Guardian Awakening

by C. Osborne Rapley

  Da’ren opened his mouth to say something, but Tristan had already shifted his attention to the main computer. He closed the docking port inner door, vented the atmosphere and opened the outer door.

  Da’ren nodded. “Oh! OK, let’s go.”

  The ship lifted and turned towards the open port. Da’ren pushed the controls forward the ship shot out into space.

  While Tristan concentrated on the main computer he was only vaguely aware of what was going on around him. He heard a faint distant voice. “Sir, they will just shoot and destroy us.”

  He took a moment to digest what had been said then shook his head. “No they will not.”

  He fought against the artificial intelligence controlling the Sicceian war ship. He had to disable the weapons. He strained against the machine, forcing his way into its core systems. Compared to a simple system computer, the warship’s systems were vast. Gaining access and opening a few doors he had found easy. Full control a different level all together.

  He pushed against the barrier. For a short while the machine intelligence resisted. He increased the pressure, and the barrier suddenly folded, like pushing against a jammed door that gives away without warning, he fell through. He gasped, catching his breath. HE was the ship. He floated disembodied, a sea of stars around him. Five other ships were there, large, looming black shapes against the field of stars. His hands gripped the arms of the seat. He felt his chest tighten, he had forgotten to breathe. Did he need to? It took an effort to pull back and start breathing again.

  The vastness, beauty and… and POWER. He could see the minds controlling the ships systems, the bridge where they were responding to the unscheduled launch of the freighter. It was seductive to be part of such power and knowledge. It pulled at him he wanted more, but a warning went round and round in his mind, here is madness. His knuckles were white now, where he gripped the arms of his seat. Sweat beaded his brow as he pulled back, back, pulling away from the almost total connection. Just maintain control of the sensors, hide our escape.

  What was reality? Something, yes something he needed to say but his mind did not work. He needed, wanted the power of the warship, but he must say something? He strained against the power holding him. With a snap he returned to being small, insignificant, limited. He sighed and turned to the pilot next to him. “Da’ren, keep the warship between us and the rest of the fleet.”

  “Yes Sir.”

  He regained connection with the AI, holding the sensor array, fighting the urge to connect fully with it. He blanked out their small ship; nothing would track them as they moved away from the bulk of the warship.

  As the distance increased, the connection weakened. He must maintain his contact with the computer. The minutes passed and he could hold on no longer. Sweat ran down his back, his shoulders slumped, a throbbing ache in his head as he strained to hold on.

  He heard Da’ren’s voice in the distance. “Sir, we can start the Star Drive now.”

  Tristan nodded. “Do it.” He let go and immediately, blackness, he passed out.

  Tristan moaned his head throbbed. He took a deep breath, filling his lungs. Had he forgotten to take his pain killers? He was sitting, fallen asleep on the couch again. He opened his eyes streaks of light flashed past in front of him rainbow colours in their tails. “Where am I?”

  A strange voice in an even stranger language answered him. It all came flooding back in a rush and his stomach twisted. He had dreamt he was back in his cottage alone on Exmoor. He wanted desperately to be there. The voice came again his mind focused.

  “Are you all right, Sir?”

  He turned towards the speaker; alien eyes stared back at him. “Yes, yes, I’m fine thank you. How long was I out?”

  “About an hour, Sir.”

  Tristan sighed. “Da’ren, please call me Tristan, I’m not an officer, drop the Sir.”

  Da’ren shifted in his seat and looked uncomfortable. “Yes Si … Tristan.”

  The crew had started to relax, relieved to be free. The death of the tortured female while Tristan had been unconscious dampened their sprits and muted any celebration.

  The next few days were uneventful. One thing irked Tristan; they treated him with undisguised awe. As far as they were concerned he was the Admiral of their little ship.

  After four days flight they arrived in the vicinity of a small Mylian colony world. Da’ren shut down the Star Drive. They emerged into normal space. A large spinning chunk of metal appeared directly in front of them. Da’ren pulled hard on the controls. The ship shuddered then lifted away, the object bounced harmlessly along the underside. Drifting, spinning objects were everywhere. Da’ren skilfully avoided large chunks, but small pieces rattled against the hull. He finally brought the ship to a shuddering halt.

  Chapter Nine: Dark Days

  Da’ren slumped in the pilot’s seat and wiped his brow with a shaking hand. He looked at Tristan. “That should not be here!”

  One of the others turned from the view port “It looks like the remains of ships.”

  Da’ren was about to engage thrusters to get them away from the debris field when Tristan put a hand on his arm. “Wait.”

  They all turned questioning faces towards him.

  “Something destroyed these ships, so we should stay in the debris field for the moment and check.”

  Da’ren looked at him wide eyed. “I hadn’t thought of that.”

  “Let me see if I can locate any ship’s nearby.” He shut his eyes and concentrated. Connecting his senses to the freighter’s computer, he scanned the area of space around them. Nothing but drifting rubbish. The sensors were rudimentary compared to the Sicceian warship they escaped from. The debris did not help.

