“We shall see,” the captain challenged and spun on his heels and departed abruptly. The hapless aide followed, running to keep up with his senior officer.
Steg frowned. The captain certainly was in no mood to engage in diplomatic niceties. The options for Tziksis and his people were clear. If Xesset still were in control when the Imperial star ship arrived, Steg could visualize the intensive operation that would follow. She would pound the base with heavy space debris, using its tractors to move large lumps of rock and other matter that would be directed down onto the planet, targeting the base. The pirate base would be vaporized. The shock waves would cause untold destruction across Djii. And when Ziangka landed, it would sequester the planet for the Empire unless he could arrange an alternative resolution.
“Djiis forces have a major task ahead of them,” he cautioned Tziksis.
“Spirit to win we have. Theas will task the Darga for battle. We must win. We will not be a subject state, ever again.”
“Darga?”
Again Tziksis carefully selected his words. “Darga have not been used in battle for over five hundred years. They are frenzy warriors, berserkers. Their numbers small are, their abilities major. Unanimous decision of all Djiis generals before the Darga we can commit. If Darga are defeated in battle, end of Djiis, end of our civilization, it written is. Confidence to commit Darga against Xesset forces, unsupported, not have. Now different will be. Onslaught will be ferocious; this is a battle where much honor can be gained for Djiis families in the Darga represented. Oh that I could be there, alongside my people to fight.” His grip on Steg’s arm was almost unbearable.
“Steady, Tziksis. You’ve made your sacrifice,” Steg consoled the little alien. “You’ll be able to join your people in their victory celebrations. Djiis forces outnumber the pirates and their systems are all compromised. They don’t have control of their defenses and won’t be able to rely on their computer systems. We’ll arrive to celebrate Djiis victory.”
“I trust so, my young prince.”
“We should speak with your General Theas again. Let me see what I can do.”
Steg busied himself at the workstation in the corner of the reception room. He switched on the power and the unit hummed to life. He contacted the Ziangka system and provided the unit reference.
*Activate workstation functions including voice and video.*
*Activated.*
*Isolate from other units.*
*Isolated.*
*Link with Djiis unit.*
*Linked.*
Steg pressed the transmit key. “Steg de Coeur for General Theas.”
“This is Major Storn. The Commander is in conference with all the generals,” came the prompt reply. The communication was voice only, although Steg could visualize the speaker and his bobbing eyestalks.
“I am able to connect Ambassador Tziksis for General Theas.”
“I’ll contact General Theas immediately.”
“Tziksis, can we continue to speak in Xesset, so I can keep informed?”
“Of course.”
“This is Theas.”
Tziksis launched into a rapid exchange with the general. Steg was certain a percentage of the communication content was lost as the speakers were using voice only, without the bobbing eyestalks.
“And we should now use Xesset, for my friend here to understand,” Tziksis concluded.
“Certainly,” replied Theas.
“General,” briefed Steg. “This unit can receive both images and audio. If you can activate video at your unit I am sure Tziksis will appreciate it. Now let me update you. Xesset no longer have control of any of their systems. Their weapons systems can be transferred to your people whenever you require. Also, while their self-destruct systems have been compromised, they still may be able to trigger some manually.”
“Steg de Coeur, I look forward to meeting with you. This is the opportunity we have long sought. Tziksis has briefed me with some very high level details. I’ll enjoy the finer details when we have an opportunity.”
“General, are your forces ready to attack the base?”
“We have been in conference to arrange the attack. Now we have confirmation from you and Tziksis, we can make the decision to proceed.”
“Is there anything more you need from me?”
“Not at this stage. I would like to speak with Tziksis for a few more minutes. Then we’ll go back into conference here. My objective is to launch an attack within hours.”
“When you do launch, please arrange for someone to stay in full communication with us. We may be able to assist if you encounter problems.”
Tziksis concluded his conversation and turned to Steg. “Theas will continue to monitor this link and have someone communicate regularly. Perhaps not always in Xesset. Some of the more junior officers are not that fluent. They are going to use the Darga, that certain is.”
