by Ronan Frost
The TX android stepped five steps closer, then paused to listen. Its ears filtered out the background noise, but still there was nothing.
Ashian's eyes were wide with fear as he heard the Sunlord approach once more. Ashian blessed the layer of grease upon his skin for it seemed to be cloaking him, but still he wished for a more tangible and reassuring barrier. Now the only thing between him and certain death was a steel box. His large eyes rolled upwards, his lips moving in silent prayer.
The android heard the small sound of air escaping Ashian's lips, and moved immediately to locate the source. He extended a powerful forearm and gripped the lip of a crate.
A sudden crash rang out, shattering the tension in the air and drowning all other noises. There was a splintering of glass and the groan of twisting metal girders, the air concussing with the thump of exploding fuel. The next instant a huge angry ball of flame erupted in the buildings, an expanding mushroom cloud of yellow and black.
The android shifted its attention in a millisecond, its eyes zooming to bring detail into clear focus. Two blocks away a construction tower fell in a blast of fire and shattering flexi-crete, pulling all neighbouring framework down with it.
The TX bolted, its deadly pistol drawn in a flash. It ran towards the disturbance with a new prerogative, the thing behind the crates forgotten. The dust was thick in the air, the TX's running form moving so quickly it seemed almost wraith-like.
Ashian jumped when he heard the collapse and heard the stalking Sunlord break into a run. Relief flooded his mind and, mounting shreds of courage, he peeked over the crate in time to see a red clothed Sunlord disappear between inanimate machinery. The forklift had stopped after moving out of the android's way.
But what had caused the explosion? The concrete slabbing all around became pockmarked with small pieces of debris raining down from the sky.
Ashian grinned from ear to ear as realisation caught on. That must have been the 'distraction' Shaun had promised. He straightened, his attention drawn to the open cargo hatch of the ship. The forklift had also ground to a halt as emergency and pursuit teams rushed past, multiple spotter jets and carrier craft shooting overhead as Avatar switched into alert mode, drawing a closing net that would surely catch the perpetrator.
The currach saw his opportunity and darted towards the huge bulk of the ship. Without Capac's knife he doubted he could break the vacuum seal on the crates, and even if he did he wouldn't be able to fasten it closed again. His only chance of stowing away was to get aboard while Avatar was looking elsewhere.
Ashian ran as fast as his feet would carry him across the open ground of concrete laying between the rows of crates and the landing pad. His battered leather shoes skidded and slipped on a puddle of oil and his face hit the ground. He skidded on one arm then rolled to a stop, laying stunned for a second, recovering and blinking his eyes.
A siren sounded, its wild keening wail growing in loudness. Ashian realised it was an alert siren, and soon the area would be crawling with armed Sunlords. As he picked himself up he noticed the layer of grease had rubbed from his side where he had skidded, leaving a black comma shape on the ground. With sudden horror he realised he could now been seen by heat detectors on the side where naked flesh showed. He picked himself up and sprinted to the ship, doubled over to cloak his naked side.
The cargo ship was so large that it now covered the sun above him, but Ashian took no notice of this. His eyes were fixed on the ramp and the blackness of the interior.
He passed the landing legs of the ship, hurdling the refuelling pipes that lay on the ground. The ship was so high off the ground he could have run underneath its length and not been able to touch its hull.
A second forklift emerged from the ship and trundled down the ramp. Ashian caught himself from running out into its path; a course that would lead him to certain death under the corrugated tracks. He crouched in the shadows, breathing hard, while the forklift moved away and sounds of activity grew louder when trucks and emergency crew hastened to their command posts. Ashian darted up the huge ramp that would have been broad enough for fifty men to walk up abreast, the metal surface looked smooth and polished yet coated in a substance that gave unbelievable traction. The Currach made it up into the mammoth ship and ran into the comforting darkness.
