Richard paced around the basement floor, the bronzy surface of the Subterranean Production Facility glimmering in the constant light of dozens of detuned and defused laser beams.
Tracy stood nearby, her own concern for her husband adding to the atmosphere of anticipation and anxiety. “Are they alright?” She grabbed his arm, knowing she was safe from revelations and needing the physical contact to reassure her.
“Yes.” Richard managed to divert enough of his mentally-stretched efforts to focus on her question. “Everyone is safe and well. But there was a bad attack and lots of Restoring was needed.” He looked over at Professor Hardy, trying to appear unfazed by the revelation he had received just minutes earlier when Kirrina’s return flight had brought the couple closer and closer together until they came into their collective range.
“I should’ve gone with her!” Isaac thumped one fist into the other open palm.
A small crowd of GAF staff and other New Leedites had gathered remarkably quickly, and was now watching the faces of the mismatched married mixture, glancing occasionally at the domed roof to check whether the largest Aircar had finally returned. A collective sigh broke out as the shimmering presaged the appearance of Magic Wagon.
Richard tensed as the rather bulbous vessel sank rapidly to the floor and a moment later the double doors slid open. Somehow, he found Karen in his arms and they melted together as Isaac crushed Ruth against his chest and Tracy pounded on Brad’s broad back.
The onlookers saw something in the air around the Richard/Kirrina conglomerate, something not quite there, a nebulous nothingness that coiled and coagulated, with impossibly twisted light beams and a glow that was not in any way like that generated by lasers, quantum or otherwise.
Terry stepped out of the Aircar, his assistants on either side of him, in time to see the phenomenon as it began to build to a visible brightness that could not be denied, one that almost competed with the diffused laser illumination.
“Well, would you look at that!” He gestured to the inseparable couple and his assistants followed his lead, unaware that his eyes had moved on to his first love and her husband, noting that the Hardys were oblivious to the brightness and focused only on each other. He glanced down at Alex, feeling her arm slip around his waist as she basked in the blatant emotions and imagined her own relationship with her employer, as if it had already blossomed. Stadt grinned and put a renewed hand under his secretary’s chin, bringing her gaze up to his. “I think this is the beginning of a whole new life for us.” He was gratified by the gleam in her eyes as she smiled, briefly revealing a perfect set of teeth, and kept a demure, Mona Lisa type silence.
Chapter Twenty-Three
A concord of courage
“This is it!” Mizza flipped on her communication ‘wide broadcast’ option, her blonde hair bobbing in sync with her excitement. “This is Karalk Prime to the entire Karalk fleet.” She looked over at her sister, a big grin on her face. “Launch as scheduled. See you in space!”
“This mission should get a whole lot of attention.” Lonna grinned back, activating her internal com-link. “Stand by, weapons team. You’ll get your chance, very soon, now!” If we have our way!
The passenger compartment behind their compact pilot seating area had been stripped of the many rows of chairs that normally filled that space. This was because it was occupied, not by the replacement crews for Patrol Cruisers, but by a mass of copper-like piping and erratic electronics which stretched like a plumber’s portent over half the length of the compartment. Macrals were slotted into every nook and cranny of this hodgepodge of new technology and ancient knowledge, and it was surrounded – no, brooded over, as the group was too small to manage any serious encirclement – by a team of three slightly wizened but very healthy old men, dressed in the same incredibly silvery coveralls that the flight crew were sporting for this trip, though none of their outfits had any coloured images across the chest as the twins’ outfits did. Each was leaning in closely to the multiple displays and control panels that festooned the outer surface of this mind-boggling contraption – it would not have been easy to guess its purpose, but they had provided the answer to this question by their declaration on a prominently-mounted placard that it was a Mark Four Negatruction weapon (experimental) – checking the settings and conferring with each other in quiet tones.
“Check the launch gravitational override again, will you?” Lonna asked her sister. “We don’t want to ‘veto’ the experiment before it gets started.”
