Authors: Ronan Frost
"Get back!" shouted Shaun, urging Myshia forward away
from the source of the fire. "Move into the tunnels, I'll keep you
covered!"
"But what about Capac-" started Myshia.
"Later! Now get moving." Shaun had the laser pistol
in his hands, feeling its stubby barrel in his shaking, sweaty
grasp. He twisted the muzzle two notches, widening the width of the
laser. He fired once, twice; blue bolts of energy lashing out
across the chasm. In those brief, lightning-like flashes, he at
last saw his surroundings. The catwalk had been totally demolished
and had swung down against the far side of the chasm. The chasm
itself was smooth and bottomless, metal sides glistening blue laser
reflections. In that still moment, frozen midway between two
eternities of chaos, Shaun saw why they had been so greatly
affected by the torpedo blast. The chasm was in fact a massive air
duct, some sort of scoop operating from one end of the ship to the
other. When the blast struck the hull the explosion must have
ripped through this duct like a child scooting down a water slide.
The narrow catwalk had been torn like a thread of spiders silk by
the buffeting explosion and shifting pressure.
A close whining brought his mind savagely back to the
present. Those snipers were getting too close for comfort. Shaun
sighted along the barrel of the pistol and fired repeatedly. He
cursed the weapon, and found himself wishing for a shoulder slung
tri-muzzled grenade throwing stutter gun. That was the sort of
weapon one needed to break apart the opposition.
He ducked back into cover, not sure if his shots had
found their target. He could spare no more time sitting there,
though, and raced to the cover of a nearby tunnel.
He ducked into the narrow duct, almost tripping over
a bulky form lying in the entrance. It took him a moment for his
eyes to register that it was a Lectar, a wooden arrow jutting from
the flesh between the plates on its neck. Judging by its twitching
movements Shaun guessed the black armoured beast was out for
good.
Myshia was close by, her bow still in her hands. Her
eyes flashed pride. "I bumped into it."
Shaun smiled briefly in the darkness. Myshia must
have been quick to take down a Lectar. "Keep moving," he urged.
"But what about Capac and Ashian?"
The question was answered for them as bullets
ricocheted down the duct. Shaun thought he felt a projectile skim
through his hair as he ducked down. "Later! The droid's are right
on top of us."
Myshia acquiesced and slung her bow. As Shaun started
to follow her deeper into the duct system he turned, firing a last
parting shot back the way they had come. He must have been lucky,
for the bright flash of laser light was responded by a sharp
crackle and thump.
Heartened with his success Shaun took off down the
smooth pipe-like duct, his head bowed low. The duct ran straight
and flawless, its diameter just enough for Shaun to stand if he
bent his knees and hunched over his back. The only thing wrong with
it was that any firing from the other end and the bullets
ricocheted straight through them.
"Turn off!" yelled Shaun at Myshia's shadow before
him. "Find a turn off!"
He stopped long enough to fire off another blast back
towards the chasm. The laser made an eerie humming noise as it
rocketed down the seamless horizontal duct.
He almost bumped into and fell over Myshia. She had
found a junction and was prising off the grating that lead to
another pipe. She scrambled into the new duct that ran at right
angles to the previous, this duct being nearly identical except for
a considerable lessening of radius.
"Shit!" cursed Shaun, halfway through the entrance.
"I'm stuck."
He wiggled his torso to no avail, it seemed like his
hip bone just would not fit through. Already the skin was scraped
and the muscles pulled agonisingly as he tried to haul himself into
the narrow pipe.
"It opens out a little here," explained Myshia. "If
you can just get through that opening you'll be right."
"It's alright for you, shorty" muttered Shaun, still
heaving. His legs stuck out into the other duct, the duct that the
droids where racing along right now.
One final, desperate shove that felt like he was
tearing muscle from bone, he was through narrow entrance, face
plowing into the cold metal of the duct but he barely felt it - he
was just glad to be free again. Shaun was never claustrophobic, but
looking at his surrounds made a queasy sensation of fear rise up
his throat. He was now in a perfectly circular silver metal duct
that was no more than forty centimetres diameter. He had barely
enough room to raise his head, feeling like a bug caught midway in
a straw. His sweaty hands slid on the metal, his boots moving like
slipping paddles as they propelled him forward on his belly.
