by Ed Charlton
Jim Able: Offworld
Episode Eight
STRIKE
Ed Charlton
Copyright
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Jim Able: Offworld, Strike
© 2021 Ed Charlton
All rights reserved.
ISBN 978-1-935751-57-1
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STRIKE
Previously
Jim and Tella have been commissioned by the galaxy’s gourmet spaceship manufacturers, the Praestans Rapax, to investigate a potential interplanetary war.
Tella has traveled to the planet Tanna Jorr, where it has met Professor Gritta Mel, mother to the only successful Jorr-Gul hybrid, called Larc. Despite its best efforts, Tella has been unable to leave for Tanna Gul to help Jim in the more dangerous part of their mission.
Jim and a Rapaxan monk, Tamric, infiltrated the Gul base to destroy their space fleet, and Tamric has been killed. Now alone, Jim is hiding at the edge of a garbage dump.
***
Chapter One
Tella’s jailor stood outside of Tella’s cell, reciting through the metal slats the instructions for the sanitary facilities and listing the times food would be served.
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. Since my orders are to treat you as a guest, will you take l’hala?”
“Gladly.”
After a few minutes, the familiar sweet smell wafted into the cell. The Jorr soldier returned with two mugs.
“L’hala pur gah,” said the soldier as he handed one mug to his unwilling guest.
“L’hala ar di,” said Tella, accepting the mug through the slats.
“Where are you from?” the soldier asked.
“Neraff. You may not have heard of it. It is a long way away.”
The soldier nodded, turned to bring a stool, and sat down.
“Yucan was from Neraff, wasn’t he? He wrote Farbour’s Search, I think.”
Tella blinked several times. “That is correct. Yucan was a great philosopher and devotee of Quavvour. The Search is one of the great works of my people.”
“Uh-huh. We studied it at school. It is intriguing. I never got over the shock of finding that someone from another world could believe things so close to our own faith. I guess that’s the shock that everyone gets when they realize the galaxy isn’t so different: that ‘out there’ and ‘in here’ are so closely related.”
“They are one. But I’m surprised to find someone who knows that...doing this kind of work.”
The Jorr laughed. “I suppose so. You were expecting a jail guard to walk on all fours and pee on the walls?”
“No, no! Pardon me. I merely meant that looking after the cells is not a philosopher’s usual line of employment.”
“Why not? What’s the use of learning from great works at school if you don’t bring the knowledge with you wherever you go?”
“Remarkable, quite remarkable,” said Tella, sipping and smiling.
They were silent for a moment, and then Tella asked, “Can I ask you something? Feel free to say you can’t tell me.”
“Try me.”
“This security force you have here...it seems a little excessive for a scientific institution.”
The soldier nodded. “We take science seriously. We have seen the mistakes that others have made. Have you been to our neighbors on Tanna Gul?”
“No, not yet. I have heard much about them.”
“Well, you’ll know their whole planetary ecosystem is collapsing. They did not take care to preserve the components of that system. They ignored the warnings; their attitude was...was mistaken. We have heard of similar cases on other worlds. That such a disaster should befall a planet so close to our own...” The soldier shook his head slowly. “We decided that we would not take that path. We protect all our research institutes; anyone who protects and cares for our planet’s resources deserves our attention. These resources are our life support. Do you not protect the life-support systems on your spacecraft?”
“Of course,” Tella nodded.
“Then that is our job. We protect, while the scientists learn and investigate and preserve.”
“This is nothing special then. You have a small army at every institute?”
“Of course, and at every research post in every wild place. Wherever anything sensitive needs protection, we go and are ready to deal with any threat. I admit that the threats we face are usually of our own making: businesses get carried away or enthusiasts go too far. Sometimes we see a threat from off-world, but not often.”
“I am impressed.”
“Had you known, perhaps you would not have dared to come in secret?”
“When dealing with an unfamiliar race, there is no such thing as knowing enough. Time often forces quick action. We act—and trust to meet Quavvour as we go along.”
The soldier smiled. “For us, the fragments of your search are one. Where you see broken pieces of Quavvour, we see the constancy of Tannal. Tannal shines through our lives as Tanna shines through our air. There is nowhere you can travel that Tannal is not already there before you.”
“A happy thought for any traveler.”
“But...,” the soldier turned his head half away from Tella, “for now, you must not travel anywhere. They will call for you when they are ready, no doubt. If there is anything you need, call and I will hear you.”
He took Tella’s mug back through the slats and turned away to his duties.
***
The next morning Tella sat at a table opposite a large Jorr officer with a pale scar across his snout. The symbols sewn into his uniform, where the guards had none, told Tella he was of high rank. A civilian female sat beside him.
“I understand from Professor Mel that you have agreed to cooperate with us,” began the officer.
