to the city.”
“It would be unwise to carry out any executions when we have made such a display for those on the station. It’s a given that the opposition will force an investigation into recent events.” KarrLec turned from the marshal and called over to the man working on the repairs. “Is the damage serious?”
“No sir; but we cannot reach the seat of the combustion.”
“Is that likely to cause us any problems?”
“Until we can extinguish the burning, I can’t tell, but it is unlikely to cause any major malfunctions or shutdowns.”
Another technician called from his seat in front of a screen. “Sir we have the recognition patterns from the enemy craft.”
The Marshal spun around. “Where are they?”
“Behind us.”
They all spun towards the view port. Before the Marshal could ask any question he could see the small red craft coming for them. “Get it; get it,” he shrieked as the gunnery crew retargeted their weapons. Out of the view screens the Marshal saw the rapid pulses of light erupt from beneath the Drakken. Then he was thrown off balance as the saucer swung in an evasive action. He hit the floor with a sickening thud as the first of six or more explosions slammed into the spacecraft. Instantly sirens were going off; and the floor beneath him was vibrating as the combined firepower of the Drakken went off in a broadside.
“Yes. Yes,” shouted one of the crew. “I hit it.”
It was only a moment before the Drakken was again fully under the pilot’s control, and as the Marshal pulled himself up he could see they were in pursuit. The Earth was falling away behind them as they raced out into space. “Faster; catch him and finish him,” he demanded.
“They can’t,” snapped KarrLec angrily. “The station has us under direct observation.”
“Damn them too,” sneered the Marshal. “Keep firing. Blast him to pieces. I order it.”
Nicholas was lying on the floor of the spacecraft; every piece of his body hurt. He opened his eyes, but could not focus them. “Isla,” he said weakly. “Are we okay?”
“The short answer, is no… We are still in one piece; but I have there is severe damage to the primary drive and I have shut it down. There is hull damage that may breach if we continue to fight: or undertake any extreme maneuver, or even stay in space for much longer. Weapons are reduced to one-tenth power, and the station is demanding that we stand down and dock. It seems our first battle is also our last.”
Nicholas pulled himself up against the command chair. “So we are out of plans?”
“The best we can do is to land at the station as they are insisting. You can officially state your claim against the Marshal. The Solar Council will have little choice but to grant you the right to speak, and almost certainly enforce a stand down of hostilities on the planet.”
“What about my friends… I have failed them?”
“Nicholas you could do no more.”
“Other than be with them?’
“You have done what they wanted to do, begun change.”
“But I have not ended the Marshals reign.”
“He is powerful and has control, but never before has he had his position threatened: now others will question his legitimacy. It may take time but the end of his reign has begun.”
“But anything that can be done will come too late to save the others.” Nicholas said in hopelessness. “I wanted to save them, even if not the rebellion. I have failed in both.”
“The station requires us to proceed to military bay eleven. That is a security area so you can expect an armed welcoming committee.”
“Tell them we will do as they as…”
Nicholas did not get chance to finish, as he was for the second time thrown back as Basilisk veered sharply to the side. “Nicholas we are still under attack from the saucer.”
“Weren’t they ordered to stand down too?”
“It appears they are ignoring the order. Nicholas I cannot outrun them, or reach the station before they have point blank range. If they hit us we will likely disintegrate, and that may be their purpose. If you cannot state your case to the council, they will ensure that theirs becomes the official explanation.”
Nicholas dragged himself back into the command chair. “The Marshal, is he aboard the Drakken?”
“Communications to the station carry his authority so, yes.”
“Then if that is his purpose to discredit us and the rebellion I will not die like a clay target. We will depart this life fighting. Prepare to engage them with everything that remains.”
Nicholas brought Basilisk in a wide arc and almost immediately they took another hit. Most of the displays and indicators had ceased to function; and the cabin was filling with an acrid smoke. They were outgunned, exposed, and had lost any advantage they had, had; except one. With destructive beams piercing space all about them Nicholas ran for the one place he felt would ease the barrage: directly between the Drakken and the Station. Basilisk took another glancing hit and then the firing stopped.