Myshia's was already far ahead, her considerably
smaller build enabling her to move with ease.
Shaun gripped the laser pistol in his hand as he
pulled himself along, cursing as he realised there was not even
enough room for him to bring his elbow up in order to fire a shot
over his shoulder.
A string of oaths and curses left his lips, his neck
beginning to cramp, as he followed after Myshia's form.
Chapter Thirteen
Battle Damage.
All men think all men mortal, save themselves.
- Edmund Young.
The captain of the Federation scoopship Beodart
bawled into the com-link.
"Status report! Where the hell are we?"
The huge interstellar liner floundered as another
blow took it portside.
"We've been arrested from jumpspace, Captain," came
the response. "Shields down, I -"
Static overrode the channel and a deep echo rumbled
through the ship. The Captain knew immediately the engines had been
destroyed, along with the crew down there.
Admiral Karthorn stood hands clasped behind his broad
back, watching the silent battle ensue. The cylindrical shaped
Rplore battleship blasted the Federation ship with volleys of
nuclear missiles, each striking with calamitous effect. Karthorn
watched the Beodart crumble as if it were nothing more than a
freighter ship.
The interceptions were becoming more often now, he
mused. More Federation ships were entering jumpspace, and
increasingly more were being destroyed. With Rplore on alert the
Urisa could afford to sit back and watch.
The Admiral was just turning away from the huge
monitor when a sudden flash of light caught his eye. He paused,
eyes narrowing, as the speck grew. It seemed to be coming from the
half-demolished Federation ship.
Karthorn raised his voice, his gaze never leaving the
speck. "Avatar - what is that?"
The five controllers were engaged in furious activity
as multiple warning lights flashed.
The computer's voice was calm. "Incoming hostile
missile. Auto defence laser locking in, T-minus three seconds."
Admiral Karthorn couldn't explain it, but he felt a
rising sense of distress watching the speck growing into something
recognisable as a thin missile. Invisible lasers arced out towards
the missile, converging upon the piece of machinery like the
fingers of a giant.
And missed.
"What's going on here?" shouted the Admiral,
impatient with long seconds of just watching the missile home
in.
"It's equipped with retro's," explained the nearest
tech. "It won't stay still."
He caught a flash out of the corner of his eye, just
seconds before the missile impacted. A distant roar went through
the ship as the brunt of the blow was absorbed by the shields.
The floor tilted as the artificial gravity skewed,
hesitated, then rightened. Admiral Karthorn was already regaining
his footing.
"Avatar! Damage report."
"Processing..." the computer responded smoothly.
Then, a second later; "Minimal structural damage to aft quarter.
Repair crews are already mobilised."
"Air leak?"
"Negative. Fire control systems operating and damaged
section is being sealed off. The force of the blast was taken by
centre vent A-131."
Admiral Karthorn sank back into the command chair. He
would let Avatar handle the repair job - he had more important
concerns. He gave the order for the communications tech to connect
him with the captain of the Rplore.
Captain Loakar's holographic image appeared. His face
was calm and unruffled, for the rest of the battle had been
executed without flaw. The Federation ship was now a burnt husk,
and as he spoke salvage teams were already on their way over to see
if anything of value was left.
"Yes, Admiral?"
"The Urisa's taken a hit," Admiral Karthorn
growled.
Captain Loakar immediately lost his smugness. "Our
scanners did not pick it up."
"Neither did ours until the missile was practically
ontop of us. It managed to evade the defence lasers and bored
straight into us."
The Captain's heavy brows knitted as he studied
something off-screen. "Avatar has just beamed your status over...it
seems nothing's damaged-"
"That's not the point!" cut off the Admiral. "The
fact is that the Federation had missiles that had avoided lasers
and radar! If the Federation ship had more of a chance she would
have launched a salvo, and if that had of happened this ship would
become a permeant satellite!"
