my orders, please stand aside.” The officer nodded to the hesitating guards. “Lock it up.” The crew reluctantly stood back as Tristan’s hands were cuffed. They couldn’t argue with the armed boarding party.

  “Don’t worry. It won’t be ill treated while we check out your story.”

  A gun barrel jabbed him in the back. “This way.”

  Tristan groaned inwardly and followed the officer back through the ship to the main air lock. A docking ring was secured to the open hatch joining the two ships together. Tristan gulped as his stomach lurched. Moving between the two ship’s artificial gravity reminded him of travelling fast over a hump back bridge. Curious Mylian’s watched Tristan and his escort pass. They quickly reached a holding cell. Tristan’s cuffs were removed and with a rough jab of the gun in his back he stepped through the door, and it closed behind him with a hiss.

  The cell was plain featureless grey with a metal bunk bolted to the far wall. Tristan walked over to the bunk and slumped down with a sigh. Here we go again. He swung his legs up on the bunk and lay back with his hands behind his head and shut his eyes. It’s not going to be as easy to escape this time. No computers to access, physical locks, jailers without telepathic abilities. “Bugger it!” His words echoed in the empty room. He shut his eyes and tried to sleep. After an indeterminate period of time a small hatch opened and a tray of food passed through. Tristan rose and walked over to the tray. At least the food consisted of cooked meat and vegetables and not the swill the Sicceians had served.

  He finished the meal and placed it next to the hatch. It was removed almost immediately. So I’m being watched. He returned to the bunk and lay back down. A short while later the ship lurched, and a slight vibration started. Two days passed before the vibration changed, it increased for a while then the ship rolled slightly and settled.

  There were voices outside. Tristan tensed, and setting his jaw he prepared himself for the next onslaught whatever it might be. The door swung open to reveal the smiling face of Da’ren.

  “Tristan you’re free! The refugees have all arrived, collaborating our story.” Tristan swung his legs off the bunk and sat up. “You are a hero and everyone wants to meet you,” Da’ren continued. “Come on.”

  Tristan stood. “Well if this is how you Mylians treat heroes I would hate to be an enemy.” He smiled wryly.

  Da’ren clapped him on the back. “They needed to be sure, that’s all.”

  Tristan sighed. “Yes, I understand.”

  “We will make it up to you now,” Da’ren Laughed.

  Tristan walked down the ship’s ramp. An honour guard stood at the bottom waiting for him. Crowds of people behind them their alien faces all looking at him. Tristan was thankful they had allowed him to clean up and get fresh clothes before he had to brave the hero’s welcome. He ignored the voice in his head telling him to turn and run from the gathered crowds. He sighed, resigned to this new role of hero. Oh well, could be worse I suppose. He stopped and waved. The whole crowed erupted in cheers, shouts and waves. The police or whatever they were had difficulty holding back the press of people. When he reached the bottom of the ramp the officer of the guard saluted Tristan and informed him the Emperor wanted an immediate audience. Tristan swallowed as his heart leaped in his throat. “The Emperor?”

  The officer nodded. “Yes Sir.” Tristan allowed himself to be escorted from the landing field to waiting vehicles. From what had been explained by his crew, the Mylian governmen
t was run in a manner similar to the old Roman Empire, where an emperor ruled over a government made up of senior distinguished families.

  As they walked to the ground vehicles, Tristan could see people pushing for a better view when he past them. He smiled and waved. Better keep the fans happy I suppose.

  The Mylian capital city sped past the vehicle window, tall towers and spires situated among trees and wide green open spaces. They stopped outside an ornate marble building. The officer accompanying Tristan told him that none of the buildings were more than fifty years old. They had not been permitted to build anything higher than two storeys when Mylia was a Sicceian slave planet. Each slave planet was garrisoned by a large contingent of Sicceian warriors commanded by a governor. There had been several Sicceian forts spread over the planet, and they were used as staging posts for shipping slaves across the Sicceian Empire. It was only when the majority of the Sicceians were recalled to fight the race that could almost match them in technology, military hardware and viciousness, that the Mylians managed to overthrow the remaining Sicceians and gain their freedom.

