Sunlord (34 page)

"Identification signal coming through...Royal
Hartrias Fleet cruiser NX-13."

Admiral Karthorn relaxed back into the chair. "Then
the Rplore is here at last," he breathed. "It's about time."

As he spoke he watched the three metre high screen
above the control board displaying the depths of space and bright
pinpricks of the stars. Two perpendicular lines suddenly flashed
from the edges of the monitor - the computer targeting system -
which moved quickly to the upper right to form crosshairs. A second
later, dead in the middle of the crosshairs, a yellow-green light
emerged as the jumptunnel opened and a ship emerged.

The Rplore was a ship twice as massive as the Urisa.
Her hull flashed the sunlight, the new paint still fresh unlike the
grey metal flanks of the Urisa. Eight huge battle cannons were set
about the Rplore's edges, the other faces smooth and unblemished.
The bottom half of the ship was cylindrical while the top half
bristled with towers and various launch pads, details cloaked in
deep shadow against the black backdrop of space.

She was a stout ship, designed for taking the brunt
of an enemies firepower instead of avoiding it. Whereas the Urisa
had been designed with speed and manoeuvrability in mind the
Rplore's battle strategy was not unlike that of a brick.

Admiral Karthorn watched in silent appreciation as
the massive five kilometre long ship pulled to a rest, his eyes
gleaming with dream. She was indeed a beautiful ship.

"Rplore's weapons and shielding systems coming on
line now, sir," reported Avatar.

Karthorn nodded absently. When a ship travelled
through jumpspace it was defenceless, and it always took time for
defence systems to warm up. That was why it was unwise to drop out
of jumpspace in unsecured territory.

Karthorn leant over the arm of the command chair and
held a button down. "Have the docking bays ready, Midshipman," he
said into the mike. "I expect the Rplore will be in need of
supplies after her long voyage."

"Sir," came the acknowledgment.

Admiral Karthorn sat back and templed his stubby six
fingered hands in thought. "Put a call through to the Rplore,
Avatar."

The computer did so. A second later the main screen
blanked out to be replaced by a 3-D holographic image of the
Rplore's Commander.

"Ah, Commander Loakar, it is good to see you once
again," greeted the Admiral.

The holographic face nodded in greeting. "Indeed, it
has been a long time. I have your status here..." Commander
Loakar's image fuzzed a little with static but quickly reasserted
itself. "If I may say so, sir, I must congratulate you. Your ship
has made a momentous discovery - the critical point is a valued
prize."

The edges of Admiral Karthorn's mouth twitched up in
what may have been described as a smile. "Thank you, Commander. It
seems your ship showed up just in time - production of the
land-based cannons starts in fifty six hours."

"The atmosphere and hab-zones have already been
established?" Commander Loakar's face registered respect.

"The atmosphere is breathable with the proper
intra-venous injections, and yes, the hab-zones are nearing
completion. All that remains is to establish the cannons on the
equator and poles then disperse Watcheye satellites."

"The Rplore shall help in any way it can, sir,"
returned Loakar.

Admiral Karthorn nodded, then turned his attention to
another topic. "News of the war?"

Commander Loakar looked slightly uneasy. "The Royal
Fleet has lost ground in the Boarke sector. We've lost three
battleships to the Federation's one. We had to withdraw our forces
and relinquish the system to them or face more losses. That's why
we took so long to arrive here - the Rplore was the rearguard for
the escaping fleet liners."

The Admiral did not take this news well. "If the
Federation holds the Boarke sector they have cornered that arm of
the galaxy! Why did you pull out so quickly?" he accused.

"We were lucky to escape," Commander Loakar rushed.
"The Federation has grown considerably in strength since they
formed the alliance with the Skeeters."

The Admiral was silent in thought. The evacuation
would explain all the disturbances through the critical point,
although the Urisa had chosen to let most of the traffic pass
through unmolested; for the moment the Federation had a reprieve.
But the fate of the Sarthchild was but the first in the line of
what would be many Federation ships to fall.

"Have an update beamed to me," finished Karthorn.
"The Urisa has enough supplies if you wish to restock..." Seeing
the Commander had accepted his offer eagerly, he continued. "Have
your construction teams and a war suit squad ready for landfall in
twenty hours."

