The Battle for the Solar System (Complete Trilogy)

by Sweeney, Stephen

  “Think anyone’s home?” Dodds asked, as they drew closer to their destination.

  “Looks abandoned,” Enrique said. “Either that, or our friend has been busy here, too.”

  “Estelle, are we in the right place?” Dodds asked, with genuine uncertainty.

  “These are the coordinates that Parks gave us,” Estelle said, although there was a trace of doubt in her voice.

  Dodds’ eyes flickered over the surface of the massive dodecahedral-like structure. Under normal circumstances a starport would be a hive of activity, its presence advertised far and wide by the constant flow of traffic to and from it. Cargo vessels, as well as passenger liners and general public craft of various shapes and sizes would be docked in and around the port, dropping off passengers, cargo and spoils. Even without the heavy flow of traffic, the port could be spotted from a long way off, the bright multicoloured lights guiding people home. All that appeared to be gone now, cold, uninviting grey steel the only thing remaining to greet visitors.

  “I’ve just scanned for a possible means of entry,” Chaz said, “but it appears that all the docking ports have been sealed. Looks like we’re going to have to find another way inside.”

  “We’ll have to use an airlock,” Estelle said, “which means we’re going to have to leave the ATAFs outside.”

  “We’re just going to leave them floating here?” Dodds said.

  “We don’t have much choice in the matter,” Estelle responded. “We’ll keep them cloaked as Parks instructed, whilst we retrieve the data from the agent.”

  “Sure. And then we’ll just fumble about in empty space looking for them when we come back out,” Dodds said. He could see no clear avenue as to how they were supposed to get back into the ATAFs once they had left them. Since the fighters were invisible, they would have to grasp around in the general area, and try to feel their way back into the cockpit. But that could take hours, perhaps even days. Maybe even longer. He hoped that when the time came that they wouldn’t be in a hurry. Taking any sort of mobile sensor device with them wasn’t an option either. While the ATAFs’ radars themselves displayed the positions of the other fighters, cloaked or not, they couldn’t be removed from the craft. No, that would never do. “We’ll have to turn the cloak off—” he began.

  “No, Dodds,” Estelle said. “We were given very specific orders by Parks not to deactivate the cloak for any reason. Don’t even consider doing so, Lieutenant.”

  Dodds said nothing else on the subject, sensing that Estelle was still upset after being chewed out by the commodore.

  “In that case, one of us will have to remain out here,” Enrique said.

  “No one is staying out here alone,” Estelle said. “I want everyone where I can see them.”

  “We’ll have to find some way of returning to the ATAFs once we leave them then,” Enrique responded. “Otherwise we might never find them again.”

  “How about we leave them next to that freighter?” Kelly chirped up. “It’ll be a lot easier to locate them, since we’ll have a better point of reference.”

  “That’s actually a good idea, Kelly,” Estelle said. “Okay people, let’s form a line close to the freighter and disembark. Once you’re out, get your PPs on and make your way over to me.”

  The team did as Estelle instructed, following her lead and forming a line parallel to the freighter, eventually slowing as they found a suitable point of reference along the hull. Bringing his ATAF to a halt, Dodds informed his team-mates that he was disembarking. He reached under his seat and pulled out the small propulsion pack that resided there. Though he’d received training in the usage and general application of the pack, he’d never found the need to use it until today. For the most part, the device was only of any real use to the pilot during events such as ejections. Ensuring that his helmet and flight suit were securely set up and fastened, he began depressurizing the cockpit, before opening the canopy and unbuckling himself from the seat. Then, taking a good grip on his PP, he let himself drift out into the vacuum.

  He looked around as he started slipping on the propulsion pack and saw another member of the team making their own way out. It was a bizarre sight to behold. From the middle of nowhere a helmet emerged, followed by shoulders, a body, legs, and then feet. It was as if a magical door had opened and they had just stepped out of it. He looked around himself as more figures materialized.

