by GARY DARBY
“Any sign of survivors, any movement on the ground?” Bianca asked.
“No. We’ve hovered over the site and circled outward, but we don’t see anyone on the ground.”
“Have you tried to send down a free floater recorder?”
“Yes, but it isn’t picking up anything of use either on visual or infra-red.”
Bianca paused before saying, “What about the crash trail through the trees, can you follow it to the craft?”
“No. It looks like they came in at a slow velocity, hit and skidded across a long incline above the valley, went over the lip and pancaked almost straight down through the trees.
He paused before saying, “Didn’t leave much of a hole on the way down. If the sensor hadn’t alerted us, we would have passed right over without seeing it.”
“Understood. Can you land at the site?”
“Not without knocking down a bunch of trees. However, there is a decent-sized clearing less than a kilometer away. We dropped a locator beacon on the search site to guide us back.”
Bianca brought up the ops screen that showed the location of each craft. Close to Stinger One’s position pulsed a tiny yellow blip. “Okay,” Bianca responded, “I’ve got the beacon lighted up on my display.”
She eyed the screen, saying, “Stinger One, you have a go for surface recon. There are numerous storm cells between us and you so it will take us a bit longer to rendezvous and provide backup.”
“Understood, Six. We will contact you once we’ve reached the site.”
“Roger,” Bianca responded.
She turned to Sami, “Here’s your chance to make a good impression on me. Use the met-radar and weave between the worst cells. Stay away from anything that’s a deep purple or red on the screen.”
She eyed him and asked, “You’ve done this before, right?”
“Sure,” Sami answered. “I’m an old hand.”
He glanced at Bianca and gave her a lop-sided grin. “Okay, once in training, but I understand the basic concept. Anything purple or red on the Doppler is very, very bad, while orange is not as bad, but bad. Blues and greens are okay. A cinch.”
Bianca puffed out a breath and shook her head slightly. “That’s the general idea.”
She started to turn away but then asked, “Wait; you’re not color-blind are you?”
“Nope.” Sami answered. “Blue is the color of my true love’s lipstick; orange is the color of her hair—”
“Never mind,” Bianca ordered, making a face. “Head for the beacon.”
She then commanded over the communicator, “Two, Four and Five: We’re going to penetrate the storm system and make for Stinger One. You divert around and link up with us on the other side.”
The other craft acknowledged her orders. They would have to circumnavigate around the billowing, dark cloud mass, and that would take time, but Bianca felt it was worth the risk to navigate through the powerful storm system and get to the Celeste as soon as possible.
Sami pulled the craft hard to the left and the small ship entered the nearest black, churning cloud wall; it was immediately met by violent updrafts that punched the ship skyward only to be hit moments later with fierce wind shears that tried to slam the ship into the ground.
Keeping his eyes glued to the Doppler radar that outlined the worst of the storms, Sami zigzagged the ship between the more intense cells. At times, he was forced to accelerate the little craft, at others, he slowed them into a gliding pattern in his search for a way through the maze of violent winds.
Dason could see that Bianca was intent on watching the radar along with Sami and that she had her hands but centimeters away from the flight controls. No doubt, she wouldn’t hesitate to take over if she felt Sami’s piloting put them in harm’s way.
Even in the areas that showed on the screen as being calmer air, the ship bounced and shuddered from the swirling up- and downdrafts that fueled the storm’s vicious nature.
Lightning flashed and danced across the sky, sometimes so close that the flash looked like a bomb had exploded next to the craft.
Rain and hailstones pelted the ship, a constant staccato popping that filled the scouter’s interior. Bianca glanced at her ops screen, saying softly to Sami, “Take it easy but see if you can shorten the time.”
His eyes fixed on the radar, Sami replied, “I could if we fly straight through. Always wanted to see what one of these babies could do in a max t-storm.”
In a dry tone, Bianca answered, “That’s not going to happen on my watch, mister.”
Sami started to reply when Zane said over the ship-to-ship communicator, “Stinger Six this is the Queen.”
“Go ahead,” Bianca returned.
“Ah, we’ve just picked up another distress call, but it’s not from the Celeste.”
Bianca immediately stiffened and sat straight up. “Is it one of my craft?”
“Negative.”
Dason could see Bianca take a breath in relief before asking, “Are you saying that we have an altogether different distress signal?”
“Correct,” Zane replied.
Bianca hesitated before saying, “Is this something that we need to discuss in private?”
There was a momentary silence before Zane answered slowly, “Negative, Six, I think it should be in the clear.”
With a puzzled expression, Bianca replied, “Go ahead, then.”
“We have a faint Star Scout Save and Rescue signal approximately fifty kilometers planetary north of your current position. Scout platoon ship. Transponder designation Yankee One-Niner.”
Bianca sucked in a breath and sat back in her chair, just staring at the console. When Bianca didn’t answer, Zane asked, “Six, did you copy my transmission?”
Bianca gave a slow shake of her head as if she didn’t quite believe the news. “Roger, Queen,” she replied. “I copy scout Save and Rescue fifty kilometers planetary north of my location.”
