Alien Realms (v1.0)

by Unknown Author

  ‘I thought Fra Villion lied to have you sent away.’

  ‘He did.’ He spoke sadly but without bitterness. ‘Villion, of course, wanted me dead, but because of my centuries of service among the vemplars, I was offered the traditional choice of exile. I could either die by my own hand or else go and live anywhere in the Galaxy so long as I never again entered the Bioman Sphere. To Fra Million’s immense displeasure, I elected the second alternative. Life was somehow important to me then. I suppose I believed I needed it in order to have my revenge upon Villion.’

  ‘But you went to the Dynarx.’

  ‘I did. No vemplar had chosen exile within the memory of the eldest knight. It was difficult for me to decide where to turn. The Wykzl would have killed me. You humans would have spurned me. That left either the Dynarx or isolation. I chose the Dynarx, but I’m not really sure why. Perhaps my luck - all vemplars believe devoutly in luck - had suddenly altered for the good.’

  ’Then you were happy among them?’

  ‘I wouldn’t say that, no. I was happy as a vemplar, but then I was blind. Please remember that. If you hope to defeat Villion, you must understand the weakness he shares with me.’

  ‘How is he blind?’

  ‘He fails to see the things the Dynarx taught me. He is blind to the truth of death and life. Since the Dynarx never die, they are the only experts on the subject.’

  She looked puzzled. ‘Wilson told me something about that. He said the Dynarx have a drug. If they swallow it, they die, but in a few hours they wake up and live again. I don’t understand it, but he says it works.’

  ‘It does. I took that drug.’

  She nodded, apparently impressed. ‘But was it real? I mean, you didn’t actually die, did you?’

  ’As far as I know, I did, and since I think I did, what else matters?’

  ‘Can you tell me what it was like to die?’

  He smiled wistfully. ‘I can’t. Words are not part of the universe of death. It’s a translation problem, a totally different language.’

  ‘You make it sound terribly frightening.’

  ‘No, it’s not that. Death is many, many things, but it’s never really frightening. I wish it had been possible for you to remain among the Dynarx long enough to undergo the experience. If you had, then you would understand why I cannot describe it. If I had my way, it would be mandatory for all intelligent living things to die at least once in their lives.’

  She laughed. ’That just proves you’re still a vemplar at heart. You don’t want to let even death be a matter of choice.’

  Her derision wounded him, even though he knew she did not mean to be hurtful. He said, ‘Perhaps you’re right. I may not have been born a vemplar, but undoubtedly I will die one.’

  She patted his hand. ‘I don’t think that’s so dreadful.’ Her touch was like electricity. ‘No?’

  ‘I think you’re fine the way you are. Maybe that’s odd. I certainly didn’t care much for what I saw of Fra Villion.’

  He was finally able to laugh, too. ‘No one cares much for Fra Villion.’

  ’Except Lola Dass.’

  ‘Who’s that?’

  ’The human woman who was with Villion aboard the Iron Sphere. Her husband was the man who invented the matter-scrambler. He was a kind man, if a little crazy, and when she left him and went to Villion, it made him even crazier. That was lucky for us, for Tedric and Yod and me, because then he tried to kill Villion by destroying the Sphere. He succeeded and saved the Earth, but Villion and Lola managed to escape, and Milton Dass was the one who died. I don’t think he minded. By then, his own life wasn’t as important to him as destroying Villion.’

  Pal Galmain nodded thoughtfully. Tedric had told him some of this, but not about the woman. The concept was a difficult one to grasp: Villion and a woman. What could it mean? ’Is Fra Villion in love with her?’ he asked.

  Juvi shook her head immediately. ‘No. Lola Dass is very beautiful. Even I have to admit she’s the loveliest woman I’ve ever known. I think Fra Villion just collected her - like a trophy. She belonged to someone else. She was a prize to be taken.’

  Juvi’s knowledge of human - and Bioman - behaviour impressed him. Few vemplars could fathom the intricacies of another’s mind; it was not something they had been trained to do. ‘Does she love him?’

