Wanderer's Odyssey - Books 1 to 3: The Epic Space Opera Series Begins

by Simon Goodson

  Another creature appeared near Ali. It plunged a clawed hand into her arm. Jess’s stomach turned at the scream she let out.

  “Jess,” she sobbed. “Why won’t you help me? I need you. Jess, please. Don’t let them…”

  Whatever she was going to say was lost as she screamed again. This time the creature had stabbed her leg. Jess forced himself to stay still. He couldn’t do anything else. He couldn’t look away. But he wasn’t going to put himself at risk either.

  “Jess… why?” Ali managed to sob.

  Jess just stood his ground, not responding. With a roar the two creatures who had been holding Ali joined in the attack. The three fell on Ali like starving dogs, ripping and tearing. Jess felt his will start to crumble, but he managed to hold his ground.

  Then it was all over. Ali’s body floated, torn and bloodied. Jess thought he was going to be sick. What had he done? What if that really had been Ali?

  Then Ali, or what was left of her, sat up. The Ali he knew was gone again, replaced by the red eyed impostor. The wounds had vanished. She leered at him.

  “This is your fault!” She spoke quietly but her voice carried clearly. “You should have kept me safe. You promised you would. So many times in the dark of the night you promised you would always be there for me, always protect me. Why didn’t you keep your promise, Jess?”

  Jess growled angrily. Even if there was some truth to the accusation, even if he had failed to protect Ali, the true reason for what had happened stood in front of him. The Taint had stolen the girl he loved. Taken her from him and, he was now certain, destroyed her. Ali was beyond saving, but he could avenge her.

  The blast of lightning was bigger than any he’d summoned before, and it took the creature completely by surprise. The power ripped into the body. It was torn apart before it could begin to react. Moments later Ali’s form reappeared, slightly to the side of where she had been. A mocking expression on her face.

  “You really did it. You attacked me, tried to kill me! Is that love?”

  Jess ignored her. Whatever she was, she wasn’t Ali. An echo, maybe a reflection, but not Ali. He focused on reinforcing the barrier, on keeping the Wanderer safe. She kept taunting him. He ignored most of it, then something got through to him.

  “You know it’s too late for you, don’t you? It’s happening slowly, but you are already lost. I got through to you, Jess. I poured my essence into you. The seed has been planted. Why resist?”

  Jess shivered at the memory. Was she right? Had she left something within his mind, his soul, even though Teeko’s actions dragged him back to the real world? Was there any way he could tell? Memories of the attack flowed through his mind.

  Jess felt the Wanderer merged with his thoughts, experiencing the attack through his memories. A sudden burst of excitement from the ship shocked Jess from his thoughts. What was so exciting about his being attacked?

  He soon found out as the Wanderer opened up to him. The details of the attack had shaken loose the information it had been seeking ever since it saw Sal’s odd brain scan. The ship knew about the Taint. The information was buried away and hadn’t been touched in tens of thousands of years. That made Jess pause. The Taint had been around for that long? Then why was it only just becoming a problem? Had it been hiding all that time? Dormant? Locked away?

  The Wanderer impatiently nudged Jess towards the information which had it so excited. Jess’s heart leapt as he absorbed it. The Wanderer had a way to incapacitate those who were Tainted, a way to render them harmless without hurting them. A way to save Ali, if there was anything left to save.

  * * *

  Some of the excitement left Jess as he absorbed the information properly. It wouldn’t save Ali, but it would keep her safe, keep her body from harm. If there was any part of her left, and if that part had any awareness of the horrific situation she was in, then it would spare her from suffering any longer.

  More information about the Taint flowed into Jess, further dampening his enthusiasm. He’d come to think of the Wanderer as something amazing, something far beyond any other ship. He viewed whoever had first created the Wanderer in the same light. Their technology was thousands of years ahead of anything else he had seen.

  But they had no way to cure someone who was Tainted. The best they could manage was containment. Despite their amazing technology they’d found no way to purge the Taint, not before the Wanderer was sent on its way, at least.

  It was like a kick in the stomach to Jess. It was as good as saying there was no way to cure someone. No way to cure Ali. He gritted his teeth. Fine. If the best he could do was to spare Ali torment that would have to be enough.

  He wanted to start straight away, but it wasn’t possible. They needed control of the shields, and that had been lost to the Taint again. No matter. He’d clawed back control of them once before, he would do it again.

  Grimly, he started expanding the barrier, forcing the chaotic touch of the Taint back and strengthening the barrier as he went. The Taint responded in force, sending creature after creature to crash against the defences. To die.

  It used a more subtle approach too. Wherever Jess turned he was confronted with a version of Ali which whispered and cajoled, cursed and pleaded. More than anything else it pushed the idea he was already lost, that the Taint was taking hold within his mind.

  He didn’t care. If it was true, then when he gained control of the shields that part of him would be neutralised. Maybe he wouldn’t notice. Maybe he would drop to the ground in agony. Maybe there was no Taint within him. It didn’t matter. Whatever the truth, he needed to regain control of the shields as soon as possible, then he would find out. Then they would all find out.

