TROPHY

by Paul M. Schofield

  Estelle mentally hit the trigger. The ship rocked and shuddered as the last projectile vaporized in a blinding flash, engulfing the ship for a split second. The ship burst through unscathed. Backing the engines down, she breathed a sigh of relief.

  “Tired,” Tommie thought, as he stretched out full-length on the nearest small green hill. His musical tone was subdued and Estelle could sense his fatigue.

  “Rest, then eat,” Estelle thought, directing her emotions to Tommie.

  “Eat,” Tommie thought, his attention recaptured. “Rest, eat.”

  “Good boy,” she said, and flipped the separator switch on, ending the mind-link. She felt her thoughts racing backwards and the golden sun reddening as it set over the infinite green lawn. The lawn had a silver glow in the white moonlight but darkened and glimmered out. A last star twinkled out as the program gently put her down, back to the stark gray reality of the defense cube interior. Her hand stroked Tommie as he lay sleeping beside her. He stretched and purred and fell back to sleep.

  Exhausted, Estelle sank deeply into her padded gravity seat. She tapped in the return control code giving Galen back his ship, absently loosened her harness, and stared at the NAV screens. The PCC ships were all out of range, trailing further and further behind as Galen’s ship raced onward to the Keyhole.

  The Keyhole was there on the screen, growing larger. She would have been more excited to see it but for the deep exhaustion that gripped her, leaving her clammy with nervous sweat. She longed for a shower and change of clothes. Tommie was asleep, not even dreaming. The nearness and timing of the attacking projectiles had been close this time, too close, exhausting them both more than ever before. She was thankful of the results, but even more for the rest and relief from combat.

  “Good work, Stelle!” Galen said, his deep voice booming over the COM system. “I knew you could do it, not a doubt in my mind! You’ll get bonus credits for this one. And give the cat some extra tuna.” The COM system snapped off.

  “I wonder what he really thinks,” Estelle said. She muttered something about being too tired to care, reclined her gravity seat, shut her eyes, and fell asleep.

  “She did all right, and the cat, too,” Terran thought. “Maybe you should trust her.”

  “I have never trusted any woman. If I could find a guider that was a man, I would hire him. But the Empire only trains women because they are the best match for the cats. Estelle is the choice we have. I put up with her and the cat to get the additional protection for the ship. You know I don't even trust our own mother. She tried to brain-wash us with all of this Empire propaganda and her authoritarian control. You are the only one I can really trust. There are no secrets between us.”

  “No secrets, only differences,” Terran thought, his mind flowing smoothly. The placid river of their joined consciousness was clear now, yet deep and mysterious.

  There are differences, Galen said to himself, his thoughts more subdued and cautious.

  Chapter IV

  Rogerton watched the NAV screen in total fascination. She expected the first two mines to be taken out before they could unload their projectiles, but she couldn't believe the speed and agility of Bestmarke’s ship as it dodged, countered, and one by one destroyed the remaining projectiles. “Kolanna. Take us to full pursuit.”

  “Ten seconds to full thrust,” Kolanna said. The computer counted down and the engine surged, shaking the ship.

  Rogerton contemplated the superb handling of Bestmarke’s ship. He must have a guider/pouncer team and it has to be Victorian trained. It was too good to be anything else. But is it a plant or a renegade?

  She switched her computer console to 'Privacy: Commanding Officer'. The micro-shield enveloped her and the console, allowing her to speak privately with the system. “Computer, scan for any Victorian officers that have gone renegade. Narrow the choice to ones trained as guiders within the last standard year.”

  “Two renegade, but no guider training.”

  “Check back two standard years.”

  “Three renegade, but no guider training.”

  “Check back three standard years.”

  “Five renegade, one with guider training.”

  “Give me all the information on the one.”

  “Code name: ‘Star Point’. Renegade 2.75 standard years.”

  “That's all?” Rogerton said. “What's the priority rating?”

  “Priority 50-C1. No more information is available.”

  She knew she was locked out tight on this one. 50-C1 was highly classified. She scanned back five additional years. There were a number of renegade officers but no guiders. Just the one. One in eight years. And she appears on Bestmarke’s ship.