  Juvi smiled. ‘If you’d met Lola Dass, you wouldn’t have to ask. Villion was a trophy for her, too. The only person Lola loves is herself.’

  ‘She’s like a vemplar in that,’ he said.

  ‘Which is probably what makes her and Villion such a good team.’

  ‘I see.’ He stared morosely into space, his mood suddenly troubled, although he wasn’t entirely sure why. Perhaps it was partly due to the way she had pointed out to him, in spite of all that had transpired during his years among the Dynarx, that he was still basically a vemplar, a black knight. Under the skin, where it truly counted, he and Fra Villion were like brothers; their parents - the heritage that had molded them - was the same. Understanding this made him understand something else: he was not as free from the motive of revenge as he liked to think. If and when the final showdown came it would be he, Pal Galmain, who would rise to face Fra Villion. The moment of conflict was inevitable. He felt little satisfaction. Now that the moment he had been seeking had nearly come, he was forced to contemplate the reality of facing Villion. If he met Villion and failed to defeat him, he would die, but if he won, he would also die, albeit in a different, less physical way. As the conqueror of Villion, he would surely be forced to resume his former life on Tavera, and that, after the Dynarx, was the same as death.

  ‘Pal Gaimain,’ said Juvi.

  He looked up. ‘Yes?’

  ‘I was wondering about your appearance, the way you look. Is it true that you Biomen can alter your features at will?’

  ‘Yes, we can.’

  ‘How?’

  ‘It’s relatively simple for us, no harder than it is for you to paint your lips.’

  Blushing slightly, she reached up and touched her red mouth. ‘It’s a habit I fell into.’

  He stroked the fur at his neck. ‘Maybe that’s all this is too - a habit. Would you like to see me without it?’

  ’As you really are?’

  ‘Let’s say as I really should be. What do you think?’

  ‘Well…’ She considered. ‘Well, yes. I think I would. I mean, if you don’t object. It’s just the resemblance to Fra Villion. That’s what bothers me.’

  ’Then shut your eyes.’

  ‘Can’t I watch?’

  ‘I want it to be a surprise.’

  ‘All right.’ She shut her eyes tightly. ‘Go ahead.’

  He did. The analogy he had used was actually less than accurate: for a Bioman, altering appearance was no more difficult than blinking an eye. Within a matter of seconds, Pal Galmain was done.

  ‘You can look.’

  She opened her eyes and stared. Her expression registered surprise, then wonder, then delight. ‘You look just like a man - a handsome man.’

  ‘Why, thank you,’ he said, nodding with dignity. He meant what he said. It had been such a long time since he’d last worn his natural face that he barely recalled what it looked like but, since she was pleased, so was he.

  Reaching into the rear pocket of her silver uniform, Juvi extracted a square object that glittered in the overhead light. ‘Look in here,’ she said, extending the mirror out towards him.

  He took it in his hand and peered at the glass. The face that stared back at him was so ordinary in appearance - so human - that he found it difficult to realise it was only himself. A square jaw. Shallow cheeks and a strong nose. Deep blue eyes. Thin lips. His complexion was a pale shade of pink. Looking up at Juvi, he forced a smile. ‘I don’t know if I’d use the word handsome.’

  ‘You’re modest. See how young you look. You could pass for thirty.’

  ‘Biomen never do look old. Not until they die.’

  ‘Now you�
��re just being morbid.’

  ‘It’s easy to do - under the circumstances. I haven’t been on such close terms with myself in centuries.’

  She smiled, though he hadn’t meant to be funny. ‘You can change back if you want. I’ve had my wish. I’ll close my eyes again.’

  ‘I thought you liked it.’

  ‘I do.’

  ’Then I’ll keep it.’

  ‘Really?’

  He nodded. ‘Sure.’

  She laughed. ‘Boy, are you going to surprise the others. They’ll think we have a stowaway on board.’

  ‘Don’t worry about them. What about poor Fra Villion? He won’t know what to think. All these years he’s been copying me. When I turn up looking like this, he won’t know what to do.’

