Children of the White Star

by Linda Thackeray

  “Surprise, surprise,” Flinn muttered under his breath. He reached the corner just as a pipe burst, spewing steam after being hit by a blaster bolt.

  “Where's your father?” he demanded when he reached Hannah and saw Aaran wasn't with her.

  Hannah had been watching Flinn so closely she didn't notice that her father was slipping away. The realisation that he was gone sent her into raw panic.

  “I don't know!” she exclaimed in horror and retreated up the passage they had just come down. “He must have gone back to see if there was another way out!”

  Flinn overtook her in a number of strides. He rounded the turning corridor just as he was fired upon again, this time from the direction Aaran had gone. Hannah let out a startled cry as she stumbled backwards, scrambling to safety. As Flinn remained on his knees, he saw Aaran firing frantically down the steamy aisle. While he couldn't see who the former science officer was shooting at, it wasn't hard to guess. Worse yet, it meant they were cut off in both direction.

  Aaran dropped to his knees, narrowly avoiding the shot that flew above his head and struck a piece of machinery. As the energy burned through the steel, Flinn heard the disturbing sound of metal groaning from the assault. A large jet of plasma spewed down the passage. It created a chain reaction that caused emergency venting from other pressurized systems to erupt in a fiery ball of fire. Aaran had enough time to register what was happening before the flames reached him.

  The roar of the fire eclipsed any scream he might have let out. Flinn saw the faint outline of a body encased in fire, struggling momentarily in agony before disintegrating all together. It took place in seconds, before the fireball raced towards him and Hannah. Without thinking, he grabbed her and got clear before the flames could reach them.

  “DADDY!” Hannah squirmed free of him when it was all over and the smoke had cleared, trying to reach her father in a futile effort. Flinn pinned her against the wall and she glared at him in almost feral rage. “Let me go! He's still out there!”

  “Hannah, he's gone!”

  “No he's not!” she protested and started fighting him. This time, Flinn's grip was stronger and he dragged her away from there. He did not want her to smell the stench and know it was the remains of her father's flesh she was breathing.

  “It's too late, Hannah!” Flinn tried desperately to convince her again. “I'm sorry.”

  “No, you're wrong!” she answered defiantly, but her voice wavered and her response felt like a sob.

  Flinn shook his head and as it sunk in. She ceased struggling and started to weep. Her entire body shook in anguish and there was little he could do to ease that pain. In the background, he could still hear the cries of troopers caught in the fire and remembered that there were more of them on the other side of the corridor. Once again, he was going to deny her grief.

  “We've got to go,” he urged, wanting to take her from this place. He did not want her to look down the passageway and see what remained of her father. He wanted to spare her that.

  “Not the both of them!” she wailed, “not the both of them!”

  He didn't know what to say, so he remained silent and led her away, searching for another way out, even though they were trapped on both sides.

  Even as he said that, Flinn was starting to wonder whether it was simpler to just surrender. This was not his fight. It was not even hers. He was here because of some misguided loyalty to a friend. Was any friendship worth what he had seen these past hours?

  Did Garryn know what price his plan had cost?

  XXXI

  One Last Time

  Time was running out on him.

  As the General stood on the bridge, trying to orchestrate the recapture and murder of the Prime, the master of Security Elite was gripped with a feeling of futility. All his life, he'd controlled his fate like a god. A life lived with such certainty had its disadvantages, of course: the lack of challenge and surprise being the most common. Still, it was a small price to pay.

  Twenty-three years ago, all this was so simple.

  There was little need to grapple with his conscience at the magnitude of what he had done. He was not an evil man by nature, but he was ruthless, like the slar that kills to protect its cub. Edwen killed to save Brysdyn. The reason seemed so noble then. The world as he knew it was on the brink of extinction and he had to save it.

