The Agathon Book 3: Sword Of Stars

by Colin Weldon

  “Have you activated the Sword of Stars?” said Tark’An.

  “We were about to, General,” said Drak’Lk glaring at Gra’Xn.

  “Your Eminence, there is a grey vessel in orbit, with formidable weaponry,” Tark’An said.

  “It would appear we have larger concerns right now, General,” Drak’Lk said.

  “How much time before the Targlagdu vessels reach the planet?” said Tark’An.

  “Not long, General, we are running out of time. We should use the Sword of Stars now before the planet is overwhelmed,” said Drak’Lk.

  “I understand, Your Eminence, but there is a race of beings on board that grey vessel. We must try to save as many as we can,” Tark’An said.

  Drak’Lk frowned and glanced back up at the images.

  “At the risk of losing our own?” Drak’Lk said.

  “There is still time,” Tark’An said, “I’m taking a shuttle to the surface now. We can save them. Let me have control of the Sword of Stars and I’ll initiate it when the time comes. Get everyone off the surface now, including yourself.”

  “General, this is not rational,” Drak’Lk replied.

  “Your Eminence, Drak’Lk, this will be my final battle. Give me control of the device,” said Tark’An, “I am departing for the shuttle now, hold your fire, General Tark’An out.”

  Drak’Lk rubbed his cheek as the transmission went dead.

  “Sir?” Gra’Xn said.

  “Hold your fire,” said Drak’Lk, “get me General Ral’Rk.”

  THE AGATHON

  Barrington looked on at the view screens and tried to make sense of the situation. Tark’An was on his way to the shuttle bay and the tension on the bridge was palpable. The far-left screen showed an image of the host star and it was perhaps the most disturbing one. All eyes seemed to be fixated on it. Silhouetting its deep red hue were the Targlagdu planets, blocking out its light, as they grew ever closer to the planet. Hundreds of huge black circles crossing its corona all at once. Getting larger, growing closer.

  “Hangar bay doors open,” said Ferrate from behind him, “shuttle craft departing.”

  “On screen,” Barrington said sounding more sombre than he had wished.

  The centre screen changed to show the shuttle leaving the ship. The Agathon had entered normal space, almost skimming its atmosphere, just inside the ring of Ruthenium battle ships that now formed a perimeter around the planet. He looked at Chavel’s seat at the navigation station, now being manned by Leanne Ripley. It hadn’t occurred to him that Tark’An wouldn’t be able to pilot the craft himself. He needed a human to operate the controls. Chavel’s orders had been simple. Get him to the ground and then get straight back to the ship. He was the best pilot on The Agathon, bar Boyett, and if things got dicey, which they were certainly about to, then he needed someone who could handle themselves under pressure. That was Chavel.

  “We have a location on the grey race vessel yet?” Barrington said maintaining a crisp and confident tone.

  Every order had to be followed quickly and without hesitation.

  “Yes, sir, got it,” said Ripley.

  Her hair was tied back tightly and while there was still blood residue on her collar, her quick trip to the medical bay had sealed the wound on her face to the point where it was barely visible.

  “Let’s see it,” Barrington said.

  The view screen flickered again as the huge white ship came into view.

  “Looks like it’s been damaged,” Ripley said.

  She was right. The top section of the bow appeared to have a hole in it. Barrington frowned. It was also listing lazily, slowly turning on its axis.

  “That’s odd,” he whispered to himself, “distance?”

  “Three hundred thousand kilometres,” replied Ripley.

  Barrington looked at the far-right screen, showing the blockade of Ruthenium ships. They all resembled Tark’An’s destroyed vessel.

  “Distance to the nearest Targlagdu ship?” he said.

  “Just shy of a million kilometres,” said Ripley, “closing fast, sir.”

  Something had happened on board that ship. He opened his mind, hoping.

  Carrie! he yelled in his mind.

  No answer. They were too far away. He needed to get closer to it. He would have to come back for Chavel. He was in no immediate danger. He tapped his comm channel.

  “Barrington to shuttle,” he said.

  “Chavel here, sir,” came the reply.

  “David, we’re going to intercept the grey race vessel. Remain on the planet surface until our return,” he said, “can you ask Tark’An to signal the nearest ship and have them provide cover?”

  “Understood,” Chavel replied, “don’t forget about me.”

  Barrington smiled and clicked off the comm channel.

  “Charly, set a course, activate the main cannon and stand by to fire,” he said.

  “Yes, sir,” she replied running her hands over the controls.

  “Viewer ahead,” Barrington said.

  THE SIENNA CLARK

  “I think it’s in here,” Carrie said to Tyrell pointing to a seemingly innocuous part of the wall.

  “Correct,” Tyrell said.

  Carrie placed her hand on the wall and activated the door mechanism. The wall rippled as she peered inside the room. It appeared to be empty. She stepped inside and looked around. The walls were translucent, with what looked like tiny flickering lights spread out over every inch of its surface. This was the main processing core for the whole ship. There was no main engine room on Jack’s vessel, only a series of computer cores all linked together like a neural network, able to be accessed on each deck rather than one centralised location. Carrie moved to the centre of the room and began scanning the walls trying to recall the memories of the ship imprinted on her by The Black.