  She was laughing with him when, suddenly, she stopped, turned, and hurried across the room. Gaimain stared after her and then his ears also picked up the noise she had heard. In the console across the room, a warning alarm was sounding shrilly.

  ‘What is it?’ he asked, following her, the question of his appearance now forgotten.

  ’There’s a ship out there.’ She pointed to the large viewscreen. ‘I think it’s approaching us.’

  He could see nothing on the screen except, perhaps, in the middle of the vast grey emptiness of N-space, a small silver speck. But the instruments spoke clearly enough for one who knew their language.

  ‘Can you tell whose?’ he asked.

  She shook her head. ‘Not yet, but I don’t think it’s an Imperial ship. Not way out here.’

  ‘It wouldn’t be Wykzi either,’ he said. ‘And the Dynarx rarely travel through N-space. That leaves only the Biomen.’

  ‘The same thing had occurred to me.’

  He raised his eyes and looked at the viewscreen again. The silver speck had grown. It was clearly a ship, but still not close enough for a definite outline to be discernible. ‘You’d better alert Tedric,’ he said.

  ‘Yes.’ She turned without another word and hurried towards the rear.

  Alone, Pal Galmain glanced from the instruments to the viewscreen and back again. As the ship continued to grow in size, he became more convinced of the accuracy of his initial supposition. The ship was not only a Bioman ship, but he was nearly as certain of its exact origin. The high velocity the ship was maintaining was almost clear proof that it came from Tavera; it was a vemplar ship.

  He heard footsteps behind and looked back. Tedric stopped in his tracks and stared in amazement. Pal Galmain grinned and tried to explain, but Juvi beat him to it.

  ‘Pal Galtnain has decided to change back to his normal face,’ she said, with what sounded almost like pride.

  Tedric nodded, glanced at Galmain another time, then shrugged his big shoulders. He came forward and looked up at the screen. ’Is it one of yours?’ he asked Galmain.

  ‘I believe it is. A vemplar attack-cruiser more than likely. It’ll be heavily armed and three times as fast as this tug.’

  ‘You expect it to attack?’ Tedric said.

  ‘I doubt that it’s intercepted our path by accident. If I were you, I’d order everyone to battle stations immediately.’

  ‘I agree.’ Turning, Tedric gave Juvi the order. She scurried away to deliver it. Tedric turned back to Pal Galmain. ‘I don’t suppose I could ask you to help.’

  ‘You don’t need to ask. I’m volunteering.’

  ’They are your people.’

  ‘If this ship bums with me in it, that’s not going to mean much, is it?’

  ’Then handle the shields. I’ll steer.’

  ’Fine,’ said Pal Galmain. He glanced at the viewscreen mice more, then crossed the room to assume his station.

  Chapter 8

  Skirmish and Capture

  Under normal circumstances, a small spacetug such as the (me occupied by Tedric and his crew would not have been armed for battle. Prior to his departure from Earth, however, Tedric had taken the precaution of having this particular tug equipped with a forceshield and heatrays.

  Now, in the grey depths of N-space somewhere between the realm of the Dynarx and the Bioman Sphere, Tedric’s foresight was about to be justified.

  The tug’s limited firepower was packed into four heatray turrets, one located at each end of the cigar-shaped hull and two more on the sides. A single forceshield could be activated from the cockpit to protect the entire ship from enemy fire, but in order for the turrets to return that fire the shield would have to be temporarily lowered. Neither the shield nor the heatrays were especially strong or powerful. Tedric, entering the alien Bioman Sphere, had not wished to offer too threatening a presence. Whether that decision represented an error in tactics would not be determined for certain until the approaching ship closed, attacked, and displayed the full range of its own armaments.

  As he lay nestled in the lower gun turret, Yod Cartwright thought of all these things and regarded them with care. There was a bitter, acrid taste on the back of his tongue and he realised with some annoyance that it might be fear. Yod kept one eye tightly fastened to the round tube of the gun sight that protruded from the instrument panel in front of him. Through the sight he could observe the enemy ship, magnified several times over, as it drew closer. It’s no bigger than we are, he thought with some optimism, but he knew that size was no way of measuring its strength. If it was a warship, no matter how large, the chances were good it was easily capable of blowing the tug clear into another universe.

