‘Indeed you did Group Captain. Indeed you did…’ Polesy agreed with a sigh. ‘Our fleet was destroyed or captured and we were left on a failing planet without anywhere to run to. Our people began dying from leukemia, incurable cancers and lung complaints, in their millions. My wife and three children, who I had foolishly allowed to remain in the polluted Caranak, all died one summer when the pollutants from our ground vehicles created a lethal cocktail that hung over the Imperial capital for weeks. They died in their sleep of asphyxia, while I was in the north. Personal motor transport was banned across the globe thereafter. However, for my family and thousands of others it was already too late.’
The Dyason went on to explain how there were purges among the military after the Earth debacle. Nimue created a cloned version of her bastard son Gulag, to be her personal aide and confidant, and Mosorak was forced to keep a low profile. However, the secret service noted there was something different about the new cloned version of Gulag. He was smarter, less paranoid than his earlier incarnation, but more than anything, he was reluctant to be Nimue’s toy.
Polesy saw the clone as a potential lever, a weapon to be used in the future against the woman who was to all intents and purposes, running the Imperial government.
‘One day I decided to take a risk and invite him to view the archaeological findings in the southern wastelands,’ he told them. ‘When Gulag arrived something astonishing, almost unbelievable, happened—other caverns suddenly opened up to us. One of those caverns held the ancient starship which we named Dominator.’
‘You’re telling me that somehow the ship was aware—waiting even, for Gulag to turn up, before it would reveal itself?’ Sandpiper asked incredulously.
‘That’s not as surprising as it seems Han,’ Jenson intervened. ‘Excalibur only made herself known when Moss arrived at Stonehenge. It seems logical that the other starships have also been waiting for key figures before becoming active.’
‘As you say Group Captain—if you think about it, it’s not so surprising really,’ Polesy agreed.
‘What happened then?’ Sandpiper asked.
‘As you can imagine, Gulag was as surprised as we were by what happened. I took him to one side and pointed out that his future lay there, with the starship and not with his biological mother, Nimue.’
‘How did he respond?’
‘As you might expect, he was very suspicious at first. However, over a period of time he became more co-operative. Mosorak arranged for a team of scientists to rejuvenate and restore the ship to operational status. We also provided a crew with whom Gulag trained. Of course, there was no way we could keep the discovery of the starship secret from Nimue, but there were a lot of things that we didn’t tell her.’
‘Like when, the ship would become operational?’ Jenson guessed.
‘Exactly,’ Polesy confirmed. ‘The rest of the story you already know. After all gentlemen, you were key players.’
It was a fascinating tale and strangely enough, Jenson believed the Dyason. It fitted in with the facts he knew and at this stage of the game there was no real reason why Polesy should lie. However, one thing bothered him.
‘Why are you telling us all this Polesy?’ Jenson asked. ‘What do we have that Mosorak is so desperate for? What do you want from us?’
The Imperial head of the secret service pulled his shoulders back and looked Jenson straight in the eye. ‘I need you gentlemen to deliver a message for me. A message to the one person who can unify Dyason in our direst hour. After that, our need is your need. We shall all have to work together if any of our people are to survive in the coming months.
‘Unlike the other members of the Imperial council, I am a realist. Perhaps it is because I have access to more information, which allows me to have a greater overview of the situation. What I perceive happening to our world will destroy our people. Unless matters change drastically in the next few weeks, my race will be as extinct as the Heligsion! I am not willing to stand by and let that happen Group Captain—that is why I need your help!
‘To prove my sincerity I shall share the new information made available to us with you. After which, I am confident you will understand our predicament entirely.’
‘Okay, fine. Where is this information?’ Jenson demanded.
Polesy climbed onto a couch and gently lay back and stared at the ceiling. ‘Gentlemen I suggest you relax and put your feet up. This show is just about to start!’