  Tristan asked if the officer knew anything about this alien race that had threatened the Sicceian superiority. The officer shook his head. “We believe the Sicceians annihilated them to ensure they would not be a threat again. We do not even know what they called themselves or what they looked like.”

  Tristan nodded and wondered if the Sicceians could be forced into such a position as to agree to peace. He thought of Aesia and how she had changed. Perhaps there was hope for them. I would like to think so, he thought to himself.

  The officer had continued talking and Tristan had missed what he had said. “I’m sorry, what did you say?”

  The officer glanced at him. “I said, this is the Emperor’s residence.”

  “Oh, OK. What happens now?” Tristan asked, trying to keep the nervousness from making his voice tremble.

  “If you would kindly follow me.” They stepped out of the vehicle and mounted the steps to the large double doors. The doors swung open on well oiled hinges as they approached. Guards saluted as they walked through to a large auditorium.

  “The emperor wants to meet you in his private quarters,” the officer informed Tristan as they walked through a door on one side to a small reception area, where an elaborately dressed official was waiting. The officer handed Tristan over to the official, turned on his heels and left.

  The official motioned Tristan to follow him and turned down the corridor behind the reception area. The Emperor’s apartments were not quite what Tristan had expected. Instead of opulent, they were modest, about the same size and standard as a large penthouse flat in London or any big city. The emperor and his family were sitting on a balcony overlooking one of the city parks. They all rose as Tristan and the aide entered. Tristan felt his skin prickle and sweat started to form on his brow. He hoped his fear did not show. He didn’t know what to expect, and he didn’t know what the protocol was when meeting a Mylian Emperor. He thought it best to at least bow. The Emperor smiled, indicated an empty chair and asked Tristan to sit down.

  Tristan sat and the Emperor and his family followed suit. The emperor was a tall and stately Mylian with the lines of age on his face. He had an air of command about him; however, he seemed friendly enough to Tristan. The rest of his family consisted of the Empress, who struck Tristan as a handsome rather than beautiful Mylian female, two daughters and a son; the eldest, a very attractive female around twenty-five years old, and the youngest the male around twelve or thirteen.

  They were all looking at him intently. Tristan felt his cheeks burn and shifted in his chair. The Emperor spoke in a deep resonant voice. “I believe we have you to thank for rescuing our colony from certain destruction?”

  Tristan cleared his throat. “Well Sir, it was a team effort.”

  The Emperor nodded. “I see.” He paused for a moment. “Your name is Tristan, is that correct?” the Emperor asked.

  “Yes Sir, that is correct.”

  “So where have you come from, as no one has ever met an alien like you, with the same telepathic ability as the Sicceians?”

  Tristan replied honestly: “I have come from a planet we call Earth. I was captured by the Sicceians and locked up with some of your people. We managed to escape to the colony and found that it was under attack so we did our best to save the colonists from being annihilated.”

  “Do all of your people have the same abilities as you?” the Emperor asked.

  “I do not know,” Tristan replied. “I didn’t know I had these abilities until I was captured by them.”

  “He looks a little like a Sicceian,” the boy interrupted. The Empress shushed and glared at him so he mumbled a sorry under his breath.

  She turned to Tristan. “Why are you helping us against the Sicceians?”

  “Because where I come from, slavery and oppression are not acceptable.” It was probably wise to be evasive and vague with his answers. He certainly thought it best to avoid telling them the whole truth, especially regarding Aesia, and how he came to be a Sicceian captive.

  “Do you know how to reach your planet?” the Emperor asked.