“It’s a shame, really. They may look a bit old but they are a tough bunch; perhaps they would have liked the sensation.” Mizza grinned as she checked the circuitry, noting that the display already indicated that full gravitational synthesis had been optioned.
“You are so right, they’d probably love it, but their equipment is not exactly built to survive that kind of force.”
“Yeah, I know. But I’m not sure I’ll enjoy the launch nearly as much without the gee-forces.”
“There’s only one way to find out if you’re right about that.” Lonna flipped the ignition control beside her chair, picked up her helmet and held it up, checking the Transplyous front panel. “Hmmm. Looks good to me.”
“Attack team, time to put on your helmets!” Mizza glanced over her shoulder, though the door to the passenger compartment was of course closed. The three venerable but still very fit old men – none of whom were younger than nine hundred Earth years old – reached for their helmets and helped each other into the potentially life-saving head coverings, grinning with anticipation, knowing that their unique knowledge from centuries before had made for the most exciting opportunity any of them had been given in half a millennium. Though there were no coloured images on their chests, there was just one item of personalisation that was present on their high-tech spacesuits: the backs of their ultimate-comfort, comprehensive coverings were emblazoned with their names, in bold gold lettering: Rochtim, Roonalta and Vennieby.
A brief signal sent from the trio provided the twins with the necessary confirmation.
Pilot and co-pilot now also had their helmets in place, Transplyous retracted upwards and auto-activation prompts selected – this personal protective equipment was the result of the strong recommendation of no less a person than the Planetary Controller, herself. In her private audience with the twins on the previous day, she had mentioned that most Arshonnans would understand, though few of the later generations of Fepniners could, that a vessel constructed with a thin solid exterior can easily be punctured by fragments generated when other vessels explode.
Mizza recalled how Larima had continued:
“Yes, even your marvellously tough new Polyivorium could be penetrated! Then you would be helpless. If you are to attempt a test of this equipment in a potential battle situation, I insist on this precautionary measure. I say this because you two have more than tripled the amount of people volunteering to help with defence equipment manufacture, planetary defence system coordination, installation of defence-enhancing devices, and of course ship crewing – especially your Fepnine-shatteringly loud Karalk! And you’ve kept our Patrol Cruisers on station, maximising their ‘footprint’ as well as their ability to respond to enemy incursions. With all that you have done and will be doing, I just can’t afford to lose you. Be careful. Please! Don’t worry if you don’t get to test that new N-beam; I’d rather have you come back!”
Mizza had thought about this surprisingly personal edict, and, once she had discovered how comfortable the spacesuits were – more like sports gear for the ultra-fast game, Wab – had wanted to do something else, something extra, to symbolise their new, aggressive stance. We are not just shuttle crew, nor even mere gamesters; we are Fepnine’s response to imminent danger… and today we may just take the battle to the enemy! Of course, neither twin wished to miss the slightest chance to test the experimental weapon, despite what Larima urged. On the vacant seat between the two radicals was the epitome of Mizza’s answer to this cha
llenge concerning symbols of identity. Her answer, her statement: two electric blue, supremely curvy and understatedly powerful Quantum Laser Pistols. She reached over and ran a gloved hand over the nearest of the two weapons. We are raiders! Raiders would never go unarmed! In truth, her philosophy would have been matched – on Earth, at least – in the far-distant, golden age of sail by the cutlass and musket-wielding Privateers commissioned by kings and queens to go where their military forces could not officially venture.
“All clear?” Lonna inquired as required by their launch protocol, a sparkle in her cool brown eyes as she saw her sister’s tender touch on their personal armaments.
“Yes, my Captain!” Mizza’s voice rang across the compact command centre, unhindered by any other sound-deadening or deflecting occupant in that central seat. “All airborne craft are cleared from our flight path, and the track is magnetised.”
“Confirmed. Launching in five, four, three…” Lonna intoned. The personalisation on her suit consisted of an emerald green-tinted appliqué curved across her chest; it was a representation of their Karalk, flying diagonally upwards from left to right, faint curls of vapour showing as white wisps from each wing tip.
