The Great Talisman (Intersect Book 2)

by M C I Hinchliffe

  With the Rebel platoon on the defensive, Katie and Sabastian stormed from behind their cover and to a better advantage point to the left. Not far from the step down to the lower level where the Rebels were now cowering was a wall that extended under an equivalent walkway on the left. Katie and Sabastian used the wall as cover as they completed the cross fire effect Sarah wanted to achieve.

  The cross fire rained down upon the platoon with a devastating effect and their numbers were quickly diminished. When the last Rebel was cut down, Sarah jumped from the second level down to the lower level, and charged at the transport.

  “She is going to get us killed.” Sabastian spat before he left Katie and went after Sarah.

  “I think your right.” Katie said to herself before activating the comlink. “Send in the back up.” She then stormed off after her colleges.

  **********

  From the bridge of the transport, a metallic face peered out at the defeat of his troops. His shiny silver skin mirrored the lights of the bridge and the menagerie of colours of the flight console that dominated the bridge. Within the face were two ruby coloured mechanical eyes that gave an insight to the coldness of the organic mind behind them. About the mechanical body was a long black robe that was more relative to the soul within than the shine from his metal skin.

  Since the unwelcome arrival of the intruders within the installation, he had listened with great interest to the communications between them. One of his latest inventions was a device that could tap into and decipher the comlink used by the Intersect forces. This device aided him greatly when avoiding detection from Intersect. There was one thing that he really yearned to know, and that was the identity of the intruders.

  He pointed out at the figure than jumped down from the second level and said to the ship’s captain, “Now that little vixen is General Sarah Everly. Don’t let her sweet looks deceive you, she is extremely dangerous!”

  The captain glanced at his commander and wondered why he was telling him this. All he cared about was stopping them from boarding his vessel.

  “The fellow is just a fighter pilot. He is of no consequence. But the other....” He paused as he clenched his metal fist. “Now she is very special indeed. Behold the answer to greatest riddle of all. How to stop the Warrians!”

  The captain was curious, “How can she stop them?”

  “Colonel Katherine Mitchell is Williams’s concubine. With her in my possession, Williams will be a puppet for me to play with.” He paused as his cold eyes narrowed. “Yes, she served me well enough before, and she will serve me well again. Only this time I will go to the source of the problem. This time, I will not fail.”

  “Mr. Bane?” asked the Captain. “They are about to board us. We must stop them.”

  “No!” His metal hand struck the captain square on the face and he fell to the floor of the bridge. “Mitchell must not be harmed.” He turned to the crew member at the helm. “Prepare to launch.”

  The Captain looked up at Bane as he wiped away the blood from his lip. “But there is only three of them. We could blast them easily.”

  “You are a fool. A strike force will be here any moment. We launch now!” He turned back to the intruders that were about to disappear out of view under the transport. “Yes my dear, the time has not yet come for us to meet again. But soon, very soon.”

  **********

  The engines of the transport filled the installation with their distinct whining sound as they generated the required gigawatts of power to initiate the fusion power source. In moments, several gets of super heated plasma were about to jettison upon the three intruders.

  “Sarah, Sarah stop!” Sabastian called. “They are about to launch!”

  The access ramp slowly raised from the floor of the installation as Sarah sprinted to reach it in time. When Sarah reached where the end of the ramp met the installation floor, she was too late. The end of the ramp was already joining the belly of the transport some ten metres above her head. “Come down here and fight ya cowards!”

  “Sarah!” Sabastian called as he ran up to her and began to pull at her injured arm. “We need to be somewhere else, now!”

  “Bane!” She cried out. “Get your metal ass down here and fight like a man. Or did the Admiral forget to build you a spin?!”

  “Sarah, come on!” His persistence finally got through as she began relinquish.

  “Hope you rot in hell, whatever there is left of you!” Slowly at first she backed away, then with a firm tug from Sabastian she ran with him away from the transport.

  On the way they met Katie who was back stepping with her attention on her colleges. “Move it!”

  When they reached the two metres high step to the upper level, the dove up and onto the upper floor. Great bursts of matter expelled from the belly of the two hundred metre long vessel showering the lower level in superheated plasma.

  As the transport raised from the floor of the installation, two great semi-circular doors opened above. At ground level, the deserted football field split in two and opened up to reveal the installation below. Along the edges of the doors, grass and two metres of soil were uplifted until they were vertical to the ground below. Gracefully, the transport and its crew of two hundred rebels left behind their home of four years.

  Katie raised her head from the floor and watched the transport disappear out of the great opening above. She pressed a button on the comlink on her arm and said, “Cancel the backup and send in the cleaners. Elvis has left the building.”

  Sabastian looked at Sarah and asked, “Are you Okay?”

  Sarah leered at him. “Of course I’m not okay. They got away!”

  “I’ll take that as a yes.” He turned to Katie. “How about you?”

  Katie looked about the installation and replied. “Yes, if you can tell how I am supposed to cover all this up?!”