  “We need to access the communications and weapons systems,” she said running her fingers over the surface.

  She looked at Tyrell.

  “I think it’s that one?” Tyrell said pointing to a cluster of lights near the centre of the wall.

  “Right,” she said.

  You think I’m gone, said a growling voice inside her head.

  Carrie stopped and glanced at Tyrell.

  “What?” Tyrell said.

  “Did you say something?”

  “No,” Tyrell said furrowing his brow at her.

  Carrie turned and looked around the room. She saw no flickers, no distortions; she couldn’t feel anyone else present in the room.

  I am not gone, said the growling voice again.

  It sounded like it was in a cavern. There were echoes. She stopped and stared off into nothing as she tried to focus. Then it was gone. She felt strange. Like she was being watched. Followed.

  “Carrie?” Tyrell said.

  Carrie didn’t answer. She stared at the ground, raised her hands and examined her palms. The voice was gone. She knew that voice. Had battled it in her sleep. It wasn’t dead. The Black was still there. Inside her. She quickly spun towards Tyrell.

  “My eyes,” she said, “are they normal?”

  She was suddenly filled with a fear, not for her own life, but for those that surrounded her. If it got control of her again...

  “They’re fine, what’s going on?” Tyrell said.

  Carrie felt herself begin to panic.

  “Tyrell, listen to me,” she said, “it’s not dead. I heard it, it’s still inside me.”

  Tyrell looked at her with genuine concern.

  “This thing takes me over again, we’re in a heap of trouble,” Carrie said.

  “What can I do?” Tyrell said.

  Carrie thought about it.

  “You’re not armed,” she said.

  “No,” Tyrell said glancing at his hands.<
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  “Let’s do what we came here to do, then I want you to find yourself a gun. The first sign you think I’m not myself, you put that gun to my head, and you pull the trigger,” she said.

  Tyrell’s eyes went wide.

  “There’s too much at stake now for me to jeopardise the lives of these people,” Carrie said.

  “I’m not going to kill you, Carrie,” Tyrell said.

  “I don’t have time to argue with you, Tyrell, now promise me you’ll do it,” she said taking a step towards him.

  He gave her a moment’s hesitation before nodding.

  “Good, now help me find the comms channel. We need to see if there’s anyone out there,” she said turning and facing the wall again, “here,” she said.

  Tyrell joined her by a cluster of lights.

  “Yes, that’s it,” he said.

  Carrie closed her eyes and tried to think of the access codes.

  “Let me,” he said taking the lead.

  He began tapping on the individual lights and a screen popped up inside the wall. It showed an exterior view of the ship. It showed a schematic readout of the star system the ship was currently in with the host star at its centre. It showed a ring, of what looked like ships, orbiting a nearby planet as well as the Targlagdu ships, on approach. Tyrell pointed to a small disk-shaped craft, which wasn’t in formation and quickly approaching their ship.

  “Is that?” Tyrell began.

  Carrie leaned in closer.

  “The Agathon,” she said sounding elated.

  A sense of joy exploded inside her. She tapped on the image and it rippled into a closer view of the ship. Sure enough, there it was.

  “I didn’t destroy it!” she said wanting to grab Tyrell and hug him.

  “How do I open a channel?” she said.

  32:

  THE AGATHON

  Barrington kept his eyes on the screen, as Jack’s ship grew closer. He could see now that there was definite damage to the outer hull. Something had hit it, or exploded from the inside out.

  “We getting any readings from inside the ship?” he asked Ripley.

  “No, sir, the sensors can’t seem to penetrate their hull,” she said.

  Barrington leaned over on his hand and began rubbing the side of his face.

  “Status of the alien vessel’s weapons?” he said.

  “Again, sir, we can’t seem to get any readings on it at all,” Ripley said.

  Barrington gritted his teeth.

  “Sir, I have an incoming transmission,” said Ferrate.

  Barrington turned his head and looked back at him.

  “Let’s hear it,” he said.

  There was a light static bleeping noise.

  “Agathon? This is Carrie Barrington,” came the voice.

  Barrington’s heart froze. He stood from his seat as Boyett turned. He kept his eyes firmly on the screens overhead, not entirely sure how to respond.

  “Agathon?” Carrie said again.

  “Carrie?” Barrington said.

  A moment’s pause.

  “Oh, father,” she said with relief in her voice, “is everyone all right over there?”

  “Carrie? You’re alive?”

  “Yes, I am,” she said, “it’s so good to hear your voice.”

  Barrington could feel tears forming in his eyes, he tried to hold his focus.

  “I thought we’d ...,”

  “I thought I’d destroyed you,” she said.

  “What the hell is going on?” Barrington said.

  “We have to get out of here, this star system is about to be destroyed,” she said.

  “Yes, we know, Carrie, what happened with The Black?” Barrington said.

  There was another silence.

  “I don’t have time to go into that. We need to get these people off this ship, it’s in bad shape. I managed to incapacitate it, but I don’t know how long that’s going to last,” she said.

  “How do we get them off?” Barrington said.

