Authors: Ronan Frost
His knife-edge thin beam sliced through the lower
wing of the nearest Sova, severing metal. Instants later a cloud of
oxygen billowed out, the wreck sparking blue before the fireball
engulfed it. Oblivious to the smokeless explosion Richael dived
through the spinning wreckage, carving another Hartrias fighter in
twain. A plasma blast burnt off his top scanners, the upper bank of
screens blinking into blackness. Richael immediately compensated,
instead using his manoeuvring jets to spin the craft one eighty
degrees, waiting until the last millisecond to fire the main
thruster engine.
The Sova-1 caught under the roaring fission engine
was scorched black, paint peeling away from bodywork like melting
putty. Caught at an angle it spun, all sensors and instrumentation
burned away in an instant, leaving the Hartrias pilot inside blind
and directionless.
Richael spun again, laser still firing: just in time
to see Flight Leader Schiever's craft explode in ugly mess of
jagged flame.
"Schiever!"
His hoarse cry went unheeded. A flare of strong
emotions flushing his face Richael spun hard, savagely wrenching
the controls. He found targets in quick succession, suddenly
unheeding of safety and caution.
Then he saw the Bladeships and he dropped towards
them, knowing that they were close to the Hartrias mothership now.
The planet loomed huge below them, a great blue sphere of light and
solidarity.
Richael flew like he had never done before - his life
placed on a razor's edge were the slightest mistake would mean
death. He no longer cared now. His forehead ached with
concentration, knowing that it was not courage that drove him this
far but deep rooted fear. Here death was instants away.
Then, parting away like a curtain, a gap in the wall
of Sovas revealed two Hartrias motherships. The Federation ships
blasted with maximum acceleration, the three Bladeships and a
single Minnow penetrating the outer defences.
Blue flame streaked out slowly from the Bladeships as
homing missiles were fired. Momentarily stunned Richael counted at
least thirty missiles blasting away.
"Bloody hell," he grunted. "That goddamn Hartrias
ship is going to feel that."
There was no response from his navigator as Richael
was aware of a sudden silence. "Robinson - get me an update."
Still headphones remained silent in his ears.
"Robinson? Where the - " Richael stopped as the video screen to his
left displayed an image of the rear of the Minnow. It was through
stunned eyes that Richael saw the entire nav panel had blackened,
Robinson's ashy corpse propped erect inside the tight flight suit.
It took long seconds for the fact to register itself in Richael's
head, his pulse thumping heavily in his temple like primitive
drums.
The fire came so quick he had no time for conscious
thought. He turned his eyes to the fore viewport in time to see the
flash of dull yellow laser fire milliseconds before it carved the
Minnow like a gutted fish. The Hartrias mothership, half of its
bulk billowing yellow and black explosion as missiles hit home,
fired last desperate shots.
Richael pulled his hands away from the flight
controls as electricity surged through the metal, filling the cabin
with an incredible stench. White hot pain ripped through Richael's
mind like fish hooks as flames took ahold and shock waves rippled
through his seat. The auto eject blasted, flinging the burning
cockpit away as the Minnow burst into pieces.
Richael screamed and held his hands before his eyes,
fingers splayed, knowing he could not do anything yet trying
desperately to push away those terrible flames.
He remembered nothing more.
* * *
Staring directly into the burning lights, his feet
rooted to the ground, Shaun watched as the craft descended lower, a
thrumming beat shaking the air. Landing pads extended fluidly and
swung into contact with the swamp as the craft's weight settled
upon the thick mud.
Shaun made no attempts at camouflage, knowing
infra-red sensors would surely be upon him. He could only hope that
there were no external cannons trained likewise. The dazzling
landing lights pivoted downwards as the whale-shaped space craft
nestled between shadowy tree limbs, exhaust jets steaming. When
Shaun stumbled forward from his shelter he held the minigun in a
mud encrusted grasp behind his back, the other arm shadowing his
eyes as afterimages blotted his vision. Although knowing the
minigun to be a small defence ingrained self preservation instincts
told him to not throw away what little advantage he may have.
"Put down your weapon."
