Daniel Coldstar #1

by Stel Pavlou

  Torin rounded his desk, frantically trying to get Daniel not to say any more. Too late.

  Daniel grimaced. “Sorry. You didn’t tell me it was supposed to be a secret.”

  All eyes settled on Torin.

  The Truth Keeper scratched his brow. Caught.

  “Not a secret. I just didn’t want anyone to know.”

  “Torin . . . ?” said Alioth.

  “I’m the Truth Keeper,” Torin replied, trying to brush it aside. “The Keeper of Relics.”

  “We agreed, no Thought Detonators—” Juro the Doubting cut in.

  “How do you expect me to understand them, if I can’t study them?”

  “You can study them anywhere else in the galaxy, just not here!”

  “Enough!”

  Daniel recognized the strong, confident voice. He glanced around the room to find the Chief Verdicti from Toshka pushing her way to the front. She looked just like any other Truth Guardian now that her sleeks had changed back to their natural metallic gray color.

  Torin hung his head. “Nice to see you, Morithia,” he said. “Thank you for finding the time to attend at such short notice.”

  Daniel got the impression that he really wasn’t saying thank you, and that she held an equally dim opinion of Keeper Torin.

  “We’re missing something,” she mused. “The Sinja obviously sent this boy,” she said, drawing everyone’s attention back to Daniel, “as a diversion, to aid in their theft of the Book of Planets.”

  Daniel couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “No one sent me! I escaped!”

  “And I have no doubt that you believe that,” she said, before addressing her peers. “But consider the trail of clues they have left behind, enough clues for us to follow a trail all the way back to them. Why? What have they found that they would be so confident we would be powerless against it?”

  While the Truth Seekers bickered over the legends of ancient artifacts scattered throughout the galaxy, Daniel sat down, his mind wandering back to that wretched place, back to that chamber filled with endless row upon row of . . .

  “The armor,” Daniel said quietly.

  “What armor?” Ionica anxiously prodded, trying to keep her voice down too.

  Daniel shrugged. “Enough to equip an entire army . . .”

  It was only as he said it that Daniel realized the room had fallen silent.

  “I know of no legend which talks of powers associated with ancient armor, alien or otherwise,” Juro the Doubting remarked. “Do you, Torin?”

  “Not armor, no,” Torin replied, his mind obviously racing. Rummaging through his desk, he cleared a space and planted a document projector. Like petals on a flower, thousands of documents, suspended in the air, began unfolding all around him. Shuffling through them at a rapid pace, Keeper Torin quickly assembled his theory. “Here,” he said, “the fall of the Arachnivores. The legends of the Esseed. The Mark. The Kittion. All speak of a remorseless force, an army of uncanny ability; the Esseed even believed that they were able to see the future, predicting the movements of their opponents before they had even thought of them themselves. Until one day they simply vanished.”

  “You’re talking about the Lost Legion of the Mythrian Army,” Alioth said.

  Torin nodded. “What if it’s not the soldiers themselves we should be worried about, but what they wore?”

  Morithia refused to believe it. “The legends make it very clear that the Mythrians were a race with biological, alien abilities beyond our comprehension. Besides, no evidence has ever been found that they truly existed. No empire, no home world, no artifacts of any kind.”

  “And what if the legends are wrong? What if we know them under another name? What if these suits of armor that Daniel found are one more legacy of the destructive power of the Destronomers? Combine that strength with the Destronomer technology of the Book of Planets, and what do we have?”

  “I don’t believe it.”

  “It doesn’t matter if you believe it. What matters is that the Sinja believe it.”

  “The Mythrian Army, unearthed on Musa Degh?”

  “Why not?”

  “Because if it’s true,” Morithia said, laying a gentle hand on Torin’s arm, “an army that can see the future would be unstoppable.”

  39

  FULL CIRCLE

  The Equinox and the Azimuth burst out of Inspinity into orbit around Musa Degh.

  “If the Sinja are on the surface, they’re hiding their signals,” Ben Quick said, checking the scopes for any signs of activity. “Scanning for ships.”

  Torin took his own look at the ship’s instruments. He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “Let’s move in closer,” he said. “But do it cautiously.”