The muffled roar of the hydrogen / oxygen combustion – a mere hint of the full sound – ‘leaked into’ the cabin, as it was programmed to do, but the forward motion was surreal this time, as no sensation of acceleration was discernible. Still Karalk Prime – the new designation given to the original vessel, once the other members of the fleet were completed and commissioned – moved forward at a speed which almost instantly blurred all the peripheral scenery into a formless green smear. A moment more and the view ahead was of the star-speckled sky.
“Woo! Wooo!”
Mizza joined her sister in the traditional exultation. “We will rock the entire planet today!” Across her chest, a deep blue representation of their vessel flamed into the upper right quadrant of her outfit – yes, her version was equipped with brilliant yellow combustion trails which complemented her golden hair, now hidden in her helmet. Somehow, the gee-force didn’t matter – I could still imagine the pressure of it pinning me back into my chair!
Outside, on the hills around the launch site, thousands upon thousands of Fepniners watched, their hands over their ears, as the brilliant flame belching forth from the slender white vessel lit up the night. And across the planet, in seven other sites, some in darkness, others in the bright light of day, the other members of the Karalk fleet roared off into the ‘wide blue yonder’, leaving many happy hordes of Fepniners feeling wistful, wishing that they had signed up to help, so that they, too, could be aboard the graceful but deafening craft, seen by many to be a kind of dreadnaught, though initially none of them had been equipped with any armament at all.
The Planetary Controller watched from the Council Chamber Situation Room, where countless displays showed hundreds of views around Fepnine, as well as less visually stimulating but informative displays providing information about power systems, weather patterns, and production data for vessels. She could see the nearly simultaneous launches of the Karalk on a selected few displays assigned to track this event. Even without the deafening sound, the spectacular spaceships were causing most of the Situation Room staff to pause in their work and watch in wonder. Larima smiled. Mission accomplished, MLT!
“Engaging Drive, now.” Esten spoke for the benefit of all those in Ship One’s control room – or all of them except her boyfriend, who was already mentally connected to her by virtue of his hand on the back of her neck. From his chair behind her, Batamon reached out, trying to contact Kuson, installed this time on PC Frent, the ship designated to be their ‘steward’ and protector on their trip to Outpost 6, the next location selected as being the best choice – best guess, really – for their ongoing raw materials hunt.
“Captain Rendan to Captain Barthdulon.” Gauging the ascent as he spoke, the ship commander continued: “Coming up to join you now. How is the scenery?”
“Interesting.” Barthdulon’s response was concise, hardly giving the audience a chance to appreciate the deep tonal qualities of this leader’s voice, or catch a hint of the dedication that he routinely displayed, having foregone his scheduled ‘leave’ on Fepnine so that he could continue to command his vessel and accompany the veteran Batamon, as he too was a survivor from Arshonna and had met the old Scout briefly on that long-lost world, in a time now unimaginable to most of the inhabitants of Fepnine.
“Shells on!” Navigator Jenik checked her scanners as they lifted out of the atmospheric ‘soup’ of her home planet and the older devices became more fully effective and efficient in the vacuum of space. She glanced briefly down, savouring the glorious greenness of her home planet and wondering if she would see it again.
Ahh! Kuson found her inter-person link as the ships neared. Batamon, the Pakak are thicker than antonikan on fleshint blossom these days!
Let’s punch our way through quickly. I don’t want any lizards in my hair! Batamon pictured the tiny reptiles, clambering through the flowers and inadvertently fertilising them. The image was a pleasant one; he found it strange to have it applied to their mortal enemies. Remember, we have authorisation to engage full Star Drive – to dimension out – once we reach eighteen hundred planetary diameters from Fepnine. That shouldn’t take too long! Batamon continued, making every attempt to keep his demeanour optimistic for the benefit of the command crew and more significantly to him, for Esten.