  Now that was cool. He should share it with Enrique. “Hey, Enrique, look …” he said, preparing to dip his leg gently back through the shield.

  “Hey Enrique, look,”

  Dodds paused. What was that?

  “Look at what?” Enrique’s voice came over his helmet’s speakers. Then, “Woah. What was that? Oh, that’s weird. I’m getting an echo.”

  “Me, too,” Dodds said. “Are your comms working okay?”

  His voice repeated over in his ear.

  “Seems to be,” Enrique said. “Is anyone else getting that?”

  “It’s probably just your helmet,” Estelle’s voice came. “Come on. Over this way, people,” she added, raising her hand. She had moved a little further up the side of the freighter, waiting for the group to make their way over to her.

  “Is your gear okay?” Estelle asked, once they were assembled.

  “I’m not getting the echo any more,” Dodds admitted. Enrique confirmed that neither was he.

  “Kelly, Chaz?” she asked.

  “Nothing unusual,” Chaz said. Kelly, likewise, shook her head.

  “Probably just a glitch,” Estelle concluded. “Okay, follow my lead. We’ll make our way to the port and look for an airlock, so we can get inside.”

  *

  As they moved further away from the freighter, Kelly took a look back at the vessel, very certain that she had seen it before. Either that, or the blow to her head was starting to make her see things. Even so, while on approach she had scanned the ship with her targeting systems, the resulting readouts making her question her own sanity. Given the lack of comment from her wingmates, the others hadn’t noticed what she had.

  Written in large, eroded and rusted orange letters along the central container was the name of the ship – La Brabena Bella. The lettering was well-worn, barely legible, with little more than the outline remaining. Easily readable if one knew what they were looking for, however. But what really startled her now were the remains of two other words, written beneath, in much smaller lettering – ‘Gloucester Enterprises’.

  Gloucester Enterprises, one of the galaxy’s most successful trading companies, was owned by her family. This was one of her father’s ships. She had thought it looked familiar during their approach. Her flight computer had even confirmed the ship’s configuration and validity. Granted, the vessel had been designated a new name – GCTV-942-GE-00834#LBB – and universal identity signature, but there was no chance of disguising its distinctive appearance from her; she’d seen far too many of these vessels in her lifetime. The distinctive construction of the ship was even patented. The body was segmented into three main parts, like a rigid snake that had swallowed several large rectangular boxes. The lick of dark orange paint was also something of a giveaway.

  Kelly wondered what it was doing all the way out here, in the middle of nowhere. Despite its success and reputation throughout Confederate and Independent systems, Mitikas had never granted Gloucester Enterprises a trading permit; the Senate had seen to that. She recalled how her father would appeal annually to expand the operation to include Mitikas, but was turned down every time. Odd then that one such vessel should be here now. It was unlikely to have been stolen, and she knew the company removed all affiliated branding before selling off old ships. But as far as she was aware, freighters such as this one were rarely sold, if ever. Something about its presence here didn’t add up.

  She lingered for a while, continuing to stare at it and contemplating a number of explanations. She was about to say something to her team-mates, when movement caught her eye. Portholes an
d tiny windows dotted the length of the freighter at various points, and from out of one she could see a small face staring back at her. It now remained perfectly still, the gaze transfixed, as if wrapped in abject horror. It was the grubby-looking face of a little girl, long, unkempt dirty blonde hair dangling down around her head. Her mouth hung open, as if she had just taken a great inhalation of breath and was now too afraid to do anything else.

  Kelly prepared to start forward to the window, when a new face appeared alongside that of the child’s. It glanced briefly at Kelly, before both it and the little girl vanished from sight. From what Kelly caught, it looked like an older woman. Perhaps it was the girl’s mother, come to move her away from the window. From the look of things, they were trying to conceal their presence.

  “What’s up, Kelly?” Estelle’s voice came in her earpiece.

  Kelly looked around to the others, who were now quite some way ahead of her.

