by Drew Wagar
No choices left. The Courier was bearing down on her again, doubtless watching for another mine. Military lasers hit the shields once again. A few more hits and even the SuperCobra would be finished. She locked the destination system onto Tionisla as it was nearer, activated the hyperdrive and watched the countdown. As it neared zero, she pulled the SuperCobra into a steep climb at full throttle.
The Agent could see the SuperCobra was fuel scooping. He was unconcerned. If the SuperCobra witched out, he could follow using the resultant wormhole. Once in range he triggered his weapons, watching as the military laser washed over the SuperCobra’s shields. It ducked and weaved. It was a tough little ship, he had to give it that.
Suddenly it turned sharply and disappeared, leaving behind a telltale blue flickering wormhole. Superheated plasma from the star was sucked in as well, giving the wormhole an unsettling appearance, like a miniature black hole.
Desperate measures. A short reprieve. He’d simply follow and attack again. There was no escape.
He angled the Courier into the wormhole and was rewarded with the characteristic witchspace tunnel. He checked his navigation as he emerged. Tionisla. The pilot had made right choice. It would leave the maximum amount of witch fuel for injecting away. Not that it mattered. The system was irrelevant. He moved to the targeting scanner.
It was blank. The SuperCobra was nowhere to be found.
Rebecca all but swooned when the witchspace transit began. It was as if they were free falling into some uncharted depths. There was an awful sickening sensation and the world felt like it was dropping out from underneath her. It was frightfully different to the normal mild roller-coaster affect normally associated with a witchspace entry. Her vision blurred as she struggled to keep herself upright. The transit seemed to be taking far longer than usual. She managed to hold on, barely.
The exit was worse. It was too much for her. She fainted, collapsing prone across the console, banging her head and then slowly slipping to the floor. As she fell she knocked the wideband transmitter controls, switching them on. A faint querulous clicking noise issued from the speakers.
The SuperCobra tumbled in the darkness. Sickly, pale green starlight flickered from the slowly cooling hull.
Chapter 6
Chapter 6
'… Speculation about the unusual activity in the Zaonce system is growing. Early yesterday morning, Zaonce time, long range sensors picked up significant gravimetric emissions from Zaonce’s sun. Telescopic surveys revealed some kind of unusual solar flare activity had taken place. Later observations appeared to show that the flare was some distance from the sun itself, giving rise to speculation it wasn’t a solar flare at all but rather some kind of explosion. Four Galcop Vipers, known to be in the general vicinity, are overdue and concern is growing for the eight officers aboard. I have with me P’trik Moire, chief astronomer and solar specialist at Zaonce, for his reaction. P’trik, this is certainly unprecedented for any star, do we know what caused it?'
'Well, Anna. What we have here is a complete anomaly. At this stage we are still speculating as to the cause. We have a large solar flare —'
'What about the theory that it was nothing to do with the star?'
'I think that we can safely rule that out. It’s always tempting to let our imaginations run wild, but there really is nothing else that could generate such an extreme surge of gravimetric radiation —'
'And can you tell us what gravimetric radiation is?'
'It’s not radiation per se; in fact, what we call gravity is actually the result of the warping of space-time by the presence of mass, one can speculate as to whether this particular effect is a Higgs-Boson distortion or the more classical Hawking variety —'
'Are we in any danger?'
'More investigation will obviously be required. Zaonce’s star may simply, to use the vernacular, have ‘hiccupped’. Gravimetric radiation doesn’t generally pose a health risk, so we don’t need to be concerned there —'
'So you’re saying we’re safe then?'
'Well, further studies may indicate that over the course of time, with appropriate investigation, health risks may emerge. It would be complacent to say there are no risks at all and a more thorough examination of the evidence may indeed —'
'P’trik, thank you very much. In other news, unconfirmed reports appear to indicate the presence of Federation and Imperial fleets massing near Lave. Galcop reports this is a co-operative effort in response to the increasingly brutal Thargoid attacks on the outworld systems, which, as we know, they’ve been denying up until now. Is this real collaboration or another intergalactic military stand-off brewing? Truth is, we don’t know. This is Anna Mereso, at Zaonce for the Tionisla Chronicle, wideband channel three-eight-five-point-two.'
The Federation Ambassador glared across the mahogany conference table and slammed his fist down hard. Subdued lighting reflected from the laser cut and diamond polished surface of the table. The room was devoid of decoration, sparse and functional. Across from him sat the Galcop and Imperial Ambassadors, both, as was he, decked out in the full regalia of their respective governments.
'Galcop are a bunch of interstellar terrorists!'
He was grizzled old fellow, apparently always in a bad mood, his temper short, and prone to flaring up violently, much like the sun around which his home planet orbited.
'It was merely an accident. A fleet of Vipers were experimenting with a new engine technology. The test failed. A tragic accident.' The Galcop ambassador’s voice was calm as he responded. He was a tall but well-built man, with a full grey beard, neatly trimmed, and green eyes looking out from under bushy grey eyebrows. On primitive worlds he might have easily passed as a wizard, despite the lack of a pointed hat.
'Engines do not give off gravimetric emissions! You’ve built a bomb!'
