by GARY DARBY
Lastly, once he had Deklon Marrel, force him to hand over the priceless Kolomite ore that Deklon had stolen from Peller so many years ago.
Double Star had ruined that plan, when, in his mindless desire for revenge against Deklon for his wife’s death on Veni, the senior Star Scout had dispatched his daughter to ambush Jadar Marrel.
The fool!
In an unforgivable mistake, Double Star had forgotten about Peller’s precious Kolomite, and now Peller had no choice but to salvage what pieces he could from his wrecked plan.
In careful and deliberate measures, Peller considered what options he could pursue. He had been so confident that this particular assassin and his team would be successful that he hadn’t even considered the possibility of failure.
After all, the man had always, always been triumphant on past assignments.
Peller circled his compu desk like a caged tiger. He had to know what had happened Out There, and he needed to know now!
But how? Send another killer team? That would mean abandoning some other operation, getting them up to speed on the situation, and then transporting them to the Helix Nebula so that they could search for and take on the Marrels.
How long would that take? Days perhaps, and Peller doubted he had that much time to work his plan. He had been fortunate before in that his hunter-killer team had been operating somewhat close to the Helix Nebula.
Not so this time.
He came to an abrupt halt as another thought struck him. With a quick flick of his hand, he brought up his Gadion Faction StellarVue. It showed him the exact position and status of every Faction operative, team, and base both in Imperium space and beyond.
The vast, interactive database also provided him the location of his very special and ultra-secret production facilities. He leaned forward, pulling at his chin while he considered one such facility.
It would be a dangerous gamble, he thought, and he hadn’t wanted to alert the Imperium to that particular secret capability of the Faction just yet. Besides, there were significant details in the technology that still needed ironing out.
His eyes narrowed and his mouth grew hard. However, to get the Marrels, to satisfy his craving for vengeance that burned within his soul, it might be well worth the risk.
Seating himself at his desk, he engaged the VisionVeil program to disguise his identity and features. Very few knew Peller’s real persona, and he intended to keep it that way for a long time before he revealed himself.
The VisionVeil would show a different visage and would alter his voice, keeping his real identity secret.
He reached out to the icon that showed an odd-looking spacecraft and touched the image. After several minutes, the holographic image of a bearded middle-aged man appeared.
For some reason that Peller had never understood, the man always squinted as if he couldn’t see well, though with corneal lens and retinal replacements available, anyone could have near-perfect vision.
“Doctor LaNair,” Peller greeted the heavyset man. “What is the status of our project?”
LaNair stroked his full, gray beard. “Coming along, coming along. The latest drone tests for the engineering, life support, weapons, and the propulsion system came back with excellent results. It’s controlling the slip field that we’re still having issues with.”
He shrugged and shook his head. “We sent out another drone yesterday to test the latest data. It transited into the spatial hyperfold successfully but didn’t reappear in the right place.”
Peller’s heart beat faster, and he leaned toward the image. This was the first he had heard of this. “You’ve had a ship transit through hyperfold space?”
“Eh?” LaNair replied while waving a hand in a casual manner. “Of course. We’ve done it over a dozen times. Almost routine now.”
“What?” Peller exclaimed in complete surprise at LaNair’s announcement. “You’ve penetrated folded space? You should have alerted me at once, doctor.”
LaNair raised a hand and huffed, “Didn’t want to get you all worked up over nothing. Yes, we’ve got a working hypothesis, and yes, we’ve sent drones from one congruent point in space to another, but we’re a long way from practical application.”
“Explain,” Peller said.
LaNair took a deep breath and let it out while scrunching his facial features together. “Well, for starters, we can get the ship to transition into slip space in the right attitude and bearing, we just can’t get it to always exit at the desired loci.
“Today’s run was typical. We programmed the drone to enter a fold about half a light-year from here and exit at ten light-years.”
The man rubbed the back of his head. “It reappeared thirty-five light-years away. Took us a while to find it, but that was one of our better tests. Some drones have missed their egress by a factor of a hundred. One we never found and ended up who-knows- where.
“We’ve had only two drones that came out at the right locality. Very frustrating, but I’m sure with more tests, we’ll get it right.”
“So,” Peller breathed out, “you can control the ship’s bearing, but not the velocity.”
“Velocity isn’t a term I would use,” LaNair replied with a frown.
“When you transit through hyperfold space don’t think of it in terms of acceleration or deceleration. It’s more like you’re standing in one spot, and you take a step to one side and you’ve moved to a different place.”
He squinted even more. “Almost instantaneous.”
Peller blinked several times trying to come to terms with what the man had just stated. “Did you say instantaneous?”
LaNair pulled at his beard while saying, “Mmm, close enough. Today’s drone traveled thirty-five light-years in just under a second, so that’s why I said ‘almost.’ There is some time involved, but we’re talking seconds or even microseconds in some cases.”
Peller furrowed his brows and leaned a little closer. “Can’t the pilot do a course correction and bring it out at the right place?”
LaNair waved a hand. “Oh, we’re not using a human pilot, strictly autopilot. Without precise navigational control, it would be precarious; might end up inside a star or a planet. Improbable, but not impossible.