  The COM light interrupted her train of thought and she dropped the privacy shield. “Go ahead, Kolanna.”

  “We are seven minutes from the Keyhole and maintaining pursuit. Do we continue our heading?”

  “Yes, prepare for braking thrust. Keep us a thousand kilometers distant. Are all circuits stable?”

  “Yes, Ma’am. Holding steady.”

  “Kolanna, keep a close eye on the NAV screens. There may be unusual activity soon. One of our cruisers could be near the Keyhole, cloaked and waiting.”

  The Lieutenant-Warden studied the NAV screens herself as she absently caressed the badge by her left shoulder. Her purple tinged eyes were even more pronounced with fatigue and she couldn't recall how many hours it had been since she last slept. Sleep, what a glorious thought. The last time she felt thoroughly rested was two months ago back on Planet Earth. She and her crew were on shore leave, before they were hurriedly called back to duty. Her squadron had been a year in space and all were anticipating a full month on solid ground with real gravity, sweet unrecycled air, warm sunlight, beautiful scenery, growing plants, and fresh wholesome food straight from the productive soil. With the entire planet under weather and climate control systems, deserts and unproductive, inhospitable lands had been transformed into a beautiful paradise of global proportions.

  She loved to visit the New Sahara region with its vast green savannas, dotted with flourishing stands of date palms and exotic tropical plants. A profusion of African wildlife lived and roamed there, many brought back from the edge of extinction to numbers reminiscent of a thousand years ago. Every day brought exciting and entertaining vistas, and each night cool breezes and intoxicating fragrances of night-blooming flowers under a brilliant canopy of stars.

  Rogerton was proud of what the New Victorian Empire had accomplished in five centuries of rule and was content to serve in any capacity that opened up to her, just as her mother and grandmothers had done. Nearly five hundred years of relative peace was the result of the ruling power of CENTRAL, the massive computer governing the Solar System under the watchful care of the Guardians.

  Most of the citizens of this authoritarian government were happy and content, but not all. The Planetary Control Corps was born of necessity to care for those who were not happy, who were discontent, and who fought against the rule of CENTRAL. Men like Galen and Terran Bestmarke would not submit to a government overseen by women, a life of crime was the natural conclusion.

  Bestmarke was now headed for the Keyhole. Every other ship or probe entering it had disappeared, never to be heard from again. What did he and Louis Franelli know about this unusual anomaly in space? Was it a worm-hole to another part of the galaxy? Was time affected when you entered it? Where did you go and how did you return? What does CENTRAL know about this? What did my mother know about this before her ship disappeared? There were so many questions, hard questions, which she had no answers for.

  “If anyone could figure out what the Keyhole was, and how to use it, it would be Franelli,” she said out loud. She cursed the Compu-Court again for its unbreakable rules, and their refusal to recognize his unique genius. He could have been on the Empire's side. She leaned back in her gravity seat, her head resting on the soft upper cushion. A light sleep stole upon her, relaxing her face, so
ftening the hard edges, revealing a tender expression usually masked by concern and duty. The long desired sleep, repeatedly denied, was sweet – but it was not to last.

  Chapter V

  “Louis, are your calculations done yet?” Terran said. “We are three minutes from the Keyhole. I’d rather not go to braking thrust.”

  “Thirty more seconds,” Louis said. He narrowed his eyes in annoyance. The stress of the whole ordeal was showing, intensified by the lack of sleep. Finally Louis’s voice crackled on the COM. “My calculations are done. The guidance system is locked on. Go to fully automatic in ten seconds, on my mark.”

  He counted down the seconds and Terran locked in the ship’s guidance controls to the computer. The Keyhole loomed larger and larger through the front viewing portal, always closed during battle, but now opened to reveal the incredible sight in its grandeur. The pale blue outer cloud was tiny by galactic standards, only a thousand kilometers in diameter. The color intensified toward the middle to cobalt blue, and black in the center with a shape similar to an old-fashioned keyhole ready to receive a skeleton key. The intense blackness of the ten kilometer wide opening was enhanced by brilliant flashes, like lightning bolts in stunning neon-rainbow colors, penetrating into its abysmal depths. The flashes were mesmerizing, like the flames of a campfire that flickered and danced. Shimmering background stars could faintly be detected, twinkling and changing shape, as if seen through a fast moving stream of clear water.