  THE WARRIANS RETURN

  April 29th 2001

  In the cold darkness of deep space, a rare phenomenon disrupted the black continuum. From the phenomenon, spirals of dense matter were spewed out from fiery tentacles, then cooled and dispersed as their atomic structure recovered from their arduous journey. The phenomenon was a white hole, the exit point of its more destructive brother, a black hole. Nearby, a man made sentinel stood silently as its dark grey, ceramic surfaces mirrored the intense upheaval from the overbearing white hole. Although the sentinel spanned two kilometres across, its spherical construction was dwarfed by the phenomenon that its occupants surveyed. The Surveillance Battle Station Sydney, was constructed for the purpose of monitoring the white hole, and repelling any hostile travellers using the hole as their mode of time and space transport. For six years the Sydney awaited its foe, but none came. Eventually, the crew was reduced to a skeleton staff as automation took control.

  Only two crew members presided within the spacious bridge of the Sydney performing their tasks as they done day after day, week after week, month after month.

  Weapons Officer Lieutenant Denise Lawson, sucked in a gulp of air and yawned as she stretched her arms over her head. After she was satisfied with the stretch, she slowly rubbed her thirty year old brown eyes with the palms of her hands. Captain Warren Briggs, the commanding officer of the Battle Station, approached from behind carrying two cups of hot coffee. One of the cups he handed to Denise. "This’ll keep your eyes open." He said as his middle aged face broke into a smile. Warren was of average build with resending brown hair and hazel eyes, and was in contrast to his youthful colleague.

  "Thanks Captain." Denise replied as she took a sip of the steaming brew. "For three months I've sat through the graveyard watch, I really can't take this anymore."

  "The coffee is my own special brew. It's strong enough to wake the dead." Boasted Warren.

  "What's the time?" Denise asked.

  "Five am."

  "Oh God! Two more hours of this monotony. We'll soon find out if it does wake the dead, because I'm sure I'll die of boredom before the end of this shi
ft." Denise dropped her head in her hands, then ran her fingers through her long black hair. With a sarcastic tone Denise continued. "Join us she said, help save the world from destruction she said. Well the other option of dying in a car crash doesn't sound so bad anymore."

  "I don't know why we bother to continue surveillance. It's been six years since we kicked their scaly arses. If they had the guts to show their ugly faces again, they would have done so long ago when our forces we still recovering from the war." Denise concluded as she sat back in the chair and ran her fingers through her hair again.

  "I agree, but the Admiral seems to think otherwise." He said as he sipped his coffee.

  "How long did the Chief Engineer say it was before we're fully automated?"

  "Two weeks."

  "That's fourteen more graveyard watches I have to survive through. You know, I've read every book and magazine I could get my hands on, including fishing magazines." She looked at Warren. "I hate fishing! I think it is the most boring sport there is, and there's me reading about it for god sake. I swear I'm losing my mind! Sometimes I find myself wishing for the Warrians to return."

  "Don't even think of it." Retorted Warren. "They nearly got the better of us last time and even then we had the element of surprise. If they do come back it will be in force, and they'll be ready for us." He gazed through window at the white hole and a shiver travelled down his spin. "War is the closest thing to hell there is, and I never want to live through that experience again." As his attention returned to Denise, he found that she was staring at a red warning light that was flashing upon the large console before them. "What is it?"

  "It's the ultraviolet scanners." She pressed a number of buttons and examined the readouts. "There seems to be a seismic disturbance in the hole's ultraviolet emissions."

  "Anything else on the other frequency bands?"

  Denise checked the other scanners and found nothing out of the ordinary. "Everything else looks clear. It's probably nothing."

  Warren's memories of the battle came flooding back and his warrior instincts were revived. "I'm not taking any chances, raise the shields. We're going on yellow alert until we can identify the anomaly." He moved to the lone chair in the centre of the bridge and sat down.

  Denise's hands dashed over the console and reported her progress. "Shields raised, yellow alert Captain."

  The bridge was flooded with yellow light and numerous control panels came to life and omitted sounds of functioning activity. Three crew members wearing the light blue uniforms of the bridge staff appeared from the bridge access door and went to their appointed consoles. The crew member nearest Warren asked, "What's up Captain?"

  "I don't know yet." Heart beats raced in synchronisation with the Bridge's electrical activity, while minds ran through procedures and tasks in preparation for a possible battle.

  For a moment, all was still. The false calm tore at Warren's nerves causing him to squeeze the arms of the helm chair.

  Denise’s voice broke the calm. "There's still no sign of any abnormal anomalies from the other sensors. It could be just a natural fluctuation that we haven't experienced before."

  "Could be, but we are staying at yellow alert until we've nutted this one out." He then said quietly to himself, "I've got a bad feeling...."

  A mighty tremor shook the Sydney and all the crew that presided within her. Warren's fingers met pain as their tight grip was loosened and a numb sensation shot up his spine. As quickly as the violence struck, it subsided.

  Warren turned to Denise. "Natural fluctuation my ass! You can cancel those two weeks of boredom. Hell has just opened up and took a bite out of us." He turned to his left and spoke to a young man at the communications console. "Lieutenant Collins. Get the Endeavour on the blower." His gaze returned to Weapons Officer. "Can we get a lock on whatever it is that's firing on us?"