  The gun sight suddenly flashed red. The colour showed only for a split second, but it would not have been possible to miss it. Yod understood the meaning of the signal. It meant that the forceshield had been activated. If the light flashed again - though blue this time - it would mean that the shield had been temporarily lowered and the turret gunners, including himself, should be prepared to fire their rays. He knew, when that light came, he would have to be quick. The shield would remain down for no more than a few seconds before another red light flashed and it was reactivated. After that, if he mistakenly fired an additional bolt, the ray would strike the interior of the shield and rebound back…with fatal consequences.

  Yod wore a set of earphones strapped to his head, but the tug’s communication system remained silent. Yod sympathised. He didn’t particularly feel like talking. The taste in his mouth had grown more sour. He kept trying to swallow, but his throat refused to work properly.

  Darkness surrounded him here in the turret, but with one eye fixed to the gun sight and the other squeezed shut for better vision, he had little chance to be aware of it. In the sight, the bulk of the enemy ship loomed even larger. He could see the forward turret, a black wart of lead extending from the rounded silver cone of the ship’s snout. More than likely there was a man nestled in that turret. A man like me, Yod thought, except that he’s a Bioman who wants to kill me.

  Two blue beams, straight as parallel lines, shot out from the sides of the ship. Yod felt the tug jerk under him as the beams caught hold. He knew what they were: tractor beams, lines of magnetised energy designed to catch and hold an enemy ship. In the Imperial navy, tractor beams were normally only found aboard the big battlecruisers with sufficient energy reserves to operate them. It was a bad sign for a small ship such as this to possess tractor beams in its arsenal.

  Yod felt the hull buck gently around him and then, suddenly, through the gun sight, he saw the enemy ship turn an apparent somersault. His own stomach did a funny flipflop in response and by the time he had recovered, the ship was already a long way off, its tractor beams waving impotently in the void.

  Tedric, at the tug controls, had managed to break free from the tractor beams. Because of the ease with which that ‘‘manoeuvre had been accomplished, Yod assumed the beams could not have been especially strong. He decided to count that as a very good sign indeed.

  ‘We might try to hit them now.’ The voice in the earphones was soft, and Yod recognised Wilson speaking from the forward turret. ‘We could try a stern pass.’

  Yo
d had been as surprised as anyone when Wilson had decided not to remain on the Dynarx planet. It had been his understanding that Wilson would not accompany them farther, but the robot had explained that he had an urge for one more bout of adventure in his life before retiring for good. Tedric had welcomed Wilson’s continued presence. Yod had not. He was sure Wilson was after Juvi Jerome and that his intentions were less than honourable. Yod came from Drexon’s World, a planet notorious throughout the Empire of Man for its rigidly puritanical code of behaviour. Juvi was constantly laughing at him because of his beliefs, but in this instance he thought she was the one who was being naive. Wilson wasn’t only interested in the keenness of her mind. On several occasions Yod had tried to warn Juvi about this but she insisted he was only being jealous, a charge that was, as far as he was concerned, utterly ridiculous.

  In spite of his gnawing thoughts, Yod kept his eye firmly fixed on the gun sight and the enemy ship. The tractor beams had now been withdrawn, and the ship was following a course at an angle to the tug, drawing steadily closer. Yod pressed his thumb snugly against the trigger mechanism, knowing the moment of combat could not now be far distant. With his other hand he turned a small wheel on the side of the gun sight tube, increasing the magnification of the lens. He focused on the ship’s forward gun turret, the target Tedric had assigned him. The enemy ship was undoubtedly protected by a defensive forceshield in the same way as the tug. It would be Yod’s task, once the firing began, to try to penetrate that shield.

  ‘We’ll let them fire first,’ said Tedric’s confident voice over the radio, cutting smoothly through the gathering tension. ’There’s no reason not to be polite about this.’

  ‘What about them?’ Juvi said. She was in the upper gun turret and sounded only slightly less assured than Tedric. ’Is there any chance they might be peaceful?’