The Definitive SpaceFed Trilogy (SpaceFed StarShips Trilogy).: A thrilling, action-packed Sci-fi space adventure. (SpaceFed StarShips Series Book 8)

by Gerry A. Saunders

Arans image came back into view. “Human. You must have left one of your so-called stealth-drones at the wormhole, to know all of this about us.”

  He looked at something to his left. Then, said. “Human, our analysis shows the explosion doesn’t match that of a warp-core rupture.”

  Frank interrupted. “Arans, call me Captain or Frank, but don't keep calling me human.”

  “That's what you said you were. Anyway, continuing, there was too much radiation left behind by the explosion. I think you did this.”

  “I guess I could have,” Frank said with a sigh, as he thought to himself. 'That stealth did well.’

  “I'm getting bored with this, Arans. We don't intend to tell you where our home planet is. I really must be going,” he added. Knowing the bluff was wearing thin.

  Arans grinned, sort of, his face hardly moving. But Frank could tell something had happened.

  Andromeda's voice came in his mind, ‘Two of Tarcan's ships have materialized, making a full en-globe.'

  It was Frank's turn to worry. Six ships were well beyond his or Andromeda's capabilities.

  Arans could still decide to attack Andromeda if he thought he was getting nowhere. Or he could hope that the natural wormhole would somehow re-establish itself, and help would come pouring through. Unlikely, but not impossible.

  Messages of caution were fleeting across his screen. He wasn't sure what to do next. The bluffing game was rapidly coming to a climax.

  He directed his thoughts. 'Andromeda, Tell the drone to use its last torpedo on one of the remaining ships, then get back here pronto.'

  'Done Frank.'

  He knew the command would take a few minutes to get through.

  Should he jump out of this en-globed configuration?

  At least he'd have the aliens one hundred and seventeen million kilometers behind them. They'd soon catch us up, of course.

  ‘Andromeda, kill our comms with Arans.'

  He tapped Ned and Mark's Icons on his secure comms system.

  “Ned, do we still have that extra jump-quota, not facts and figures, just your gut feelings?”

  “Yes. I'm sure Frank. Just, but no more.”

  “Mark, I know Andromeda will say our weapons are x percent down. But can we come out of a short jump in full offence and defense?”

  “Yes. The exit-jump uses less power than the weapons. Therefore, I can use maximum power for the weapons.”

  “Excellent,” he turned to the main screen showing the englobed state of his ship. 'So, it's about to end here,' he thought.

  He was about to order the Prepare to Jump command when he thought he saw two patches; that shimmered for a split second.

  “Andromeda, has the other drone got back already?”

  “No,” came her voice, “it could be seven or eight minutes before the drone returns. Why?”

  “I think we have two drones out there. Scan again now. Are we still transmitting our location-codes?”

  “Yes. Uh. Yes. There is another drone. It's not ours. And yet, it is.”

  “Good-day to you all,” came a voice over their secure comms system.

  Chapter 27.

  Good day to you all.

  Arans and Tarcan, both part of the englobing force, now had to work together.

  “We must destroy this human ship. Now!” Tarcan thundered. “We're wasting time, we can't keep jumping, and hope to be lucky.”

  “I understand Tarcan. But tell me, if the wormhole doesn’t reform. How will you get us home?”

  “You know I can't answer that.”

  “Then let's try once more to talk to these humans. Offer them anything, we can always kill them off after.”

  “I suppose you're right Arans.”

  They were interrupted by a voice override. “Commander, we've just lost another ship at the wormhole location.”

  “What! This is bad Tarcan,” he said. “Anything else?” He asked as if it wasn’t bad enough already.

  “Yes sir, sensors here have picked up more shimmering points, maybe two, but we can't pinpoint them sufficiently to target them.”

  “Damn it. They’re breeding. Try again to hit one. Go!”

  -Ω-

  Franks' heart was pounding. He couldn’t believe he’d just heard what seemed to be a human voice. Then, realizing who it must be, sighed with relief and said. “I presume, you're both from an Earth ship.”

  “Yes. I’m Captain Derrick Patterson of the Illustrious.”

  “I’m Captain Tony Crisp of the Derringer,” came another voice.

  “Come to save our necks, I suppose,” Frank replied and sensed a cheer go through the ship.

  “We hope so. You seem to have a few dangerous ships around you, Captain.”

  “Yes, and they’re pretty nasty as well, believe me. I guess you're using the drone as the link. So, where are you and your ships?”

  “Why, right here!” On the screen’s, Astro map, a point illuminated a hundred and seventeen million kilometers away.

  “We have partial stealth capability, not optical, but better than nothing. We'll send a battle plan and our ships recognition IDs. Meet you when you jump,” chuckled Patterson.

  “And, we've got some goodies for you, Captain,” added Crisp.

  -Ω-

  One of the Crillon ships fired a particle-beam weapon at the shimmering image of a stealth drone but hit nothing.

  Then two more stealth drones, followed by a third, went through Andromeda's force field.

  After a few moments, the human ship vanished. Two minutes later, exiting some one hundred and seventeen million kilometers away.

