Storm Over Saturn s-5

by Mack Maloney

  And that bothered him, too.

  "Now that we have it in sight, we have to do something!" Hunter yelled up to Zoloff now. Their prop core was sizzling badly, and it was not quiet inside the old ship. It almost seemed like they had left a door open or something, and the wind was roaring in — impossible, of course.

  Zoloff yelled back, "What are your suggestions?"

  Hunter was stumped. He scanned the control panel but did not find what he was looking for.

  "Does this rig have any weapons?" he yelled. He couldn't believe he hadn't checked for such a thing before.

  There was just a moment's pause, then Zoloff yelled back, "No! There was never any need!"

  "Why not?" Annie wanted to know, asking a rare question.

  "We built it to move our spies around " Zoloff replied. "We always flew too quick to shoot at anything or to have anything shoot at us."

  Just great, Hunter thought. Now what?

  "How can we stop it then?" he yelled back to Zoloff. The saucer was getting bigger in their field of vision.

  "We'll have to ram it," was Zoloff's surprising answer.

  Hunter looked back at him. "Ram it?"

  Zoloff got that crazy smile again. "It's an old Russian tactic," he said. "Keep hitting it until it goes down!"

  Hunter hesitated, but only for a moment. As desperate as Zoloff's suggestion sounded, they really didn't have any other choice. They had to stop the saucer. A planet full of his friends was in grave danger, and the fate of a large section of space was at stake.

  If only I had the Flying Machine, he thought again. His six X blasters would have vaporized the saucer in seconds, as it was unarmed, too, at least with defensive weapons. But he was stuck out here, with his prey before him, and no way to take it down.

  Unless he rammed it.

  "Brave Russian pilots," Zoloff was telling him. "During the Great Patriotic War. They would get up behind German bombers and use their propellers to saw off their tails. A Heinkel cannot fly without a tail. And that monster in front of us cannot fly with half its body missing."

  Hunter couldn't argue that. Plus time was running out. They were just minutes from reaching Doomsday 212 now.

  So he would have to ram the SSG ship in order to destroy it, its bomb, and everyone on board.

  But he knew by doing so, it would be the end of them, too.

  Zoloff patted him once on the shoulder. Annie hugged his leg.

  'Tear not, my friend," the Ancient Cosmonaut said. "We are what we are, and we do what we can do."

  Hunter tapped his left breast pocket twice, then pushed the throttle just a little bit farther into the control panel.

  The KosmoVox shot ahead, slamming into the rear end of the saucer a moment later. The collision was fantastic and violent. Sparks everywhere, fire coming right up to Hunter's eyes, metal crashed and bent. A thunderous booming noise that shouldn't have been.

  So this is how it ends, he thought.

  "What better way?" another voice asked.

  He looked down and saw Annie smiling up at him. At least she will be with me, he thought.

  The saucer increased its speed slightly and managed to pull away from the KosmoVox. Hunter stayed right behind it, though. He could see the puncture wound he'd caused in its skin. Air and other unidentifiable gases were spewing out of it. He saw a flicker of flame, too.

  "Again!" Zoloff cried.

  But Hunter was already jamming the throttle forward. They hit the saucer a second time. Again there was a huge explosion of sparks. Again a surprising, thundering boom! Again, flames that seemed so close to him, they went right around him without burning his face at all.

  Again, the saucer managed to pull itself ahead.

  Hunter didn't wait for any encouragement this time. He zoomed up, over, and then straight down, this time hitting the saucer square on its circular flight deck. This was the hardest impact of all; this time he knew he'd caused a mortal wound. He'd penetrated the saucer so deeply, he could see the startled, frightened faces of the SSG deck crew. He was almost eyeball to eyeball with McLyx and his comm officers. McLyx saw him, and in a sort of audio slow motion, screamed at him, "You?"

  Hunter blinked — and suddenly they were back out in space again. The saucer, heavily damaged, smoking fiercely, was somehow still staggering on its way.

