“Captain,” said the Unit Commander, “this is Colonel… colonel… colonel…”
“Just leave it at Colonel, I think. Captain, I am The Free Union’s counterpart to your Colonel Starker.” I gulped in dismay. He took that as a compliment. “Now, your mission is rather more important than you might think. We have intelligence that Colonel Starker is planning something spectacular against us. As you know, we are not officially at war with the Imperium right now, but they dislike our existence and are keen to destabilise the Free Union in advance, I have no doubt, of another military offensive. If Starker is there in person, then we need to know exactly what is going on in that base on an unregarded backwater planet.”
I looked at the Commander. He stared me down. “This Unit was established for just this sort of mission.” He puffed his chest out. “To patrol the frontier and beyond, to seek out new threats.”
“I thought it was new life forms?” I couldn’t resist asking.
“Often the same thing, Captain,” replied the mysterious colonel. “Go there, find out what is going on – anyway you like – and send us a message with the details. You will do The Free Union an enormous service.”
“At enormous personal risk!” I pointed out.
The colonel waved an arm carelessly. “That’s military service, for you. No doubt some appropriate reward will be arranged on your return.”
“Of course, of course,” said my Unit Commander, a bit too glibly for my liking.
The colonel pushed a clear folder with a sheet of paper inside it across the desk towards me. I picked it up. “These are your mission codes and clearances. You will see that you keep your normal flight codes, Speedbird Six Sixty-Six. The flotilla is led by a Valhalla class StarDestroyer.” I winced, and he noticed. “But of course, you are familiar with that vessel. Its mission call sign will be Trollheim. Your target will be Pentagram, and Colonel Starker will be Lucifer.” Who is so deranged as to dream these things up, I wondered?
“Off you go then,” said the colonel. “The flotilla will accompany you to this point.” He unrolled a star chart and pointed to a small spot I couldn’t see. “They will then orbit this system, well inside our border. You can continue from there.” He held out his hand again, and I shook it automatically. “Good luck.”
I understood that the interview was over, and was quite glad to get out. In fact, I practically fled. The Commander followed me out of the room. “This mission is classified, obviously. You’ll get the flight clearances to get you off the Star Base, but then you are on your own. You’ll be classified as ‘Missing’ so that we can disown you if it all goes wrong.”
Oh joy. Now I really knew that I was in trouble. The Commander looked around. We were alone in the corridor.
“The flotilla will be leaving Star Base shortly. Best you get on with joining them. I don’t want you hanging around here, it’s insecure.” He leant towards me. I tried leaning away, but he grabbed my arm and spoke quietly into my ear. “We suspect that Colonel Starker has agents here. He wouldn’t be worth his reputation if he didn’t. So shut up and get off the base.”
The Commander looked even more serious than normal, so I saluted.
“The Free Union!” he said, saluting back.
“The Free Union,” I replied.
The Commander turned his back on me and left. I walked back to my ship, ignoring the strange looks from the mechanics as I did so. When I reached the Speedbird, Mike was just ushering the last of his team out of the entry hatch. “She’s all loaded and ready to go,” he told me. “Really you should carry out a proper test flight, but I understand that’s prohibited for what are called ‘Operational Reasons’?”
“Can’t talk about it, Mike,” I told him.
“Fair enough.” He gave me a very shrewd look. “Listen, I’ve put some stuff on board you shouldn’t have.” He looked around. One of the NotMikes was in earshot, and he didn’t say any more. But I got the hint from his hand action.
“Thanks, Mike. Appreciate it.”
“The weapons systems will need test firing when you are away from Star Base, though. Do not leave it until you need them for real to see if they work properly, okay? I know we are not officially fighting anyone, but there may be some unauthorised incidents and you do not want to be caught out.”
“Gotcha.”