Shaun hesitated, trying in vain to make out the
outline of the craft as the voice boomed over the loudspeaker.
"Who are you?" he asked, valiantly retaining his
weapon.
"A friend. Put down your weapon and step aboard
before your foolishness brings a delay that will bring unwanted
company."
"The pyrons?"
"Heat sensors are tracking a reptilian presence." The
voice over the loudspeaker paused. "Your puny gun is no match for
this ship, if that is what you are thinking, but I would prefer it
if you discarded it before you step aboard."
"Who said anything about stepping aboard," retorted
Shaun. "You didn't answer my question."
"There is no time. Either come now or remain to be
eaten - your choice. Just let me say that if I wanted you dead I
would have done so long before now."
Still confused and sceptical Shaun saw no alternative
but to drop the minigun into the swamp. It had been a bluff anyway
- the weapon was empty.
Water sloshed through his boots as Shaun passed
directly below the twin searchlights that gave out palpable heat,
guided by the sound of mechanical hinges working as the hatch
opened. Shaun saw very little of the ship as he passed next to the
sturdy landing leg, but he knew for certain that this was a craft
of Hartrias design. Mentally tensing, he clenched and relaxed his
fists, surreptitiously patting at his side where a small blade lay
hidden. Breathing deeply to quell his fears, Shaun knew there was
no alternative but to leave the swamp. The voice over the
loudspeaker was right; this was his one lifeline.
The unsteady footing gave way to solid metal as Shaun
ascended the ramp, feeling the technology enclose him like a
blanket as purified air left the crude stench of the swamp behind.
Footsteps echoing upon the glistening surface Shaun entered the
craft, noting every detail as he stood in a puddle of muddy water
spreading from his feet. He stood in the passenger compartment of
the craft, a round table set before him and several seats arranged
nearby. Bathed in a pure fluorescent light the square scientific
features of the cabin juxtaposed the twisted unclear images of the
swamp. To his annoyance he discovered the sudden change in
environment had momentarily put his senses off-guard that he had
not noticed the approach of the ship's occupant.
"Greetings, solider."
Shaun spun, his hand finding his hidden blade as his
gaze met with the figure of a Hartrias standing in the rectangular
frame of the doorway. The Hartrias' reptilian brows rose above coal
black eyes as it extended both arms in a gesture of admonition.
"Careful now."
"Who are you?" questioned Shaun, knowing hand-to-hand
battle against a Hartrias would be stupidity. But rather than allow
himself to be captured a third time Shaun was ready to plunge the
crude blade into his own heart if worst came to worst.
The Hartrias took another step forward, heavy boots
snicking against the flooring. Then something incredible
happened.
The Hartrias' face peeled open.
With a clunk the blade fell from Shaun's limp fingers
as he watched in fascination, hardly daring to believe his eyes.
The Hartrias' head rolled backwards like the folds of a roller
door, partially peeling back from the cheekbones to the forehead.
The small opening ran with orange coloured liquid, revealing a pair
of human eyes small in comparison to the squat Hartrias features
surrounding.
This time it spoke in human fashion, free of the
harsh tones of Hartrias language. "You look as if you've seen a
ghost."
Shaun cursed his lack of wits as understanding caught
on. He watched in mute awe as mechanical switches clicked. "That's
incredible. Bio-mechanics..."
The human eyes blinked orange liquid and the man
looked as if he were in pain. "Good to see you like it." He paused,
then said; "I've got to refasten the seals or she'll dry up."
Shaun watched as the Hartrias face moved back down
and blended without flaw into the reptilian flesh of the mechanical
face that rippled with moving muscle that gave the illusion of
life. Shaking his head he at last regained his sense of
purpose.
"I must thank you for coming for me." Shaun extended
a hand. "I owe you my life."
The other's snoutlike face nodded acknowledgment as
he turned a huge hand palm upward, the claw recessed but still
evident under the skin. "Let me introduce myself; I am Agent Conrad
Tracer of the Federation Special Services. I'd shake, but with this
I'd most likely rip your arm off. But enough - I can see you are
dead on your feet. When was the last time you slept, solider?"