"I've heard reports of an upgrade in Federation
technology," replied Captain Loakar. "But this is the first I've
seen of it. I'd bet that these new missiles come from the
Skeeters."
The Admiral nodded - that made sense. The Skeeters
were a highly developed race and had stayed out of the war until
recently. Their alliance with the Federation meant the Hartrias
Kingdom would be up against some deadly hardware.
The Admiral knew that if the Federation ship had been
given time to reboot their offensive and defensive systems they
would not have made such easy prey for the Rplore. It was only the
fact that they had been caught unaware that turned the battle.
"We'll have to be more alert next time," said Captain
Loakar.
But the Admiral was not as dismissing. "Have the
Kingdom send updates on the new technology," he ordered. "I want
the defence systems upgraded immediately to deal with these
things."
"Aye, sir."
A punch of a button and the three dimensional image
disappeared. The Admiral was about to ask for an update on the
repair situation when a thought stuck him. His question was
probably pedantic, but it was best to be safe.
"Avatar," he ordered. "What happened to those
infiltrators? I trust they've been eliminated?"
The computer's face paused momentarily as it searched
its databanks. "Last report was at 1903 hours. The missile hit must
have disrupted comm lines temporarily. Going from the last report,
it seems the threat has been eliminated."
The Admiral nodded. It was good to know that he no
longer had hostile forces running the length of his ship. "Very
well. Avatar, give me a full report on the aft sector."
* * *
Ashian heard Capac cursing in the darkness. A little
light filtered down from overhead, casting narrow wedges of
illumination amongst the tangled steel.
They lay in the wreckage of what had been the
catwalk, its structure totally bent out of all symmetry. Ashian
raised a shaking hand and moped his brow. As he pulled his arm away
he noticed his leather sleeve was splattered in blood, and, mildly
alarmed, probed for injury. As sensation began to come back he felt
a growing stinging settle in, and he found a long narrow gash just
below his eye. He dabbed cautiously at the wound, wincing as sparks
of pain echoed through his mind.
Ashian relaxed for a moment, watching bright flashes
dance before his eyes. His limbs were so leaden, he felt as if he
could just lie here forever.
It was only with great effort that he opened his eyes
again. Sudden realisation of where he was and the vulnerable
position he was in drove vigour into his brain. All that concerned
him now was getting out.
He moved, and was surprised to find that he could
slip out of the twisted wreckage with ease. He blessed his good
luck, knowing that if he had been just centimetres to either side
he would have been pinned.
"Capac?" he called, knowing the eloprin was somewhere
close. His call was answered and he scrambled over to intercept
it.
"Capac," he breathed, suddenly feeling a whole lot
better. The dreadful feeling of desperation and loneliness
dissipated as he saw his companion grin in mock woe.
"I feel terrible," muttered Capac. He still lay with
his back against the catwalk, a mass of steel poised over him.
"Are you alright?" questioned Ashian, already
dropping to his knees to help.
"Bruised, but alive. Scroch, that was some fall."
Capac heaved himself to his elbows then prised himself free. His
gemlike eyes studied Ashian's form.
"You're hurt," he said abruptly.
Ashian shrugged and tenderly touched the gash that
ran from just below his eye and ran down the length of his cheek.
He knew it would scar.
"It's not bad. At least the bleeding has
stopped."
Capac grunted and turned his attention to the
darkness. "What happened?" he asked in a bemused tone. "The last
thing I remember was crawling on my back away from the droids...the
next thing I know...I'm here."
Ashian had retained consciousness and could remember
vividly the chaos of the explosion. He related briefly the wall of
fire that had swept the frail catwalk from it's mountings. "We must
have fallen with it," he finished. He craned his neck upwards, but
could only see darkness above. "Who knows how far we've fallen. It
seemed like a long way."
Ashian had regained his footing and was looking
around confusedly. "Looks like we're in some sort of bowl." Then he
noticed rows upon rows of ducts leading into the cavernous bowl, as
if they were pipes feeding to some sort of insanely huge scuba
tank.