'It was a by-product of the engine failure. As I said, the test failed.'
The Federation Ambassador flicked his tablet towards the room’s main view, stabbing at the tablet furiously. A fuzzy image of four Vipers being obliterated in a blue flash of fierce light appeared on the conference wall viewer.
Where the prak did they get that footage from?
'An interesting failure!' The Federation Ambassador yelled in his outrage.
'A handful of ships destroyed?' The Galcop Ambassador shrugged dismissively. 'Not significant. As I said, they were destroyed by the failure of their prototype engines.'
'Our scientists tell us this is some kind of cascade device. If you triggered it an area with high ship density…'
How much do they know?
'It was not a cascade reaction. All the Vipers were equipped with the new engine, and hence all were destroyed during the accident. Yes, they triggered each other’s destruction, but any other ships present would not have been harmed.'
The Federation Ambassador looked unimpressed, looking across at the other man in the room. 'You’re suspiciously silent. What is the Imperial position?'
'We admit nothing but mild curiosity,' drawled the Imperial Ambassador, examining his finger tips as if bored. He was a thin, unhealthy-looking man, dark hair slicked back into place, with pale watery eyes, dressed entirely in black. 'However, in the interests of equanimity we would appreciate a complete description and tactical breakdown of this new engine’s capability. If it’s not too much trouble, of course.'
'… or?' The Galcop Ambassador pressed, knowing that tone.
'We might have to consider other avenues of research into the accident. A fascinating technical subject, ‘accidental gravimetric emission’, don’t you agree? Worth investigating thoroughly I would say. I’d even take a personal interest… you never know where it might lead.'
That was so ludicrous it was laughable: the Imperial Ambassador knew nothing of technology. He was a purely political animal.
'Meaning you’ll simply take it by force?' the Federation Ambassador snarled.
'We have no such intentions.'
'In the same way
you had no such intentions to attack our new colony on Rukbat?'
'That was merely a piracy response. McCaffrey and her group of Dragonic raiders had a base there.'
'So you say.'
'What about your Imperial Fifth Fleet, conveniently a mere six-point-eight light years from Lave?' interposed the Galcop Ambassador smoothly.
'Merely a training exercise.' The Imperial Ambassador’s voice was indifferent. 'A battle drill for Thargoid invasions, you understand. A number of warships appeared to slip through Federation space unchallenged once again…'
'If you were more diligent about reporting incursions, we could intercept them.'
'You already knew about them. We leaked the information to your spies days in advance.'
'How dare you imply —'
'I imply nothing; I am merely stating facts. Just as I can state that you also have a fleet deployed close to Lave for some unknown reason.'
The Federation Ambassador spluttered for a moment. 'We… also believe Thargoid invasions are likely… it’s a drill… you can’t be too careful… '
'Oh, naturally; it’s always good to be prepared.'
There’s no time for this.
'Gentlemen!'
Silence reigned for a moment.
'Galcop has stated its position. This was an accident. There is no new bomb technology. That is the end of the matter. Galcop is gratified that your enthusiasm for countering Thargoids remains undiminished, but respectfully requests that you move your fleets to more appropriate locations whilst performing your drills. We are confident our Galactic Navy can deal with any local trouble we might encounter.'
His tone was hard, edgy. The other ambassadors returned his look without flinching. His subtle wording had not hidden the obvious threat he’d made.
Unfortunately, the Federation Ambassador was not a subtle man.
'Not acceptable. You will hand over all information regarding this alleged engine accident…'
'Galcop isn’t in the habit of releasing classified technical research to outsiders.'
'Then Lave will be blockaded until you do!'
'You would dare to invade Galcop sovereign space over this?'
'That and more! In the interests of self-defence! Galcop has broken the non-proliferation treaty. We have our rights under the Sotiqu Directive, article fifteen.'
'We have done no such thing…'
'Much as it pains me to agree with my Federation colleague, I feel compelled to provide assistance. It is disappointing that the Galactic Co-operative is unable to abide by the treaty.'
'This is not acceptable…'
The Imperial Ambassador looked at his tablet console, feigning surprise. 'My word! I’ve just been informed that there is suspected Thargoid activity approaching Lave! In the interests of mitigating this threat I shall have to mobilise our fleet. Unfortunately we may have to block some of the trading lanes… Unless, of course, you have something to tell us?'
'I’m afraid not.'
'A blockade it is then,' snapped the Federation Ambassador.
'Any incursion into Lave system space will be viewed as an act of war.'
'I suppose it would,' the Imperial Ambassador replied, with a wan smile, 'On a positive note, it will give you the opportunity to try out your new bomb again, won’t it?'
The Galcop Ambassador pursed his lips, and rubbed his chin thoughtfully, 'Gentlemen, I don’t think we have anything else to discuss. A pleasure as always.'
The Medivac unit finished its work and sat back idle.
'Radiation damage repaired,' its small vocoder croaked.
Jim Feynman surveyed the figure unconscious on the couch with some trepidation.