  Another push of the throttle. Another collision. This time right into the belly of the ship. Hunter was astonished to see the two bomb security men up on the balcony, staring down at him. Their faces said it all: Is this real? Then they quickly fled the bomb bay. Hunter didn't blame them. The nose of the KosmoVox had not only pierced the shimmering pool of water, it came within inches of the big spray bomb itself.

  But how could this be? Ramming his way into the saucer's thin skin was one thing. But busting through a trio of Level 10 force fields?

  That was almost impossible.

  "You're doing it!" Annie cried, this as Hunter laid off the throttle, and the saucer began spinning away from them again. There was no doubt though, it was in serious trouble. "You're doing it!"

  But this time, the collision had taken off a huge piece of the KosmoVox's nose cone. There was also a giant tear on its starboard fuselage.

  "Don't let them get away!" Zoloff cried.

  Hunter hit the saucer a fifth time, and then a sixth, both

  times on the flight deck again. With each collision, he saw even more damage to the interior of the SSG ship. Just glimpses, quick visions of a nightmare in progress. Control stations covered in bile. Dead SSG crew members sprawled about. McLyx with a ray gun up against his own head, ready to blow his brains out. But at the same time in all this, the KosmoVox was literally coming apart at the seams. There were holes opening up all along its fuselage. The glass in the canopy was gone. Its two huge tail wings had broken away. But the wounds Hunter was delivering to the saucer were even more gaping. He was easily able to tear away long sections of the thinly constructed alien craft. And every time he made contact, there was a huge crack of lightning, a massive discharge of electricity, and a deafening sound not unlike a sonic boom. Hunter's eardrums felt like they were going to burst, this noise was so loud. But of course, he knew this, too, was impossible. Sound waves were carried on air. And there was no air in space.

  Something was wrong. All these things that were happening to him couldn't possibly be real.

  The evidence mounted. There were so many holes in the KosmoVox now, all of the air should have escaped long ago. Yet the lack of oxygen wasn't having any effect on him. In fact, he felt great. And there was fire all around him too, yet he wasn't getting burned, and neither were Annie and Zoloff. And the ship's artifical-grav dampeners had to be zonked by now, yet Hunter was still sitting firmly in his seat.

  He rammed the saucer once more, a massive body blow right on top of the flight deck again. But this time the KosmoVox stayed in place. Driven too far into the circular ship, there was no way it was going to back its way out now. Stuck for good, the two ships were now one, with flames and smoke and sparks and air gushing out everywhere.

  I should be dead, Hunter thought. We all should be. But we're not…

  He finally turned to Zoloff amid the chaos and said, "It's not real, is it?"

  Zoloff just smiled and then shook his head. "Not all of it, no," he said.

  Hunter began to panic. He screamed back at Zoloff, "Am I insane? Just like I've thought all along? Or are we still inside the dizzylando, and this is just another ride? More thrills and spills? Axe we in Chase the Saucer Land?"

  Zoloff just shrugged. "All of the above maybe? Or maybe it's something else…"

  Hunter looked at Annie, this as he found himself involuntarily rising out of his seat.

  "And her?" he asked Zoloff.

  Zoloff just nodded sadly. "The same…" he said.

  Annie was trying to grab Hunter now as he was being sucked out the hole in the top of the KosmoVox's fuselage. But she couldn't quite reach him.

  She starte
d crying. "No… don't go!"

  Hunter freaked out. This was happening way too fast.

  "Please!" he shouted at Zoloff. "Please just tell me she was real at least!"

  But it was too late. He went through the hole in the roof an instant later.

  Then the two ships, melded by the last collision, both on fire, both smoking heavily, tumbled away from him, quickly fading from view.

  "Annie!" he cried. But it was no use.

  She was gone.

  And Zoloff was gone.

  Leaving him alone, floating in space.

  12

  The StarLiner had been patrolling above the badlands for several days now.

