“Ten seconds before we emerge into real space,” Braniac jarred me from my reading. “What are your orders?”
“Prepare the crew for breaking through that outer layer.” Unwillingly, I put aside the report about the Zatrathi for a better time. “The main objective is to create an opening in the outer shell. Also, I need the coordinates for our whereabouts. Braniac, what condition does Yalrock need to be in to be capable of jumping to hyperspace?”
“I don’t understand the question.”
“Can the ship jump to hyperspace if it is partially covered in a layer of metal? That is, will you be able to calculate our destination coordinates accurately or will they remain random?”
“Request understood. Processing now…”
“Cappy, this may be a dumb question, but why do you care?” the engineer asked over the comm. “The marine will make a hole, I’ll destroy the outer layer and then we can be on our merry way. All we need is ten hours—and even that gives us room for error.”
“That’s assuming our errors won’t be forced onto us,” I replied. “What if we pop out in the center of another Zatrathi fleet? Or in the middle of an empire? We might not even get thirty minutes.”
“I agree, at least as far as the Zatrathi are concerned, and yet the chance of that happening is so insignificant that it’s not even worth considering. As for imperial space, I wouldn’t be so quick to judge. If we tell them that we have information concerning their beloved princes…At the very least they’ll be willing to talk—by the time we arrange that, I’ll be done with that shell.”
“Egress imminent!” Braniac interrupted, as Yalrock began to shake. In earthquake terms, the shaking felt like a 7.0 on the Richter scale, no less! Yalrock sank into a frightening silence and all the lights dimmed as if someone had cut the power—the intercom was the only thing still telling us that we hadn’t been destroyed. Not entirely, at least. “The primary powercore is out of order, power has switched to reserve powercells. We have approximately twelve minutes of reserve power remaining. The cryptosaur has begun to make a passage through the outer shell. He has been granted access to all onboard Raq. Ship Durability is down to 30%.”
“Engineer, fix that powercore,” I instantly commanded. We simply could not remain without power. “Do what you have to—but I need it back on line.”
“Roger that!” the snake replied and I saw her body slither past the main deck. I guess she could no longer get around along the surface of the ship. She reported back a second later: “I need about ten minutes to make repairs.”
“Braniac, what can you tell me about the metal shell?” I asked with some relief. If we had power, then the ship could hold out for a while. And if we hadn’t been destroyed as soon as we’d left hyperspace, then we had a chance of surviving. And if…hmm…There was starting to be too many ifs.
“Drilling depth is currently fifteen feet. Estimated time until completion is seven minutes.”
“Roger. Do we have any idea where we are?”
“The ship’s sensors are currently unpowered. Do you wish to redirect reserve power to the sensors? Be advised that in that case, we will have only ten minutes of reserve power for other ship functions.”
“Engineer, will you manage?”
“I need nine minutes, thirty seconds!” came the reply. “Go ahead and connect whatever you need.”
“Turn on the sensors, Braniac,” I decided and instantly one more screen came to life before me. “And so—where are we?”
“…leave this system immediately! You have two minutes to comply. I repeat—unidentified vessel, leave this system immediately! You have one minute and fifty seconds to comply!”
“Braniac, where are we?” I almost yelled into my comm.
“Calculating now,” replied the computer. “We are in the Lentar System, Precian space. This is where the Precian Raq mines are located.”
Great. Just great. The only surprising thing was that they had given us two minutes at all.
“Can we transmit?”
“The sensors are working in passive mode at the moment. If we turn on the transmitter, we won’t have enough power to repair the ship.”
“Engineer?”
“Braniac is correct. I am of course a pretty singular creature and all, but I can’t make repairs without the Elo to do it. My tools simply won’t work.”
“Turn on the transmitter,” I leaned back in my seat, realizing that there was nothing left to do. We’d be forced to respawn either way. “We need to buy some time…”
“Unidentified vessel, leave this system immediately! We will open fire in thirty seconds!”
“This is Surgeon, captain of Yalrock. I have information concerning the demise of the Qualian prince! I repeat: I have information concerning the Qualian prince’s death. He was killed by Rrgord! I have basically no power left and cannot leave this system. We just engaged the Zatrathi and were forced to jump to hyperspace from inside their flagship. Please inform your senior officers that I have information concerning the prince’s death, as well as the current location of Zatrathi forces! Do not fire on our ship!”
“Yalrock! You have ten seconds to leave this system. If you do not submit to our orders, we…Sir yes sir! Surgeon, please transmit the information you have concerning the prince’s demise.”
“I don’t have enough power for the transmission. My powercore’s damaged and the ship needs repairs. Please send over a team of engineers. I need to peel this metal layer from my ship. The reserve power is enough only for three more minutes of communication.”
“If you entered hyperspace from inside the station, then the metal shell has fused with your hull. You won’t be able to save your ship unless it’s bound to a homeworld.”
“They’re not fused! I need assistance. Only then will I tell you what I know about how your Rrgord killed the Qualian—and where he’s currently located.”
“You are not in a position to barter.” A new, much more authoritative voice joined our exchange. No doubt some admiral or, quite possibly, the emperor himself. We were talking about his son, after all.