  Both Arans and Tarcan swore. “I can't believe they've done it to us yet again,” snarled Arans.

  Petar chipped in, “Are we letting him go Arans?”

  “No, of course not. What do you take me for? He's only gone a short distance.

  Prepare all ships to jump in fifteen minutes, he's not going anywhere.”

  “But sir,” Gripan shouted. “If we jump now, we may not have enough quota to get back to the wormhole.”

  “Pay attention Gripan, It's not there! We'll have to sub-light the wormhole back afterwards if it even exists anymore.”

  “I don't like this Arans. It’s not logical to risk everything,” Tarcan said.

  Arans seemed full of rage. “It’s easy! We knock off the back end of their ship and get the information.”

  “Let’s hope you're right,” Tarcan cautioned.

  -Ω-

  Andromeda plunged into Normal-space, accompanied by the three drones. Checking her forward motion, she rotated one hundred and eighty degrees, to be facing the Crillon ships, when and if, they exited jump.

  The two new Earth ships, waiting for them, moved swiftly. One to each side of Andromeda, which was already opening her holding-bay door.

  Within minutes, after dropping her force-field level, two Force craft arrived with the new jump-drive assembly. Once inside, the door closed, and the ship's force field went back to full power.

  Time was of the essence. Crew and service droids worked flat out to replace the drive. Ten minutes passed, and installation was complete. Andromeda then quickly checked the balance and simulated system operation.

  Still, no Crillon ships.

  Frank knew they would come. They needed the information that Andromeda held.

  In the meantime, he took the time to look at the two new ships. They were similar to the Andromeda. However, were slightly longer, and their force field emitter blisters seemed closer together. Most interesting of all, just under the golden bow of the ship, was a huge blister, merging seamlessly into the hull. With the forward end of the blister having a large round hole.

  “An Antimatter beam weapon,” Andromeda said.”

  “Captain, we've picked up warp-field activity. It must be the Crillons. They'll be here in two minutes,” Patterson called.

  -Ω-

  A minute ago Arans had ordered Jump. He waited, scratched his head, then absently took the s
mall snuffbox from his battle suit, opened it and sniffed the contents, then put it safely away and resumed watching the screen in front of him.

  'Exit-jump won't be long,' he thought.

  He would be in one of the boarding parties and was looking forward to killing some of these humans. The boarding parties were already in their battlesuits, which were armored, deadly, and virtually impregnable.

  The clock ticked down. Then suddenly, the six Crillon battlecruisers exited into Normal-space.

  And, into the furnace of hell.

  Arans screamed into his comms. “It's a trap. Independent engagement now!”

  Once, he had known fear, but that was many cycles ago. He flinched, as two of the ships nearest to him flared into a boiling cloud of plasma, and his heart missed a beat as he saw not just one, but three of these infernal human ships.

  'Damn,' he thought. 'There are three of them now. They've got Antimatter weapons, and two of the ships are shimmering.'

  -Ω-

  The two new Earth ships fired their antimatter weapons with devastating effect. Two Crillon warships seemed to melt first as the Antimatter beams hit them, then flared brightly into a boiling plasma cloud. Nothing remained.

  The real battle was just beginning. It took time for both species to re-charge their Antimatter weapons.

  The Crillons couldn’t, until they finished exiting jump. The humans had just fired theirs.

  Particle beam weapons were fired endlessly as the ships tried to overcome each other's protective force fields. Space boiled. Another Crillon ship had force-field failure and was almost severed in half, spewing its unlucky crew and equipment into space, along with a plume of fire feeding on the escaping air. Soon, exhausted of air, the flames extinguished, leaving the wreck gently tumbling away in space.

  Most of the battles were directed by the ships computers; as human responses weren’t fast enough to cope with the almost constant weaving, and weapon’s targeting, that was needed to survive.

  Two stealth drones from Derringer fired their nuclear-tipped torpedoes at yet another Crillon battlecruiser.

  The first torpedo hit the Crillon's force field, causing a flash as it detonated, but did little harm.

  The second torpedo slammed into the same spot and exploded. Overloading her protective screen and knocking out the ship's screen projectors and photon-drive.

  The Crillon ship floated helplessly. Waiting for the final blow, which never came.

  Another Crillon ship suddenly turned around and jumped back to the position of the defunct wormhole.

  Andromeda and the Illustrious concentrated on the last vessel. With particle-beams, trying to punch through. Force fields sparking and crackling at the ferocity of the exchanges.

  Andromeda's screen, being the weaker, began to contract. But held.

  Then Illustrious, with her Antimatter weapon now charged, swung, and finding her target, fired.

  The discharge hit the Crillon battle-cruiser’s protective screen, which instantly collapsed. Causing the ship’s weapons and field emitters to cease functioning.

  Cheers rang through the Andromeda. A few hours before, all of them thought they would be dead by now.

  -Ω-

  Arans staggered to his feet; a burnt smell filled his nostrils, as he realized the visor of his helmet was cracked. Not that it mattered, there was still air in his control room.