  It took a few seconds to realize the defense alarm had sounded, like a nagging voice calling to a dreamer lost in blissful thought, only to be awakened by cold, loud, sudden reality.

  “Where did THEY come from?” Galen said, his eyes riveted to the NAV screens. He lunged for the shielding controls. “All shield power to the stern! Charge up the weapons! Get connected, Stelle, this is no drill!”

  Galen’s face flushed with adrenalin and anger. He spit out a stream of curses, muttering in disgust to Terran. “They had to come now, now that we’re locked on automatic. I thought we had outrun all their miserable little ships. Where did this Cruiser come from? Is there anything you can do with the controls?”

  “Not unless we abort the Keyhole and override Louis’s calculations.”

  “No way!” Galen said. “I’ve waited too long and invested too much time and money to stop now! We’re not giving up yet, not without a fight! No Victorian cruiser is stopping me!”

  Unlocking the activator controls, he jabbed at the pulse-cannon trigger sending the hot, blue pulses behind them followed by the tight, continuous beams of the hyper-lasers.

  Estelle awoke with a start at Galen’s shouting. Adrenalin-laced blood pounded through her head and chest as she began focusing her thoughts and actions. Waking up Tommie, she studied her NAV screens and felt a chill of apprehension run down her spine. A Victorian Class Cruiser was close, right behind them. They must have come in fast and cloaked. Their shields were holding against the pulse-cannon. It's odd, Estelle thought, they’re not firing back. They want us alive.

  **********

  Strapped in her battle chair on the bridge of the Victorian Cruiser Daniela, Star-Commander Abigail VanDevere smiled as she watched Bestmarke’s frenzied but futile attack. She was thankful their new shielding was holding at full power. A few months ago a barrage like this would have severely damaged them.

  “Lieutenant-Commander Gornect, report on shielding circuits, please.”

  “Holding steady, Ma’am,” she said in her thick Martian accent.

  “Good, good.” VanDevere was pleased. She had been alerted by Rogerton's squadron and now Bestmarke had appeared on the NAV screens of their cloaked Cruiser as they coasted along toward the Keyhole. Having Bestmarke in this position was something she had desired for a long time.

  “Disable his ship. Shut down his engines. I want him and Franelli alive.”

  Gornect pressed the controls and the blue-green beam of the Phase Interrupter Laser swept out toward Bestmarke’s ship. After five seconds, his engines were still glowing and his ship was moving faster toward the Keyhole.

  “Status, Lieutenant-Commander! Why are we not effective against him?”

  “I don’t know, Ma’am. Their shield frequency is unreadable and we can’t lock down on it. It's impossible to focus the Interrupter through his shielding.”

  “Franelli!” The Star-Commander spit out his name like a curse. “How in all of the New Victorian Empire can we deal with him!” she said, fighting for self-control. CENTRAL was desperate to apprehend Franelli. They had updated her orders and now wanted Franelli alive. To follow them into the Keyhole meant risking ship and crew. “Keep the shields up and back off pursuit, Lieutenant-Commander. We will have to wait.”

  **********

  “Why aren’t their shields breaking down?” Galen said.

  “I don’t know, boss.” Louis continued to study his screens. “I’m trying to get readings to analyze it.”

  Galen was speechless at Louis’s nonchalance, staring at him in disbelief. As if to read his mind, Louis fixed his eyes on Galen. “Don’t worry, boss. I’ll figure it out,” he said in his deep voice. He fastened his gaze on Galen until Galen withdrew his eyes. Louis then turned back to his controls.

  Galen sighed to himself and turned back to the NAV screens. He watched the cruiser steadily gain on them, contemplating his next action. Suddenly he said: “They’re powering up! They’re going to fire at us!”

  They all watched the screens as the blue-green beam of the phase interrupter laser swiftly came toward them.