  “We just heard you gasp, Kelly,” Enrique prompted, when she said nothing. “Are you okay?”

  “I …” Kelly started. She glanced back towards the windows of the freighter. Had she imagined it? No, she couldn’t have. Could concussions make you see things? “I just saw someone,” she finished.

  “Where?” Estelle asked, the three men next to her looking in all directions, as if expecting to see Kelly’s mystery individual come swimming past them.

  “In the freighter,” Kelly said. “There was a girl, and a woman, in one of the windows.” She indicated the one she meant.

  Silence from the others.

  “And?” said Dodds.

  “That’s one of my father’s ships,” Kelly insisted. “And they don’t carry passengers – it’s a freighter. It transports cargo – goods and produce.” Kelly saw that all four of her team-mates were staring in her direction. She guessed that they were peering past her to the window, scrutinizing it.

  “I don’t see anyone,” Estelle said eventually. “Are you certain you saw something?”

  Kelly hesitated. Of course she had. Hadn’t she? “Pretty sure,” she heard herself admit. “They didn’t stay there long.”

  “Hey, wait. What’s one of your dad’s ships doing out here?” Enrique asked. “That doesn’t sound right.”

  “That’s what I’ve been saying,” Kelly said.

  “What do you mean?” Dodds said.

  “Kelly’s dad’s company isn’t allowed to operate in Imperial space,” Enrique said. “So it’s a bit weird to see one of them anchored all the way out here.”

  “They’re not allowed to operate out here?”

  “No, they have no legal permit.”

  “Look, we don’t have time for this,” Chaz suddenly interrupted. “Kelly, did they look dangerous?”

  “No, they just looked like civilians,” Kelly said.

  “Right, well, that’s all we ever needed to know,” the big man said. “Now, let’s get a move on. Try to keep up, Kelly.” He turned around and continued thrusting towards the port, leaving the other members of his team to exchange baffled looks with one another.

  *

  “We need to find a way inside,” Estelle said, “a service hatch or an airlock. Spread out and see what you can find. Call in if you get into any trouble.”

  Even up close and personal, the port was nothing but a mass of grey steel plates, the occasional warning sign or instructional panel bringing only a few splashes of colour to the otherwise drab surface. The group went about a fruitless search for a time, discovering many portals, hatches and doors, none of which could be opened.

  “Found one,” Dodds eventually reported, as he checked out an airlock door, close to the main entrance. Unlike the others, it hadn’t been security sealed. He paused momentarily to consider why the port had been locked down so tight and how their contact had made it inside, before conceding that she might very well have engineered the lockdown herself. He pulled the door open as his team-mates regrouped and joined him inside.

  With the outer door sealed behind them, Dodds began investigating the control panel inside the chamber, searching for a way to re-pressurise it.

  “Allow me,” Chaz cut in, moving to Dodds’ side and expertly working the controls. The chamber re-pressurised, oxygen spilling into the small room and allowing the group to remove their helmets, all gratefully breathing in the clean air that now flowed. Chaz continued to tap at the control panel, working in silence and looking for a way to grant them further access into the station.

  Dodds noticed that the man seemed suddenly very eager to get into the starport. Why was he suddenly acting so differently? He glanced to the other three, detecting the hint of puzzlement on each of their faces. This wasn’t quite the same man that they were used to.

  Chaz soon succeeded in unlocking the chamber, and the inner door opened, the group finding themselves standing within a narrow corridor, lined by a number of men and women. The corridor’s occupants looked up immediately, appearing startled. The sudden, quite unexpected, appearance of the five pilots seemed to send a ripple of shock down the line and a man closest to the team shot to his feet, screaming. He sprinted down the corridor as fast as he could, pushing aside a woman who was also trying to get to her feet.

  “What the hell’s his problem?” Dodds said, as they watched the man round the corner. “Did we spook him or something?” The woman whom he had pushed aside stumbled after him, while the remainder began crawling backwards down the corridor. Terror was etched into each of their faces as their eyes were locked on the five people that had just entered the port. It was as if they had just seen their worst nightmare come stepping through the airlock.