  Chapter 44

  Clay lay in his bunk, desperate for the oblivion of sleep. It wouldn’t come. The parade of faces wouldn’t let him rest; the faces of those he had killed directly, and of those he had helped to kill.

  He knew only a few were real faces, ones he had seen. The rest came from his fevered mind, but that didn’t make them any easier to ignore. The faces might be fake, the people they represented weren’t. And he had killed them, either directly or indirectly.

  After the unexpected briefing he and the other pilots had flown the rest of the scheduled missions. Clay had killed in every battle. Mostly he’d killed other pilots, but every defender he killed made it easier for the fleet to carry out its slaughter.

  His fleet. He’d made his decision. He had stayed quiet while others made a stand, then were killed for daring to speak out. In doing so he’d accepted innocent blood onto his hands.

  As he wrestled with his conscience he knew he would never have the courage to make that stand. After all his time as a combat pilot, after all the times he’d faced death unflinchingly, he’d discovered he was a coward. He burned with shame and anger at the bitter knowledge.

  * * *

  Greenseed Station

  Marsh watched as another three ships vanished into jump space. Another three ships whose cargo holds were packed with food and supplies. Another three ships which would inadvertently be spreading the Taint.

  How many was that now? Too many. Forty, maybe fifty even. He’d stopped counting. What was the point?

  Around him his officers got back to their jobs. They’d watched the three ships leave but it had just made them more determined. There was no need for another pep talk. Not yet.

  So many ships, though, and still no way to get a warning out. How much longer could he let this continue? How many more ships would he watch flying off, each carrying a ticking time bomb?

  It wasn’t just about the visiting ships. Marsh had his own people to think about. Not just those in the Operations Room. Over the day small groups of survivors had been sending out signals confirming they were still alive, still free. The communications had to route through the station's main systems so they were quickly shut down by the Tainted. That didn’t matter. Knowing the groups were out there gave him hope. Not everyone had been killed or
corrupted. There was still time to save at least some of the station’s residents.

  Marsh was surprised there’d been no attempt to breach the Operations Room. He’d been expecting an attack for hours, but nothing had happened. The corridors leading to the Operations Room were the only places he could still watch. Hardened cameras covered the approach, locked down so he was the only one who could view them.

  The corridors had stayed eerily quiet. Apparently the Tainted were quite content with how things were. They didn’t believe Marsh and the others were a threat. Marsh was starting to believe they were right.

  * * *

  Clay lay blinking in the bright light, puzzled by the ringing. It took him nearly a minute to rouse to the point where he realised it was the signal to get up. He must have fallen asleep eventually, but his sleep had not been restful. The faces of those he’d killed had followed him into his dreams.

  He dragged himself up and prepared to face another day. As he dressed, an urgent message arrived on his console. Orders to attend a briefing due to start in five minutes. Clay could just make it if he rushed. So much for breakfast, not that he felt hungry anyway.

  He made it to the briefing room with half a minute to spare. Taking a deep breath he stepped through the doorway… and froze. The room was almost empty. It contained only three other people. Two guards, flanking the door he had used, and an officer. The same one who had led both briefings so far.

  Where were the other pilots? They couldn’t all be late, could they? And the officer didn’t seem upset. In fact she smiled, gesturing to Clay to come closer. Resisting the urge to glance at the two guards, he marched forwards.

  The officer stood by a desk with food on it. Several pastries and two cups filled with dark coffee. Clay stopped several feet short of the officer and snapped out a salute.

  “At ease,” she said, smiling slightly. “Help yourself to some breakfast.”

  Clay still didn’t feel hungry, but refusing the direct order felt like a very bad idea. He took the smallest of the pastries and one of the coffees.

  “Thank you… I’m sorry, I don’t know your rank.”

  Clay was surprised to realise this. So much had happened in the two briefings that he hadn’t noticed how different her rank badges were to the norm. She had clearly been an officer, and in charge of the briefings. With everything else that happened he hadn’t thought to look at her exact rank.

  Now he came to check he saw that all she wore was a silver diamond on the left side of her chest, nothing else. She smiled at him again, seeming pleased by his confusion.

  “No, you don’t. Maybe one day you will. Or maybe not.”

  Clay tried not to frown at the strange response, forcing himself to take a bite of the pastry instead. Somehow he managed to swallow, despite his churning stomach. Something was very wrong. The whole situation stank of danger.

  “You’re wondering why you are here on your own.” It was a statement, not a question. “We have been watching you closely. Your skills in the cockpit are stunning. You’re a natural pilot, yet disciplined with it. You have no idea how rare it is to see those traits combined.”

  Clay decided the less he said the better his chances of walking out alive.

  “Thank you, ma'am.”

  “It’s not a compliment,” she said sharply. “I’m just giving you the facts.”

  “Sorry, ma'am.”

  “Hmm. Anyway, you have also proven yourself to be committed to the cause. Not to mention brave, even outside of your cockpit. With a gun stuck to the back of your head yesterday you didn’t flinch when the shooting started.”

  She fell quiet. Clay waited for her to continue. Despite the glowing appraisal he felt in even more danger than before. What was this leading up to? She studied him carefully before speaking again.

