Guardian Awakening

by C. Osborne Rapley

  When he was ready, Tristan followed the aide across to the Mylian military headquarters. They eventually entered a long meeting room where there were several uniformed Mylian senior officers already seated facing a large screen. An officer leaned on a wooden lectern just to one side of the screen. From the abundance of braid on his uniform, Tristan assumed him to be the most senior officer in the room.

  They were waiting for him. The low buzz of conversation ceased and they all turned towards him as the aid directed him to an empty seat. The silence in the room continued as he sat and looked at the frowning face of the officer at the lectern. “I’m sorry if I have kept you all waiting.”

  There was a strong smell of spicy perfume as the officer on his right leaned towards him and whispered in a husky voice. “Good morning, Tristan, I trust you slept well?”

  “Oh Clayandra! Umm… Yes, thank you.”

  She sat relaxed, her uniform tailored and close fitting accentuating her curves. “We must stick together, you and I, and not let these old has-beens get the better of us.” Tristan swallowed, and the vague feeling she was going to be trouble returned.

  Chapter Twelve: Battle

  The officer at the lectern cleared his throat. “Ladies and gentlemen, I would like to welcome the alleged saviour of one of our colonies.” They all glanced at Tristan, their expressions stern and unsmiling. “I have been ordered to give a detailed deposition of the Sicceian forces and our home fleet, and hand command to our guest.”

  Tristan stifled a gasp turning it to a cough, his heart skipped a beat. Command! No wonder there was an atmosphere. They were all silently looking at him. His hands felt cold and clammy, his mind raced. It was obvious they didn’t want or trust some unknown alien from no one knew where just taking over their fighting forces. They only had the word of a few colonists regarding his capabilities. Clayandra patted his knee, and he jumped at the sudden and unexpected touch.

  The officer continued, “The Sicceian fleet consists of eighty capital ships and their escorts. They are holding above an asteroid on which they have been building a supply base.” The screen behind the officer lit up and showed long-range pictures of the fleet and the supply base. Tristan noted the fleet was held in tight formation, the largest ships at the centre. There were some small ships on the asteroid’s surface, but it looked as though most were in the formation. “The Sicceian’s out number our home fleet almost four to one. We believe the base will be used to supply ground forces for an attack on Mylia once our fleet is destroyed.”

  The officer paused. Tristan glanced from the screen to his face. He was looking at Tristan with a faint, resigned smile, just lifting the corners of his mouth. They have given up, waiting for the inevitable.

  Tristan clenched his fists on his lap trying to calm his racing pulse. I need a plan quickly. The sudden silence was broken by Clayandra scraping her chair as she stood, leaning forward hands planted firmly on the table.

  “Admiral! I don’t like your attitude” Tristan looked at her, she was shaking, her voice hard. “With Tristan’s help we will prevail.”

  The faint smile vanished from the admiral’s lips, and his shoulders slumped. “Yes, Your Highness, of course.”

  She turned to Tristan, moderating her voice. “They will listen to your plan.”

  Tristan swallowed. Plan? What plan? He had to stall give himself time to think. “Do the Sicceians send out patrols?” He held his voice calm. Questions would give him some time, perhaps they will trigger something, anything.

  “They have a small number of fighters they use to patrol the nearby area, but otherwise, no, they do not.”

  Still complacent and secure in their superiority, Tristan thought. “How many ships do you have available?”

  The officer sighed. “We have twenty-two fully operational capital ships, and about ten in need of some repair or the other.”

  “How many fighters or smaller ships do you have that are operational?” Tristan asked.

  “We have about 150 fully operational small ships and fighters,” the officer replied.

  Tristan nodded, looking at the tightly packed Sicceian fleet on the screen an idea forming in his mind. “How near are they to completing the base?”

  “We believe that they will be ready in seven to ten days,” one of the other officers replied.

  “Can your scientists and engineers replicate the Sicceian computer system on one of your capital ships that are in need of repair?” Tristan asked.

  The officers in the room exchanged puzzled glances. Then one of them replied, “Yes of course, but what would be the use?”