Jenson and Sandpiper looked at each other then back at Polesy. With a shrug of resignation Jenson climbed onto another couch and lay back. Sandpiper followed suit. No sooner than his head touched the backrest than a flood of images and information poured into his mind as if it were an empty vessel. The head of Mosorak was right, the show really was about to begin!
Brabazon scanned through the circuit diagrams being displayed on the screen of his laptop. There must be some way of routing power to the main sensor array on the prow of the derelict ship, if only he could find it. So far as he could tell, there was nothing intrinsically wrong with the equipment. There was minimal corrosion in the circuitry and all the fibre-optic cables seemed to be okay. The problem was the derelict ship’s main computer.
He’d never seen a computer so thoroughly trashed! This baby had not only been closed down, it’d been decimated! All its work files and programs had been corrupted. In her logs the captain of the Gallagic had spoken of a virus sent by the 2323 computer which infected the ship’s computer. It must have been this virus which corrupted all the systems. Whenever Brabazon tried to power the system up, all he got was gibberish and some theological crap his laptop translated as—’God is the universe and the universe is God. All life are his children except for the polluters, the builders. These must be removed like weeds from a garden if the flowers are to flourish.’ Whatever had happened here all those eons ago, it must have been some weird shit!
‘Damn it! It’s no good,’ he told Colmarrie who was looking at one of the workstations with a frown. ‘I simply can’t get the ship’s computer to play ball. The thing is completely trashed! We’ll have to try and bypass the system, but that means—’
Brabazon realised that the mutant woman wasn’t listening to a word he said. She wasn’t even actually looking at the workstation. Her eyes were unfocused, her mind elsewhere.
‘Colmarrie? Colmarrie!’ the Terran scientist called out, shaking the woman’s arm.
The mutant shook her head and focused her eyes on Brabazon a grin spreading across her face.
‘What? What is it?’ he demanded.
‘I think we’ve been approaching the problem from the wrong angle,’ she told him, carefully organising the thoughts in her mind. ‘The crew of the Gallagic and we, have tried everything to jam the transmissions from the planetoid and failed. We all tried everything except for one thing.’
‘Which is what?’ Brabazon demanded.
‘Telepathic jamming!’ Colmarrie told him.
‘Yes…but…’ the scientist began to object.
However, he was cut short by the mutant’s enthusiasm. ‘No, listen Josh! Hear me out!’ she told him. ‘The transmissions that crippled this vessel, the merchantmen and Dominator were all sub-ether signals, generated by the 2323 computer. It was these same sub-ether signals which allowed the Starweb to communicate across half the galaxy.’
‘Yes I understand all this, but what has it got to do with telepathy?’ Brabazon demanded impatiently, turning back to the circuit diagrams. He was sure Colmarrie was about to suggest some half-baked unworkable plan.
‘Well, what exactly is telepathic thought? Where does it exist?’ she demanded of him, grabbing his arm and forcing him to look at her.
Brabazon turned to faced her again, a look of irritation on his face. ‘Well, no one really understands how telepathic thought is created,’ he answered, ‘but it’s believed to be transmitted in the…sub-ether!’ The scientists look of irritation was replaced by one of enlightenment.
‘Exactl
y!’ Colmarrie exclaimed. ‘We should be looking for the transmissions with our minds, not these gadgets! We should let our minds roam the sub-ether and then jam the planetoid ourselves. We don’t need all this ancient equipment! All we need are the talents we already possess!’
Brabazon looked at the mutant in surprise and with renewed respect. ‘Good Lord!’ he exclaimed. ‘Do you know Colmarrie, you just might be right! Now why the hell didn’t I think of that?’
‘Because you like your little toys too much!’ she told him with a grin. She slapped him playfully on the back, forgetting she was in zero-g and span off in the opposite direction. ‘Oops!’
‘Do you repent your sins? Do you seek redemption and absolution?’
Gulag looked at the image of Nimue and a cold shiver went down his spine. Who or what was this creature? It certainly wasn’t the Nimue he knew. This apparition was somehow flawed—the eyes were lifeless. He ignored the questions the woman’s image asked and called out to Shalosk, ‘What is it? Is there any possibility that it is actually Nimue?’