  “What is it?” Galen said.

  “It’s an interrupter type weapon,” Louis said. “It shuts down fusion engines. It would seem they want to capture us. Don’t worry, I anticipated them this time. They won’t get through the shields.”

  Louis had already punched in commands to the shielding controls. The interrupter beam crackled and arced along the shield edge but came no further. After a few seconds the cruiser began to retreat and Galen yelled in delight, spewing more curses at them.

  “They're backing off. We will be safely through the Keyhole soon. We have beaten them again!”

  In contrast, Terran’s calm voice came over the COM system. “Thirty seconds to the Keyhole. Everyone strap in. Set all remaining controls to full auto in fifteen seconds.”

  Apprehension of another kind grew in the minds of all the crew, that is, except Tommie. He just purred as Estelle stroked his thick fur. She wished it were that easy to calm her inner turmoil and fears that the unknown generated. So many ships and probes had disappeared into this anomaly called the Keyhole.

  Her decision to take this employment two and a half years ago had not been easy. As a renegade and a guider her options were limited. The pay was excellent, but there were many unknowns when you worked for a man like Bestmarke. She sighed and tightened her restraint belts. She looked down at her cat, checking his restraints. “You’re not worried, are you, Tommie?” He looked up at her with eyes half-open, blinked, stretched, and continued to purr. He waited for Estelle’s hand to scratch his furry head. He didn't wait long.

  Even Terran was apprehensive as their ship approached the Keyhole. He had been through it before, he knew the procedure, and he also knew the risks. Risks came with a pilot's job but that knowledge didn't comfort him. He watched the screens, expecting them to become erratic, as the ship plunged deeper into the Keyhole. Every move and reaction the ship did now had been programmed by Louis.

  The audible alarms began sounding and the screens showed erratic fluctuations throughout the ship’s circuitry. This time he knew better. Adjusting the controls produced nothing. Just ride it out and don’t touch anything. There was nothing anyone could do.

  The screens gave the illusion of the ship spiraling and tumbling into a great void or tunnel as the G-forces seemed to slowly grow. He imagined the crushing pressure of deep waters, steadily increasing in a never ending abyss. The shrieking alarms were like the groaning of the ship’s titani
um and plastic structure that molecule by molecule was crushed and compressed into nothingness, even beyond time.

  Don't grab the controls, just relax and let the Keyhole swallow them down. Even his thoughts became submerged as he and the others drowned in unconsciousness, falling into deep and untroubled sleep.

  The Black Eagle seemed asleep, too. Its mighty engines were now silent, as it tumbled on deeper and deeper into the abysmal void, into the gigantic and frightening maw of this unexplainable phenomenon.

  **********

  Awakened by her crew, Rogerton watched as the Victorian cruiser, shedding its cloak, appeared on the screen directly behind Bestmarke’s ship. Both ships were far in front of hers and the fire-power coming from Bestmarke’s was impressive. Her ship could never take that abuse. How was the cruiser doing it? The whole scene played out with the cruiser backing down while Bestmarke’s ship sped into the Keyhole and disappeared. She wished she could disappear, too. The Star-Commander will be furious. This was one debriefing Rogerton wished she could avoid. “Continue present course,” she said to her crew. “Take side-dock number three, port-side at the Daniela. That is all.” She sighed and sank back into her seat thinking of uninterrupted sleep that would still have to wait.

  Chapter VI

  Earth Date: 475 N.V.A.

  Location: CENTRAL, Earth

  “I just cannot accept what the future is unfolding. Can all our hard work and that of the generations before us really come to nothing? My heart cannot deal with that,” Guardian III said as she walked along the rushing, boulder strewn creek that foamed and splashed down the tumbling mountainside, weaving its way through the dense hardwood forest toward the sun filled valley below.

  “My thoughts and fears are similar, but we must never give up hope,” said Guardian I. They walked together by the thick ferns and tiny wildflowers crowding the edge of the winding trail. “Our ancestors were at this point more than once. They struggled to give us everything we now have. It seemed impossible for them, too, but they succeeded, as we will.”