“My cooperation with you was the reason for my visit.”
“Your actions were those of a spy or an assassin. I know of no reason that you should be trusted.”
“I carried no weapon; I have harmed no one. I have offered no resistance to the way you have treated me. I count three reasons for you to trust me. In fact, let us add a fourth reason: the warning that I came to deliver to save the lives of your troops and civilians.”
“What is your relationship with Tanna Gul?”
“I have none. My being here is at the behest of a third party.”
“Who?”
“Who wishes to remain anonymous.”
The officer turned to the civilian and said, “This disturbs me most, that some unknown power is interfering with the relationship between our two worlds. They seek to stir up hostilities, but to what end?”
The civilian addressed Tella, “I think you will need to let us know who you are working for. It will, perhaps, lend you some much-needed credibility,” she said earnestly.
“If my words and my actions are not enough, that information will not help.”
There was an icy pause.
“Is this ‘cooperation’?” snorted the officer.
Tella had been interviewed this way many times and was resigned to it. “Let me tell you something,” it began, “something that you may not wish to hear. I understand the need for security. I understand the ways that military organizations can provide it. I also know that, in any organization, the weight of bureaucracy can stifle its primary function: the ability to respond. If you are presented with a danger that you are prepared for, and have trained to deal with, you will prevail. Of that I have no doubt. But if the danger is a new
one, or from an enemy better trained or better equipped than you, what hope have you? Your only chance is to be flexible, fast acting, innovative.”
The officer ground his teeth and glared at Tella but said nothing.
“Think for a moment about your history. The Guls have tried to invade before. We know their internal struggles have ceased. Now they are united under one leader who has prevailed against all his enemies. His army is intact, and he has acquired the means to bring that army here. This invasion is not like ones you repulsed before. This invasion is new and different. Perhaps you are flexible and resourceful enough to deal with whatever comes at you. How many of your people’s lives will you wager?”
“You seek to sow panic in our population. You seek to undermine confidence in our armed forces.”
“I am not addressing the public; I am talking to you. Where is my spacecraft? Why did you not know I had landed?”
Tella stretched its hands out on the table and watched the wood grain echo around its fingers. A silence descended.
The officer barked a command toward the door. A soldier came in carrying a metal box. He placed it on the table, and his superior unlocked it and turned up the lid.
To Tella’s surprise, he laid out two items on the table. The first was its white robe. The second was the flier’s remote control.
“What is this device? What is its function?”
“Thank you for bringing my robe.”
“Answer the question.”
“First, you answer me. Where is my spacecraft?”
The officer and the civilian glanced at each other. The officer nodded.
She looked at Tella and said, “You’re right; we don’t know. We didn’t see you land. We’re guessing you came in a small pod of some kind, but we haven’t been able to locate it. Is it in Matcha Lake?”
“The reason you didn’t see me land is the reason you are in danger. I came in a flier equipped with stealth technology. The kind of flier I have is commercially available in some systems. The craft that the Guls are building are more advanced. You will not see them either. You will not see them approach. You will not see them land.”
Tella leaned over and picked up the robe. “Take me to the lake, and I will demonstrate.”
***
The crowd at the lake was a bizarre collection of lab-coated technicians and uniformed military.
The presence of Larc ruined Tella’s half-formed plans for slipping into the flier. Larc wore coveralls similar to those Tella had seen earlier and a cap with a visor that mostly hid his face.
“Hi, Tella!” the pup said.
“Larc. Good morning.”
“I’m giving you the morning off.”
“Excuse me? What do you mean?”
“You’re supposed to be my bodyguard, remember? Only I know they haven’t exactly let you out yet. Once you’ve shown off your ship, I’m assuming they’ll trust you a bit more, so I’ll give you this morning off. I’ll be your bodyguard instead.”
“Thanks, but I’m sure I’ll be okay. Is it normal that you are out in public?”
“We’ve done it a couple of times before. No one will recognize me. You know I don’t want you to leave. I think having you around will be great fun. Don’t try and get away. I’m not going to let you out of my sight.”
Tella was again unnerved by the intelligence in the pup’s eyes.
Tella instructed a technician on how to work the remote.
The surface of the water bubbled with hot gases from the thrusters. Amid the steam, the black enameled hull floated into view. At Tella’s prompting, the technician entered another command, and the flier rose and hovered above the trees. Four Jorr helicopters moved into view. The radios chattered with alarmed voices.
“They can’t see it on their radar,” said Larc quietly to Tella.
“The only way is to look out their windows. Which is why I came at night.”
“Will my father’s ships be that small?”
“They are larger and will be much better armed.”
“Thank you,” Larc said, looking up into Tella’s eyes.
“You’re welcome.”