She glanced at her operation's display. “I don’t have it on my screen.”
“Understood. It’s a weak signal, might be getting washed out down there due to the electromagnetic interference from the storms. Please advise as to your intentions.”
“Stand by,” Bianca replied. Dason had the distinct impression that Zane’s pronouncement had jarred the cool-headed outlaw leader and she now had to do some quick mental gymnastics.
Sami gave a quick glance over his shoulder and mouthed “Wow!” to Dason.
Dumbfounded, Dason could only nod in response to this incredible stroke of luck. A downed Star Scout platoon transport, only a few kilometers away, and sending out a distress call!
Was it possible that the signal had been heard by a Star Scout or Nav ship in the area, and they were enroute?
Maybe they were already here, searching for the downed scout craft. If so, then all he and his scout mates needed to do was to somehow let them know of their plight, and they would affect a rescue in no time.
He brought himself back to reality. They would never get a chance to contact any rescue party. Bianca would order her crew to abandon the search and return to the Queen and not chance a run-in with Imperium forces.
As soon as all the renegades’ craft were onboard the Queen, they would high-tail it out of this system so fast that anything that got caught in their wake would be sucked into the vacuum.
Running his thumb across his knife hilt, a wild idea formed in Dason’s mind but just as quickly he dropped his hand away from the grip. That wouldn’t solve anything and would be an idiotic move that would do more harm than good.
His mouth dropped when instead of ordering a retreat, as he expected, Bianca said to Zane, “Have you been monitoring our communications regarding the possible Celeste crash site?”
“Roger.”
“Please continue. For now, all Stinger craft will continue to the Celeste search area.”
“Understood. Queen, out.”
For several more minutes, Sami guided the scouter through the almost
hurricane force winds and pelting rain that buffeted the little scouter.
Just ahead, the radar showed a break in the clouds. Sami gestured with one hand toward the screen to show Bianca the dissipating cloud pattern.
She was about to respond when over the comms came Granger’s voice. “Stinger Six, this is Stinger One.”
“Go ahead,” Bianca responded.
“We’ve reached the crash site. No sign of any crew.”
He paused and then remarked, “This is very odd, the ship is . . .” his speech trailed off.
Like a whip crack, his voice exploded in urgency. “Six! We’re under attack! We’re under—”
The communicator went silent.
Bianca snapped out, “Granger. You broke off. Say again.”
Seconds went by without a reply. Bianca repeated her message into the communicator several times, but there came only silence.
“Max her out!” she ordered Sami, “Redline it if you have to, but get us to that site. We’ve got people in trouble down there!”
Sami heeled the vessel hard over, bringing the scouter on a beeline for the Celeste beacon and increased his speed. At the same time, Bianca spoke over the communicator, “Stinger craft did you copy Stinger One’s transmission?”
“Roger,” each responded in turn.
“Push it!” Bianca ordered the craft commanders. “And stand by when you get to the site.”
She then called over the ship-to-ship, “Queen, did you hear Stinger One?”
“Yes,” Zane replied, the tightness in his voice evident, “we’re trying to get sensor data from that area but no luck so far. We’ll contact you as soon as we have something.”
“Roger that,” Bianca replied.
* * * * * *
High overhead, The Queen Bee had settled into a synchronous orbit over the planet. Standard watch stations had been set to track the teams far below. Now, with this new crisis, Zane began to consider other options, including landing on the planet.
He turned to Karm and asked, “What is our status?”
“Locked in orbit, forty thousand kilometers out, velocity matched to the planet’s rotational period.”
“Very good,” Zane replied and turned to Wentz, his communicator on duty. “You have a bead on them?”
Wentz hesitated before saying, “Somewhat, sir. For some reason, their signals are going in and out. I’ve lost the Stinger One transponder, and I’m only getting the others on an intermittent basis.”
“Can you clean it up, get a better fix?”
“I’m trying,” Wentz replied in an exasperated tone. “One second I’ve got them loud and clear, the next second they fall off the scope.”
Zane frowned in response. “Equipment malfunction?”
“No,” Wentz stated. “I’ve run a diagnostic. Our electronics check out, and I don’t have anything that’s showing outside interference. I can’t explain it.”
“Work it out, mister,” Zane ordered. “They’ve got trouble down there and I need four-by-four comms with them.”
“Aye, aye, sir,” Wentz replied.
Zane turned to Karm. “Work out a possible landing scenario. We may need to go down there and retrieve them.”
“Roger,” Karm replied.
Zane started to turn to his own systems board when Karm cried out, “Sweet galaxy where did that come from! Inbound bogey on a collision course!”
“Evasive maneuvers!” Zane bellowed. “Full boost now!”
In a frenzied rush, Karm began to work the flight controls, calling up emergency power to rocket them away from the oncoming mass.
For an instant, she let her eyes move to the forward viewer, and her fingers stopped in midair over her console.
She managed to choke out, “Captain! Forward screen!”
Pivoting toward the vu-screen, Zane took one look and found himself riveted, his eyes locked on the scene.