Mike shook my hand. I was surprised – he had never done that before. Then I realised that rumours of what I had to do had probably spread through the Base, despite the Commander’s insistence on secrecy. I looked around the maintenance bay. No one was paying the slightest attention to me. Mike walked off, and I realised that was my only ‘goodbye’ moment. That was sad. But as there was no reasonable alternative, I climbed aboard the Speedbird and closed the entry hatch.
The entry port was tidy, which was good. I climbed the stairs to the living quarters and again was amazed at how neat and tidy everything was. All the inspection panels in the floors had been replaced, the scorch marks on the walls had been cleaned or repainted and the kitchen area was so clean that I wondered for a moment if it was new. Nervously I opened the door into the engine bay. The wiring that had been botched up for me all now looked pristine, wrapped in cable ties, cable protectors and clear, but fire resistant, coverings. I walked around the engine bay, and looked at main and hyperdrive engine housings. They had a new set of scratches, showing that the housings had been removed and replaced.
As there was nothing that I was qualified to look at, I picked up the clipboard that was fastened to the bulkhead near the door. It carried a whole new set of signatures suggesting that a lot of maintenance and servicing had genuinely been carried out. Since this class of Speedbird was close to the end of the extended service life it had been granted for the Reconnaissance Unit, I was quite pleased to see all this. Maybe the ship would hold together this time until I got back to Star Base.
The flight deck looked pretty good too, although the pilot’s seat seemed untouched. It was set at the right height for Mike, but as he was taller than I was that wasn’t good for me. I adjusted the seat; it stayed at the new height, and I was pleasantly surprised. The flight deck was fully operational, and before I had finished my pre launch checks, the commscreen was alive.
“Speedbird Six Sixty-Six, Star Fleet Base. Are you ready for departure?”
“Star Fleet, yes.”
“Speedbird Six Sixty-Six, you are late.”
“Always planned on being late for my own funeral,” I retorted.
“Speedbird, you are cleared for immediate departure from maintenance. Immediate after departure contact Valhalla Two One Eight on your mission frequency.”
I acknowledged without enthusiasm. The keener they are to see you go, the less keen I am to leave. That’s the fruit of my extensive military experience there for you. The Speedbird’s engines started easily and I drifted without fuss out of the dock and into the airlock. The inner doors closed behind me ominously; the outer doors slid apart and the scout craft left the huge Star Fleet Space Station and entered the velvety void. Despite the fears I had about the mission, I always enjoyed the sensation of launching into space and the view of the stars. This time was no different until the commscreen interfered with my reverie again.
“Speedbird, this is Valhalla. Trollheim Leader. Acknowledge.”
Typical. No sooner had I left the Fleet Base than Captain Dexter was exerting his authority. Wearily I acknowledged him.
“Speedbird, Trollheim Flotilla is in your zenith. Join formation at the rear and prepare to depart.”
I grunted my agreement, and wished that I could depart. A number of frigates were on defense patrol around Star Base, and we had to clear all their orbits before we could actually set course. I steered around a number of the defense ships and joined up with the flotilla. Dexter was clearly enjoying himself as an independent commander of a number of ships, and had turned all pompous and pretentious. He carried on issuing orders and complaining at the frigate pilots about their format
ion until he had made everyone heartily sick and tired, then finally he led us away from the huge space station and we started to accelerate.
“Speedbird, keep up!” demanded Dexter.
It was already apparent to me that, whatever magic Mike and the mechanics had weaved over the engines of my ship, the elderly Speedbird was simply a lot slower than the more modern frigates and StarDestroyer.
“Set coordinates and engage hyperspace drives!” ordered Dexter.
I pulled out the sheet of paper the colonel had given me and programmed the destination into the navcomm. By the time I looked up from the flight console, I was entirely alone. With a curse, I engaged the hyperspace drive anyway and left the flight deck. The coffee maker had been cleaned to within an inch of its life. This worried me, as I was rather accustomed to the taste of the old coffee that came through in every cup. Still, it was better than nothing and would in time go back to the taste I preferred – I hoped. The destination was some distance away. I thought about turning on the music system, but after the last flight experience, decided against it. I drank the coffee, pulled a face, and went to sleep instead.