"War suits?" interrupted Commander Loakar. "Have you
had trouble with the natives?"

"No," replied the Admiral, glancing uneasily to a
side monitor which showed the black and white image of the four
intruders sitting in the heart of his ship. "None at all. Just be
ready."

* * *

They huddled in a narrow walkway, a grating at their
feet and literally thousands of pipes in all directions. Shaun sat
with his back against an upright girder, breathing heavily in an
attempt to smooth out the stitch that had formed in his side,
recalling his last decent meal had been more than seventeen hours
ago. Just thinking about nourishment lead him to the conclusion
that he would do almost anything for a jug of synthi-beer, even
just some of the cheap stuff they served in the Federation training
messes.

But here he was, dead in the heart of an enemy mother
ship, his only companions three fur clad spear wielding natives.
Although they had saved his life, another part of his mind mused.
There was certainly something about the natives, something that
told Shaun there was more to them than what met the eye. Take the
strange telepathy for instance...

Shaun tilted his head back, feeling his breathing
slow as he rested. If he stopped and held his breath he could hear
the steady, barely audible hum of high voltage transformers.

Capac broke the silence with a wry comment. "I'd kill
for a drink."

"I was just thinking the same," commented Shaun.
"Perhaps if we ask nicely...?"

He stopped suddenly as a movement flicked in the
shadows. Cursing beneath his breath Shaun rolled to cover, the
natives startled into doing similar. Capac had also seen the motion
from the corner of his eye. "Something's there!" he hissed.

From his shelter Shaun nodded. "They've been there
for some time, I'd assume - they didn't want to make a move because
we are sitting on their power source." It was not by chance that
Shaun had chosen this place to rest; he knew the way Avatar's mind
worked. "But I think they've given up waiting. They're closing
in."

"Do something!" whispered Ashian.

But Shaun was already at work, prising at the base of
the burner retained from his exploits in the med-bay. At last it
broke and a gush of cold burner fluid splashed out over the cables
between his feet.

"Time to blow this joint," he warned his
companions.

A split second later he leapt aside, triggering the
flint in the burner. The fuel erupted in a brilliant wall of fire
as he scrambled back, the light of the flame covering his retreat,
forcing the natives hurrying before him.

Shaun ducked instinctively as there came multiple
noises of bullets ricocheting behind them. He counted five shots in
all, each in quick succession. Shaun raised his head, his heart
thumping, suddenly very glad to be still alive. Their ploy had
worked; the flame had blinded the infra-red scanners of the
watching sniper droids long enough for them to make their
escape.

Walls seemingly closing in on them, as if trying to
pin down their movements, they rushed through pipes and leads
knowing pursuit was close behind. The catwalk they scrambled along
seemed to get smaller and smaller yet they had to keep moving
faster. Imagination blended with reality as Shaun thought he heard
the clicking of metallic footsteps on the metal pathway behind. He
followed behind the back of Myshia, who was crawling through the
choking confines with deceptive ease. Behind Shaun came Ashian, his
hands touching the pistol in his belt, his mind debating whether to
use it in self-defence. Following him came Capac, his long bladed
knife strapped to his belt catching repeatedly on nearby pipes. He
was the one bringing up the rear and more than once he felt the
presence of the sniper droids behind. They were catching up!

Myshia, in the lead, was the first to come out of the
claustrophobic tunnel. One moment they were in the confined space,
and the next she sensed they were in an open environment, dark and
mysterious. She paused momentarily, ears cocked, as she heard the
echoes of her movements bounce down into infinity. Then the shadowy
shapes resolves themselves and she saw the catwalk was now like
some sort of bridge spanning across the width of a great chasm.
Looking upwards she saw the chasm continued, faint light smeared in
the distance, as if they were inside the gullet of a huge
whale.

Then Shaun was behind her, pushing her forward. She
moved along, suddenly aware of a steady breeze blowing upwards, as
if the giant whale was breathing out. Clamping down her teeth in
determination she put aside her fears and crawled forward.

By the time Ashian had emerged she was almost across
to the other side.