* * *
Shaun took a brief moment to watch the result of his handiwork. The medic tank hit the fuel dumps as he watched and a blast of hot air radiated. He grinned as he was forced to raise a protective hand across his face to ward away the wash of heat. The tank continued on its destructive path; inside two critical wires were twisted together forming the circuit that drove the tank's powerful engine forward with mindless vigour.
Not waiting any longer, Shaun darted around the corner of a prefabricated Hartrias building.
Bringing him face to face with a startled guard.
Shaun reacted faster. His knife appeared in his hand as if by magic, and the next instant it was planted in the Sunlord's chest. The guard gasped, clawing desperately at the dagger with its splayed six fingered hands, falling to the ground soundlessly.
Shaun overturned the large carcass with his boot, overcoming his disgust with curiosity. His survival instincts told him to scavenge what he could. The communicator and relay device clipped to an outside pocket caught his eye, and he stooped to remove it. It would mean he could keep tabs on the Hartrias army's movements if he could manage to figure out the codes. He also took the heavy pistol from the guard's holster, knowing that the few remaining rounds in his Auras rifle would not last long. Before tucking it into the belt of his helicasuit Shaun turned the pistol in his hands, realising it was in fact an Flailer - spitting bolts of electricity instead of bullets. It was a crude weapon but would have to do.
Behind him the last of the fuel ignited and thick black smoke erupted into the air. Even the whipping wind did little to disperse it.
Shaun ran, knowing if he stopped it wouldn't be long before he was caught. He reached a small landing pad upon which rested a yellow five-crew ship used in construction work. It was squat and functional, its hull scratched and beaten but still giving the impression of hardiness.
But what Shaun needed was a jumpship drive that would take him halfway across the universe to the Federation. He just hoped this craft had one.
The explosion had drawn the attention of the robot sentries and he slipped past them easily. He beat at a panel on the hull, triggering the opening of the door.
The robots heard the sound and swivelled with their guns suddenly looking very menacing and deadly. A blast of laser fire sizzled the air as Shaun clambered through the hatch, a wild grin splitting his face. Blasts shot either side of his scrambling form coming scant inches from disintegrating limbs. In seconds an acrid smell permeated the air that made Shaun gasp and choke as he darted aboard the ship and slammed his fist against the control panel.
The hatchway slowly droned upwards and sealed closed. By this time Shaun was already in the control seat and taking in his surrounds. He confirmed that the controls were not unlike those of the tank, and activated the engines.
The retro's whined into life and the craft shook. Its hull was scorched as lasers and rifle fire hailed gouges into it. Obviously the guards letting off all they had.
With a deep rumble the five seater ship rose in the air; spiralling clockwise as the blasts drove into its flank. Shaun pushed the power lever to its maximum and pulled back on the joystick. The quickly blackening ship exploded into the air with a guttural roar and a jet of fire in its wake, shooting almost directly upward with its engine heaving. The craft was made for strength, not speed, and as a result acceleration was frustratingly slow. The huge engine lumbered like a bull as it picked up inertia.
The engine spluttered abruptly as a bullet from the robotic guards found its mark, severing a thick section of fuel cables. A white jet of flame erupted as the fuel line burnt like a miniature flame thrower for a moment before the auto-extinguishers hissed
into life, smothering the flame. Shaun held his breath, urging the machine on. Shaun reactively ducked as an energy bolt ricocheted off the tough viewport, leaving a large black smear and warping the glass. The seat jerked violently as the craft flew through the growing cloud of smoke and dropped through turbulences created by the gunfire. The ship had lost considerable power and it seemed the starboard engine was incapacitated. Only the straining of the remaining thruster kept the squat craft airborne.
Then he was clear. The gunfire halted, and Shaun realised he was away! He levelled out his flight as soon as he was clear of the cyclone and dived to low altitude over the eloprin forests to shake off any pursuers. The construction craft dropped like a brick, picking up incredible speeds as it shot across treetops.
Shaun took a moment to examine the ship he had stolen. A long panel along the right arm of the chair showed the jumpship drive he had hoped for was installed in the ship; almost every craft in space had one - even a construction craft needed one if it was to travel quickly and efficiently.