Around him, there was complete silence except for a few gasps as the image of an alien spaceship built up in the screen and transfixed the crew.
Zane’s eyes widened as a blue circle of light, like a giant sparkling geyser about to erupt formed at the front of the alien vessel.
His instincts told him that his ship faced grave peril, and he shouted at Wentz, “Get a message out now!”
Wentz bent over his console and in an instant, the message sped toward Earth. It read:
ALPHA PRIME — ALPHA PRIME — ALPHA PRIME
Chapter Thirty-Six
Star Date 2433.060
Star Scout Command Cheyenne Mountain, Terra
Double Star strode through the gleaming halls of Star Scouts’ operations center. To those he greeted he appeared calm, in control, not showing that his insides churned like a seething caldron.
He wiped at the tiny beads of sweat that gathered at his temples. The conversation with his dark master had shaken him to his very core, eroding his confidence in their long-standing relationship and casting serious doubts on his very survivability.
His instincts for self-preservation told him that there was no doubt that he had crossed the line this time, and he had to make things right with Peller or suffer the fatal consequences.
But he also realized that it wasn’t just on him that Peller would lay blame. His unthinking impulse, to lash out at Tuul and Marrel in order to protect himself, had brought his daughter within Peller’s orbit.
Of course, it was inadvertent, and something that he had never, ever, intended to do. But now, she too faced imminent danger from Peller’s wrath, and it was all because of him.
From the moment Peller had cut the comms link the scout had tried to contact Alena. Over and over he had sent a message through his personal n-space communicator but with no success.
He didn’t know why she failed to answer him, but he knew he had run out of time.
Now he contemplated another option, one so radical that it carried the enormous risk of open exposure within Star Scout Command. But his time and his options were all but gone and he was desperate to save his daughter.
His deep preoccupation was interrupted by a loud, “Sir!”
He looked around and saw Witte, the acting J2, hurrying toward him. “You haven’t been answering my comm call,” she said in a rush, “and I’ve been trying to run you down.”
Without waiting for his reply, she said, “Admiral Stannick is on the horn. She wants to talk to General Rosberg, says it’s imperative. She’s adamant that if we can’t reach him, she won’t wait and will take the matter up with the High Council without him.
“The general is still on Ganymede but the moon slipped to the back side of Jupiter before we could get a message through. We tried to bounce a signal off of Europa, but that didn’t work and there are no Imperium ships in the immediate area.
“What do you want me to do?”
He felt the tightness, the irritation well up in him to be brought up short like this in the middle of his own personal crisis. Right now, he could care less about the games that admirals and generals played.
But he needed to stay and look under control so as to not raise undue suspicion before he could work out his own plan to save his child.
“I’ll speak to the admiral,” he stated. “Maybe it’s something I can handle for the general until we can make contact. I’ll take the call in my office.”
“Thank you, sir,” she replied in a grateful tone. “Command link code is delta plus theta.”
Double Star entered his office and strode over to his lustrous compu-desk. Without sitting he entered the proper security codes into the console and waited.
A second later, the holo-image of Admiral Stannick, Chief of the Imperium’s Star Navy appeared. “Sorry to keep you waiting, admiral,” Star offered in an apologetic voice.
Waving off the apology, the five-star admiral bluntly replied, “I asked for Rosberg, not you.”
“Ma’am, General Rosberg is temporarily out of communication on Ganymede. We’re trying our best to raise him,
but it may be some time before we’re able to do so. Is there anything I can do for you?”
The lithe middle-aged woman scrutinized him for several seconds before saying, “I doubt if you can, but I don’t want to do an end run around Rosberg unless I have to.
“The cruiser Ticonderoga picked up a distorted distress message coming from the Helix Nebula, about mid quadrant or so.
“The Ti put a priority boost on what she picked up and passed it down the line to my operations center. Unfortunately, if there was a ship’s identifier code, it didn’t come through.”
She tilted her head in a puzzled fashion. “About the oddest emergency signal we’ve ever seen.”
Double Star furrowed his brow and asked, “An unusual emergency signal, admiral? In what way?”
She tapped a command into her console, saying, “See for yourself.”
The Star Scout scanned the holo-text and his eyes widened. He ran a hand over his mouth as he considered the message’s ramifications.
He and his daughter had, of course, set up a fake distress call as a lure, but the message hadn’t included anything like this.
The admiral went on to say, “Just after getting this signal, the Ticonderoga picked up another distress call. This one from one of your scout transporters. Extremely faint and coming from about the same coordinates.”
She leaned over, fixed him with a hard stare and asked, “Do you or your folks have any idea what’s going on Out There?”
He avoided her stare for an instant as he thought, Alena, just what have you done?
His mind worked for an answer that wouldn’t arouse any suspicion, so he spoke in a slow and measured voice. “Admiral, this might all be a serious but correctable mistake.”
Taking a slight breath, he took the plunge and went on, “We’ve been field-testing a number of new training scenarios in that general area as part of our novice scout program.
“In fact, two of our senior staff officers, Colonel Tuul and Lieutenant Colonel Marrel are even now either in the Helix or close by evaluating those training operations.