  "Negative. It's impossible to lock on an ultraviolet emission." Replied Denise.

  Another quake inflicted the Sydney's hull. "Then take a guess." He ordered in desperation.

  "Captain. All frequencies are being jammed." Cried Collins.

  Warren's grip upon the helm chair tightened as another tremor struck.

  "Megawarhead torpedoes armed and ready. Sector six niner is a possible location of the enemy vessel."

  "Fire!" Commanded Warren.

  A bright flash of light expelled from the surface of the Sydney and shot out into deep space.

  "Missile has missed target. Sector five eight is another possible location of enemy vessel."

  The Battle Station quaked again. "Shields down seventy percent. Another direct hit and we will sustain permanent damage." stated the Systems Officer as she monitored her console.

  "Second missile away." Again the bright flare of the missile's exhaust dashed into space, but this time it found its mark. A large fireball erupted upon an invisible target. "We have a hit!"

  Time was running out and Warren's desperation was paramount. "Launch everything we've got into the sector."

  The Sydney was struck again and this time the Bridge crew were dashed violently and Warren was flung from the helm. Several pressure valves expelled over compressed gasses, as sparks flew from a number of electrical bulk heads. The Bridge crew regained their composure as Warren returned to the helm. "Damage report." He demanded.

  "Shields depleted, major structural damage to levels nine through to twenty. All northern hemisphere missile launchers have been destroyed including the main battlements."

  Warren looked over at Denise as she confirmed his worst fears. "We're sitting ducks."

  Anger and despair ruled his mind as hope faded. He turned to the Communications Officer. "Launch the distress beacon, Corporal." Warren stood from the helm as he reluctantly spoke. "Prepare to abandon ship."

  The view of the white hole began shimmer then distort and finally a massive vessel became the dominate feature of the scene. The crew stopped in their tracks and were mesmerised by the apparition. It was Denise that broke the silence. "What is it?"

  "It’s of no Warrian class that I'm familiar with." Warren stated.

  The structure resembled a giant manta ray with great wings that extended beyond the limits of the window and two protrusions that drooped from the sides of the bow, like the ears of a dog. From the bow, a small aperture opened, releasing a fiery projectile that headed directly for the bridge. A heartbeat later, the Sydney was struck and the resultant forces tore her superstructure in two. The Heart of the Sydney went supernova sending violent shock waves out into the coldness of space.

  FELLOWSHIP OF THE PARAMOUNT

  The barren surface of Mars surrendered a cloud of dust to the invading alien craft as it cautiously landed. Creeping below the horizon was the brilliant sun as it bathed the orange rocky terrain in a blood red. Opposing the Sun's spectacular display was the silent twinkling of countless stars as black steadily conquered the blood red wash. The highly reflective fuselage of the small craft mirrored the sky and ground, blending perfectly with its harsh surroundings. If the Martian atmosphere was capable of transmitting sound waves, the hydraulic hiss from the opening canopy would have disrupted its dead silence. A lone figure emerged from the craft and leapt to the dusty ground. His armoured flight suit that shielded his body against the deadly atmosphere, reflected the blood red landscape the same way as his vessel did. Hiding his face was a visor that reflected none of this colourful world. Instead, it was as black as the night that crept over the heavens.

  He reached to his left arm and pressed a sequence of buttons on a small control panel. In a flash of bright white light, the shielding suit disappeared leaving the figure bare to the elements. Two vivid blue eyes stared at the wondrous landscape from a lightly wrinkled face. His light brown hair vaguely reflected the sunset, while the flecks of grey that invaded his full crop of shoulder length hair had changed to red. His forehead, that had recently began to grow in surface area, was as successful in reflecting his environment as his hair’s grey highlights, b
ut the number of fine creases that inflicted the smooth surface foiled the potential of a continuous red matte. Two lines in his face had steadily grown in depth over the years and travelled from the corner of his nostrils to the sharp edge of his still strong jaw line. Despite his age, he was in peak physical condition and only the onset of fine wrinkles and greying hair gave an insight to his true vintage of thirty nine. The only protection for his muscular frame against the deadly elements was a silver uniform that bore the bars of an Admiral. Magically, his body stood defiant to the deadly gasses that he breathed, and totally immune to freezing cold that assaulted his warm skin. Upon his strong wrists were two golden bracelets that shone as bright as the sun.

  He stretched his arms out horizontally to his sides and clenched his fists like two hammers, then closed his eyes as he maximised his concentration.

  A slight breeze formed blowing his wavy locks from the back of his neck; quickly it gathered strength. Soon the breeze had become a windstorm that ripped over the landscape stirring up a massive wall of red dust. The wall impacted with his body furiously bustling his uniform and hair. Like fine rain impacting on a tarpaulin, the tiny particles stung his face and hands bringing the first sound to his ears since landing on the barren planet. His body transformed from an inert object to a powerful electrode, compelling great bolts of energy from the dust storm and the planet surface to discharge through him into the golden bracelets upon his wrists. The surge of tectonic power that infiltrated his body caused him to shin like a small star as his limbs struggling to maintain balance as the onslaught continued. Finally, the spectacular light show ceased and the windstorm weakened to a gentle breeze.