Legion's Riddle Trilogy Box Set

by K R Sanford

  An hour later, Marco stepped onto the bridge in the flight uniform of the Starship Eagle. His hair combed and tied off his shoulders, was out of his face for the first time in months. He walked to his chair and sat. “Ship's status report please, Yeoman,” he said.

  Marco looked to the nav-com station. Clorissa and Governor Grantham were talking. “Governor,” he said.

  Grantham turned. “Good morning, Captain. You have an impressive ship. Hector has been kind enough to show us the different levels and---

  Marco interrupted, “I’m glad you're enjoying the Eagle,” he said. “And I trust you slept well.” Grantham started to speak. Marco continued.

  “There were footsteps from your people found on the beach. They were walking between the two ships and into the sea. Our instruments indicated no humans remained onboard those two ships. How can that be?”

  Clorissa handed Marco a touchpad containing the ship's status report.

  Grantham pulled the gold staff from his belt and held it in front him. “It renders the target unconscious,” he said. “For Bradley's people who cooperate, we ask them to step inside our submersible. We were not going to hurt them. Most did as we asked. A few gave us trouble but this wand made things clear.”

  “A submarine; I wouldn't have guessed,” said Hector.

  “We travel the seas like you travel the stars,” said Grantham.

  Marco watched Grantham slide the gold staff back on his belt. “It turns out that device is more than a communicator.”

  “Yes, Captain,” replied Grantham. “I’m sorry. I didn't think it appropriate to discuss that feature while you were alone in our passages. After all

  “Thank you,” replied Marco. “That was considerate of you.”

  Grantham raised his chin.

  “Where did you put Bradley, Governor?” asked Marco.

  “That's why I'm here, Captain,” replied Grantham. “Stokes and Bradley made some kind of deal. They are no longer on Ameda.”

  “This doesn’t surprise me,” replied Marco. “It’s good they're off Ameda.” He pointed at the viewer. “Take us on an intercept course with the Emperor’s ship, Clorissa.”

  “Aye, Captain,” replied Clorissa as she turned to plot the course.

  “Bradley's not worth the effort anymore, Marco?” inquired Ryan.

  “The Emperor makes a better ally,” replied Marco. “And, we are going to show some ‘Ahwatootsee’ this morning. Give us maximum drive, Commander.”

  “Ahwatootsee?” asked Ryan.

  “That's one of the Emperor's pet phrases. It means; to show guts down to the marrow of your bones,” replied Marco.

  “In that case, ‘Ahwatootsee’ commencing,” he announced. With the tip of his finger Ryan stabbed down on the hyper-light strip. The Eagle engaged the whet-plate. A blue halo plumed spherical on the main viewer. The stars lengthened into a celestial superhighway.

  Grantham jaw dropped as the Eagle streaked through the outer rim of the Corsi Star System.

  The red web rippled across the main viewer. The starship rifled through the crosscurrents of neutrino showers. The stars in close proximation passed like iridescent ribbons. The intense brilliance from the viewing ports forced the crew to put on full face shields.

  The stars were an endless stream of lights that the crew never seemed to sit and gaze transfixed. It was as if the stars were fellow travelers. They were as friends that might have found their Infinite rest in the universe.

  Each star was unique, and yet a wonder for their own spectral signature. The instant the signatures were recorded they were gone. They disappeared like a passing memory, never to be heard from again. Only to be remembered deep inside the minds of a few passers-by.

  Seeing the stars pass at many times the speed of light was like viewing simple multicolored ribbons. It laid down their holographic language readable in the mystery of entanglement. They recorded the event on the PODQC, (Programmable Omni-Dimensional Quantum Computer). It gives the Eagle's intercept course with the Emperor Lord Legion a duality of purpose.

  Passing through the stars in hyper-light demanded much of the Eagle. The recording instruments logged and deciphered each star's transmission. Their position set coordinate codes and frequencies and spectral analysis of the stars. The super computer jumbled the abstract data for recombination of similarities and differences.