  The decision to sacrifice one world among billions in the universe did not appear so terrible. Yet as he looked down onto that pale blue planet, what he remembered most about it was the voices. The communications centre of the ship had been almost drowned in the frantic energy of multiple broadcasts in every frequency conceivable. Military signals, civilian entertainment, infant attempts at interstellar communication, they had been there.

  As a grim reminder of his crime, when the Dragon's Eye took orbit around the planet, the communications channels opened found nothing but cold static. There were no noises, no primitive chatter or strange music. It was the silence that drove home to him the magnitude of what he had done.

  “General,” Jemyn's voice snapped him out of his thoughts. “We have some further news.”

  “What is it?” Edwen replied wearily.

  “We've just found the body of Trooper Nyall.”

  The name did not sound familiar. “One of the assault teams assigned to recapture the prisoners, I assume.” Edwen met his gaze without much interest.

  “No Sir, Nyall was one of the prisoner's escorts.”

  Edwen looked up sharply. “He is dead?”

  “Yes Sir,” the commander answered. “His body was among the dead involved in the fire fight in Sector G.”

  “Near the landing bay,” Edwen remarked. That would make sense. Garryn and his group were trying to reach their ship. Sector G was in the path of the most direct route. Jemyn looked uncomfortable and Edwen wondered what was it he was finding so difficult to say.

  “What else, Jemyn?”

  “It was what the trooper was wearing, General.” He met Edwen's gaze.

  “Well out with it!”

  “General,” Jemyn swallowed. “He was wearing the prisoner's clothes.”

  Edwen's eyes flew wide open.

  * * *

  Garryn had never thought he would get this far.

  While Flinn and the others were causing pandemonium at the other side of the ship, he was moving through the ship unseen. No one was paying much attention to one Security Elite guard working his way towards the bridge. When he first proposed the idea, it was more of a last ditch effort to save their lives rather than a genuine plan capable of success. Even a foolhardy attempt at escape was better than nothing at all.

  Judging by the number of troops running down the corridors and the frantic evacuation of non-combat personnel from key areas of the ship, it was working. Flinn was leading the Elite in the opposite direction, while Garryn continued towards the bridge. He prayed Flinn could keep one step ahead of the guards.

  Initially, Garryn had hoped it would be a simple matter of getting to the bridge and carrying out the next phase of his risky plan, but the Dragon's Eye was not a freighter. She was a dreadnought class warship almost four miles in length, with ten decks and a maze of corridors and passageways that seemed to run on forever. As he neared the bridge, the traffic in the corridors increased and he kept his head down, hoping he was not discovered.

  As the two officers walked past him, he picked up snippets of conversation. It was difficult to focus with so many voices chattering around him. Still, Garryn managed to hear some of their words before they moved out of earshot.

  “They found another one of the bastards in Sector G,” one remarked.

  “Really? That makes two, doesn't it? The first one took out half a dozen of our security boys before they killed him.”

  “Yeah, except this one was a woman.”

  Garryn froze at the statement.

  For a moment, he could not move. Only when he saw a few heads looking at him in question, did he for
ce his legs to move. Under the faceplate, he closed his eyes and tried hard to force away the pain threatening to overwhelm his being.

  Two of them are dead? Who?

  He wanted to scream, kick, and express some of the fury surging inside him. Garryn felt sick to his stomach knowing that, once again, he'd failed to protect his friends. Was he capable of protecting anyone who chose to help him? First it was Mira and then Jonen, followed by Vyndeka and all those on board the Asmoryll. Who was it now? Who did he get killed now?

  Maybe this was a trick, something to distract him. Perhaps they knew he was coming and they were trying to force him into exposure. During his final approach to the bridge, these were the morsels of hope to which he clung. When he finally reached the bridge, he knew the Weaver was nowhere that kind. Two of his companions were dead and, if he was going to save the others, he needed to focus.

  Damn you, Edwen, you're going to pay for this, Garryn swore inwardly.

