by GARY DARBY
He tipped the nose over into a steep dive. “Dason,” Shanon asked anxiously, “what are you doing? You’re picking up speed!”
“I know,” he replied as his fingers flew over the control panel. He leaned forward to peer out the window, making sure that he kept his distant target in sight.
“Shanon,” he questioned, “did you ever skip rocks across water?”
“Rocks?” she asked in a flabbergasted voice. “No. What are you talking about?”
“Rocks. Thin, flat ones,” Dason answered, keeping his eyes straight ahead, trying to gauge his angle of attack to the surface.
The Zephyr flashed through a pair of white, fluffy clouds, before breaking into the clear. Dason kept the ship’s nose raised at a sharp angle, nodding in satisfaction as they continued to pick up airspeed.
“Back home,” he recollected, “we had a small pond on the place. My mom taught me to skip stones across the water. I got pretty good at it, too.”
He smile thinly at her. “The best kind were flat and about half the size of your hand. You’d fit one between your thumb and index finger.”
He adjusted his trim, keeping the ship’s nose down but the vessel as level as he could.
“If you threw them real hard with just the right angle to the water, you could get six or seven skips before they slowed and splashed to a stop.”
Giving her a quick glance, he muttered, “First chance we get, I’ll teach you. You’ll like it, I promise. We’ll have a contest and I’ll spot you the first dozen rocks until you get the hang of it.”
Shanon studied Dason’s face before she followed his stare to the point he had his eyes fixed on. Her own eyes widened, and she sucked in deeply with a hiss as she grasped his meaning.
Swiveling in her chair, she yelled over her shoulder into the troop compartment, “Get those crash bars tight! We’re coming in hot and hard!”
Dason tapped his forward underbelly thrusters, raising the nose slightly. He had to maintain enough altitude to clear the high hills ahead and he needed to sustain their momentum so that they didn’t splatter into a hillside too.
The Zephyr flashed just meters above rugged, low hills. A sharp, deep valley appeared, and for just a second, Dason saw the glint of water from the stream that flowed between the valley’s high hills.
Seconds later, they crossed another high ridgeline, and off to the right, rolling plains extended to the horizon.
Moments later, Dason saw a bluish-green tint through a high pass in the next set of hills.
He tilted the Zephyr to the right causing the ship to angle off to starboard. In seconds, the Zephyr raced over the last hilltop and Dason dropped the nose once again to lose altitude.
“There!” he called as he pointed. “That looks like a good place to skip a rock, don’t you think?”
In answer, Shanon squeezed her acceleration bars tighter across her body. “It’s a good thing we’re going to die in the crash,” she countered in a dry voice, “because no one would ever believe that we would be so foolish as to try this.”
Dason licked his lips and muttered, “Hey, the principle is the same, flat surface skipping across smooth water. It was easy enough back home.”
He leaned forward in his seat, took one last look at his sensors. “Okay, here we go.”
He aimed the Zephyr’s nose just above the large lake’s turquoise water. On the far shore, he caught a momentary glimpse of the huge cylinder-like Mongan habitats and just beyond was the enormous tunnel that led into the planetary depths below.
Closer and closer, they flew toward the water, gaining speed as they zipped over the terrain. They flashed over the rocky beach line and Dason dropped them lower still.
The force of their pressure wave against the liquid threw up a rooster tail that sprayed water twenty meters high behind the speeding craft.
“Hold on!” Dason shouted. “We’re going in!”
He hit his forward thrusters to lift and flare the ship’s nose up. From the ship’s stern came a loud hissing as it kissed the lake’s surface.
The ship sank lower into the water and for a second bucked upward before settling lower again. The hissing had changed in tenor to a thunderous hissing noise as the craft’s full underbelly made contact with the water.
Once again the ship bounced, lifting itself out of the water and sailing through the air until it slammed back down.
Twice more it jumped, rose above the liquid for a short distance until with a thundering splash it settled into the water one last time.
Still slicing through the water, the Zephyr began to shake and shudder as spray erupted on all sides.