Tella felt a surge of relief that, finally, someone was listening, even if it was only an eight-year-old.
Chapter Two
Jim’s tears lasted longer than the Gul guards’ laughter. He stayed in his hiding place until the sound of vehicles had come and gone and the voices had trailed off into the distance.
Jim knew that once they had brought their prize—Tamric’s body—to their superiors, someone with less Lak-weed in their system would organize a search of the dump. A wave of dizziness swept over him.
He could smell smoke and dust. He could hear the cries of trapped people. No, that’s not happening now. That was Ch’Garratt. Get a grip! He could feel the burns on his hands from the explosions. The smell of destruction was more real than anything his eyes saw. This isn’t Ch’Garratt! This is Tanna Gul! Stay with it, Jim. Stay with it.
Over a year had passed since Jim had made a mistake that caused people to die. He had blown the chance to catch a crook—an impersonator. He hadn’t seen through the disguise, or at least, had not paid enough attention to his doubts. Jim had let the man go. The man who had gone on to fire rockets into a crowded terminal building.
And now I’ve messed up again.
It seemed only right that the troops would return and find him. Had he really expected to walk away from this disaster? He had known from the moment Tamric had announced he would accompany them that things would go wrong. The kid hadn’t been experienced enough.
And I wasn’t good enough to help him.
The breeze blew into Jim’s hiding place. It was fresher than before and free of Lak-weed. He felt the heat of anger rise in him. His sickness at their laughter over Tamric’s death and the humiliation the Gul captain had visited on Jim before the crash became one in his mind. The surge of determination to strike back was hot enough to dry his tears.
His logical mind kicked into gear. He knew he had a clear shot at the nearest flier but not for long. He thought of Tamric’s mission of retrieving the plans and dismissed it immediately.
He hauled himself up and out of his hiding place and moved into the open and across the well-lit roadway toward the first rank of ships. He sprinted to the wing of the nearest flier. Using its edge to guide him, he moved around to the front. Tamric had told him to expect an external hatch control. Jim felt along the sleek surface of the fuselage but could not find it.
“Oh, come on, you bastard! Where’s the damn hatch control!” he hissed into the dark.
There was a faint click to his left. He felt back over the area he had just checked and found a small lever where none had been before.
“Son of a gun...”
He pulled the lever outward, and the hatch slid silently open, the few steps unfolding down to his feet.
He pulled himself aboard. The lever to close the hatch was in the same position in all PR fliers. It was in his hand, and the door closed without a second’s hesitation. He reached up and set the light level to low.
Sitting down in the cockpit, he flung his mud-stained backpack behind the seat and examined the controls. Happily, they were standard. There were several extra consoles to his right.
“Weapons systems,” he said softly to himself, “and, probably, the additional stealth systems.”
He sighed and reached up to the blank panel above him. It slid open to reveal the voice activation control. The Guls had followed the plans meticulously.
“Ship! Recognize Jim!”
“Raeda accepting voice commands from Jim,” came the artificial voice, modulated to sound more like a Gul than the voice of Tamric’s flier.
“First, limit all commands to these consoles and my voice. Accept no commands from external sources.�
�
“Command functions limit accepted.”
“Second, engage full stealth mode.”
“Full stealth mode is only available during flight.”
“Okay, engage as many stealth systems as can be engaged at present.”
“Minimal stealth measures in effect.”
“Increase stealth measures incrementally as we power up. Understood?”
“Stealth systems will be activated in sequence as resources become available.”
“Switch off all homing devices and telemetry reporting.”
“Homing signal off. Telemetry off. Do you wish to notify Base Command of these actions?”
“Do not notify Base Command of any activity. Do not contact Base Command or any other entity without a specific request from me.”
“Silent running engaged.”
“Okay, so that’s what you call it,” said Jim quietly. He moved on. “Tactical analysis. What weapon system and at what setting would be sufficient to destroy this craft?”
“Pulse laser cannon at one hundred percent setting.”
“How long can the pulse laser cannon operate at one hundred percent single pulses?”
“Recharge is required after one thousand and twenty-four pulses.”
“Recharge time?”
“Eighty seconds.”
“Number of pulse laser cannons available?”
“Six.”
“How big is this fleet?”
“Strategic information is restricted.”
“Really? Engage sensors and scan for craft of this kind. How many are there on this field?”
“Eight hundred and twelve.”
Jim smiled briefly. Voice-command systems are always a little dumb.
“Prepare for repeated single fire of pulse laser cannons, in pairs, in rotation.”
“Pulse Laser Cannon One online. Pulse Laser Cannon Two online.”
“Prepare an attack run that will allow the cannons to target two craft at a time. Begin with this row and the next. Continue until each craft on the field has been destroyed. Keep this craft clear of any explosions.”