  He checked the power trip, reset it, and power returned.

  It only took him a few moments to recover and sit back down again, ready to check the ship's systems and crew status.

  First, he checked what was working. The force field emitters were blown, but his photon-drive was now operational. He was disappointed to find his weapon’s controls were also blown.

  Next, he managed to establish contact with the other seven crew members. The upside being that they were still alive.

  ‘At least it’s not all bad news,' he thought. As his main screen came alive. Then his heart sank.

  Outside, the three human ships hung. Worst of all, they were all pointing their bows at him.

  'Why haven't they just killed me off,' he thought. 'I would have!'

  -Ω-

  The three Earth ships directed their weapons at the wounded Crillon battlecruiser. While, Frank and his team of linguists prepared to talk to the Captain.

  All necessary data, together with the translated information had already been uploaded to the Illustrious and Derringer. And everyone was ready to listen in on the network.

  Contact was established.

  Arans looked startled for a moment.

  “Arans,” Frank said. Looking mildly surprised, as he saw Arans face on his screen. “I thought that we had got rid of you. I'll give you that; you’re a survivor. At least, you were until now.”

  “I suppose you're going to try and bend my mind with threats, human?”

  “I told you once before Arans. You will call me ‘Captain,’ or end up as plasma. I'm your only lifeline home.” Frank firmly told him.

  Arans groaned and reluctantly replied, “I understand, Captain. It won't happen again.”

  “Good,” Frank replied. Knowing he had to sound authoritative, or Arans might think he could play along until he could devise an escape. But that wouldn't happen if he had anything to do with it. He continued.

  “We believe that there are only three options open to us.”

  “And those are?”

  Frank stared at him for a moment. “We can't let you find our planet, after seeing what you've done to others. So, as I said, a limited number of options.”

  “Go on. I don't think I'll like any of them.”

  “True, but life is worth something, don't you think?”

  “That depends on what you are offering.”

  “OK. Option one. We send you back to the site of the defunct wormhole and leave all of you there to rot.”

  “Nice!”

  “Option two. We try to help you get back to your home planet. Six hundred light-years is some distance, though.”

  “How?”

  “We'll come to that later. If we come to some understanding.”

  “You said three options?”

  “I did.”

  “And?”

  “Option three is the easiest, and safest, for us,” he looked straight into Arans eyes, knowing his team were also studying his reactions.

  “We exterminate you. All of you and everything!”

  Arans swore, “Who are the Evil ones now?” he asked.

  Chapter 28.

  Decision Time.

  Frank closed the communication link to Arans. “Conference, please,” immediately, his main screen filled with the images of Andromeda's department heads, followed by those of Captain Patterson of the Illustrious and Captain Crisp of the Derringer.

  “You've all heard my discussion with Arans. I would like your observations and possible solutions.”

  They all nodded.

  “OK. Option one. We send the Crillons back to the site of the defunct wormhole and leave them all to rot.”

  “It would be just our luck if the wormhole reformed and they all came back to us. After a refit, of course,” Patterson voiced.

  “That's certainly a risk. They won't be very pleased with us,” Tom remarked.

  “That's for sure,” Brian agreed. “I'd let them rot, but that's not really in our nature.”

  “Are we all agreed then? Anyone wishing to let them rot. Hit the tab.”

  No tabs lit.

  “We'll take the third option next. The safest, for us. We exterminate them all. Everyone, and every ship.”

  “That may not be so easy Frank,” Crisp pointed out. “They still have a lot of vessels, and maybe a little warp-quota left as well.”

  “It could be a bloody battle,” Mark said. “Most of our weapons and screens, although still functional, are probably down a bit.”

  “I agree with Mark,” Patterson said.

  “OK,” said Frank. “Are we agre
ed, this will be our last resort option? Anyone who disagrees, tap your tab.”

  Again no one did.

  “So, that leaves option two. The most demanding of all.”

  “Throw them a bone?” joked Susanna.

  “Well, perhaps,” Frank joked back, as he tabbed, to see what Arans was doing.

  He was just sitting passively, just waiting. “Won't be long Arans,” he said, closing the communication link again.

  “Option two then. We try to help them get back to their home planet Crilla, six hundred light-years away. But, I haven’t a clue, how we can do it. Has, anybody?”

  After a long pause. Harris ventured, “It's mainly a question of how long their food, air, and so on can last?”

  “We'll ask him,” Frank said and reactivated the link.

  “Arans, how long can your basic life support last, you know, air and food?”

  “About two years. Some food is manufactured onboard, we can also produce air.”

  “OK,” he replied, de-activating the link again.

  “About two years. That's the maximum time they can survive in transit. Solutions anyone?”

  “The new warp drive units we brought, will each enable a one-hundred and sixty light-year quota,” Tony Crisp said.

  “Really? I thought we couldn't go that far,” Frank remarked.

  “There's been a breakthrough. Double growth or something. My quantum theory boys can go over it with us after the meeting.”

  “Tony's right,” Patterson said, deep in thought. “But there are only three warp-drives left as Andromeda has the fourth.