Shaun glanced at the navigation computer, a small screen off to the left of the panel, and began tapping in digits on the Hartrias keypad. The symbols and language were becoming second nature to him now and a string of characters soon appeared.
The construction craft had no radar and so he was taken completely off guard by the blast that almost tore the ship in half. The horizon spun before his eyes as the ship spiralled suddenly earthwards. Pulling back into consciousness and heaving upon the joystick Shaun was able to righten the craft. He knew immediately that attack craft were on his tail and within seconds he could be reduced to ash by the powerful lasers. He had no time to look around or to even think, he just acted instinctively, knowing a second blast would not be long in coming. He slackened power and the heavy engine whined down to a lower pitch. He shoved the air brake plates open and slewed the craft around before ramming on full power once more, pulling the nose vertically.
The stout craft ponderously pulled upwards, smoke streaming from one engine.
His pursuers rocketed past as Shaun's manoeuvre confused their targeting systems. Shaun caught a brief glance of four streaking ships flash past below in attack formation, recognising them immediately to be Sova-1 fighters. He had no chance of outrunning them.
In the brief respite Shaun focused back on the nav computer. If he could jumpspace out of here, he would be okay. All he needed was a little time to program...
The Sova-1's looped and were suddenly bearing down upon the construction craft, lasers blazing. Shaun did his best to dodge the white-hot and near invisible bolts of energy that filled the air around him. Without electro shielding he was a sitting duck.
He plowed on the power again, but this time it was too much for the massive engine. There was the tearing and screaming of metal as the pistons seized up.
Shaun executed a tight turn, clinging grimly to consciousness as blood rushed to his head. The craft fell heavily, gaining speed with every second. Just as his vision was beginning to fade he pulled out into level flight. At that moment the rear of the craft bucked wildly as another blast found its mark. Damaged beyond repair, the ship hesitated, twisted, then fell.
Shaun's efforts were futile. Grey rock streaked on either side, details blurring with speed. He could not avoid them in time, and the sides of the craft were battered like tin foil.
Shaun beat against the keyboard to enter in the jump co-ordinates. He had bear seconds before he hit the ground and all was lost.
The nav computer beeped negatively, and Shaun spared a glance at the screen. He caught his breath, his mouth falling open when the screen showed a complicated tangle of blue lines representing jumptunnels in the vicinity. He blinked, and out of the confusion saw a pattern in the lines; they were all centred about his location.
Normally jumptunnels were spaced hundreds of kilometres apart in deep space, but here the computer said that every cubic centimetre of air contained millions packed like worms.
Shaun's mind was still spinning when the craft brushed the tops of the towering trees. Branches caught and tried to swipe the craft out of the sky like chubby children's fists. The confusion of the jumptunnels was pushed to the back of his mind as immediate survival took the fore.
The ground suddenly opened up beneath him, to be replaced by white flecks of waves. Shaun realised he must have flown over a cliff, and was now heading out to sea. He was exposed at all sides.
He did best to straighten his ragged craft but to no avail. The four Sova-1's zoomed in, flashing like silver fish. In their wake they left a burning fireball that was Shaun's craft.
Flame started to grow, fed by fuel and wind, until thick smoke filled the cabin. With a white flecked splash and hiss of extinguished flame he disappeared beneath the waves, a rain of drops continuing to hail down and massive ripples spreading over the swelling seas.
Beneath the water Shaun scrambled for dear life, knowing that the pressure seals would soon give way. Already the craft was sinking rapidly, the damaged hull buckled menacingly. He sloshed through a knee-deep layer of salt water, making for the hatchway, fighting the chaos around him.
He took a deep breath, shakily held it, then hit the release button.
His frail form was beaten against the opposite wall as water rushed in to fill the air space. The last of its buoyancy gone, the craft sunk as if a giant hand was pulling it down. Shaun's breath was driven from his lungs, his vision lost in the foam and darkness of the sea. He struggled desperately, fighting his way towards the hatchway.