The little ship slewed to one side and then the other, coming dangerously close to tumbling end over end over the water. It righted itself and slowed, but its enormous energy carried it straight at the upcoming rocky shoreline.
“Dason,” Shanon ground out, “that beach is coming up awfully fast!”
“I know,” Dason sputtered between clenched teeth, “but there’s nothing I can do . . . hold on tight . . . we’re going to hit . . .”
Seconds later, the Zephyr slammed into the granite rocks along the shore.
The ship went airborne and then smashed into a large brush-covered hummock.
Its weight crushed the scraggly shrubs that covered the tiny hill and sent great mounds of dark earth and rocks flying in all directions.
For a few seconds, Dason sat dazed by the impact before he drew in several deep breaths. After the loud sizzling sound of the lake spray, the silence seemed deeper than normal.
A low moan caused him to turn to his companion. “Shanon—Shanon, are you all right?”
She raised a hand to her forehead before she nodded. “I think so.”
Dason undid his body bars and helped her lift hers. “I’m going to check on the others. Just sit tight.”
He slid out of his chair and stumbled back into the troop compartment. Sami was helping TJ get out of her crash bars while both Nase and Alena were raising themselves from their seats.
“Everyone okay?” Dason asked.
“Yeah,” Sami replied, “but my bruises have bruises on top of the bruises.”
He took one look out the port window and pointed. “Say, did you mean to put us here on purpose, or did we just get lucky?”
Dason turned and found himself staring at the dark line that marked the border of the Mongans’ giant mining tunnel, and beyond sat the enormous Mongan habitats.
Near the cylinders, Dason could make out movement, no doubt Mongans working on the habitats, but there was no movement on this side of the enormous borehole.
There was a cluster of small, white rectangular buildings that sat on the shaft’s near side. Dason’s eyes caught something else and for a second, he did a double take.
“Those weren’t on the recon images,” he muttered.
“What wasn’t on the recon images?” Alena asked as she came to stand next to him.
“Look to the right of those buildings,” Dason directed.
Alena leaned forward to stare out the window and then gave a slow nod. “Two nova devices,” she stated in a flat voice.
“You think they’re going to use them here?” Shanon asked from behind.
“I don’t know,” Dason replied in a puzzled voice. “Between blowing up the nebula and the planet, I’m not sure why they would need those.”
“Maybe they had a few left over and didn’t know what to do with them,” Sami offered, “so they just stashed’em here.”
“Does it really matter?” TJ asked. “Need I remind you of where we’re sitting? On a planet that’s going to be blown to bits and with us on it; one way or the other.”
“Hey . . .” Sami replied as if he just realized the implications of TJ’s statement. “She’s right. So, how are we going to get out of here?”
No one spoke; they just exchanged glances, because it was evident that there would be no rescue, no help, no way out this time.
Seei
ng their somber expressions, Sami swallowed and asked, “We aren’t, are we?”
Nase nudged Sami and hooked a thumb toward the Mongan cylinders. “You could hoof it over there and see if you can catch a ride with them.
“Maybe they’re looking to take along souvenirs from this universe. You know something to remind them that they left behind some pretty weird specimens.”
Sami opened his mouth in hot retort but then closed it. He scrutinized Nase’s face before he laughed. “Hey, that's not bad, Mr. Egghead. ‘Bout time you loosened up a little. I like it.”
Each sat on the nearest flight chair, their expressions reflecting the subdued and solemn mood. Each knew what they confronted, and each knew it was but a matter of minutes, now.
Glancing at the others, Sami’s eyes met TJ’s gaze. She gave him a soft smile and scooted a little closer until there was nothing between them.
Sami smiled back and then turned to the group. “Seeing’s how this might be the last time we’re together, I’d like to say something.”
He stood, cleared his throat, and wiped his hands on his pant legs as if they had become sweaty.
“Uh, Lieutenant Thorne,” he hesitantly began, “Aw shucks, I mean, Dason, I—I just wanted you to know that I know I was a real jerk to you back when we were novices.”