“Don’t want to risk that, not yet. Not until we’re more comfortable with—”
Peller interrupted in a commanding tone. “I sent you a pilot. What do you have him doing if not test-piloting the ship?”
“Oh, he has been very useful,” LaNair responded. “Many of the command pod controls were his idea plus some the modifications in the astro-nav program.”
LaNair gave a slight smile. “In fact, he’s very anxious to pilot the SlipShip, once the uh, ‘bugs’ in the nav program are worked out.”
Peller kept his temper in check. He knew that intimidation did not work with this person very well. But he needed additional information before he ordered the next step.
“The drones, how well are they holding up in hyperfold space?” Peller asked.
“No problems to speak of,” LaNair answered. “No issues with structural integrity; all onboard systems worked within tolerances, life support maintained a suitable environment, gravity, and so forth.”
“In other words,” Peller said, “if you had a pilot on board, he would have survived the transit.”
“In theory, yes. But, we need more trials to determine the effects of fold space on the human body, we need to—”
Peller held up a hand to halt the man in midsentence. “What you are saying is that there are only two factors that you need to address; whether or not a human can survive in hyperfold space, and that the ship can navigate through the folds. Is that correct?”
“Well, yes, but remember we’ve just broached the intricacies of hyperfold space, there are still more questions than answers.”
“Your expert pilot could solve both those problems on one flight,” Peller stated.
“Perhaps,” LaNair acknowledged, “but, I’m not willing to risk
his life until—”
“But I am,” Peller replied in a hard voice. “I want to speak to him now.”
LaNair opened his mouth to speak, but Peller directed in a commanding tone, “Doctor, I said let me talk to the pilot. This matter is between Vieter and me; you’ve done your part.”
LaNair could see that his patron was becoming agitated so he shrugged and turned away. A few minutes later, Peller’s Faction pilot appeared. The paleness of his gray eyes seemed to match his ashen skin.
“As I recall, Vieter,” Peller began, “you have no great love for the Imperium since they took away your piloting license and imprisoned you.”
The man’s hard stare was his only reply so Peller continued. “How would you like to have command of your own ship, a very unique ship, and strike back at the Imperium at the same time?”
“The SlipShip?” Vieter asked.
“Yes,” Peller replied. “LaNair thinks the drones need more pilotless testing. He’s wrong. I believe that with the right pilot, one flight will solve all the remaining questions.”
“And I’m the right pilot?”
Peller lifted a shoulder while saying in a silky tone, “You were once one of the best in the business—”
“I was the best in the business!” Vieter exclaimed.
“Of course,” Peller acknowledged, “but that was then. Now you’re a hireling, an underling to groundhogs who spout theory and crunch complex equations all day and sometimes ask you for some input. Not exactly the adventuresome life you once led.”
“You’re paying me to be here, so I’m here,” Vieter replied in a sullen tone.
“Yes,” Peller responded. “So you are. But now I’m giving you the opportunity to fly your own ship and strike back at the Imperium.”
He thrust a finger at the space-tanned man and said, “Remember, I got you out of prison, I can put you back just as easy.”
“What do you want me to do? Just fly the ship?” Vieter asked.
“Yes and a little more.” Vieter’s expression remained impassive while Peller explained his need.
Peller stopped speaking. With raised eyebrows, Vieter shook his head in a firm manner. “No,” he stated. “I’m a pilot, not a mercenary. You’ll need to get someone else to do your knife work for you.”
Peller drummed his fingers on the console surface. He recognized an impasse when he saw one. “Agreed. Nonetheless, I need for you to take the ship to the Helix and find out whether or not the Marrels are still there. If they are, I’ll take care of the rest.”
Vieter cocked his head to one side. “The Helix is an enormous expanse of space. Might take some time to—”
“Not if the SlipShip works!” Peller snapped. “And I have the approximate stellar coordinates so that should narrow the search down to a small area.”
Vieter grunted in response. “And that’s the crux of it, right? If the ship works. If not, I could end up in the next galaxy for all I know.”
“Look on the bright side,” Peller smirked, “if you did, the Imperium police would have a hard time tracking you down, now, wouldn’t they?”
“Test pilots get ten times the standard for interstellar piloting,” Vieter pointed out.
With a dismissive air, Peller waved a hand. “Vieter, you make the SlipShip work, and you’ll see twenty times the standard.”
Vieter rubbed a hand across his chin several times as he considered the offer before he said, “Twenty, huh?”
Peller nodded several times, while his eyes bored into Vieter’s eyes, almost as if to will the man to agree to his proposal.
“You’ve got yourself a pilot,” Vieter breathed. “But remember, my job is to fly the ship and try to locate these friends of yours, nothing more.”
“That’s right,” Peller answered. “Just confirm and transmit their stellar coordinates and I’ll handle it from there.”
“You do realize,” Vieter muttered, “that the hyperfold sequence will only get me so close to the Helix, I’ll have to go sublight through the cloud.”