I was awoken by an alarm. Panic, fear and terror all shot through me like an over-spiced curry; then I recognised that the alarm was a proximity alert. I had arrived at the first destination, and the Speedbird had dropped out of hyperspace and was decelerating. Yawning, I went into the flight deck and turned on the vidscreen. A huge, dark red planet filled the screen. The navcomm was bleating in a horribly self-satisfied manner, so I turned off all the alarms and wondered where the flotilla might be. Although the proximity alert meant that the flotilla had to be nearby, there were no other ships in sight; after having checked that I was at the right planetary system I established an orbit and went off to make more coffee. It was as horrible as the first, but I thought that I detected a mild improvement in the flavour. Maybe another would be a good idea? I thought so. I quickly drank that too, and with a fourth coffee wandered back into the flight deck.
The amber light indicating an incoming message on a different frequency to the one selected was flashing. I sat down and accepted the message request.
“About time, too!” complained Dexter. He didn’t need to identify himself, I recognised him immediately. “Where have you been?”
“I don’t travel as fast as you do. What do you want?”
“Bit of respect, for a start! I’m the Mission Commander.”
“Dexter, We are a very long way from Star Fleet. I’m about to go on a stupidly dangerous assignment. You aren’t. So shut up.”
“I warn you that this conversation is being logged.”
“Dexter, I outrank you anyway. And I’m in a different command. So shut up.”
“That’s insubordination!”
For the first time since I had been transferred to the Reconnaissance Unit, I suddenly felt that I was happier there than in the main Star Fleet.
“Just stay on station, Dexter, and wait for my return.” This was amazing! Dexter had actually made me sufficiently angry to want to get on with the mission – at least it would mean getting away from him. I closed the commchannel and picked up the paper with the mission coordinates. As I typed them into the navcomm, I noticed something strange about the paper. It was slowly turning brown. I finished typing and then picked up the sheet of paper, turning it over in my hands to examine both sides. To my surprise and annoyance it suddenly burst into flames, and reduced itself to a charred ash on the floor – naturally I had dropped it on the spot, and emptied my coffee cup onto it for good measure. Unsurprisingly I had developed a severe aversion to a fire in space.
“Not funny, colonel,” I muttered.
The navcomm showed the coordinates I had entered of the target galaxy. An amber button marked ‘Execute’ was flashing. Thinking that if I was captured there, on the wrong side of the Imperium border an execution would probably be coming my way, I screwed up what remained of my courage and pressed the button. The flight console promptly burst into life, taking me out of the set orbital path.
Moving away from the planet gave me a beautiful sunrise, and before the vidscreen opaqued to protect my vision, I could also see the shape of my old command. The Valhalla class StarDestroyer brought a lump to my throat and I found I missed the camaraderie of flying a starship with more than just my split personality for company. The vidscreen went blank as the elderly Speedbird accelerated into hyperspace. For a moment I imagined I had heard a ghostly echo of Sheena’s voice calling “Good luck, Cap!” but in reality I must have imagined it. And the tear in my eye.
The border with the Imperium’s star systems was only moments away. Possibly I could have managed without engaging the hyperdrive, but at least being in hyperspace made it hard for warning systems (if there were any in this backward area) to detect my crossing. In a short time the drive automatically disengaged, and the vidscreen flickered into life showing me the star system ahead.
Too far away for the proximity alert alarm to operate, a space freighter was achieving escape velocity from a planet. I quickly slipped behind a nearby asteroid for cover and from there to an orbit of the outermost planet in the system. The freighter slid out of view, and then briefly back into view as it accelerated out of the star system. The freighter was not a modern design; in fact it was as old as the Speedbird. For a moment I wildly thought about intercepting it and collecting any information that I could get. Obviously both stupid and impractical; yet somehow attractive. There was a decent bonus payment from Star Fleet for captured vessels, after all. Not that I’m mercenary or anything, but money always helps.