He almost lost consciousness several times, his lungs devoid of air and craving for breath. Already his brain ached with oxygen starvation.
Then he was out, free of the sinking space craft. He saw it disappear out of the corner of his eye, a dark shadow shrinking into insignificance.
Shaun felt himself rising, but too slowly. His limbs worked to push him upwards, towards the light and the surface.
A sudden dread feeling chained his heart: which way was up? It was so dark, and so cold, it may as well have been the very depths of space.
He just had to hold on...
The Sova-1 pilot pulled back on the slim joystick between its legs, g-forces forcing it back into the acceleration couch as it swung in a lazy circle.
"Amrak three," he reported, speaking into the microphone built into the air mask strapped to its broad Hartrias face. "No sign of target, been gone for two minutes now."
A voice spoke in his ears, crackling with static. "Hold positions..."
"Wait!" burst the pilot, his eyes catching on a movement in the waves below. "Signs of life, low, five o'clock."
The four Sova-1's swooped down like circling vultures over a bloated beast, investigating for any signs of movement.
"Roger that. Avatar reports a rescue team is on its way. Remember, Avatar wants that thort alive for interrogation."
The pilot acknowledged, pulling up from a low sweep that brought the flailing humanoid figure swimming amongst the waves into view, looking like a drowned and exhausted rat.
Shaun gasped for breath, cursing as a wave of hot exhaust hit him. Looking up, he saw a flicker of light as the Sova-1 cracked past.
He trod water tiredly to keep his mouth above the waves, all forms of resistance worn out. He was going to be captured again. He felt betrayed as all he had worked for was taken from him, to be yanked back to where he had started from. He had come so far, had come so close to freedom that he could taste it. Yet in that final moment the jumpship drive had failed on him, sentencing him to certain death.
He knew that this time he may never escape.
The droning of the rescue craft snapped his mind back, sluggish blood now rushing to his head. He saw it fall like speck from the sky, growing closer with every second. Shaun's iron resolve hardened. He couldn't just give up.
He looked around as if seeing his surroundings from afresh, the new sense of purpose like a slap across the face. Could he hide? But where?
; Shaun knew he would have to allow himself to be captured, and wait until his enemy showed a weak spot. Here there was nowhere to run or stand and fight, but maybe later an opportunity would show itself. Until then he would have to make the best use of what little time he had left. Weapons?
Then his fingers found the Flailer, the electric pistol tucked into the belt of his waterlogged helicasuit. He pulled it free and turned it over in his hands, keeping it under the water and out of the sight of the Sova-1 pilots. His fingers worked at the casings, working by touch alone to peel the metal shell away.
His fingers traced over a metallic canister he had exposed, tracing the wires that joined it to the trigger and main housing. He pressed his fingernails against the wires, ignoring the pain as he focused on the job ahead.
Then it was done, and he let the rest of the Flailer fall the ocean floor, retaining only the canister. He shoved it into his boot, making sure it was secure and would be out of sight.
The rescue craft dropped from the sky and landed upon the waves with a whoosh of air and spray of foam as the large rubber skirt expand, allowing the craft to skid over the water like a hovercraft as its massive engines whined to a stop.
They must want me alive, thought Shaun. No doubt the genetics lab saw something worthwhile in his genes, something they may be able to extract and purify and add to the melting pot of the Hartrias gene pool. After hundreds of years of developing such techniques the Hartrias was fast becoming the most perfected race in the galaxy. Perhaps after seeing him in action, Avatar had seen some merit in recapturing her prisoner.
Shaun snarled mirthlessly, thinking he would give the bitch no such satisfaction. He had to wait until Avatar was off guard, thinking she had won. It was a gamble, but he had no choice. Besides, any situation aboard the Urisa could not be worse than the one he faced here.
His mind raced as the rescue craft circled closer, its rubber skirt rippling as it careened over the ocean swells. Already Shaun could see individual crew members standing upon the deck, binoculars raised to their eyes.