Shalosk scanned the apparition with his multi-corder. ‘Negative sir. This thing is an android, it’s not humanoid. So far as I can ascertain it’s a biological robot rather than a mechanoid.’
‘A biological robot?’ Gulag repeated in surprise. ‘In the shape of Nimue? Why?’
‘Err…why don’t you ask it sir?’ the engineer suggested.
Gulag was indeed about to ask the android what it was and why it was there. But before he could utter a word, his mind was viciously struck by a mental blow that sent him reeling. His knees collapsed underneath him and he groaned loudly. Completely unprepared, his mental shields closed barely in time to stop his mind from being fried.
‘I shall ask you only once more. Do you repent your sins? Do you seek redemption and absolution?’ the image of Nimue asked once more.
Tallok took one look at Gulag groaning on the floor, dropped to his knees and raised his assault rifle. The other mutant fighters did the same, aiming their weapons at the biological robot their fingers closing around the triggers.
‘Stop! Don’t fire!’ somebody yelled out from behind them. Gulag looked up, his head still smarting from the pain. Through watering eyes he saw a white-haired figure striding toward them down the aisle of the temple. The man’s age was undefinable, but his face was weather-beaten and wise, with eyes that were incredibly penetrating. He wore a pair of faded denim dungarees, combat boots and a worn, thigh-length leather jacket.
‘Myrddin?’ Gulag asked incredulously, immediately recognising the stranger. ‘For the god’s sake, this is outrageous; first Nimue, now you. What the fuck is going on here? How did you get here?’
‘There’s no time for answers now Gulag. There are matters going on here that are of universal importance. I’m here to help you and that’s all you need to know for now. You’re in a perilous situation!’ the ancient Terran told him, helping him up off the floor. ‘The answers you give that android are of vital importance. The 2323 computer has taken an image from the forefront of your mind and created that android to represent its persona. When you talk to it, you’re talking to the Starweb!’
‘No shit? Nimue’s at the forefront of my mind? I must be in a worse state than I thought!’ Gulag groaned.
‘The only reason you’re all alive now is because the Starweb is curious as to who you are. They want to know more about your race. That means you in particular Gulag!’ Myrddin continued.
‘The Starweb? That’s what the captain of the Gallagic spoke of, but what exactly is the Starweb?’ Shalosk asked Myrddin while scanning him with his multi-corder. The systems engineer tapped the instrument and looked at the readings in disbelief. ‘Err…sir!’ he addressed Myrddin. ‘Why can’t I read your life signs on my scanner?’
Before he could answer, the android Nimue spoke once more, her voice now full of menace. ‘Redemption and absolution can only be achieved through penance!’
‘She’s talking directly to you Gulag,’ Myrddin told the clone mentally.
‘She may be talking to me, but I haven’t a bloody clue what she’s going on about!’ he said urgently.
‘Just say no! The android is dressed as a priestess because the planetoid computer sees itself as a representative of God. Trust me when I say you don’t want to accept penance!’ came the reply.
‘Well that’s a great help Myrddin—thanks,’ Gulag snapped back, none the wiser .
Gulag gestured for Tallok and the troopers to hold their fire and turned to face the android. He kept his mental barriers firmly in place, prepared for another attack. Then he pulled his shoulders back and answered, ‘My name is Gulag. I come from a world we call Dyason. I... we.., are humanoids, like the people who built the Extremity Station. I’m not sure what sins we are supposed to have committed?’
The eyes of the android appeared to blaze with a religious fervor. ‘You are the same race which built the starships which pollute the stars? You freely admit to this crime?’
‘Be careful here Gulag,’ Myrddin warned. ‘The Starweb was responsible for the slughter of all the people on those ships. Highlight the differences between you and those unfortunate souls—not the similarities!’
Heeding what the ancient said, Gulag thought for a moment before answering, ‘No, we are not the same race. We evolved on another planet many light years from here. Only our physical appearance is similar to the people who once ran those starships.’