He screwed up his mouth and glanced over at Nase. “And I was a jerk to some others on this team, too. I apologize to all of you.”
His eyes drifted over to TJ and he gave her a shy glance. “The truth is, I wouldn’t want to be on any other team, ever.”
Turning back to Dason, he gave him a quick, snappy salute. “And I wouldn’t want to serve under any other team leader, either. Not after serving on the best team with the best leader.”
Sami and Dason locked eyes and Dason gave him a warm smile. “Thank you, Sami, that means a lot to me and to all of us.”
Bobbing his head in reply, Sami plopped back down next to TJ, who gave him a proud and glowing smile and slipped her hand in his.
Alena stood and managed a wan smile. “Since this appears to be a time for confession, I’d like to get something off my chest, too.”
She bit down on her lip, drew in a breath and her eyes grew misty.
Softly in a muffled voice, she said, “I just want to tell all of you how proud I am to be on this team, and how grateful I am that you accepted me, even after the awful things I did and the even worse things I contemplated doing.”
Lifting her head, she met each of her teammates’ eyes in turn. “You could have turned your back on me, rejected me, sent me packing, but you didn’t.
“You allowed me to become a real Star Scout and a proud member of a proud team and for that you have my undying thanks.”
Alena sat down, and Sami leaned over to whisper, “Nice speech, but under the circumstances did you have to mention that ‘dying’ part?”
TJ thumped him in the ribs with her elbow. “It’s just a saying, Sami, it basically means ‘never-ending’.”
“Oh, sorry,” Sami told Alena.
Just then, Shanon glanced upward and gasped. “Look,” she said and raised herself to point skyward.
Dason peered up and then jerked himself erect.
The battle that had started deep in space was now only tens of kilometers above the surface.
An incessant barrage of laser fire filled the sky accompanied by mammoth detonations, the death markers of ships whose defenses had failed to protect them against the constant battering of laser and ion bolts.
As if a titanic meteor shower had hit the upper atmosphere, chunks of flaming metal spiraled downward, followed seconds later by partially damaged and blazing wreckage.
All around the battered Zephyr bits and pieces of destroyed ships slammed into the ground.
Farther away, torn and twisted hulls of lifeless ships cratered into the ground, spraying out hot rocks and metal fragments in a volcanic style eruption. Thrown high into the sky, the dirt and dust began to cast a thin pall over the landscape.
“That’s giving it to them!” Sami shouted. “Looks like the Mongans are taking a beating up there.”
Dason spoke slowly and sadly. “Not all of those destroyed ships were Mongan, Sami. There were Sha’anay warcraft mixed in, too.”
“Oh,” Sami answered in a small voice.
Dason glanced skyward and stood transfixed at the unfolding sight.
A literal vortex of Sha’anay ships swirled through the sky, their lasers flashing outward in a deafening barrage.
The laser bolts formed an impenetrable barrier that destroyed every Mongan cruiser that tried to pierce the thundering cyclone of Sha’anay warships.
In the very center of the whirling vessels loomed a single ship, its nose aimed straight downward, and accelerating. “The SlipShip!” Shanon shouted.
Dason’s eyes narrowed in an intense expression as the craft plunged right at the Mongan compound. From one side of the vortex, a mass of Mongan ships broke through the Sha’anay formation.
“No,” he answered dully, “it’s not the SlipSter, it’s a Sha’anay ship.
Like a pack of their devil dogs running down their hapless prey, the Mongan ships swept into the vortex; their lasers pointed straight at the Sha’anay warbird that tore through the sky.
Blast after blast of laser fire from the Mongans pummeled the Sha’anay craft, shearing off huge segments of plating that went spinning off into the atmosphere.
The Sha’anay warrior ship turned its own blistering fire on its attackers. However, instead of pulling up and rejoining its fleet, it flew faster and faster in a screaming dive earthward.
The Mongans followed it down, their laser bolts raking the Sha’anay ship from stem to stern. Secondary explosions erupted from inside the craft, buckling bulkheads and ship’s plating.