  “I need to remotely control the ships’ systems; therefore, I have to have a Sicceian telepathic interface,” Tristan replied. “It has to be a ship with a functioning Star Drive, but otherwise it doesn’t need to be in good condition.” The plan was taking shape in his mind as he spoke. “Do you have access to powerful explosives or large bombs?” The officers in the room looked at Tristan questioningly.

  Tristan sighed and stood up. “Can I please come to the front and address the room?” The senior officer nodded and stepped to one side. Tristan walked to the lectern and faced the seated Mylian officers. “You are heavily outnumbered by the Sicceians, so you have to reduce the odds against you and ensure that they have to fight on your terms.”

  A movement caught his eye. Clayandra sat with a smile on her lips. “Us Tristan, us… You are the commanding officer remember.”

  Tristan bowed his head to her and returned his attention to the rest of the room. “I’m sure you’ve noticed that the Sicceians have a habit of holding their fleets in tight formation. You -” He glanced at Clayandra. “- we are going to use that against them. The ship I need you to put the Sicceian computer interface in must be packed full of the most powerful explosive you have available.”

  Tristan paused for breath. “I will control the ship remotely and fire up the Star Drive with the system set to shutdown in the middle of the Sicceian fleet. I can make small adjustments to the ship’s position then detonate the explosives in the centre of the closely packed Sicceian ships.” A hand rose at the back of the room. “Yes?”

  “I was told you have to be fairly close to access the Sicceian computers.”

  Tristan smiled. “You’re correct. But the Sicceians are complacent, they don’t send out regular patrols. The base is on the edge of a large asteroid field. A fleet of small ships could approach and hide close by with ease.”

  He turned his attention back to the rest of the seated officers. “The Sicceians will be caught by surprise and not have time to move or react. If the explosives you have are powerful enough, it should substantially reduce the odds against us. The lighter ships will be waiting and attack the remainder of the fleet from the cover of the asteroids. The Sicceians will have to go in amongst the asteroids to get at the attacking ships and their larger capital ships are then at a disadvantage manoeuvring within the confines of the asteroids. The smaller ships will have the advantage. At the same time, the main fleet will attack the remaining ships and the base.”

  Tristan paused.

  “So, to summarise, I need one of the capital ships with minor damage to have its computer modified with a Sicceian interface and then filled with powerful explosives. The main fleet and all the available fighters and light ships must be prepared for battle and then we will deploy the fighters and small ships around behind the asteroid field, keeping them out of sensor range of the Sicceians. Once the ship explodes amongst the Sicceian fleet, the Mylian forces have to be ready to attack. We cannot give the Sicceians any time to recover, so speed and timing are important. Any questions?” Tristan looked round the room.

  Clayandra was the first to break the silence. “Well I don’t know why you are all still sitting here! I suggest you get to it and undertake what Tristan has requested.” She glared around the room. “Now!”

  They all filed out, leaving Clayandra and Tristan alone. She stood and walked over to him, a broad smile
on her face. She reminded Tristan of a cat stalking its prey. He took a small backward step as she moved close. “Well, come along then, we had better go and ensure that everything is being done to your satisfaction.” She almost purred the words.

  Tristan smiled wryly, trying to shake off the impression he was the mouse. ‘Umm… OK, but I don’t know my way round or where I’m supposed to go.”

  “Well just stay close to me, I will be your guide and aide” Her smile broadened, and Tristan suppressed a shudder; the mouse was caught. She turned to walk out of the conference room. “Follow me, Sir.” She laughed and held out her hand.

  The next few days went quickly. Clayandra stuck close by him, proving herself to be indispensable despite his misgivings. It was if she had a split personality; with him she was flirty and giggly, but with everyone else she was in command, steel in her voice. She ensured that everything got done. Even the most senior officers jumped to it when she was there. Tristan was at a disadvantage, no one knew him other than the crew of ‘his’ Sicceian cruiser. The colonists he had rescued were dispersed across the planet.