  “If they can see the future,” Daniel said, gazing out of the Sphere and watching the broken world of Musa Degh coming into view, “then they already know we’re here and what we’re about to do.”

  “And are you saying we should give up and go home?”

  Daniel didn’t know how to respond to that. Instead he watched the world from which he had once escaped loom ever closer.

  Bla-bleep. Bla-bleep.

  Everyone around the Operations Bay glanced over at the REPIS scopes to see eight phantoms, jagged-edged Sinja starfighters, heading straight at them at blistering speed; hawks swooping in for the kill.

  At least, they started out as eight. Within moments they multiplied like a disease, eight ships becoming sixteen, becoming thirty-two, becoming sixty-four.

  The commlink crackled as the pilot of the Azimuth got in touch. “Equinox, are you seeing this?”

  “Holocule decoys,” Torin muttered.

  “They’re jamming our scopes,” a Truth Seeker cried from the other side of the Sphere. “We can’t tell decoys from real!”

  A shadow crossed Torin’s face. “Splinter the ship,” he said.

  The Truth Seekers jumped into action. Grabbing helmets from the racks, they tore out of the Sphere and hurtled down the long corridors.

  Ben stopped only to say good-bye. “Good luck on the ground, Daniel.”

  Daniel appreciated it. “Good luck to you too.”

  Ben nodded, before racing off to his station.

  Rrrrrrmmmmm!

  Heavy doors rumbled down behind them, cutting them off from the rest of the ship.

  Ka-choom! Ka-choom!

  The sound of locking clamps being released echoed around the cabin, followed by the whine of servo motors. The Equinox began to shudder while the cabin filled with a rumble so deafening that it seemed like the air itself had started to scream.

  Shhhhwwweeeeiiiiii!

  “Spitfires are powered up, engines are online,” Ionica announced.

  “Phantoms closing in!” Daniel said. “They’re opening fire!”

  Suddenly the Sphere lit up with rapid plasma blasts.

  Tee-tee-tee-tee-tewwwwww!

  The Equinox’s cannons whirred into action, ripping out a heavy retaliation.

  Ch-tsooffff! Ch-tsooffff!

  The Equinox shook so violently that Daniel was knocked off his feet. He glanced around to see every direction filling with the blinding fury of starfighter engines rocketing away.

  SHWWWWWWWOOOOMMMM!

  The deafening roar of the engines was so loud that Daniel could barely hear Ionica when she yelled: “Spitfires away!”

  From out in space, four of the Equinox’s brightly colored long arms rocketed away from the main body of the ship, splitting in two as they went. For a brief moment it really did look like the Equinox had splintered into pieces.

  But it was an illusion.

  As the pieces separated, they quickly sprouted wings and armament pods.

  These were Equinox’s Spitfires; eight Truth Seeker starfighters that she carried with her at all times. Their fuselages glinted in the bright light of Musa Degh’s five suns. In a flash, they shot off in screaming pursuit of the Sinja attack ships, leaving the Equinox behind to provide covering fire.

 
; Daniel ran to watch the battle unfold on the scopes. As the radio chatter grew louder and the pilots traded call signs and tactical moves, he followed their progress as projections of them whizzed around in front of him.

  It was easy to see who was who and what was what; the REPIS computer labeled every craft, the words whizzed around with them, and the display was so accurate that the colors of the different ships could easily be seen.

  Immediately Daniel spotted trouble. “Ben,” he blurted, “behind you!”

  There was a burst of interference and then Ben answered back, “I see him.”

  At the same time a Spitfire took evasive maneuvers across the REPIS, trying desperately to shake the Phantom from its tail. Arcing around, it sped toward the Azimuth, just as it too splintered.

  A burst of light flared across space as all the Azimuth’s own starfighters roared into battle and whipped around, locking on to the Phantom and charging straight at it, cannons blazing.

  Ch-tsooffff! Ch-tsooffff!

  The Sinja ship banked away but it didn’t stand a chance. One good hit and . . . the starfighter evaporated. A holocule decoy drawing them away from the real attack.