Dason’s eyes widened as it became evident that the doomed ship was breaking apart in midair but still it slashed downward.
Dason tore his eyes away from the mesmerizing scene and bawled, “Get down! Get down! She’s headed straight at the cylinders!”
He pushed Shanon to the floor and covered her with his body.
Seconds later, a deafening, ear-splitting roar swept over the Zephyr.
A thundering, enormous groundswell jolted the ship upward. Massive chunks of earth and rock rained down on the little ship, pounding against the hull like huge battering rams.
A massive glowing fireball of sun-hot gas rolled over the ground, incinerating every speck of grass, shrub, and trees in its path and leaving the Zephyr’s exterior scorched from the titanic heat.
After the ground’s last heaving, the Zephyr rocked once, twice, and then settled on an uneven keel, its nose pointed up and to one side.
“You okay?” Dason asked Shanon, his face close to hers.
She gave a quick nod as he helped her to her feet. Dason did a quick check of the others before he turned to look at where the cylinders had lain.
Thru the swirling haze and dust, Dason could see that instead of two gleaming white enormous habitats, black and swirling smoke rose over a giant, blackened, and smoking crater.
The shattered and splintered bow of the valiant Sha’anay ship lay smoldering on the lip of the large, blistered basin.
Next to him, Sami whistled long and low. “I think that just put a big hole in the Mongan plans.”
“Literally,” TJ pointed out.
“Yeah,” Dason replied, “but there are still those detonators out in the nebula, if they go off—”
Dason’s head snapped up as he heard his father’s voice. “Marrel to Thorne, Zephyr Four. Dason, can you hear me?”
“I hear you, Dad,” Dason replied in an instant.
“Where are you, son? Are you still in the battle?”
Dason hesitated before letting out his breath. “No. We had to crash-land on the planet.”
He glanced out through the windows again. “Believe it or not, we’re maybe two hundred meters or less from the Mongan tunn
el.”
There was a long moment of silence before Deklon murmured, “I am so sorry, son, I had hoped that you were . . .”
He paused before saying, “Well, it appears that we’re both in a bit of a jam.”
Dason straightened in alarm at Deklon’s statement. “What is it, Dad, what’s wrong?”
“I’m on the SlipSter, Dason,” Deklon explained slowly. “Your Uncle Jadar, Scoutmaster Tarracas, and Teng Rhee are dead. They died saving the ship from being taken over by the Faction.
“And,” he added “you’re not going to believe this but I have Adiak Peller tied up on the bridge.”
He paused before going on in a firm voice. “I promised the Scoutmaster that I would pilot the ship, finish what he, Jadar, and Teng Rhee died for.
“The Sha’anay have cleared the way for me to take the ship down into the tunnel, and that’s where I’m headed. But they can’t hold out much longer, there’s too many Mongan ships left.
“It’s now or never.”
Dason turned to his team, who stared back at him with solemn eyes, not just from the news of the Scoutmaster’s death, but also from knowing the SlipShip’s final and fateful mission.
Shanon took a step to stand beside him, her gentle hand resting on his arm. Their eyes met, held before she smiled and gave him a little nod.
“Dad,” Dason answered in a firm voice, “we understand, do what you have to. Put an end to it, Dad, put a final end to all of it, for the Scoutmaster, for the Marrel family, for the Sha’anay, and everyone else who’s fought to stop the evil of the Mongans and the Faction.”
Deklon paused and then with tightness in his voice called out, “Hold on, I’ve got a problem, here, stand by.”
Several seconds later, he spoke again, anxiety and sadness evident in his voice. “Dason, it looks as though I’m going to need your help one last time. I have no sensors; I’m flying the ship by visual only. I can’t see the tunnel; it’s covered by smoke and dust.”
“Son,” he went on, “I need a signal, something that I can see to guide me down or I could miss the opening entirely.”
“Hold on, Dad,” Dason answered and spun around in frantic haste, looking for something, anything, which would soar high enough over the smoke and dust clouds for his father to see.