“I have a minute’s worth of power left. After that I’m activating the self-destruct and leaving this place for good. I don’t want to lose a hundred levels of experience, but trust me, I would prefer that to freely giving up information that I sacrificed my ship for. You have thirty seconds!”
I was trying my best not to giggle until I’d lifted my finger from the comm’s transmit button. What a nice little exchange this had been:
“We will destroy you!”
“Don’t! I have information!”
“Okay, hand it over!”
“I won’t! I want money and repairs!”
“Are you nuts?”
“If you won’t give it to me, I’ll destroy myself.”
How nice it’d be if that worked every time.
“There are no engineers in this system capable of repairing a ship in open space,” said the Precian commander after ten seconds. “Please shut down your equipment. We will transport you to a different system where we will repair you and remove the metal layer.”
“Roger!” I barked curtly and ordered Braniac to conserve energy and recall the marine. Why waste Raq on him, if someone else was going to remove that shell anyway? That Raq could be sold for good money…
“Braniac, how much reserve power do we have now?”
“Three minutes, twenty seconds in economy mode. Without transmissions or sensors.”
“We need those sensors,” I said pensively. “Engineer, what’s up with the powercore?”
“Eight minutes of work. No less.”
“Cancel everything. Braniac, activate sensors every five minutes to establish our location. We need to know where they’re taking us.”
“In that case, effective operating time will be limited to 90 seconds.” The pedantic computer could not pass up an opportunity to offer his two cents. “In addition, constant starting up and shutting down of these syste
ms will have an undetermined effect on our remaining power reserves.”
“Do it,” I ordered, leaning back in my chair wearily. The last few hours of the game had really taken a toll on me. First the station, then the jump, now the transport to a different system. This was not how I had imagined my tranquil search for the check. Speaking of which! I would have to remember to wheedle my way into the Precian capital system—to talk to the emperor. Maybe, it wasn’t such a bad thing that we’d stumbled across these Precians.
“We have entered hyperspace,” Braniac informed me five minutes later. “We have enough power to start the sensors three more times in order to establish our location.”
“Alright, instead of using a five minute interval, use a ten minute interval,” I tweaked my earlier order. Yalrock had entered hyperspace? How? Had we been taken on board a cruiser or a Grand Arbiter? I’d love to have seen that from outside. But then again, the 120 feet of Zatrathi metal would get in the way of that. Hmm…So they managed to load a 300-foot sphere into another ship?
“Braniac, what are they transporting us in?”
“A cargo vessel that is designed to haul Raq. I have no technical information about this type of ship, since no such information was present in the frigate’s computer. But in the past, when klamirs such as myself were common throughout Galactogon, resource transportation was effected by immense and unwieldy transport ships—their main purpose was to haul their cargo to the trade planets. It looks like the Precians are using a similar transport here too.”
We only had enough power to turn the sensors on one more time. We learned only that we were still in hyperspace. After that, Yalrock became a dark and quiet tomb. Bereft of power, Braniac fell silent, the crew fell silent and—unwilling to use my own power (even though my suit was fully charged)—I too kept my motions to a minimum. I placed my hand on the self-destruct button—the only remaining functioning device aboard Yalrock and closed my eyes, hoping to sleep. The day had been an exhausting one.
“We have guests,” the snake’s quiet voice brought me from my doze, seemingly, a moment after I closed my eyes. The clock on my armor’s HUD, however, showed that I had slept no less than two hours. Once again, I considered time’s relativity.
“What guests?” I didn’t comprehend right away.
“Someone is drilling through the shell. From outside. Judging by my acoustic readings, they have drilled about thirty feet already. Should we help them?”
“No need,” I shook my head, even though my armor did not transmit this gesture. “Who knows how they’re drilling. You’ll start cutting through on this side and suddenly run right into whatever they’re using. We’ll wait.”
We had to wait half an hour.
“Surgeon?” A marine in full combat armor entered Yalrock through the opening in the metal. I guess he deserved the achievement for the first local who stepped aboard my ship. In fact, he was the first sentient being to step aboard my ship after my crew.
“The very one. Took y’all a bit,” I said, slowly rising to my feet. The soldier made no sudden motions that could be construed as aggressive. He was smoothness personified.
“Please follow me,” the marine said, clipping a bandoleer to my armor. Which instantly set the armor’s security software howling—the marine had just hung several packs of explosives on me. Judging by the amount—nothing within thirty feet of the blast would survive it.
“I don’t expect I’ll make a very good Bo-omb,” I said, surprised. “What kind of meeting is this then?”
“Please follow me,” the marine repeated. “It’s the general’s order. That security belt is insurance. Without it, you may not step onto Vozban.”
Vozban!
I almost lost my breath. That was the very same planet that Eunice was on!
“I need five minutes,” I told the marine and signed out IRL. I had to talk to Eunice immediately!
“Welcome back, Master!” Stan started up—as ever, I had to cut him off:
“Get Eunice out of that capsule ASAP. Emergency sign out.”
“I do not have access to the command circuit. Eunice’s capsule is controlled by the other unit that you granted access to.”