  By the morning of the fifth day everything was ready. Tristan had tested the computer system on the ship filled with the explosive devices, and everything worked to his satisfaction. The detonators were connected to the telepathic interface so he could trigger them as soon as the ship was in position. He would have preferred nuclear bombs, but they had been banned many centuries before and no one used them.

  The fleet assembled in geostationary orbit above Mylia using the planet as a shield from the Sicceian sensors. The fighters left first, as they had to go round behind the asteroid belt and hide amongst the asteroids avoiding detection by the Sicceians. The time came for the main fleet to depart, so Tristan went aboard his captured Sicceian cruiser accompanied by Clayandra. The Mylian admiral was on the flagship leading the main fleet.

  Tristan felt his stomach twist and knot as he walked on to the cruisers bridge. Clayandra walked straight to the XO’s chair and acknowledged the crew who had stood to attention when she entered.

  Tristan settled himself in the captain’s chair. “To your posts everyone, let’s kick some Sicceian ass!” With a final look round at the expectant faces he took a deep breath ready to gave the order to start the attack.

  Last minute sensor checks showed the Sicceian fleet holding steady, tightly packed above their expanding base. The coordinates for the centre of the fleet were already set into the computer of the bomb ship.

  He brought the bomb ship’s computers online. “Engage the star drive now.” The Mylian fleet was already in orbit around Mylia. As soon as Tristan’s two ships engaged their Star Drives they readied themselves for the order to attack.

  The two ships jumped. Tristan prepared himself for the Star Drive to shut down. Through the viewport stars became rainbow streaks, and seconds later there was a small jolt the stars became points of light. Tristan accessed the sensors. The Sicceian fleet was below them, the Bomb ship off to one side. He quickly regained contact with the onboard computer, and using the ship’s sensors, he manoeuvred the bomb ship as near as he could to the centre of the Sicceian formation. The Sicceians had not yet reacted. No ship would normally exit the Star Drive so near other ships; it was too dangerous, there was a risk of collision or materialising within another ship. Tristan was not concerned, the resulting explosion would have almost the same effect anyway. Through the ship’s sensors he checked the Sicceian readiness. The two closest ships were just bringing their weapons on line. He disconnected his mind from the ship’s sensors and detonated the explosives.

  Their ship bucked, sensor systems overloaded. It took a few moments for his crew to bring the ship back under control. The sensors took a few seconds longer to recover. The result exceeded his expectations. At least half of the Sicceian fleet was damaged or destroyed. Tristan shuddered; the death and destruction was massive. A large section of a destroyed ship slowly and gracefully spun past the front view port, spewing debris and bodies like some giant macabre Catherine Wheel.

  “Clayandra, please order the main attack.”

  As Tristan had hoped, some of the remaining Sicceian ships turned to pursue the emerging fighters into the asteroid field where the smaller Mylian ships would have the advantage. Tristan selected five Sicceian ships off to one side of the main fleet. He ordered the pilot to turn towards them. As his ship drew closer he shut down the enemy computer systems and disabled their weapons targeting. His crew went into action, taking advantage of the crippled Sicceians. Three ships were immediately disabled. Tristan commanded the ship to swing round and pass the other two Sicceian ships. Again, the gunners made short work of the enemy ships engines and crippled them. A second pass and the weapons systems were taken out. One of the ships exploded, and debris hit Tristan’s ship. He felt it shudder.

  Through the sensor system, Tristan detected a Sicceian cruiser had manoeuvred behind them and was targeting his ship’s engines. Gripping the arms of his chair, sweat beading upon his brow, he connected with the Sicceian cruiser’s computer and caused the ship to veer to one side just as it fired. The salvo missed vital parts of his ship but caught one of the manoeuvring thrusters. The ship shook again as part of the thruster assembly spun away in space. Damage control immediately isolated that section.

  The Sicceian cruiser was turning back to take another shot as Tristan forced access to the computer to shut down the systems. At that moment, the main Mylian fleet arrived. The first salvo destroyed the cruiser just as he gained control. The destruction exploded in his head. He jerked his head back as if he’d been hit by an iron bar. For a moment his mind teetered on the edge of consciousness, and he tasted blood in his mouth. His shoulders were being shaken. He heard a voice as if from the end of a long tunnel.