  “I’m here to tell you that you have impressed some important people. You will fly with the others today on one final mission, then you will be transferred into an elite fighter wing, one that takes care of our more… difficult issues.”

  “Thank you, ma'am.”

  Clay tensed in case she took his words badly again, but apparently this time they had been appropriate. She smiled at him one more time.

  “Now, I need to prepare for the briefing. Your fellow pilots will be arriving in the next few minutes. Enjoy the food.” Her manner changed abruptly. The ice was back. “And don’t tell anyone what I just told you. Is that understood?”

  “Yes, ma'am!”

  She nodded, took her cup and quickly disappeared through the door at the front of the room. Clay glanced round. The guards were still standing by the main entrance.

  Taking another bite of the pastry he thought about what had just happened. The complimentary report didn’t surprise him, he’d received many during his career. The offer did. In some ways it was tempting. Being part of an elite strike force would be the best way he could stay safe from the Taint.

  He was only slightly tempted. The officer had said herself the strike force took care of difficult problems. Clay wasn’t stupid enough to think that just meant tough targets. It would also mean dealing with things the main group of pilots couldn’t be trusted with. Missions that were too tough, but also missions that were too dirty. Missions which would require unquestioning obedience.

  He couldn’t refuse. Somehow he’d managed to convince the officer, and whoever she reported to, that he was exactly what they needed, that he agreed with their plans and would be happy wallowing in the muck and blood those plans generated. Refusing the posting would quickly change that, and almost as quickly lead to his death. He’d already seen how they dealt with dissent. Even expressing doubt was a capital offence. His only hope was to escape, but that seemed impossible.

  Clay chewed his pastry mechanically, certain he was being closely studied. He had to keep up appearances. For the moment control of his future was in his hands, showing the wrong reaction could destroy that. Bleak as things looked, he still had access to space in a fighter. That gave him far more freedom than the vast majority of those on the ship.

  The other pilots soon started drifting in. Conversation was muted, almost furtive. Many entered in silence and found somewhere to sit without speaking. Several of the pilots carried food and drink, so Clay didn’t stand out. Other pilots cast longing glances at the food. Clay guessed they’d gone without food rather than risking arriving late.

  “At least we got here before the Cobra…” one of the pilots said.

  He was quickly shushed by those around him. The Cobra? Clay was puzzled for a moment, then he made the connection. The unnamed officer with no rank markings. He couldn’t help smiling slightly. The name suited her.

  Clay was surprised to find he’d finished his food. He hadn’t really tasted it, but his body would appreciate the nourishment. Glancing back he saw all the pilots were in the room. More troopers had entered and were standing motionless along the back wall, staring at the pilots.

  People around Clay shot to their feet. Clay immediately followed suit. By the time he was facing the front of the room he was already beginning to salute.

  Sure enough, the officer was there. The Cobra. The name certainly suited her. Viciously dangerous and ready to strike at any moment. She glanced over the room quickly then dived straight into the briefing. Clay could feel the relief around him. Apparently there would be no more executions. This time at least.

  “Something a little different today,” the Cobra said. “Our target is still a fair way outside the safe zone, but this one has too much strategic value for us to destroy it. Instead, our job is to take control of the station with as few holes in it as is possible. A permanent detachment of ships and troopers will be left here to keep the station safe from any hostile action.

  “First, some background. The station’s main export is food, though it is able to produce a variety of tools as well. It has formidable defences deployed nearby. A large part of your role will be taking out those defences if the station doesn’t s
urrender to us.

  “What else? Oh yes. The name of the station. It’s called Greenseed.”

  Chapter 45

  Jess launched himself forward, lashing out indiscriminately with lightning. A dozen of the Tainted creatures vanished under the onslaught. He kept moving, driving the Taint before him, trying to gain as much ground as possible before the Taint regrouped.

  As he drove the Taint back more systems came back under his control. Jess grinned fiercely. He’d hit the jackpot this time, regaining control of several major shield generators. He pushed forwards again, gaining control of several minor systems.

  The Taint finally regrouped. Jess’s forward progress ground to a halt. He didn’t worry. This had happened hundreds of times before. Regaining full control of the Wanderer was a painstaking business. Nine steps back for every ten steps forward, but it was still progress.

  Once he was ready Jess launched another assault. He forced the Taint back. It soon regrouped enough to stop further progress. It had lost a little ground, but was far from defeated. The seemingly endless cycle could start again.

  Not this time. Jess finally controlled enough shield generators. He could implement the emergency protocol the Wanderer had dredged from deep in its memories.

  Now was the moment of truth. Jess didn’t feel any different, he couldn’t sense any hint of the Taint within his mind, but would he? The Wanderer wasn’t sure. Information on the Taint was severely limited.

  Jess fed the protocol into the shield generator’s systems, preparing them. That was the easy part. Could he do this? Could he risk it? If he was Tainted then he’d be disabled too. The ship would be an empty shell, unable to function fully without its pilot. When the Imperial fleet arrived it would take the Wanderer without a fight.