  “Da’ren, can you nudge us towards the edge of the debris field please? Make us appear to be drifting debris.”

  “Yes Sir.” The ship moved in short bursts so as to present as little as possible to any ship that may be nearby. After about six of these nudges Tristan could see beyond the destroyed ships. A large power signature was visible and he turned the optical sensors in that direction. A black shape lay silhouetted against the daylight brightness of the planet. A Sicceian warship.

  “The Sicceians are here.” There was a groan behind him.

  “They must have obtained the colonies location from the crewmen they tortured.” Tristan had been with them long enough to recognise the note of despair in Da’ren’s voice.

  Tristan sighed. “How large is this colony?”

  “One of our newest ones. Only one small city and outlying villages on the main continent.”

  “How long could they hold out against a Sicceian attack?”

  “No more than a few days at the most, why?”

  Tristan ignored Da’ren’s question. “I don’t think I can access their ship’s computer at this distance, but they are between us and the planet surface so…” Tristan paused, collecting his thoughts.

  He checked the sensors again “They’re not moving, so they have probably not spotted us yet. Obviously not expecting an attack from space. Their arrogance gives us an advantage. Keep the debris field between them and us and move away from the planet. There is an asteroid belt further out, set course for that. The asteroids will make it difficult for their sensors, hiding us as we traverse the system. We can then come back in the shadow of the planet. Once we are close we can fly round at low altitude and land before they can do anything about it.”

  “Good plan, Tristan, let’s hope the colony is still holding out.” Da’ren did everything Tristan suggested.

  They came round from behind the planet and flew in low, landing quickly, a little way from the main colony. The colony was the size of a large town, signs of battle everywhere with crumbling buildings and smoke rising from many as they flew over. The outlying areas were littered with hastily thrown up earth work defences. Da’ren landed the craft on the edge of a wood in a small clearing.

  Tristan felt his pulse race as he stood and made his way to
the main hatch. This would be the second alien planet he had ever been to. He was about to start down the ramp when one of the Mylians called to him.

  “Tristan, Sir.”

  He turned round and had a laser pulse rifle handed to him. “Thanks.” They disembarked and quickly made for the cover of the trees. Once they were safely away from the ship the crew stood looking at him and waiting for orders. Tristan took a deep breath as strange alien woodland scents and smells assailed his nostrils. He looked at the expectant faces in the starlight. He knew as far as they were concerned he was now the leader of their small band.

  He could not feel any Sicceians nearby, so under cover of the trees they should be fairly safe from detection.

  “Right, let’s see if there are any survivors in the colony.” He led them off, having taken his bearings before they landed.

  Skirting round the edge of the wood, they broke cover and ran towards the smoking town. They reached the abandoned outer defences and proceeded to pick their way past empty defensive ditches and ruined defence emplacements. They made slow progress, slipping and sliding in the churned up mud.

  Tristan felt his chest start to heave with the effort and his breath came in ragged gasps. His companions were having the same issue breathing. He called a halt for a moment so they could recover their breath.

  He glanced across at Da’ren, now bent over, hands on his knees. “Da’ren, are we high up here, the air seems rarefied?”

  He did not answer immediately, so Tristan waited while he gathered his breath.

  “Yes, Tristan, we are on a fairly high plateau. It takes a few days to get used to the altitude.”

  Tristan waited until everyone had recovered. “Right, OK, is everyone fit to continue?” They all affirmed they were. “Let’s go then.”

  The ground flattened out for a few hundred yards, then they came to another defensive line, where they were challenged.

  There was a momentary silence broken by heavy breathing before Da’ren, gasping for breath, was able to speak. He had been to the colony many times so he and his crew were quickly identified.

  The sentry’s attention turned to Tristan. “What about him? I have never seen his species before.”

  “He is with us, he helped us escape from the Sicceians.” There was a chorus of agreement from the rest of Da’ren’s crew.

  “Yes, without him we would all be dead,” the female, said taking Tristan by the arm.

  The sentry looked keenly at all their faces, “all right we need all the help we can get. The colony commander has his Head Quarters just off the main square. Go see him and he will apprise you of our situation.”

  They were allowed to pass. Dawn was just breaking when they walked into the town square. As he walked, all Tristan saw were women, young children and old men cowering in doorways and ruined buildings. They all looked exhausted, dirty, and had a haunted look to their eyes. When they reached the command post, it was a scene of chaos, with a few people running in and out, exhausted and wounded people slumped against the walls. There were moans and screams coming from rooms off the main entrance hall.

  Da’ren glanced around then turned to Tristan. “This is the colony meeting hall and administration offices.”

  People congregated around a table set up to one side of the hall. An old Mylian, who appeared to be in charge, sat at the table surrounded by scattered papers. His eyes were haunted as he looked at the people round the table all clamouring for his attention. He emanated an aura of despair and gave Tristan the impression he was near breaking point. He turned towards them as they entered.

  “Da’ren, what are you doing here? We thought you were lost weeks ago when you failed to arrive with your usual supplies delivery.”

  “Mr Mayor, are you in command?”