  The Eagle streamed through the red horizontal shifts of a quasar glow. They passed over a compound solar system with yellow and blue suns. Finally, the Eagle sailed into the peaceful eye of a cosmic hurricane. The whirling of thunderous star systems disrupted billions of years of evolution. The hurricane was generating new creations in still another space-time bubble. The light was intense and appeared from no readable point or direction.

  The Commander resounded. “We're at the mouth of a blackhole. The gravitational force can bend light waves into the shape of a pretzel.”

  Marco raised an eyebrow and balked at Ryan’s enthusiasm but said nothing. A sheepish grin came on his face.

  “This phenomenon is capable of swallowing whole star systems. This is a monster that can shred stars and planets, as well as eat multi-spacetime realities.” The Commander poked out his chin. “The effects are still completely unknown. Whole matter like this ship may or may not get through in one piece.

  There is no way of knowing when or where we will come out or in what form. We could get crushed like a bug. We could get crushed and rearranged right down to our subatomic quirks and quarks. Then again Ryan threw up his hands.

  Marco shoved his finger at the main viewer. “Yeah, well, that’s sounds like a hell-of-a-thing. But, if that's where Legion took his ship, then that's where we go.”

  “Marco, we could get torn limb from limb like spaghetti before we knew what hit us,” said Ryan.

  “That’s possible,” replied Marco. “Send in a probe if it makes you feel better.”

  “It does,” said Ryan giving Clorissa a nod.

  “Probe away,” said Clorissa. Her eyes broke from Grantham's gaze for a second.

  Ryan turned from the viewer and looked at Marco. “Marco, what do you hope to gain on this mission?”

  “Besides reincarnation, this mission is my aspiration, Ryan.” Marco replied, “as well as the Eagle's. We're going to regain the reputation of the Eagle as the explorers we once were. No more shuttling passengers from one fancy planet to another.

  To go where the Emperor went opens star travel for starships the same class as our own. We will provide new highways for a great many civilizations. If my theory proves correct. The Interstellar Forces will have to rethink the way they do business. They are being outmaneuvered in this quadrant.”

  Clorissa turned from navigations and saluted Marco with a raised eye. “The Captain is making sense, Ryan,” she said. “I didn't leave my home on Ziltairia to clean up after passengers.”

  Ryan nodded, agreeing with Clorissa. He said, “Alright, let me play devil's advocate one more time. The Emperor's ship can generate a displacement impenetrable to wormhole disruption.”

  Marco shook his head and retorted, “The physics is the same on both ships no matter how much power you give the shields.”

  Clorissa shouted, “Torpedo coming in!” She turned facing the helm. “Origin unknown, Captain.”

  “You'll have to explain it later, Marco,” said Hector.

  “Raise shields!” said Marco. “Bring up weapons! Hector, stand-by and ready countermeasures! Find out where that missile came from!”

  “I got it!” said Ryan, “Impact in six seconds; four, three, two

  “The Eagle's hit, Marco,” said Hector. “We took one across the port stern, shields holding.”

  “Another missile coming in!” said Clorissa.

  “Evasive maneuvers!” cried Marco. “Commander; get this ship moving!”

  “She's not responding, Marco!” shouted Ryan. “Main engines are out.” Marco, visibly shaken, “We lost our main engines? How can that be?
Hector, deploy armor fore and aft; harden us up right now!”

  “Main engines still not responding!” said Ryan.

  “Never mind the main engines,” said Marco. “Engage auxiliary and dive into that wormhole!”

  “Impact in five seconds!” cried Clorissa, “Four; three, two, one

  The helm shook. Grantham braced himself against the nav-com.

  “Rear shields buckling,” said Hector. “We have a class-five battle cruiser on our ass.”

  “Lock on plasma torpedoes, Hector,” replied Marco, “Clorissa, open up hailing frequencies.”

  “I've been trying, Captain,” replied Clorissa. “They're not responding.”

  Marco pointed to Hector, “Fire!”

  “Torpedo away,” replied Hector.

  “Fire two!” said Marco.

  “Torpedo two away,” replied Hector.

  “Get this ship moving, Commander!” ordered Marco.

  “We're gaining speed,” said Clorissa. “The wormhole is drawing us in.”

  “Torpedo impact,” replied Hector. “Sensors report minor damage to their shields.”