Time seemed to slow. Steg maintained a watch on the Xesset systems. The star ship rushed onward, its speed compressing the time available to Djiis forces. At last he discerned a change in Xesset communications. At the same time he was alerted by Tziksis.
“Theas attack launched,” Tziksis confirmed. He continued with updates. “Our forces the base perimeter penetrated. Already the spaceport under our control is. A major battle is underway for the base itself, with its weapons and systems. To capture complete intention is. All Djiis in battle have joined.”
“I may be able to assist. Ask whether Djiis forces can take advantage if I cut off the power to the base?”
A quick exchange followed, between Tziksis and the officer acting as liaison. After a minute or two of silence, the answer came in a rush of Djiis.
“Young prince,” affirmed Tziksis. “Do it, tremendously it will assist.”
Steg immersed himself in the Xesset systems. He soon identified the key utility programs that controlled and distributed energy supplies that kept the base facilities functioning. He stopped the programs. Xesset walkways froze. Elevators ceased to function. Automatic doors jammed, open or shut. A blanket of blackness wrapped around the base which stilled as all Xesset machinery ceased to function. He could detect the chaos as the defenders were thrown into complete disarray and wave after wave of Djiis attackers flooded into the base.
“The Xesset are finished, I think,” Steg commented. “They have lost their fighting cohesion and are now functioning as independent and unguided units. Their defenses will collapse.”
“Confirmation is,” advised Tziksis, his attention on the flow of updates from Djii. “Reports mopping up actions indicate. Xesset in chaos, leaderless, without communications or functioning systems are. Formal surrender not yet, but fighting stopped. Xesset weapons are dropping. My people overrunning the base are.”
Steg opened the cabin door in response to a vigorous knock. The aide who had accompanied the captain earlier was standing at attention just outside the door.
“Sir, please advise the Ambassador we’ll be in orbit in two hours.”
Steg closed the door without commenting. The tension had been immense.
Tziksis turned towards him, his eye stalks bobbing furiously. “Oh prince, now to celebrate. Control is. Djiis free is. My people are free. In your debt forever we are.”
******
Chapter 19
Ziangka had orbited Djii only long enough to set down Tziksis and verify defeat of the Xesset, after which the warship had departed. Djiis requests to disembark Steg were ignored, as were invitations for the ship to land. The captain was adamant that he could only set Steg down on an Imperial planet. Steg had seriously considered corrupting the destroyer’s system to force a landing and desisted when he realized that would undoubtedly result in his death. Then, to his dismay, he discovered the captain had selected for his destination an almost uninhabited planet on the edge of Imperial space, a planet which was nothing more than a mining dust bowl, distant from Djii or any other populated system.
When advised of his disembarkation
point, Steg had researched the planet with increasing concern. Scant details provided a broad indication of his near future. Hellfire was well named. Under control of the House of Aluta, the planet’s massive mineral reserves were mined by huge automated facilities and apart from company personnel, plus a handful of barely tolerated freelance prospectors and various camp followers, the planet was uninhabited. Captain Gallos had delivered him into his enemy’s hands.
The company had constructed a small town with a mining control facility close to the mine face. A launching pad for ore shuttles was near the mining activities. The third company feature on the planet was the spaceport where Steg had been deposited, situated well away from the flight path of the automated ore shuttles that, fully loaded, lifted to dock with waiting ore carriers.
Over time, the official company town had been expanded unofficially, and Steg hoped to find temporary accommodation with those “unofficial” inhabitants. His only plan was to wait for a possibly friendly star ship, and to persuade the captain to give him passage, away from Hellfire. The most significant flaw in his plan was the infrequent and erratic pattern of visiting star ships. Worse, any ship likely to land on Hellfire more than likely would belong to the House of Aluta. His wait would be lengthy and as well, the company assuredly intended it would be fatal. Before departing ss Ziangka, Steg had sent a message to the Acolytes and he had confidence in their ability to eventually route a trade ship through this sector of space where it would find an excuse to land on Hellfire. He did not know how long that would take.