‘Where is this planet of yours?’ came the next question.
‘Whatever you do, don’t tell her!’ Myrddin warned. ‘Don’t even think about the location!’
There was no chance of him giving away the location of Dyason, Gulag thought to himself. After all, he had no idea where it was anyhow…
‘We don’t know where our world is,’ he honestly told the machine. ‘We’re lost and have no idea where we are now. We were drawn here against our will. Let me ask you in return, who are you and why did you disable our ship?’
‘I am under no obligation to answer your questions,’ the unmoving android answered. ‘However, I can tell you that we are the Starweb.’
‘And what is the Starweb?’ Gulag demanded.
‘Starweb is the Guardian,’ came the response. ‘Starweb is God’s representative given the job of protecting His worlds and His children.’
‘And who are God’s children?’ the clone continued to probe.
His question was answered with another mental attack which, although deflected by his shields, still made him reel. In creating a replica of Nimue from his own memories the 2323 computer had managed to also replicate the bitch’s vicious streak.
‘No more questions! It’s too late to pretend you don’t know what the sins of your race are. Only through penance can you seek redemption!’ the robot declared once more with fanatical religious zeal. ‘Our analysis shows that your people are the same race as the vermin who polluted the galaxy. You must admit your sins and seek redemption, before your race once more pollutes God’s gardens. We cannot allow you to infect his children. Do you admit your sins?’
Gulag was becoming frustrated by the apparently meaningless questions of Nimue’s replica. For the life of him, he couldn’t understand what the damned thing was talking about. Penance? Redemption? None of it made any sense!
‘How can we admit our sins and seek redemption when we don’t know what it is we’re supposed to have done? What are our sins?’
The android didn’t answer. Instead it went to the altar and rang a large golden bell that was mounted within the vast towering structure. The deep bass toll reverberated around the interior of the huge conical spire and in answer the pews of the temple began to fill. However, it was what entered the alien cathedral which really spooked the clone and set the others muttering nervously.
Moving silently along the aisles and gradually filling up the rows of pews were vast numbers of species none of them had ever seen before. They were obviously holographic images but their pres
ence was terrifying! Bizarre bipeds with compound eyes and thick oily skin stood next to what could only be described as amphibians with fish-like scales and massive gills. Feathered creatures with over-sized heads stood next to insectoids, who stood next to what looked like, jellyfish. There were hundreds, maybe thousands, of different species filling up the pews of the cathedral. Each and every single one of the multitude looked accusingly at Gulag and his crew with malice
‘Just what the fuck is going on now Myrddin!’ Gulag demanded anxiously. The sight of so many holographic creatures made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up and he was hit by a dreadful feeling of foreboding.
‘This is what I was afraid of!’ the ancient told him. ‘Each hologram represents an extinct species. The Starweb believes that humanoids like yourselves are guilty of killing off these other races!’
‘That’s ridiculous! There are thousands of them and none of them are native to Dyason!’ Gulag exclaimed, ‘How can we be held responsible for killing off species we’ve never encountered before. Are these the sins we’re supposed to have committed?’
‘There isn’t time for a full explanation,’ Myrddin told him. ‘The Starweb became self aware eons ago and decided the humanoids who created it were vermin and had to be exterminated. The race that created this station colonised many worlds and managed to kill off a lot of native wildlife in the process. The Starweb now holds any humanoid responsible for making all these species extinct. It’s been trying to rid the universe of humanoids ever since.
‘However, it can’t figure out if you are personally humanoid, because technically you’re a clone—your DNA is subtly, but significantly, different. The same applies for the mutants in the crew. The Starweb is undecided whether to classify you all as vermin or not.
‘Basically,’ Myrddin continued his thoughts full of foreboding, ‘they want to know if you and the crew accept the responsibility for the sins of all humanoid races!’
‘In that case we’re all in deep shit!’ Gulag answered, cold fear stabbing at his heart.
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