  “Tristan! Tristan, are you all right?” He opened his eyes and a face swum into view. Clayandra, standing above him, shook him again.

  He blinked. “Yes, yes I think so.” He wiped his brow, his hands shaking.

  “Your mouth is bleeding.” She held his chin in her hand, turning his head.

  He swallowed. “I have bitten my tongue, that’s all.” He moved his head back from her hand. “I’m fine, let’s get on with it.”

  Clayandra returned to her chair. “If you’re sure.”

  “Yes, don’t worry.”

  Tristan restored his connection with his own ship’s sensors. The two fleets were now more or less evenly matched in numbers. However, the superiority of the Sicceian ships began to show against the Mylian fleet. Tristan swung his cruiser above the melee of ships. The thruster damage made the ship slow and cumbersome, so it would be dangerous to enter the battle, because they would be a sitting duck. There was a group of enemy ships working together, giving good account of themselves, systematically isolating Mylian ships and destroying them. He thought quickly, I have to do something or the battle could still go the Sicceians way. The group of enemy ships were moving ever closer to Tristan’s crippled ship.

  There were too many of them for him to tackle alone. The furthest were just out of range for the telepathic computer access to work anyway. There was only one solution. He sighed; he would have to combine himself with the closest ship’s computer, but when he had done it before accidentally he nearly lost himself. He remembered the addictive power the link had given him as his mind had teetered on the edge of madness. But if he did not do it they would certainly lose and die anyway. Here goes! He relaxed back in his chair and accessed the enemy computer on a large battle ship that was closing on them fast.

  He did not hold back, pushing forward he combined his mind with the cold intelligence. Power surged around him. The thrust of the engines, the trembling of his hull as weapons fired, the minds of the crew directing, commanding.

  He had almost infinite ability, knowledge, he could soar through the infinite reaches of the galaxy. He was the ship, cold calculating emotionless, but for the core that was still human. He looked at the puny minds connec
ted to his systems. He ripped them apart, freeing himself. He turned his weapons on the ships threatening the Mylian ship, where his limited human body lay. He struck out with all the power at his disposal. He was faster and more accurate than anything around him. He was not directed by dozens of simple minds, he was just THE SHIP. The ship was dancing a deadly dance, turning the battle in favour of the Mylians. Still enough of Tristan’s essence remained to ensure only Sicceian ships were destroyed.

  There was suddenly a change, damage. There was no pain, should there be pain? He could not access all of his body, more and more parts become unavailable. The dance became slow and laboured, power draining from him. He manoeuvred himself into the centre of a group of Sicceian ships. He gathered together all the power at his disposal and released it all at once. There was a blinding flash, and his mind shattered into a million pieces. There was a brief sadness for what he had lost, then came the welcoming darkness of oblivion.

  Chapter Thirteen: Admiral Clayandrian.

  Vague shapes and lights moved around him, sensations and sound that meant… something? He groaned, then blackness. Lights returned, shapes moved. Someone touched his forehead with cool hands. Tristan’s head felt as if it was being beaten from the inside by a hammer. Voices and faces faded in and out and he had strange dreams. Sometimes they were pleasant ones, other times not. Many of his dreams centred on a beautiful alien with eyes of brilliant blue.

  He opened his eyes. He was lying in a sunlit room with a large window. There were chairs around his bed and a table to one side. He smelt a faint hint of spicy perfume and it niggled at his memory, but he could not place it. He touched the scar on his forehead. Was this the room they put him in after his transplanted interface had fused? Had they removed the failed interface? He shook his head but it failed to clear. He tried to rise, but the instant he did his vision flashed to intense white, as if his head would explode. He lay back down and sighed. The strange dreams he had been having of beautiful aliens, distant planets, powerful spaceships, were fading. He wondered if Sarah had been to visit him; he lay still and savoured the peace and quiet. Occasionally he heard voices outside his room, but he could not make out what they were saying.