Shaun shrugged, for although his exhaustion and aches
he knew what he craved most. "How's that food-storage locker
stocked, Conrad? I'd kill for a piece of flesh to fill my guts - I
think right now I'd even swallow a piece of sythnispam."
"You can refer to me as Agent Tracer, or Sir," said
the man evenly, "from the looks of things I'd say only one of us is
in command."
"I'm sorry, sir," apologised Shaun somewhat taken
aback. He hadn't expected such coldness from the first human he had
made contact with for three years.
Conrad grunted deep from what sounded like powerful
Hartrias lungs, but Shaun knew his vocal chords must have been
amplified and modified to match the Hartrias'. "Don't get me wrong,
son, I'm not looking for your hide. It's just that we are still on
enemy dirt and until we are away I want to do things my way."
"I understand the seriousness of the situation, sir,"
nodded Shaun, trying to straighten his shoulders despite his
weariness. "Control of the jump-point is critical to the outcome of
the War."
"Then you know - that is well." Agent Tracer ran a
critical eye over Shaun's form. "I've been placed deep within the
Hartrias forces, and you must understand my mission comes first."
Tracer's heavy brows relaxed slightly. "I'll get you some food,
solider." Heading for an ice-chamber it wasn't long before a plate
sealed with a metal foil was delivered steaming hot before
Shaun.
"It's Hartrias food," said Tracer with the barest
hint of humour creeping a little warmth into his voice, "but not
anything as bad as synthispam."
Shaun could not resist the steaming food for long,
even despite his unwillingness to relax his guard so quickly, but
the odours soon made his stomach grumble with such ferocity that he
could not help but begin to shovel morsels into his mouth. Shaun
regarded his rescuer from between mouthfuls. "If you don't mind me
saying so, sir, that must be thousands of creds worth of equipment
you're wearing. Mechanical limbs and cybernetic linkups don't come
cheap."
"Not just that, it's all bio-engineered so it lives
just like normal tissue, fed by a supply a nutrients from my own
flesh." Tracer's incredibly real Hartrias eyes narrowed under a
pair of heavy brows. "The suit was practically grown around me, and
I've been in it for so long now I doubt the Federation will be able
to remove it without killing me. My flesh has grown around the
suit, and even removing the eyes as I did just now was very
painful."
Shaun was silent for a moment, knowing now why Tracer
had acted so cold and impersonal towards him. He knew that his own
imprisonment on the Urisa was nothing compared to the confines of
the bio-suit that bound Tracer for life.
"Where I've been I needed every detail," continued
Tracer in an even voice as he leant back on his chair opposite
Shaun. "A lot of the detail is classified" Tracer grunted low in
his throat then arched a brow. "And yourself? What is your
story?"
"My name is Flight Lieutenant Shaun Lowry, Federation
pilot captured three years ago. You're the first human I have seen
since then, sir."
Tracer nodded. "You are the first human being I have
seen for five years."
Shaun lay aside his fork. "If you don't mind me
asking, sir, where did you come from?"
"With the help of the Federation Secret Services I
infiltrated the Hartrias battleship Rplore under the pseudonym of
footsolider J. Moarn and carried out spy work. I was a deep plant,
working in their midst and under the scrutiny of their computers,
and it was then I was brought quite by coincidence to this planet.
It was fortunate to be where I was at the time."
"Then it was you who saved us back on the Urisa,"
realised Shaun. "You fired those shots into our captives aboard the
skipship! But how in the name of the Almighty did you manage to
find me? It was a planetary search - yet you seemed to have
narrowed the hunt very quickly."
"I would have thought it logical," replied Tracer
smoothly. "I planted a tracking device in the minigun I gave to you
the last time we met. From there, it was simply a matter of
destroying a lot of the ship's defences and blasting away in this
stolen craft."
Shaun grinned. "A tracking device - well bugger me
with a clampscrew! You showed remarkable foresight, sir."
Tracer's brown Hartrias eyes glinted. "Retrieving you
was the least I could do. You and your friends created the
confusion I needed to pull this thing off. Speaking of which; your
friends - who were they?"
"Natives," said Shaun. "They helped disable
Avatar."