"What is this place?" breathed the currach in awe,
his words startling loud as they reverberated about the sides of
the steel windpipe.

"Keep moving," boomed Shaun's voice. Although his
tone had been low his words echoed loudly.

Meanwhile Capac was having trouble of his own. His
damn knife had gotten caught again and...

He paused, breathing shallowly, as he heard the
steady clink-clink of an approaching droid. His heart leapt to his
throat, his muscles working futilely to free the himself from the
tightening pipes, twisting and pulling frantically and in his haste
only jamming himself further in.

He slipped free suddenly and fell back, driving the
breath from his lungs as he hit the steel grating of the catwalk.
His eyes were wide but useless in the dark as he heard the droids
closing. They were too close...

Blinding yellow light exploded up the steel windpipe,
rushing up more like a wall of water than fire. Shaun gasped as the
blinding light seemingly burnt out his retina's in a split second.
He fell, shielding his eyes and yelling his surprise. The shock
wave concussed against his ears and he fell backwards, arms pin
wheeling.

The ground opened up beneath him, the yawning chasm
effortlessly swallowing him alive. He reached out instinctively and
his hand caught about a twisted metal cross support firmly.
Confusion of the instant slowly cleared itself as he realised the
blast had shredded the supports of the catwalk away.

"Capac!" he bawled into the darkness. The light of
the flame had died, leaving his eyes with dazzling afterimages.
When no answer came to his calls he knew the worst had befallen his
companions. His night vision had restored itself enough for him to
see he was indeed hanging from the shredded catwalk. Crazy,
nightmare shadows rose up out of the destruction like skeletal
fingers.

Shaun heaved himself up and swung his leg over what
seemed to be solid flooring. As he moved his forearms contracted in
effort, muscles aching and over-exerted. Breathing harsh and
fingers moving in the darkness Shaun established he had not been
skewered by shrapnel, although he would not have been surprised if
he found a length of steel through his guts. In shock one doesn't
feel pain - the pain comes later.

It just seemed his eyebrows had been singed; a lucky
escape. Dread lay heavy in his heart as Shaun began the search for
his companions, moving aside jagged splintered steel, going more by
feel than by touch. He moved carefully, uncomfortably aware that a
near bottomless shaft dropped away at his feet. It was just so
dark!

"Here."

Shaun spun as he heard Myshia's voice from the
debris. He scrambled through tangled obstacles and met with
Myshia's outstretched arms. The native's long thin arm closed about
his neck like a parasite. She was shaking uncontrollably.

"W..What was that, Shaun?"

"An explosion," he explained, his tone unsure. "I
don't know...it sounded bad, as if the ship took a nasty hit." In
the darkness his eyes wandered, as if the answer to the mystery
would perhaps be written on the wall in bold letters. "I'd say from
where we are," he deduced, "we must have taken the full brunt of
the blow."

Myshia withdrew back, seeming to pull herself
together. Her mind was firm and disciplined and within seconds had
steadied her hands. "It sounded so close...like thunder."

"Torpedo hit," corrected Shaun. "I just hope it
hasn't broken the hull - without masks or proper suits we're lost.
He regarded her face in the intense darkness. "What about Capac and
Ashian? Are they okay?"

Myshia froze solid, her gemlike eyes boring into his
own. "I can feel their minds..." she said haltingly. "They fell.
They are far below."

"They fell? Oh shit."

"We must go after them," burst Myshia, suddenly
feeling very alone.

"Will do," muttered Shaun, looking around in the
darkness. They had to find some way down...

For the second time in the past hour he cursed his
stupidity. He had forgotten the Hartrias robots were still pursuing
them with the mindless determination that only a machine can have.
The fact that the ship had just suffered a major blow meant nothing
to the sniper droids - their task was to root out the
infiltrators.

Swearing lividly Shaun ducked down low, burying his
face into the catwalk and shielding his head with his hands. The
harsh chattering of automatic rifle fire echoed around their heads,
filling the surrounds with terribly loud echoes. From the
incredible noise the bullets made Shaun guessed they were explosive
tipped - enough to rip huge chunks from the wall behind him, that
was for sure.