  “Beats me,” Enrique said, “maybe he thinks he owes Chaz money.” He looked around at the big man in amusement.

  Chaz said nothing, his face stern, his eyes sweeping across the line of people. “Let’s go,” he said, pushing the others gently aside and starting off down the corridor. “We’ve got to find Barber, get that data card, and get back to Griffin.”

  Dodds started. It wasn’t like Chaz to ever take the initiative. Normally, he would just go along with whatever he was told, without question. But ever since arriving at the starport, the man seemed to have adopted a new persona. The people either side of Chaz backed away as he passed them, the often silent man not giving them a second glance. As one, Dodds, Estelle and Kelly turned to Enrique, who only shrugged.

  “Hey, look,” Enrique said quietly, “he might talk to me more than anyone else, but that doesn’t mean that I know everything that goes on in that head of his.”

  “Come on,” Estelle said, following Chaz down the corridor, passing by the people who were now trying to crush themselves into the walls.

  “Commano! Commano!” a woman said, holding up a shaking hand and trying to move further back into the wall. “Operando nos ne-viloten!”

  “What did she say?” Dodds asked Enrique.

  “Sounds like she was speaking some sort of Imperial,” Enrique said, looking at the woman.

  “Either of you guys understand any Imperial dialects?” Dodds asked of Estelle and Kelly.

  “Just ignore them,” Estelle said, striding around the corner and through a set of doors. There she halted, just behind where Chaz had also stopped.

  Dodds walked up behind the pair and peered around them. “Ah,” he said, “we might be here a while.”

  A sea of people lay before them, occupying almost every inch of floor that could be found. The five pilots stepped into the massive central hall of the starport, many heads snapping around to take stock of their arrival. Dodds noted how the team received the same reaction from the groups of people here as they had done in the corridor, with many of those close by moving away. Some sprang to their feet and made a hasty retreat from the immediate area, seemingly not trusting the five pilots. It was obvious that the man who had fled the corridor had passed through here already, putting everyone on edge.

  “You’re right, Dodds,” Kelly said as they began walking aimless
ly between huddles, the search for Barber temporarily forgotten. “Something’s spooked these guys pretty bad.”

  Dodds felt thousands of pairs of eyes on him, watching his every move. “What’s this all about?” he asked, looking across the huddles of people, who were surrounded by mountains of luggage. “And what’s with all the bags? Are they all waiting for transit or something?” He wrinkled his nose at the stale air and unmistakable stench of sweat, unwashed bodies and days-old, dirty clothes that was carried with it.

  “Yeah, and the state of some of them,” Enrique said, nodding towards the many grubby faces. “They look like refugees—”

  He and Dodds both abruptly stopped walking.

  “Just like that guy said last night,” Dodds said. It then dawned on him what he was looking at, and PJ’s remarks came flooding back, the rumours suddenly being given unexpected strength. A great number of links began forming in his mind – refugees, secret projects, hijackings, fortification of borders, diversions of funding, doctored news reports …

  Genocide.

  “Didn’t he say that the empire had been completely wiped out?” Dodds said.

  “What are you two talking about?” Kelly asked.

  “Last night while we were playing poker, this guy told us that the Mitikas Empire had been destroyed, that the civil war actually ended years ago, and that all that was left were a load of refugees.”

  “But …” Kelly started, sounding confused, “we just went up against the Imperial navy when we attempted to take back Dragon.”

  Dodds shook his head. “Okay, I never told you guys this, but I actually had a feeling during that battle that those weren’t Imperial forces we were fighting.” He glanced around. “And now I’m almost certain they weren’t.” He turned to Estelle, whose irate demeanour appeared to have all but abandoned her for the time being. Then she scowled.

  “Dodds, wait. What the hell are you talking about? Kelly’s right – the empire hasn’t been wiped out.”