  Marco, on the edge of his chair retorted. “Keep firing! How are we doing Ryan?”

  “We will reach the point of no return in three minutes,” he replied.

  “Buy us some time, people,” said Marco. “Keep trying to hail that ship, Clorissa.”

  “I'm transferring all life support to the auxiliary engines,” reported Ryan.

  The bridge went black. Infrared lights switched on. The magnavator door was outlined with a bright red pinstripe. The work-stations illuminated. The main viewer spiraled out of control as the Eagle fell into the mouth of the wormhole.

  “Can you straighten us out, Commander, I'm getting vertigo,” said Marco.

  Ryan made adjusts to the helm and the Eagle eased from the spin. The main viewer displayed a black haze in the center of the wormhole. The Eagle dove deeper into the unknown.

  “Message coming through,” said Clorissa.

  Marco pointed at the viewer. The viewer flashed.

  At the edge of a crescent-shaped navigational table was Frank Bradley. His round face and large lips protruded over his double chin. His bald head and pink eyes pulled back his face. His expression was nondescript. His was dressed in an iridescent business suit. The suit hinged at the elbows and shoulders. His tiny hands rested on his chest like a seal at the circus. His head cocked to one side. A sneer came on his face.

  Standing behind Bradley was Stokes. Doctor Stokes whose alliances were uncertain at best.

  Marco showed no surprise at seeing the pair gloating twice life-size on the main viewer. He looked to Hector. Hector rolled his eyes. Ryan placed his hands on his hips and fixed his foot on the ship's deck.

  Clorissa sashayed into the center of the viewer. Her moves accented the muscles on her thighs. She pulled her long golden hair away from her body. She took a deliberate breath, taunting the enemy. Stokes face stiffened. Bradley took a double-take in surprise.

  “I'll bet she feels much better than a bloody nose, hay Miller!” Bradley laughed. “What's your name, little girl?”

  “Don't answer him, Yeoman,” ordered Marco. He held his hand for Clorissa to hold.

  Bradley chided. “Captain Marco Miller! What's in a name? Yours sounds like one out of a funny book. Well, funny boy! How 'bout it! You gonna give papa a nice big laugh!” Bradley's face turned a shade red. Stokes’ face gloated over his new boss dishing out malevolence.

  Ryan turned to Marco. Catching his eye, he whispered, “Main engines are back online.”

  Marco whispered back to Ryan, “On my signal, full power.”

  “What's that?” barked Bradley. “I didn't get that. No! Nothing funny anymore! That's too bad; so far out and no place to go, hay Miller!” Bradley gave up a belly laugh then turned up his mouth showing his teeth. “Prepare to get boarded.”

  “You're coming with us, Miller; you too, Ziltairian,” Bradley waving his fingers at Clorissa.

  “See here Grantham stepped forward.

  “What are you waiting for?” whispered Ryan. “Do it now before they lock a tractor on us.”

  “Alright, alright, now!” said Marco.

  “What's going on over there?” asked Bradley.

  “They're up to something,” chimed Stokes.

  Bradley signaled to his Captain. “They're trying to escape. Lock on tractor.”

  Marco waved at the viewer. The whet-plate crackled under the hull of Bradley's battle cruiser. His tractor dish went dead and the Eagle vanished into the wormhole.

  Bradley stood in the center of his control room. His hands still folded over his belly, his face curious. He looked to Stokes. Stokes nodded in affirmation and a spiteful grin came on their faces.

  “That was close,” said Grantham. “For a minute there, I thought they had us.”

  “They let us go,” said Marco staring at the viewer.

  “Looks like the back of a whale,” said Hector.

  “That's it at light-speed,” replied Marco. “The patterns that look like crustaceans are solar systems swallowed up in a cosmic soup. The lights are stars, space dust and ice from comets.”

  Hector held out his hands and shrugged. “I can guess that, Marco. I'm trying to make conversation. ‘Cosmic soup,’ that's a term out of a comic book?”

  Grantham chuckled. His voice rumbled. The banter between the senior officers was a relief.