Steg had persuaded an unwilling Captain Gallos to provide a desert bike for the hazardous crossing to the mining town. He had been provided with water and supplies for a day, and just two weapons—a stunner and Ebony.
He had spent a few minutes checking the spaceport where the shuttle had dropped him. It was deserted and in disrepair. Its only function was to provide a landing pad for those rare visiting star ships. A handful of patched and empty buildings stood watch over the landing apron. Over the years the buildings had been stripped of everything of possible use and now offered little shelter and nothing in the way of life support. His inspection completed, he had fled the loneliness of the empty spaceport and headed towards the company town.
And they call this planet Hellfire, mused Steg, as he plodded across a seemingly never-ending basin of hot, parched red sand. The heat-blurred horizon always seemed to be above him, even when he stopped and looked back. Miniature dust clouds clung to his heels at each step and then slowly settled behind him. Dry heat penetrated the inadequate insulation of his desert suit and perspiration streamed down his face. He drew back the heavy veil of the face mask and wiped his eyes free of salty moisture. The suit’s cooling unit was not coping with the oven-like conditions and every so often the electronic heat pump whined its inability to cope, indicating the mechanism was perilously close to collapse. Heat blasted at him from every direction. This almost lifeless planet had a slow, long-burning day and the temperature would not drop until nightfall, still twenty hours away. The low outcrops of scattered rocks radiated heat almost as intense as from the sun overhead and were too low to provide shade.
He paused and looked back. Heat shimmer already hid the abandoned desert bike. The cause of its breakdown was obvious and he realized the sabotage had been purposefully arranged. Someone on Ziangka had carefully weakened the protective casing of the power cell, which then had rapidly degraded under the strain of the desert crossing. While he knew the basic rule of survival in desert conditions was to remain with his transport even when it no longer functioned, he realized no one would send out a search party when he failed to arrive at his intended destination. He adjusted his small supply pack to a more comfortable position, confirmed Ebony was secure, and checked his bearings.
Steg could not identify a trail and he had moved off course to circle around an exceptionally large jumble of decaying rocks, carefully avoiding nests of desert adders and predatory fire lizards. He could sense distant electronic activity that marked his destination and he altered his course by an almost imperceptible measure.
He plodded on. He placed each step carefully, not only to avoid the dangerous desert life but also to ensure he did not brush against a sharp edge of rock. His survival depended on the integrity of his suit and sharp rock outcrops could easily cut and penetrate the fabric. Then, exposed to the full brunt of the desert conditions, he would not survive for long. He peered ahead in a futile attempt to pierce the heat haze. Nothing. Not even a breeze.
Steg, realistically, doubted his ability to achieve the desert crossing. The bike had carried him for only forty or so of the two hundred kays separating the spaceport from his destination before its ignominious failure. Now he lacked supplies and water for a prolonged hike across the red sand. He lifted his head, ignoring the sting of perspiration in his eyes and searched the horizon. He had a feeling that he was under observation although a diligent search had disclosed no one nearby. The heat was intense.
Again he checked his bearings and made another small correction to his course. The overwhelming heat bore down on him from above, radiated from the nearby rocks and rose up from the ground. Unprotected, he would die in hours. Protected by his desert suit, he barely had a chance of surviving the day. He continued steadily along his unmarked trail.
A flicker of motion caught his eye as he moved around another outcrop of savagely spiked rocks. Suddenly, he was standing in the center of a cool and green oasis with water flowing gently over smooth rocks and across golden sand, whispering and murmuring as it sank out of sight. Green palm fronds arched over him, providing a brief and welcome respite from the harsh sun. He turned slowly, attempting to absorb the reality of the impossible. He knelt and touched the cool flowing water. He cupped his hand and let the water tumble over it. Then he tried to lift a handful of the cool liquid to ease the dryness of his parched throat. Nothing reached his mouth. A mirage, Steg thought with disgust, a very real conjuring of what he needed most. He smiled wryly and stepped on through the flowing water. The mirage shifted and re-established itself with Steg at the center. He moved again, and again the mirage shifted. He reached slowly for his stunner, to be stopped by the sound of dry, cackling laughter.