He’d awoken, injured, inside the escape pod he’d scooped. He’d been in a bad way. He could only just recall a vague figure emerging from the darkness. He’d been stupid, entering unprepared. He’d tried to contact the occupant of the pod on the narrow band comm, but there had been no response. He’d assumed the pilot was injured and unable to respond; a big mistake. He’d ended up covered in fire goo, a foul smelling ignition suppressant, and dried blood from a cut on his forehead. His chest and stomach were bruised and it was agony when he moved.
Looking around he’d seen the interior of the pod was damaged and smashed. He hadn’t recalled that earlier. It appeared to have happened in the meantime. The pod’s rear door was smashed and buckled. He was able to climb out, albeit painfully.
The cargo bay was a mess. There were huge scrape marks across the floor, apparently caused by the pod being flung around. Crates and their contents littered the floor. It was as if the ship had been involved in a fight.
He’d been dizzy from lack of blood and concussion. Fortunately the medivac unit was operational and he had managed to climb into the couch, lapsing into blissful unconsciousness while it took care of him.
On waking, his wounds and injuries had been fixed. The catalogue surprised him, cranial lacerations, skull fracture, broken ribs. Someone really had tried pretty hard to kill him. They’d almost succeeded.
Quickly he searched the ship, finally ending up on the bridge. There was a smell of charred circuitry. There had definitely been a battle of some kind. The main view was off, but he could see the astrogation compass was rolling wildly, apparently unable to get a fix. He activated the main screen.
Nothing but empty space. No sun, no planet, just faint stars. The hyperspace navigator seemed to show them out in interstellar space. Madness! The SuperCobra was adrift, slowly rotating in space. The computers had shut down everything once they ascertained that no one was at the controls.
The ship had definitely seen some activity. He checked the console log.
Arming sequence complete. Deploy mine?
Arming sequence complete. Deploy mine?
Cancelled.
Identity transfer confirmed. Welcome Commander!
Cargo dump, 1x Escape Pod, ready. Confirm?
Cancelled.
Mass locked. Hyperspeed aborted.
Laser temperature exceeded. Auto shutdown.
Laser temperature exceeded. Auto shutdown.
Coolant levels nominal.
Coolant divert in operation. (Warning: Bypass of primary system!)
Mine circulation system in operation (Warning: Bypass of primary system!)
Missile lock confirmed.
Missile fired.
Arming Sequence Complete. Deploy mine?
Mine launched.
Warning! Ultraviolet radiation detected.Warning! Gravimetric radiation detected.
Warning! Range proximity. Impact in ten seconds.
Warning! Range proximity. Impact in five seconds.
Warning! Range proximity. Impact in two seconds.
Right on, Commander!
Fuel Scoops Active.
Witchspace to Tionisla in 15 s.
Witchspace engine malfunction!
Inactivity. Going to standby mode.
Somebody had almost dumped the pod, with him aboard! Lasers had been fired, missiles had been fired…
Jim was staggered. What in the name of Randomius Factoria had been going on?
A mine had been launched. In system space. In Zaonce. He scanned through the warning messages. Radiation and range proximity? From the mine? Right on, Commander? That was an Elite rating message for a significant number of kills in sequence. Who’d been shot down?
Who the prak had done all this?
Commander Rebecca Tyley
Present System Unknown
Hyperspace System Tionisla
Condition Standby Mode
Fuel 3.2 Light Years
Cash Suspended
Legal Status Fugitive
Rating Dangerous (513)
He discovered the girl under the console. A dangerous fugitive?
She didn’t look too threatening. A petite dark-haired woman dressed in sloppy and grubby engineering overalls. She was lying face down on the floor, also injured, blood seeping from a head wound. Obviously
there was more to her than met the eye. She appeared to have collapsed. For a moment he assumed she was dead and there was another assailant aboard, but a quick check revealed a thin and reedy pulse. He turned her over.
The face was pale, with slight bruising. Her lips were blue, her breathing coming in short raspy gasps. Scattered around her were two pistols. She had to be the ejectee from the Boa, the one responsible for attacking him in the Pod and everything else.
For a moment he was furious, but then he decided he needed answers more than revenge. He dragged her to the medivac unit.
She was suffering from extreme radiation exposure. Not from the mine as was his first thought, but from normal space. The pod must have been damaged by the explosion of the Boa. Its shields had failed. She’d received a heavy dose of cosmic radiation. Untreated, in a few more hours she’d have been dead. Fortunately radiation exposure was a common ailment, and easily fixed by the medivac.
'Radiation damage repaired. Please acknowledge.'
Jim brought his mind back to the present moment. He switched of the medivac and waited. It didn’t take long. The girl stirred, blinked and slowly sat up, looking straight into to the pistol Jim had trained on her. Her eyes widened in surprise.
'Welcome aboard, Rebecca,' he said sarcastically.
Rebecca was scared witless. She’d passed out! Now she was caught by the guy she’d hit in the Pod. This… who was he? The accent was tutored, refined; not the voice of a tradesman or buccaneer. She’d have marked him as an academic, possibly a politician.
'Don’t kill me, please!'
He seemed surprised at that, 'I have no intention of killing you, Rebecca.'
She relaxed for a moment at the sound of her name, before thoughts of slavery ran through her mind again. 'You won’t take me alive!'