  Clorissa raised a golden eyebrow. She squeezed the flesh on her rump leaving indentations on her skin. “He thinks were pigs,” hissed Clorissa, “Experimental rabbits.” She turned back to the nav-com. “I can't navigate in this stuff. The computer is sorting random signals but nothing is making sense.”

  “Thanks, Clorissa,” replied Marco. “If we make it through the wormhole alive, he'll be in pursuit once again, you can bet on that. We won't have the same chance the next time.

  He let us go into this wormhole for a reason. My guess is he's hoping we'll lead him to the Emperor's technology.

  By the way, Clorissa, you did a great job back there. Your distraction bought us the time we needed, everyone, good work. And Governor, your help was very much appreciated.”

  “Please, call me, 'Grantham',” he said. “No, Captain: Stokes would like to see me out of his way. He has always been a designing creature. Only I fear now, I may have brought more trouble to your ship.”

  “Why do you say that?” replied Marco. “Did you bring anything with you when you came onboard?”

  “I shouldn't think so, Marco,” said Grantham. “Everything I brought got scanned when I came aboard. I brought a change of clothes and some personal items.”

  Marco looked over to the systems console. Hector affirmed with a nod. “Call me, Marco. Everybody doesuntil we get into a situation, then fall back on protocol. We try to keep a relaxed ship. It's easier to work the longer hours without burn-out.

  Our present situation will most likely keep us at red alert for some time. And, there is something you need to realize. There is no turning back from here. Continue to work with Clorissa on the nav-com. Grantham; your diplomatic skills are going to come in handy when channels open up.”

  “Thank you, Marco. You're very kind,” replied Grantham struggling at the loss of formality. He bowed and turned to Clorissa.

  Marco stood. He tapped Hector on the shoulder then walked to the magnavator. “I want you to check the outside of the hull,” he said, “In case Bradley slipped something past our shields.”

  “I already sent Alice and Bob. The drone pair will run a check for anything not on the list.”

  “Good,” replied Marco. “Now, let's go see those passengers. We'll have to let them know they will be staying for lunch.” A sour twist came on his face. They stepped into the magnavator and the door hissed shut.

  “Stay over for lunch?” jibed Hector. “That was humor, wasn't it? I didn't recognize it at first. We haven't had much of that around here since the last
staffing contract.”

  Marco grinned. “It was sarcasm. You'll get your social legs back before were through this worm hole, I’m sure. Besides, it doesn't matter where you are; you attract people from everywhere in the galaxy. You’re like a magnet.”

  Hector pulled a comb from his shirt pocket and evened out the wave over his ears. “Remember when we carried the marketing staff from the shuttlecraft manufacture? What was it, Ferrari? And, the women's volley ball team.”

  Marco smiled. “Yup, Ferrari,” he said. “That was fun. You know, I found some pink panties and a pair of men's boots down in the fab shop.”

  Hector shot a glance at Marco.

  “On our last trip out,” continued Marco.

  Hector cocked his jaw. “Don't look at me. Pink is not my color.”

  The magnavator door hissed open.

  “Did you explain the rules about passengers being on the bridge?” asked Marco.

  “Sure, but they want to be more involved in what we do out here, replied Hector.

  “I want to talk to them first before any duties get assigned,” replied Marco.

  “This way,” Hector pointed down a corridor with staggered walls and arched ceilings. “I have them in the V.I.P. suite.” Hector stopped between two Grecian columns. He touched a sensor on the bulkhead. Chimes rang the anthem to the Olympic Games.

  The door slid back and Marco stepped inside. Hector followed. The V.I.P. suite was a lavish decor of ancient Egyptian architecture. The furnishings were contemporary Mediterranean. Five large portholes in the bulkhead gave the suite a one-hundred-eighty degree view. In the center of the room was a simple square spa set flush in a rose marble floor.

  Queen Elsinor and Lady Lucia were bathing. They were enjoying a refreshing beverage of light effervescence. King Devin was sitting in a low chair next to the spa. He stood the moment Marco and Hector walked in.

  “Come in, have a seat,” he said, gesturing to the V.I.P. chairs. Marco bowed his head. Hector smiled taking the chair next to the King. “The ladies were hoping for more contact with your company,” said King Devin.