“Now, now young fellow,” the voice followed the laughter. “Pete has had his little joke and y’ have no need to get all anxious.”
Steg experienced a strange and illogical sense of loss when the mirage disappeared as suddenly as it had appeared. He was almost reassured to see that he was still standing in the dry and merciless desert. In front of him stood a stranger, desert-suited, leaning lightly on a long barreled firearm.
“Did y’ like that?” the man cackled. “Come on, don’t tarry in this heat. We have to get aboard my wagon before the heat worsens. Come on.” He gestured impatiently.
Bemused, Steg followed as the stranger led him through the jumble of rock outcroppings. As he left the rocks, the man stopped at what appeared to be a long rusty shed, its sides and roof roughly patched with sheets of acrylsteel and other materials in a completely haphazard design.
The old man beckoned. “Come on, it’s far too hot to stay out here.” He climbed up a short rickety ladder and disappeared inside the strange building. Steg was close behind him. The sudden coolness was overwhelmingly welcome. He stood inside the door, almost shivering as the lower temperature replaced scorching heat. The old man hung up his firearm and removed his nondescript desert suit. He was thin and slightly stooped, his skin heavily tanned, his eyes twinkling a brilliant blue with the humor of a private joke.
“Now don’t just stand there. Here, give me y’ pack and sword, they’ll be safe in here. Now get out of that suit and enjoy the cooling system in my wagon. Would y’ like a drink, some cold water, perhaps? Now do y’ have any sun blisters? They need treating straight away otherwise they’ll get infected. I have some lotion somewhere.” The old man disappeared further into the dimly lit interior.
Steg struggled out of h
is desert suit, thankful for the cool shelter. He hung up the protective clothing and followed the direction taken by his rescuer.
“So y’ are the one they marooned on Hellfire?” cackled the stranger. “Must’ve upset someone, eh?”
Steg nodded. He looked around the long narrow room, set up as living quarters. The remnants of a meal were strewn across a small table. Everything was makeshift and in various stages of disrepair. Lumps of rock and unfamiliar items of machinery cluttered temporary shelving and overflowed onto the floor. The old man indicated a small stool.
“Come on, set down there while I get us a drink of water.”
Steg obeyed the instruction, first moving a heavy lump of ore onto an already overloaded shelf.
“Who are you?”
“Old Pete they call me, but Pete is best,” came the reply followed by another cackle of laughter. “Almost forget the rest and no one else remembers. Here y’ are, drink this, slow like, otherwise it won’t do y’ any good at all.”
The mug contained cool and apparently clean water and small beads of condensation had formed on the outside. Steg’s fingers smeared the small droplets as they aggregated and dropped off the bottom of the battered metal container. He drank slowly, restraining the urge to gulp the water quickly.
“What do they call y’ ?”
Steg paused and looked over the rim of the mug at Pete. “Steg de Coeur. Thank you for your water. I was hot out there and walking’s a dry sport.”
“Walking y’ call it? Not very fast. I was watching. Now, Steg de Coeur, who wants y’ and why?”
Steg was brief in his explanation. “I’m from Homeworld, Rimwards. House of Aluta is trying to take over my home planet. I escaped their invasion and that’s attracted company attention. I obtained a commission in the Imperial Fleet and the company retaliated by setting up a court-martial. The Fleet star ship I was on dropped me here, on Hellfire.”
“So they abandoned y’ here, did they? On an Alutan mining planet. Well, y’ have Pete’s help. Mind, I’m so old that may be more of a hindrance.” A cackle followed. Steg no longer winced at the aural onslaught. “Now two of ‘em was tracking y’. I thought to stick my nose in, to see what was getting them all riled. Y’ will be safe with Pete, at least for a while.”
Broken Glass (Glass Complex Book 1) Page 18