  Recent comm interceptions indicated SG ships might have been in the area of Doomsday 212 lately, possibly even showing up in low orbit, if just for a few seconds at a time. These reports had prompted the Star Legion to go on high alert all around their adopted planet.

  This particular Starliner was not just a warship though. Atop three of its golden masts were ultra-long range scanning devices that could pick up indications of hostile craft approaching from as far as 10,000 light-years away. They also had devices on board that could detect body heat, movement, even DNA samples blowing in the wind. These things were most helpful when searching for someone on the ground.

  It was one of these gadgets that lit up the ship's center mast. This was where two crewmen in gold suits were monitoring the magnificent starship's primary scanning devices. And even though they were out here more to look for any Empire spacecraft that might be lurking either close to the planet or possibly hidden somewhere on the forbidding terrain below, they took notice when their DNA sniffer began blinking.

  There was a body down there somewhere. Badly injured, hidden among the putrid smoke, barely breathing.

  The scanning crew immediately reported this to the bridge. The giant galleon-like starship did a quick turnabout and headed down to where the body had been spotted. Once they were within sight of it, a landing party was sent down to the surface to investigate.

  Two Legionnaires located the body atop a high ridge close to a vent spewing hideous gases. Close by were several large pieces of burning wreckage. They could have been from some kind of Empire ship, though it was hard to say, the damage was so extensive. Farther across the ridge line, there was another pile of wreckage, also burning fiercely, also unidentifiable, though in the short study given to it by the men on the ground, they thought it might have been more of an oval design than the wedge shape that prevailed among Empire ships.

  Oddly, their life support equipment told them not to approach these piles of wreckage as they contained aerial agents so intense, they might permeate their battle suits. Such things were not so unusual down here in the badlands. Still, they were wise enough then to stay away.

  They concentrated on the body instead. They found it lying faceup on a bed of sharp rocks, a strange red smoke surrounding it. The two Legionnaires approached cautiously, ray guns drawn. They had no clue as to who this might be.

  That's why they were so shocked when they drew close enough to see the face — and discovered it was Hawk Hunter.

  The first thing they did was check for a pulse; there was none. They immediately contacted their ship, and a rescue beam was sent down to their position in seconds. But still Hunter was showing no vital signs when they boosted him up to the waiting StarLiner.

  Immediately flashed to the ship's ultramodern hospital ward, the Legion doctors were finally able to raise a pulse. It was weak, but at least it was there. Hunter was then put inside a ion-barometric chamber, which served to raise his vital signs slightly. Despite this, he was very close to death.

  He was rushed back to the more habitable parts of Doomsday 212 and beamed down to a field hospital located close to the cottage that served as the Star Legion headquarters. Erikk and the rest of the commanders of the Legion rushed to Hunter's side. The top UPF officers were also there. They gathered around Hunter's floating bed, horrified at his wounds and utterly astonished that he was among them again.

  What had happened? Nothing had been heard from Hunter since he'd left on his mission to the moons of Saturn. In fact, from their point of view, the last they'd seen or heard from him was when the DATT tube disappeared from the cottage dining room not that long ago. Seconds after he vanished, there came a series of very intense blinks, which caused more crazy things to happen not just on Doomsday 212 but throughout the Two Arm and all across the Galaxy. Moreover, a scan of the dining room after Hunter's departure left them with indications that the DATT had malfunctioned somehow soon after he'd left, but they were uncertain if this was due to the blinks or was evidence of a real problem with the DATT.

  In any case, more blinks followed. The Legion's long range scanners indicated that strange things were indeed happening all over, especially in the sector down near the Star Trench. Weird spaceships seen cruising the star roads, SG spacefighters chasing phantoms. Radio calls from somewhere in the distant past suddenly coming alive again on comm sets within SF Starcrashers.

  All of these things — very, very strange.

  And now, suddenly, Hunter was back.