“Stan give that other comp whatever it wants, just get me Eunice right now!”
I gave the AIs three minutes to come to an agreement, after which I said I’d pull her out myself. Of course, cutting off the cocoon manually is not advised and basically reserved for emergencies. Yanking the interface bus abruptly out of the player’s nervous system could cause mental and even physical trauma.
“What happened, Lex?” Two minutes later, the cocoon’s lid moved aside and the girl’s stunned eyes focused onto me. “We’ve got some kind of alarm going on in our Sector. Unannounced tests and exercises—everyone’s being herded into training capsules. I really don’t want to be missing this. Just doesn’t resemble the ordinary day-to-day in the Sector. I want to figure out what’s going on.”
“I can tell you that myself. In several minutes, I shall descend to Vozban. I have a meeting with your general.”
“WHAT?!”
“What you heard. I’ll dump you my comm number. We really should have thought of that earlier. I’ll wait for your call. We’ll decide how to get you out then.”
“How, Alexis?!”
“Stop waving your arms, I’ll tell you later. Yalrock’s been damaged. They’re going to fix her up in Vozban’s orbit.”
“Why not on the planet itself?”
“Because my ship’s encased in a shell of metal 120 feet thick. That they’re going to try and cut through now.”
“You jumped into hyperspace from another asteroid again?”
“That’s your hubby! Anyway, I’ll wait for your call. I’m going back. I got no time whatsoever. Something tells me that if I don’t return, no info in the world will save me from the general’s wrath. Or the emperor’s.”
“Info…” Eunice said pensively and flatly. “Were you involved in the death of the Qualian prince?” She stuck her finger into the air and, noticing the surprise on my face, exclaimed: “Yeah right!”
“I wasn’t involved. I was just right there when it happened. Eunice, don’t go to the exercises and exams with everyone else. If you get locked into a capsule, I won’t be able to find you. Alright, I’ll see you in there soon.”
“You’re mad!” Eunice managed to get out before her cocoon’s lid shut over her. He’s mad who argues. Would a sane person make the same life choices as me? We are all a little mad—that’s the line of work we’re in.
“New orders from the general.” As soon as I reappeared in Galactogon, the marine yanked me about to face him. “If you do not appear down on that planet in ten minutes, the explosives will be detonated. Please follow me. The descent will take five minutes.”
Happy that I had guessed right, I followed the marine through the drilled passageway.
“How about those repairs?”
“The will be done. Please don’t fall behind.”
“My crew is on the ship…”
“They will be accommodated. The general will answer all your questions. Please don’t dally. The explosives will go off in nine minutes. You need to get to Vozban’s surface.”
We walked the rest of the way in silence. Beyond the drilled passageway stood an interceptor which whisked me away down to the planet. The only thing I saw during the short flight was an incredibly huge ship which was slowly flying away from the planet and a medium-sized repair station which was sending some kind of tentacles out into Yalrock’s direction. Besides that, there were several Grand Arbiters and a swarm of smaller ships. Gantanil-3 bore more resemblance to a beehive than a Training Sector. The Qualian Sector had looked completely differently when I was escaping it with Lestran.
“Pirate Surgeon—a dropout from the Qualian Training Sector, an outlaw and an enemy of the Altan Alliance. Therefore, an enemy of the Precian Imperium too,” the general said slowly as soon as I stepped into his cabinet.
It was like he was savoring this information. Two marines stood behind me, their blasters leveled on me as though I might decide to attack or flee—with a bomb on my armor that no one had bothered to remove yet! The general went on: “A sentient who is wanted dead or alive with a bounty of ten million credits on him. You have no idea how overjoyed I am with your appearance. You should know that the Qualian Grand Marshall—who was in charge of the Qualian Training Sector—was a dear friend of mine. Was. The Qualian Emperor had him executed. Now I have a chance to settle scores. We are already downloading all the data we need from your ship. You have nothing new to tell us and I would like to share some good news with you: When you’re on a Training Sector planet, your binding to your homeworld is void. If you die here, you will be resurrected here—always here. Welcome to your own personal hell, Mr. Surgeon! Marines: Fire!”
Before I could manage a word in edgewise, the Precians blasted me point blank in the back, destroying my armor with all its ample protection. Here was the ten minute break before I could respawn again. When that happened, I’d return in my clothes, since my armor and its blasters would fall as loot in the general’s cabinet. The only good news was that my personal inventory remained on me. In my case, this included a weak assault blaster and two pacifiers.
It would have to suffice. If the Precians wanted war, they would get it!
Chapter 14
The Emperor of the Precians
“What’s going on here?” said an irate old voice as soon as I signed back into the game. “Even here, there’s no peace for an old man!”
I found myself in a small room chock full of pipes, valves, cathode ray tubes and various other mechanical contraptions. At the other end, I saw a wrinkled old Qualian sitting in a soft armchair. I knew right away what his job was by the book he had sat aside, but seeing a Qualain in the Precian Training Sector surprised me nonetheless. Moreover, judging by his uniform, his position was an officially-sanctioned one.
Start the Game (Galactogon: Book #1) Page 31