  Ben got straight on the commlink. “Thanks, Yellow Tail.”

  “Spitfires, fall back!” another pilot ordered. “Don’t get suckered.”

  The Azimuth’s starfighters, bulkier craft called Hurricanes, with greater firepower but not as fast as Spitfires, zipped toward the Equinox in pursuit of another target.

  Daniel spun around to watch them through the window as they streaked past. His mouth hung open at the awesome sight of the eight Hurricanes speeding away, their yellow tail fins glinting from the glow of their engines.

  Shhhhhwwoooommmmmm!

  “Wow!” he cried.

  “Well, well, well,” said Torin as he analyzed the battle intensely. “Would you look at that?”

  Daniel tuned back to the REPIS. “Look at what?” he asked.

  “The Sinja can’t stop lying, even in a fight,” he said excitedly.

  Daniel took a good look at the dogfight, but he couldn’t see what Torin was talking about.

  “There,” Torin exclaimed, racing around to view the battle from another angle and excitedly pointing to an area on the edge of the map. “It’s a diversion!”

  Ionica’s eyes lit up. “You’re right,” she said. “They’re drawing us away from this area here.”

  “Then that’s where we go,” said Torin.

  Orders started flying between the two splinter groups. The Equinox would head in. The Azimuth would cover them.

  The Sinja realized that their plan had been foiled only when the Truth Seekers suddenly broke off their counterattack.

  Coming around, the Phantoms regrouped into two deadlier formations, flying side by side, concentrating their firepower on one starfighter at a time, trying to pick off the slower ships first as they raced to catch up.

  Tee-tee-tee-tee-tewwwwww!

  On the other side of the Sphere, Ionica had spotted a flow of incoming data that was too important to ignore. “We’re picking up something under the surface,” she announced.

  “The mines,” said Daniel confidently.

  Was this it? Were his friends down there right now?

  The commlink burst into life. “I’m hit!” the voice shrieked.

  “Azimuth to Yellow Tail Six, we’re on our way.”

  Daniel watched the situation unfold on the REPIS. Hot plasma was leaking from the engine of Yellow Tail Six and the Hurricane had slowed to a limp.

  The other Phantoms were closing in.

  “We have to go back and help,” said Daniel desperately.

  “It’ll be fine,” Torin said calmly.

  “But the Azimuth’s going the wrong way!”

  “It will be fine, Daniel.”

  Just then the REPIS lit up as a bright explosion erupted from Yellow Tail Six. A tiny pinpoint of light blasted out from the starfighter at an angle.

  Before Daniel even had a chance to figure out what it was, the Hurricane exploded in a shock wave, scattering the Phantoms into disarray.

  Ionica sent a message through to the Azimuth, immediately asking for an update. It took a few moments for a reply to come back, but when it did the relief in the Truth Seeker’s voice was obvious.

  “We’ve got him, Equinox. Pilot retrieved.”

  Daniel couldn’t believe it. “I don’t understand,” he said.

  Torin thought it was obvious. “Ejector pod,” he said. “It takes time and effort to train a Truth Seeker. What would be the point in letting one of us die?”

  Daniel cocked his head. What was that noise?

  Pssssshhhhhhhhhhhh . . .

  Ionica heard it too. “Everyone quiet!” she snapped.

  Nobody argued. The sudden eerie silence in the Operations Bay unnerved Daniel more than the battle did.

  Whatever the noise was, it was getting louder.

  “Are we leaking atmosphere?” Daniel asked.

  Ssssshhhhhhhhhhhh . . .

  Ionica checked the readings on her console. “No,” she said. “Pressure’s normal.”

  “Then what—”

  KA-BLAM!

  An explosion ripped through the Equinox’s hull. The screech of rending metal filled the cabin. Thick smoke poured into one of the corridors.

  Truth Seekers across the sphere abandoned their stations in an instant, their Aegis shields springing up in a whirl.

  Daniel’s shield arm shook with fear. What was going on?

  “We’re being boarded!” Torin cried.

  Dark figures jumped down through the ragged hull breech and advanced on the Truth Seekers. Electricity flared across the tips of their batons. Their rusted armor was wrapped in the stench of death and decay.