Ahead, the view of space blackened completely, indicating that the atmosphere was now entirely below them, but Rendan saw what Kuson had privately reported. “Get me maximum acceleration, Esten, I don’t care if we shake the teeth out of this old behemoth, just get us to our departure point as quickly as you can.
“Yessir!” Esten pushed the old Drive levers forward as far as she dared, her connection to Batamon having prepared her for this command. Hold on tight! Ship One is about to shake!
“Yeah!” Jenik called out as she saw the slender, fleetingly colour-splashed dart that was Karalk Prime, flames flaring brilliantly from the curved tail end of the wings, zooming past on the starboard side, turning white again at it shot ahead.
Ship One started to shudder as the acceleration potential built up in the old Drives, a dissonance making walls, floors and ceilings vibrate and control panels shake.
Captain Rendan leaned forward, clasping his left hand around a particularly noisy section of display to calm it, but had to pull his hand away as the vibrations caused the corner to slice into his palm. “Keep going!” He clamped his fist tightly shut to hold in the blood oozing from this minor but startling injury.
Another Karalk showed high above their position, some fifty kilometres away, a tiny white speck against the blackness of deep space, trailing a slightly bigger yellow speck of flame.
Karalk as a means of distraction! It works on humans; will it work on Narlavs? Captain Barthdulon watched as two Pakak began to close on their position, or rather on the vessel close behind them. “Enemy ships are diverting to give their attention to Ship One.” This is too big of a target for them to ignore!
Pilot Hinndurat took their Patrol Cruiser towards the nearer of the Pakak, hoping that other ships would move to intercept the other vessel. “Prepare for combat!” His mellow voice showed only a hint of anticipation as he a little presumptuously ‘prepped’ his patrol-mates.
Navigator Anietal, her red hair slightly longer since the previous mission but her eyes still a little lacking in vivaciousness, powered up two N-beam weapons, grasping the purple control spheres lightly with easy anticipation. “We have you now, Vershonnan!”
Captain Barthdulon powered up two more weapons, confident the back-up crew was also ready for combat in the Gunners Section, together with as many of the gunners as could appropriate an N-beam control after the alternate Captain, Pilot and Navigator had selected their weapons. Command crew will always take precedence! The Pakak veered off downwards, attempting to maintain a mini
mum of twenty kilometres distance from the – technically – slightly less powerful Patrol Cruiser Mark Two, clearly aware that the real target was the transport ship behind it.
“Fire!” The older Captain barked this command as the enemy ship came past – though the distance was too great for any accuracy – and groaned as only one purple bolt could be seen to impact the Pakak. “Hinndurat, turbo-boost!”
The canny, close-cropped pilot had anticipated this command and had already begun to swivel their vessel around. Scant seconds later, he engaged the Drive turbo-boost and the Pakak seemed to stall before them. A moment later and the enemy vessel started to expand again on their forward viewscreen.
Anietal resumed firing, her first bolt zooming in apparent slow motion into the massive accumulation of Drive spheres at the tail end of this most recent version[34] of the Narlav attack vessel. Her crew members followed her example, peppering the enemy with multiple hits and causing the Shell boundaries to be momentarily revealed as the energy fields interacted.
“Now we’ve got their attention!” Hinndurat growled rather uncharacteristically, pleased that his turbo-boost had brought them into closer proximity before ending automatically, and before any Macrals were blown.
The Pakak twisted around, pointing its arrowhead tip towards them, no longer able to ignore the ‘attention’ it was receiving. Green beads and globules burst towards them like an opening flower – perhaps a Venus Fly-trap – making any manoeuvring seem worthless. Nevertheless, Pilot Hinndurat managed to swing their sleek vessel sideways enough to avoid more than half of the incoming energy. The Patrol Cruiser shuddered as the Shells absorbed the impact and Anietal dropped to the floor in anticipation of the first failure, spare Macral in hand. Her purple control spheres shimmered unattended for a moment before fading into oblivion.
Cavalry Page 21