  Tristan shook his head, saying, “No sir, I’m afraid I don’t have a clue. My people have not yet reached the stars and are very much planet bound. The Sicceian that err… captured me in the first place found my planet by accident. On the way to Sicceia the ship crashed and was destroyed. The Sicceians found us much later. The one that captured me had been killed. So finding my way back would be difficult.”

  The Emperor narrowed his eyes a little and a look of scepticism passed across his face. “Are you willing to help us further with our war against the Sicceians?”

  “I am willing to help, Sir, yes, but eventually I would like to try and find my planet.” Tristan replied.

  The Emperor glanced up at the sky. “We are close to defeat. The Sicceians are building a base on an asteroid near the edge of our system as we speak. We believe they plan to use it as a launch point for the final push against us. Our fleet is not strong enough to stop them and it is only a matter of time before Mylia becomes a slave planet again.”

  Tristan thought for a moment. “Sir, I would like to help you; however, I will need the authority to do so. I need to know as much as possible about the Sicceian disposition and what you have available with regard to your fleet.” The Emperor studded him in silence for what seemed to be an age, as if he were trying to read Tristan’s thoughts. Tristan was well aware that he could not, but it made him shift uncomfortably in his chair.

  The Emperor finally spoke. “If you can defeat the Sicceians and remove the threat to our system, we will be eternally grateful to you and certainly you may have a small ship with which to search for your home planet. In the mean time you can have all the resources you require. The fleet commander will be summoned, and if you go to our headquarters building, they will be able to brief you on the Sicceian positions. Now, we request that you join us for dinner while the necessary arrangements are being made.”

  Just at that moment, one of the servants came to announce that dinner was served and that they should come through to the dining room. They all stood and Tristan waited for the Emperor and Empress to lead them through. The Emperor’s eldest daughter walked up to Tristan and took his arm. She smiled as she conducted him through to the modest dining room.

  Tristan asked her, her name. “Clayandra,” she replied and moved closer, squeezing his arm. A strong spicy perfume assailed his senses.

  Clayandra made a point of sitting next to him. Every time she spoke to him she would lean close and almost whisper. Tristan shifted in the chair, glancing at her mother and father every time she did so. Once she rested a hand on his knee making him jump. She just smiled. No one else seemed to notice. The conversation ranged over many subjects. The Emperor would occasionally ask direct questions regarding his abilities and what his planet was like. Tristan continued to be vague when the questions were too detailed
.

  Once or twice officials came in and had quiet conversations with the Emperor. When the meal was finished, the Emperor rose and summoned an aide to escort Tristan to the quarters he had been allocated. As they were leaving, Clayandra moved close to Tristan and said in a low husky voice, “I will see you again soon!” She squeezed his arm and smiled.

  With a bow to the Emperor and Empress Tristan left with the aide. I have to be careful with that one, he thought, as he followed the aide through the many corridors of the government building.

  The aide led Tristan to his new quarters, a modest apartment of four rooms. He had basic cooking facilities, a small shower room, bedroom, and reception room. The aide informed him that he had the choice of preparing food in the apartment or using the restaurant facilities on the ground floor of the building. The rooms would be cleaned and tidied every day by the facilities staff. The aide turned to leave and as he did so, he told Tristan he would be collected first thing the next morning.

  Tristan did not sleep well, he had become used to the noise aboard the ship, and the total silence was oppressive. The meeting with the emperor kept running through his mind. He had been outwardly confident, but he had committed himself to removing the Sicceian presence without knowing anything about their numbers and disposition. He didn’t even know the strength of the Mylian fleet. He tried to empty his mind and force himself to sleep but it was not until the early hours of the morning that he did so.

  He was woken by the sound of knocking on the door of his apartment. With an effort, he rose to open the door. It was the same aide who had escorted him there the night before.

  “Please make yourself ready and come with me,” the aide said curtly.

  Tristan quickly showered and dressed. His clothes were where he had left them. He wished he was on board his ship, as Elvath would have had a clean set ready for him. These still smelt faintly of the spicy perfume worn by the emperor’s daughter the night before.