  “I’m working on that. There’s a matter transportation device on board. I’m going to try and send them all over to you, so if I were you, I’d begin making space for several thousand people,” she said.

  “Okay,” he replied.

  “What’s the status of their weapons, Carrie?” Barrington said.

  “Hang on,” Carrie replied, “they’re off line, the rest of the alien crew appear to be making repairs so we need to get moving. Try to get the ship as close as you can,” Carrie said.

  “Carrie, let me send a crew over there to help,” Barrington said, then realised that all the shuttle craft were gone, “actually scratch that, we’ve no way of getting over there.”

  “Don’t worry, I think this will work. Just keep the ship close,” Carrie said.

  “Okay, but get a move on, we’re running out of time here,” Barrington said.

  “Understood, it’s so good to hear your voice,” she said.

  “And yours,” Barrington said.

  “Carrie out,” she said.

  Barrington was elated. He fought the urge to shout for joy, as the situation demanded his complete attention.

  “You heard the woman, Charly, let’s get tight,” he said.

  “Yes, sir,” she replied.

  “Captain, the Targlagdu vessels have just increased speed,” said Ripley.

  “What?” Barrington said turning his attention to the screen on the far right.

  “Yes, sir, they will intercept our current location in twenty-three minutes,” she said.

  “Shit,” he replied.

  THE SIENNA CLARK

  “Well I’ll be god dammed,” said Tyrell, “they made it.”

  “Yep,” said Carrie, “let’s get these weapons off line before they repair them and blow The Agathon out of the stars.”

  “Right,” Tyrell said, “eh...”

  He scanned the flickering lights.

  “There,” he said, “that one.”

  Carrie activated the interface, another screen popped up. An alien set of symbols began scrolling across the screen.

  “What the hell is this?” she said.

  “Access code,” Tyrell said.

  Carrie looked at him.

  “Give me a minute, it’s all still hazy,” he said.

  Carrie suddenly felt something, a presence. She turned her head to see a ripple effect by the door.

  “Tyrell, get down,” she shouted raising her hands and unleashing a short burst of energy from her hands. The wall exploded with the force, as a grey alien appeared from thin air, half materialised. The bolt from Carrie’s hands cut the being in half, splattering its blue entrails all over the wall.

  The illuminated wall lights flickered and went out leaving the pair in complete darkness. Sparks rained down on their heads. Carrie looked down at Tyrell who had hit the deck and was covering his head with his hands.

  “You all right?” she said.

  Tyrell stood, dusting himself off and looked at the splattered remains of the grey alien.

  “I’ve never seen you do that,” he said.

  “What?” Carrie asked.

  “Well, I guess I have, but it seems like a dream. I’ve been gone a long time, Carrie,” Tyrell said.

  Carrie realised that Tyrell had spent almost their entire journey inhabited by The Black. He was right, he’d never directly seen her use her abilities.

  “Well, it’s hard to control in close quarters,” she said looking back at the now blank screen.

  “We’re not going to be able to get the weapons off line,” she said.

  “Not from here.”

  “Shit,” she grumbled, “we need to get everyone to the transporter bay and hope that these fuckers don’t get a shot off at The Agathon before we do.�
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  Carrie began walking out of the room, stepping over the remains of the dead alien in the process. They got into the corridor, still lit by white light, and began making their way down it.

  “What do you feel when you do it?” Tyrell asked out of nowhere.

  “Heat, it’s hard to explain,” she said.

  “The young girl, Maya, has a similar mutation?”

  “I don’t know. From what Aron tells me, she spent most of her life encased in a glass tube hooked up to the main computer systems on board the old Jycorp station,” she said.

  “I knew there was something different about you. I knew it in the lab back on Mars, but I never imagined anything like that. It must be some sort of reaction to the radiation in deep space or some sort of ...”

  “Tyrell, I really have no idea. What you just saw only started when we were stranded on that first Targlagdu ship, when you, or rather The Black, and I rescued my father,” Carrie said.

  “This could mark the next step in human evolution,” Tyrell replied.

  “Right,” she said, “that is if we survive to the next step in human evolution.”

  “Good point,” he replied.

  Carrie scanned the hallway, looking for any more distortions. They reached the transporter pod at the end of the hallway and Carrie engaged the sequence to take them back to the main habitat.

  SHUTTLE

  The shuttlecraft touched down gently on the alien world. Chavel checked the flight control systems and shut down the engines. He stared out at the magnificent structures that stretched all the way to the clouds above. He glanced back at Tark’An who was hunched over, far too tall to stand upright in the small craft. He placed his hand on the translation device and decided to give it a go. He hadn’t said a single word to him for the entire journey to the surface.

  “So, here you go then,” he said realising that the first words he had ever said to an alien were also the most ridiculous.

  “Open the doors,” said Tark’An.

  “Hang on a second,” said Chavel forgetting the most basic thing.

  He turned and checked the readings for the outside atmosphere. It was Oxygen, Nitrogen. He thought it might be, as Tark’An hadn’t suffocated on board The Agathon. He activated the doors and a whoosh of warm humid air rushed into the cabin. It was hot, really hot. Well into the forties.