Every person on the station was on the observation decks, watching as the crippled spacecraft completed the turn, and faced the Drakken. People so used to peace and order, wept at the violence that was being thrust into their lives. They were unaware that the saucer had its entire firepower available, while Basilisk had ten percent, and falling.
The marshal stared at their tiny adversary. “Why have you stopped? We have them. Finish it,” he demanded.
“Excellency,” said the gunnery officer nervously. “They have positioned their craft with the satellite in line of fire. If we miss, we will hit the station.”
“Then don’t miss,” The Marshal snarled. “Fire I order you to.”
“Hold that order,” snapped KarrLec. “Marshal you can’t jeopardize the station.”
“KarrLec,” he said threateningly. “Tandore gave me control over this ship and I will do exactly as I wish with it.”
“He did not intend you to threaten, or provoke the station.”
“I will do as I please, and if you don’t like it then you can leave.”
KarrLec stared at him. “I will not be party to this.” He turned and strode off the deck.
The Marshal spun on the gunnery officer. “Everything: I want everything this ship can bring to bear, targeted on him. If nobody else can rid me of this troublemaker then I will do it myself.”
“Excellency he’s coming.”
“Coming what do you mean coming?”
“He’s attacking.” Admiration was creeping into the crewman’s voice. “He hasn’t got a hope, but he’s attacking.”
The Marshall smiled. Well man; what are you waiting… No hold your fire. Wait until you can’t miss, then we’ll lower the shield and give the station a display of what happens to anyone who has the audacity to challenge me.”
On the station people were riveted at the sight of the tiny spaceship. That it was crippled was obvious. It was also obvious its attempt to attack the saucer was futile; but yet it was engaging into battle. The watchers needed no telling that at any instant the larger ship would unleash a firestorm that would shred the valiant craft to fragments of charred metal. It was suicide, yet everyone watching the doomed spaceship race towards its superior opponent, hoped it could survive, for this was undoubtedly the courage that inspired legends.
The brilliant ball of flame erupted out in an almost perfectly symmetrical ball as fuel and life giving gasses vaporized. It lasted only seconds then the vacuum of space sucked the heat and fire out of existence. Once again space was black and still.
Everyone on the station was still watching as the pale green tractor beam lanced out from the station to recover whatever was left
Nicholas was sat motionless in the command chair staring at the place where the Drakken had been. There were several tiny flashing points of light indicating where a life raft was; but of the great saucer nothing remained.
He had asked Isla what had happened. Had they scored a fluke hit
, or did the Drakken disintegrate because of the previous hull damage; but Isla was silent. Nothing worked anymore; Basilisk was as quiet as if it were dead.
Images clouded Nicholas’s mind. Vague shapes and dark colours then came the noise, as if an unseen hand was turning up the volume. Slowly the white noise became a voice and the colours became objects and people.
“He’s waking.” Someone said; then there was a face leaning over his other side. “Five milliliters.”
Nicholas felt a sharp pain in back of his wrist.
“He’ll be fine… Keep an eye on his blood pressure?” Then there was only silence.
A young man in white was beside him and everything came into focus. “Mr. Day, how are you feeling?”
“I’m… My arm…”
“Don’t be concerned. The drugs may make it feel uncomfortably warm for a short while.”
“My...”
“You were burnt quite badly; the drug will stabilize you until surgery is…” He heard no more as his world closed down again.
Nicholas woke and looked straight up at the ceiling. It was white and stark: so was the sheet covering him. He rolled his head slowly and looked to his side. There were machines; they were silver, or were they Grey?
“Mr. Day, welcome back.” He remembered the voice.
“Back?”
The man shrugged. “A turn of phrase; you have been here since the paramedics returned you from the operating room.”
“What… happened?” He said, completely unaware of what had.
“You were involved in a rather unequal battle.” The
End Game Page 4