  * * *

  His rifle felt hot in his hand. The temperature of the metal had been rising steadily for the last hour, but now it was becoming uncomfortable to hold. As it was, it was becoming increasingly difficult for him to aim with any accuracy, but that was the least of it. Very shortly, he would be unable to keep his grip on it at all.

  Flinn knew the signs well. Overheating was only a symptom of a larger problem. The rifle was drawing every particle of energy left within its power coils to fire and there was simply nothing left to tap. Very soon, the weapon would be dead in his hands and he would have nothing but a single hand blaster to fight off the latest batch of troopers.

  They made it off the maintenance deck by squeezing into an air vent to avoid the troops closing in on both sides. It took them close to a steel stairway leading to the landing bay.

  “This is it,” Flinn said to her.

  Hannah studied him for a moment and saw the sweat on his brow, the bruises on his skin and redness of his hands where the heat of his rifle blistered his palms. While he didn't appeal to her the way Garryn did, there was nobility in him that countered his swaggering bravado. Looking into his eyes, she realised they were not going to make it off this ship.

  After living on a war-ravaged planet since the day she was born, death did not frighten Hannah very much. Her mother told her once that death was a passing to a better place and was something to be looked forward to, nor feared. Losing her parents meant if death took her, they'd be together again all the sooner.

  “Thank you for what you've done, Flinn,” she said softly, understanding this was the time to make such declarations.

  Flinn didn't protest at what was essentially a farewell speech, because the situation warranted it. “I did what I could. I wish I could have helped your family more than I did. They were brave people.”

  “You did everything that you could,” she said softly, wishing that she was as strong as she was trying to sound. “You saved my life.”

  “For what it's worth,” he said with a grim smile.

  Hannah returned it. “Shall we?” She looked up towards the stairway and the light that beamed from the powerful illuminators in the landing deck above bathed her face with a determined glow.

  “They'll be up there you know?”

  “I know. Let's go anyway.”

  At that, Flinn straightened up and reached for his blaster. He tossed the rifle aside. It would do him little good now. Taking her hand in his, he started up the metal steps, their footsteps clanging against the steel. He emerged head first on the floor of the landing bay. The Wayward Son stood patiently a few meters away from the stairway. Even now, she was still the most beautiful thing in the universe to him.

  While the first thing he saw was his beloved ship, the next was the garrison of Security Elite troops surrounding him with their weapons drawn. He exhaled loudly at the sight of them, unsurprised by the volume of their numbers. This was the last focal point for an ambush and he had expected them to come well prepared.

  “You will drop your weapons!”

  The order came from an officer standing directly in front of the Wayward Son's main entry hatch with a dozen troops to reinforce his demand.

  For a moment, he considered fighting it out, but then looked at Hannah and realised his choice affected more than just his life. The part of him that once was an officer of the Fleet would not allow him to jeopardise her life. Tossing both their lives to the fates, he dropped his gun on the deck.

  Wherever you are, Garryn, it's all up to you now.

  * * *

  The ensign checked the readings on his scanner console once again. This time, he did so just to make certain he was not in error.

  Even though he was inexperienced, he knew he was a good officer, not prone to reaching poor conclusions. Despite the fact their mission here was meant to be of the highest security, he was convinced of what he was seeing on his console. Nevertheless, before he made his announcement, it was always wise to double check.

  “Commander Jemyn, there is another ship approaching.”

  The statement captured everyone's attention, particularly Edwen's. Jemyn crossed the floor of the bridge in a number of long strides, while the General maintained his vigil at the command chair. Even though he obviously believed he was in charge, to the crew of the Dragons Eye, Jemyn was still their commander.

  “Can you identify her?” Jemyn asked as he approached Ensign Lyan and stood over his shoulder. He saw Lyan's fingers flying deftly over the console pad, confirming his readings. Lyan was one of his better officers. The ink on his commission papers was hardly dry, but Jemyn saw a bright future in store for the young man, because he was a meticulous worker.