Regretfully I let the freighter go. And no, I didn’t alert Captain Dexter – I wasn’t in the frame of mind to line his pockets. The planetary orbit took me around until my target was in view. Now that the freighter had gone, the star system was quiet. There was another planet between me and the target, so I programmed the flight computer to take me there. I established an orbit that held me in a position behind the planet from the view of my destination, and decided to turn in for a sleep. I wanted to be fully rested before going further.
The sleeping pod held another joy, I found when I climbed into it. A six pack of beer. Blessing Mike and all his ancestors, I opened one and after drinking the can, I fell fast asleep.
*
Awakening, I hurried to the flight deck. All was clear. No messages, no recorded alerts – I was in no danger. That gave me time to have a shower and some breakfast then, before planning my next move. Afterwards – well, you really didn’t want those details, did you? I opened the file that held all the details of my enforced visit to the cursed planet. I needed an approach path that would keep me well away from the freighter maintenance base and still allow me to reach Colonel Starker’s presumed location undetected.
This took me some time, but at last I computed a trajectory and programmed it into the flight controller. The Speedbird slipped out of orbit and dropped through the system towards the target planet. The surface was still largely obscured by clouds, something I was counting on to deceive any visual detection devices.
The combat control system sat on one side of the flight console. I activated all the cloaking applications available, and crossed my fingers. The Speedbird quivered as I entered the outer atmosphere and descended as steeply as I dared. Down into the cloud layer, and the swirling winds made the Speedbird rock. I focused entirely on the trajectory, and breathed in relief as I came out of the clouds in the southern hemisphere, where I planned to be. Below was a continent that I had previously identified as unoccupied, except for a gazillion trees. Still I lost height, applying the thrusters to reduce the airspeed as I sought a landing space.
There was the place I was looking for. A long level clearing, sometimes called a forest ride, although the reason for the name is lost in the mists of time. I set up an approach at the lowest speed that seemed safe, and breathed a sigh of relief as the Speedbird touched down safely and rolled to a stop.
The v
idscreens showed me vegetation all around. I backed the Speedbird under the forest canopy as far as I dared, until I was hidden as far as was possible, then shut down the engines and all the control systems. If my arrival had attracted any attention, then I wanted to know about it from a place of concealment.
Everything was quiet, except for the gentle ticking noises made by the Speedbird as it cooled down.
I drew a breath, then headed for the sleeping pod and lay down. I had calculated that the earliest a surface based craft could reach me from the northern hemisphere was four hours, so I had time to get some more sleep. It is one of the lessons anyone in military reconnaissance learns very quickly. Get as much sleep as you can, whenever you can. You never know when you will need to be fully rested.
Four hours later, I was back at the pilot’s seat with coffee and a novel. I waited until dark, but there was no activity, no search and destroy aircraft. The skies above me remained silent and still. Apart from a burst of heavy rain, of course. There can be few things more surreal than sitting in the flight deck of a spacecraft, listening to the rain beating down on the roof.
Opening the power lever, I tried to move the Speedbird out from under the canopy of trees. Of course, the rain had made the ground a bit too soft, and she refused to roll forwards. I was about to push the power lever all the way forward when I suddenly recalled that NotMike had warned me of the risks to the repairs to the undercarriage. I backed off the power, and thought.
There were two options. That’s always good, when you have a choice. However, the choices were: give the power all the thrust I could and hope that the landing gear didn’t fall off: or engage the vertical take-off thrust mode. I hadn’t used this before. In fact, I wasn’t entirely sure that the VTOL mode had ever been used. Still, there was a first time for everything. I called up the VTOL unit on the flight computer, and checked the status. The computer suggested that using the mode was still viable, so with some trepidation, I engaged the drive and wondered what was going to happen.
Scout Pilot Of the Free Union Page 9