Peller held up a hand. “I understand all that. The fact is, you can get there much faster than any other ship, and that’s what I need right now.”
Vieter shrugged in response. “And what if the Imperium Nav is in the area when I pop out, or I run into them while I’m doing this search?”
Peller gave Vieter’s question scant thought. “Since the ship is unarmed, it’s obvious that your tactic will be to get away, but whatever you do, do not let this technology fall into Imperium hands.”
Vieter bared his teeth. “You could arm the craft, you know. That way I’d have more than one option.”
Peller put both hands on the console and leaned in close. His speech was hard and cold, his eyes menacing. “No. For my own reasons, we will not arm the ship.
“And before you start getting any ideas, don’t even consider taking that ship anywhere but where I order it to go.
“If you try, you’ll find out that my reach is a lot longer than even you can imagine and with it comes a nasty, nasty bite. Do we understand each other?”
Vieter took several deep breaths and stared back at Peller. “Perfectly,” he replied.
“Good,” Peller stated. “Now, go find the Marrels!”
Chapter Ten
Star Date: 2443.062
Unnamed planet in the Helix Nebula
Startled from his sleep, Dason went for his knife. Something had touched him!
Only, before his hand reached his blade hilt, a firm hand grabbed his wrist and held it tight.
Sitting up, he blinked several times as Shanon put a finger to her lips to silence him before he could speak. She jerked her head toward the opening and gestured for him to follow her.
Dason crawled out of his thin sleep cocoon and pushed aside the camo poncho to step into the dark. “What’s going on?” he whispered.
“Captain Ruz wants us outside to talk,” she whispered back. “But, just us scouts.”
“Got it,” Dason replied while he stretched his back and rubbed his sore neck and back muscles. “The XTs still asleep?”
Shanon nodded at his question. “They’ve not moved; still sitting back to back. I guess it’s their version of a good night’s sleep.”
She tilted her head toward him and said with a twinkle in her eye. “Though you’d think that your snoring would intrigue them. Unless of course, that grating noise resembles some growler of a star beast that they’ve run across before and figured you were just a subspecies.”
Dason reached into his vest pack, brought out a tiny SweetBreath globe, and popped it in his mouth. He swished the contents around his mouth several times, took a drink through his water tube, swallowed, and retorted, “All great thinkers snore deeply. It’s a known fact.”
“Then you must rank right up there with Da Vinci and Einstein.”
Dason smiled in answer. “Da Vinci was a great-grandpappy, and Einstein was a great-uncle. Didn’t you catch the resemblance? The family tree is full of great thinkers and snorers.”
“Sorry, I definitely missed that resemblance,” Shanon returned. “But I would say that it’s obvious that you get the snoring gene from both sides of the family.”
Movement near the stream below them caused her to say, “Bianca and the others are waiting for us. Let’s go, egghead, the captain’s waiting.”
Dason and Shanon walked down to meet the four other Star Scouts near the rushing creek. The five newly minted scouts gathered in a semicircle around Bianca, their leader, who knelt on one knee and doodled with a stick in the moist dirt.
The early morning air was calm and quiet. The Star Scout captain gestured toward the faint light glow over the distant hills. “It will be daylight soon,” she began, “I want us to have a plan ready for when it’s light enough to move.”
Dason could feel the tense, but determined tone in her voice.
“I won’t try and give you a rah-rah speech,” the lithe young woman said. “The truth is, we’re in trouble
, and our choices are pretty limited. In thinking this over, I believe we have a few options, but I want to hear your ideas, too.
“First choice, we make for our landing site and hope that the XTs didn’t capture or destroy our scouters. We grab a couple and head for another part of the planet—stay ahead of the Jakuta until help arrives.”
She looked around and spoke in an earnest manner. “And help will come. We’ve got two things going for us. Anyar sent out a general distress signal when we realized that the Queen was gone.
“It’s a safe bet that someone will pick that signal up and relay it to the nearest Imperium force, Star Scout, or otherwise.
“Even if no one hears our distress call, the protocol is that once Star Scout Command can’t raise us for our prearranged comms check, they’ll issue a general alert to the nearest Star Scout brigade or Nav fleet ship and someone will come looking for us.”
“And how long will that take?” TJ asked.
Bianca shook her head while looking down at the ground. “And that’s part of the problem. Standard procedure is for no-notice teams to do a comms check every forty-eight hours.
“We contacted the command just before entering the Helix. So, as far as they’re concerned we’re not due to make another call for approximately another twenty-four standard hours.”
In a matter-of-fact manner, Nase remarked, “And you have to factor in the time it would take for a Nav or Star Scout ship to get here once the alert hits.”
“Correct,” Bianca answered. “And based on what I know of this sector, I think we’re looking at somewhere between two to five days—perhaps more before a rescue team could get boots on the ground.”
TJ whistled through pursed lips. “Five days, that’s a pretty tall order against our big friends. There seem to be a lot more of them than of us.”
“I know,” Bianca replied. “And that brings up the second possibility. Keep on the run, escape and evade. Try and find a good, concealed site that we can use as a base. If our rations run out, we live off the land until help arrives.