  “Yes, Sir. It's a Ravager Class Destroyer. Identification No. 197403.” As more images flashed on his console screen, Lyan's eyes widened in surprise before turning to look Jemyn in the eye. “Sir, it's the White Star.”

  Jemyn straightened and swung around instinctively to face Edwen. “The White Star is the Imperator's ship.”

  Somehow Edwen was unsurprised. When he had heard Trooper Nyall was found without his uniform, Edwen understood Garryn's plan.

  The Prime exchanged uniforms with the sentry so that he could move about freely. Edwen also knew the only way Garryn could transmit a call for help was on the bridge. What was equally frustrating was the fact that he couldn't tell Jemyn. No terrorist would be foolish enough to make an attempt at infiltrating the bridge. Everything was in Edwen's favour as long as no one knew Garryn was on board.

  The arrival of the White Star changed everything.

  Had Garryn been and gone already while Edwen was sending men all across the ship to find him? Impossible! Even if it were true, there was no way the White Star could get here this fast. It took a week for the Dragon's Eye to arrive here from Brysdyn. At last report, the White Star was orbiting the home world. Whatever brought her here was not because of any message sent by the Prime.

  “Is she in communications range?” Edwen inquired, walking towards Jemyn. For now, his concern regarding Garryn's whereabouts would have to wait.

  “It is, Sir,” Jemyn answered, but his face reflected his puzzlement. He was not alone in this feeling. The mood on the bridge was one of puzzlement. “She's not attempting to communicate. We are certainly in their visual range by now. They cannot be unaware of us.”

  From where he was standing next to the large windows of the bridge, Danten stared at Edwen and wondered how the General was going to explain this away. A communications blackout like this was the practice adopted by hostile ships approaching each other, certainly not the flag warship of the Imperial Navy.

  “She is in visual,” Danten declared as the White Star appeared off the starboard bow of the Dragon's Eye. The warship was growing larger in the window, but had to slow as it approached the dreadnought.

  “General,” Jemyn spoke up. “Do I have permission to transmit greetings to the White Star?”

  Edwen frowned, still troubled by the Imperator's appearance. If Garryn had n
ot contacted the White Star, then what was she doing here? Aware that Jemyn was waiting for an answer, there was no choice but to agree to the request.

  “Go ahead.”

  Suddenly, from the corner of his eye, he saw movement. Nothing unusual in itself, but Edwen reacted immediately. A guard stepped onto the bridge and was making his way across the floor towards the main computer. Without thinking, Edwen grabbed his sidearm and fired. The bolt sailed across the floor and struck him on the shoulder. The man went down hard amidst the pandemonium on the bridge.

  Danten hurried next to the General who holstered his sidearm and was calling for security. A few bridge officers were aiming their guns at both the General and the fallen guard who was scrambling to his feet.

  “What the hell is going on?” Jemyn demanded, forgetting the order to communicate with the White Star or the fact that Edwen was his superior officer. “General, what is the meaning of this?”

  Blood seeped through the guard's uniform and, despite the guns pointed at him, he was still moving towards the main command console. “Tell him, Edwen. Tell him if you dare.”

  “Silence!” Edwen shouted with uncharacteristic outrage. “Security, take the prisoner to the brig!”

  “Or what?” Garryn reached for his helmet.

  “Don't try it! You know I won't hesitate to have you killed where you stand!” Edwen warned. Suddenly, it dawned on Edwen what Garryn was intending. He was never after the communications console at all. He was after the main computer. The computer held verification codes, the same codes that gave the Prime command override over every ship in the fleet.

  “Commander Jemyn,” Garryn spoke knowing this was his last chance. “Do you know who I am?” Garryn had also seen the White Star off the starboard bow. His father had come after him. Only the Lords knew how Iran discovered he was here, but it no longer mattered. Edwen would kill him, unless Garryn proved to these officers he was the Prime.