  The old man nodded. “Yes, the military commanders are all dead. I’m all that is left of the colony authorities.” He glanced at the rest of Da’ren’s crew. It is good to see you, but unless you have brought a battle fleet and several thousand troops, you are definitely in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

  Tristan stepped forward. “Do you know when the next attack is likely to start?”

  The Mayor looked surprised; he had not noticed Tristan among Da’ren’s crew. “Who and what are you?”

  “My name is Tristan, and I’m human.”

  Da’ren interrupted, “He saved us from the Sicceians.”

  The others affirmed Da’ren’s statement. The Mayor looked doubtful. “I think you will find it harder saving everyone here.” He laughed dryly then coughed. “Get along with you now. There are plenty of weapons stacked round the side of the building. We have more of them than able bodied people to use them.” He turned to a soldier who had just run up to the table.

  With a shrug Tristan walked away followed by Da’ren and his crew. They stepped outside into the early morning sunlight. Tristan turned to Da’ren.

  “Da’ren, do you know why the Sicceians bother with ground assaults. Surely it would be easier and more efficient to bomb this colony out of existence from the air?”

  “That’s the way they always do it. Why destroy perfectly good slave breeding stock?”

  Tristan frowned. “Da’ren, the Mayor, what’s his name?”

  “Morden.”

  “Well, Morden didn’t say when the next attack was likely to start so we don’t know how much time we have.”

  “No. So what?” Da’ren sounded cautious. “We have not had any sleep for hours, Tristan.”

  Tristan looked at the tired faces around him. “If we sleep now and are overrun we will be prisoners again. When they find out we are the ones who escaped, and how long do you think they will let us live?”

  Da’ren sighed. “OK, what do you want to do?”

  Tristan bit his lip for a moment he had not had time to think things through. Right, by the seat of my pants then!

  “Rather than waiting for the inevitable, I want to try and capture one of the Sicceian’s ships, then, if I can disable the other ship’s computer systems, we might have a chance of destroying the Sicceians. Without functioning computer systems, all their ships would be sitting ducks.”

  He paused to let his plan sink in. “Are you willing to give it a go?”

  The female crew member, Myalita, was the first to speak. “Well I for one don’t want to be a Sicceian prisoner again, so as far as I’m concerned let’s give it a go. What have we got to lose?”

  The rest agreed with Myalita.

  Tristan smiled. “Excellent, there were Sicceians beyond a small ridge over in that direction.” He pointed across the town. “Near where we landed. I propose we go and scout them out and see what we are up against.”

  They walked out of the ruined town past the sparsely manned defences without being challenged. As they were walking down the slope from the town, the altitude did not have such a negative effect as when they first landed. Having cleared the defensive lines, Tristan led them to the edge of the wood. They made their way to the foot of the low hills then cut along the base of the ridge until Tristan judged they were opposite the Sicceian camp.

  He kept his senses alert, listening for any Sicceians that might discover them. As he suspected, they were so confident there were no patrols; they had not even posted any lookouts. Tristan and the Mylians moved quietly through the scrub towards the top of the ridge. There was silence around them, as if even the very land held its breath for what was to come.

  The cover was low but adequate. They carefully made their way up to a small vantage point Tristan had noticed, which he hoped would allow them to look down on the Sicceians without being discovered.

  They crawled the last few meters and peered over the top of ridge. Below them, three large ships, presumably troop carriers or cruisers, and four smaller ships which looked like escorts of some sort, were spread out on a large open field. Troops lolled around talking to one another. There seemed to be very little preparation for an attack on the town. Tristan could not believe t
he arrogance and complacency. At least they were not under pressure from an imminent attack.

  Each ship had only two sentries guarding the entrance ramps and even they were paying very little attention to their duties, just standing about chatting to one another. Tristan shook his head; bloody amateurs!

  He almost felt sorry for them, as they were about to pay dearly for their lack of discipline and arrogance.

  One of the small escort craft stood closest to their position. The ramp pointed away from the other craft and was opposite a small clump of trees. They could make their way under cover from the ridge down to the trees, then from the trees to the ship in a short dash. They could board the ship without being seen by anyone in the main camp.

  He turned to his companions and spoke softly. “See that small escort ship on the side closest to us?”

  They all looked where he was pointing. “If we make our way along the ridge so we are opposite it we can use that copse of trees as cover. Come on.”

  They slid down below the ridge and, crouching low, ran until Tristan judged they were adjacent to the copse. They worked their way back up the slope then plunged into the trees on the other side.

  They picked their way carefully towards the ship, the copse hiding them from view. At the edge of the trees closest to the ship they flattened themselves on the ground. The two laughing and joking guards were not paying any attention to what was going on around them.

  Tristan and his companions lay quietly. He assessed the scene in a few seconds then whispered to the others.

  “I will try and access the computer and disable it first. I will take out those two guards and then create a diversion. As soon as you see the guards fall rush for the ship. We will then take off and destroy the other ships on the ground. Is everyone clear?”

  They all nodded. “Yes Sir.”