  But he was fading fast. And everyone around him knew it. They tried to talk to him, but he was unresponsive. His uniform had been partially burned away, but the Legion doctors told them his condition was so serious, they were afraid to even cut it off him. One said that he looked like he'd fallen from a great height, this after riding for a long time in space. Yet another said he thought Hunter hadn't left the planet at all. Both agreed, though, that he was fading fast.

  Within thirty minutes of Hunter's arrival at the Legion hospital, what had begun as a sickbed vigil soon became a death watch.

  The hours passed.

  Hunter's condition stayed the same. Meanwhile, long-range comm receivers being used by both the Star Legion and the United Planets Forces reported hearing hundreds of messages down by the Star Trench telling of massive waves of blinks bedeviling Starcrashers on both sides. Incomprehensible visions, mass hallucinations, weird music being heard, and again, weapons turning to salt. With each hour, the reports got crazier, more bizarre, more unexplain-able. After more than a month of this, many people in the Galaxy were turning religious, believing the blinks were more signs from the Creator than the Big Generator short-circuiting itself. If God is playing with us, people seemed to be saying, then maybe we should start to listen.

  At Hunter's bedside, the situation remained grave. Every friend who came to pay their respects knew their colleague had been to the brink before but had always been pulled back at the last instant, as if his time had not yet passed. As if he was still needed to carry on his fight against injustice across the Galaxy. But this time it seemed as if it had gone too far. He'd given too much. Done too much.

  Everything changed around dawn the following day. Erikk and his men were watching over Hunter. An honor guard from the UPF was on hand, too. Just before the first rays of light hit the hospital window, there was a bright flash of green light. It came so suddenly, some of the UPF troopers pulled out their side arms. The Star Legion guys thought it was yet another blink.

  In fact, it was the Imperial spy, making his first appearance since leaving shortly after Hunter's troubled departure in the DATT.

  The UPF guys kept their guns out, though. There was some belief that the spy was actually responsible for all this, providing Hunter with the balky DATT as his means of travel, and having him wind up like this, knocking on death's door.

  But Hunter's serious condition actually overwhelmed any bad feelings for the Imperial interloper now. The man in the floppy black hat and long, flowing black cape glided over to the floating bed. He studied Hunter for a moment. Battered body, burn marks on his face and hands, singed hair. He put his hand over Hunter's face, as if he was feeling for something, breathing possibly, but moved his hand almost as quickly.

  "This man has things to tell us," he declared, stunning those gathered around the bed.
"And important things at that."

  His pronouncement didn't seem possible for one reason: shortly after being brought to the intensive care section, Hunter had been given a noninvasive brain scan. It had displayed nearly every action he'd gone through in the past twenty-four hours. Those that had seen the results had been shocked. It had not been a linear, connect-the-dots sort of readout as most NI scans were. Instead, it contained bits and pieces of strange places and people. Castles. Battles. Devastated landscapes. A huge music concert. Beautiful women. Wild rides in space. None of it made any sense. The conclusion of the Legion's medical people: "These are most likely places he thought he went — in his imagination," simply because that was the part of the brain the impulses were coming from.

  But now the Imperial spy disagreed.

  "Those things were real," he told those assembled now. "Or at least some of them were."

  "Are you saying he actually went someplace?" Erikk challenged the spy. "That he hasn't been lying out in the badlands all this time?"

  "Yes, I am," was the reply.

  With that, the spy raised both his hands over Hunter's body. Those on hand saw a bright white light suddenly envelop the fallen pilot. It lasted but a few seconds. But when it went away, everyone in the room was shocked to see Hunter start to move. They looked at their fallen friend for a few long moments, then up at the spy.

  Who the hell is this guy? they all thought.

  Incredibly, Hunter's eyes opened. They seemed stung by the lights. He started to say something, but couldn't. Instead, with great effort, he put his lips together, and to the astonishment of all, he started to whistle. One long tone, sweet, but sad at the same time.

  "C major diminished," the spy said. "That's the key. That's what we've been looking for."