  Overseers . . .

  Ionica balled her fist and slammed an Aegis punch down the corridor at them to give the other Truth Seekers time to take up defensive positions.

  The intruders staggered a little, but were not knocked off their feet as she had expected. Instead, they ran at the Truth Seekers without mercy.

  Furious Truth Seekers unleashed on the Overseers, but still it did little to slow them down. Their armor was more effective against Truth Seeker attacks than even Torin had feared.

  “I don’t understand,” said Daniel. “My attacks worked in the mines.”

  “Fall back!” Torin ordered. “Seal the Sphere!”

  “No, we can do this!” Daniel insisted, running through the doorway at the Overseers, just as thick defensive doors thundered down behind him, sealing the Sphere off from the rest of the ship.

  Ionica pounded on the door. “Are you crazy?!” she cried, but it was too late. She hammered on the controls, but they were shut off. She shot a look back at Keeper Torin. “Now what?”

  Daniel stood alone against the Overseers, bracing himself for the inevitable attack, yet the Overseers refused to engage.

  “Whatever your plan, it’s not going to work,” Daniel warned.

  The Overseers did not respond. Instead, in perfect unison, they pulled back one by one to line the walls of the corridor, revealing a figure calmly watching from the other end of the corridor—a Sinja.

  Daniel threw up his shield. “You won’t win,” he said defiantly.

  “I already have, Dee,” the Sinja replied, reaching up and removing his helmet.

  Daniel couldn’t believe his eyes. Shocked, he lowered his shield, unable to think clearly.

  No one had called him that name in a long time.

  This couldn’t be real. It had to be a lie. It had to be. Yet the truth was staring him right in the face.

  40

  BACK FROM THE DEAD

  The two friends stood at opposite ends of the Equinox corridor, facing off.

  Blink Darkada . . . a Sinja? Impossible! Daniel pulled his hand back, readying his Aegis.

  “You never came back for me, Dee,” said Blink.

  “What?” Daniel was caught completely off guard
. “How can you say that?” he said. The last time he’d seen Blink Darkada, he was being snatched by a Nightwatcher. Nobody ever came back from that. “I thought you were dead.”

  “Do I look dead?” Blink asked.

  “Well, I’m back now. And I’m here to rescue you—rescue all of us.”

  “Rescue me? Dee, I’m here to rescue you. Come with me.”

  Daniel’s head started spinning.

  Blink shook his head sadly. “What have they done to you?”

  “Me? What about you?”

  Blink didn’t seem any different, though he must’ve been. Daniel knew Blink about as well as anyone could, or at least he thought he did. How had this happened?

  The sound of heavy fighting from inside the Sphere grew louder.

  Daniel glanced back to find Keeper Torin trying to get his attention, begging him to unlock the door.

  Daniel eyed his old friend. Maybe there was a way to stop this. “Call off the Overseers and I’ll come with you. It’s that or we both die here and now.”

  Blink seemed agitated. He took a step forward. “You’re making a mistake.”

  Daniel ignited his Aegis shield in a flash. “Prove me wrong,” he said.

  Blink clearly didn’t like the idea, but he seemed to be thinking it over.

  Trapped behind the shielded Sphere door, Torin thumbed the commlink. “Daniel!” he warned. “Don’t trust him!”

  “I have to do something,” Daniel replied.

  “Of course you do, just not this!”

  Blink signaled the nearest Overseer. “Begin the retreat,” he commanded. The Overseer nodded, signaling his troops to follow him out. Moments later, the sound of heavy fighting throughout the ship began to fade.

  Alone with his old friend, Daniel said, “Thank you.”

  “Follow me,” said Blink.

  Daniel did as he was asked, leaving Torin’s cries far behind him.

  Blink’s Phantom, docked where one of the Equinox’s starfighters used to be, had a sickly, musky smell to it. The dark cockpit, bathed in the red glow of its flight controls, had very little room beyond the pilot’s seat.

  Climbing down into it, Daniel remarked, “I don’t think we’re both going to fit.”

  “Both of us don’t have to,” Blink replied, disappearing in a cloud of holocule dust.