Alien Courage (Rise of the Empress) (61 page)

BOOK: Alien Courage (Rise of the Empress)
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“What the …” Toormis said as he extracted himself from
the module and looked at the screen. “Where did they come from?” he gasped and
wiped his hands on his chest as he strode over to his seat and sat down. Cassy
stood up and stared at the screen, looked briefly at Peter and smiled. Her
brother did that, she thought.

 

The Administrator had heard the siren and rushed to
the Bridge stopping suddenly when he saw the screen. Three squadrons of Starfighters
with support vessels showed on the chart. They formed a rough triangle and they
were slightly off centre in the triangle.

 

“Have they located us?” The Administrator asked
Toormis.

 

“I don’t think so but how did you know the scan
frequency and to vary the frequency to see all three at once?” Toormis said
spinning around to look at Peter. Starfighter Squadrons randomly altered their
cloaking signatures and times when on tactical operations. To have all three
squadrons at once located and on the same screen is near impossible.

 

Peter shrugged his shoulders.

 

“You have just a few too many surprises old boy,”
Toormis said strapping himself into his seat. “Everyone to their seats and
strap yourselves in. They can’t see us but if they suspect a cloaked ship they
will send out positive plasma pulses to locate our space displacement and heat
signature. There may be some counter measures I may have to take.”

 

A computer prediction plotted the Starfighter
squadrons. The Bridge of the Traveller was tense as they waited for the pattern
to be predictable. Then Toormis relaxed a little, “one of them is heading to
Zion and the one closest to us is more or less stationary but there is another
ship there I haven’t identified yet. The third squadron is nearly off our
scanning range but has deployed a broad aggressive assault pattern. They are
heading slowly toward the stationary squadron. Looks like a search, seek and
destroy scenario. What do you make of it Administrator?”

 

“Apart from what you said nothing. It’s a wait and
see, but that’s a lot of activity for this sector. We have to assume they are
looking for us. Have you plotted Traveller’s options well enough Toormis to
give us some sort of indication of the range and direction we could go?”

 

“Well. Just about anywhere we wanted. But while within
the borders of the Great Houses we will never really be safe unless we are
cloaked, and that is bad for the engines in the long term, even for this ship.
I suggest we set a course for the disputed territories. There are many hiding
places there with a number of survey bases where we could attain re-supply. If
and when this war between the Houses happens we can use the confusion to align
ourselves with an old ally of Irrimus and maybe get that program initiated if
we can find it and give Irrimus a chance of reorganizing.  It’s a long
shot but at least it’s a plan.”

 

“I agree,” the Administrator said. “My request is that
you try to get me to Norfis as soon as possible if war breaks out.”

 

“I see that as a reasonable request, “Toormis replied.
“Can you fly a Starfighter?”

 

“I can fly an Echo class but with my learning cubes I
could get the hang of it. Why?”

 

Toormis grinned. “Traveller has two in its cargo hold.
You are welcome to one, once I find a safe location in the disputed
territories.”

 

The Administrator smiled and felt nervously elated. A
Starfighter is the ultimate space craft and he realized it was the best ever
opportunity he would ever get to go to a home he has never known. “Thank you,”
he said sincerely.

 

“You’re welcome. I hope Norfis is all you want it to
be, it’s been a closed planet for a long, long time,” Toormis said
sympathetically.

 

“It’s still home Toormis.”

 

Toormis smiled at the Administrator in silent
understanding. “Cassy we are off to the disputed territories, once these
Starfighters clear the sector.”

 

Cassy smiled weakly, sick to the stomach at the peril
that lay ahead but took comfort in the slim hope it offered. She looked over to
Peter. “What do you want to do Peter?” she asked.

 

“Your plans are fine by me but I’d like to avoid any
war if possible. I do wish to find this Torquay fellow you keep mentioning and
seek his assistance. Can you help me do that?”

 

“We’ll try our best. That I promise you,” Cassy said
and both the Administrator and Toormis looked at Peter and nodded their
agreement.

 

 

---------

 

 

The Black Priest returned to the stateroom with one of
his Priests, the other remained outside guarding the door. He viewed the Volen
Commander with contempt. “Are you finished with him?” the Black Priest asked
his Captain and the Squadron Commander.

 

“They both indicated yes with the nod of the head.
“Good, get rid of him,” the Black Priest said to his Priest who moved forward and
grabbed the Volen and roughly escorted him out. The Black Priest circled the
two men and stopped with his back to them looking out an observation port.

 

“I will soon have the Empire. A new dawn for the
Assengi is breaking and you will not fail!” He said swinging around to face
them. “Bring me the Emperor!” he shrieked in a high voice.

 

“Yes My Lord,” answered his ship’s Captain but the
Squadron Commander stared in disbelief at the Black Priest, he had never seen
such intense insanity before and the atmosphere in the stateroom made his skin
feel tight. He quickly regained his sensors, saluted and rushed from the
Assengi ship dismissing the thought of telling the Black Priest of the plans
and counter contingences he had worked out with the other Captain.

 

“It’s just one cloaked cargo ship,” the Squadron
Commander told his Starfighter pilots. “It will be just as the training manual
says: a V formation with the target in the centre and we’ll knock out its shields
with pulse blaster fire if they don’t surrender. I will set the power levels of
you weapons by remote. We are not to destroy the ship or harm its crew. We will
disable it, then tractor beam it back to the Command ship. Then our mission
will be over and we can return to base,” a sigh of relief swept through the
pilots.
“Any questions?”
The pilots knew the mission
and had drilled it many times. Catching smugglers was a well practiced tactic
and had no questions. “OK, let’s begin, to your fighters.”

 

The pilots rushed through their supply ship and slid
down the air tight tethering tubes to their Starfighters. In a smooth practiced
motion all eight craft were in attack formation.

 

“This is Squadron Commander to Assengi Command,
standing by.”

 

“Affirmative Commander, transferring
the frequency modulation data now.”

 

The Commander saw the green trail on his monitor and
relayed the data to his Squadron. “There is our target’s trail. Engage flanking
speed, NOW!” Eight Starfighters shimmered and vanished into space. The Black
Priest’s vessel cloaked and flew in an arc toward a position just beyond the
interception of the Squadron with the Volen cargo ship.

Chapter Seventeen

 

 

 

 

The Ensign sipped on his tea while the Captain ran a
series of projected courses to alternate safe havens. He rejected the moon
destination with the monks the Empress had given him as nothing more than a
trap. He found an amazing amount of information in the Volen ship’s database.
The Ensign cracked the encryption codes and the database read like a smuggler’s
almanac.

 

“These files are incredible Ensign,” the Captain said
with his eyes glued to the screen “there is even a projected schedule of raids
and trading opportunities when meteor showers take out monitoring probes. Why is
it we have never found one of these programs before, we have captured many of
these ships.”

 

“Not like this one sir. This computer is quite the
discovery; however, it has a number of auto destruct mechanisms built in. I had
to take it very carefully to enter and navigate around inside that system,” the
Ensign replied and took another sip of tea. He chuckled…

 

“What?” the Captain said without looking up.

 

“I wouldn’t like to be the Commander of this ship once
his superiors realize he lost the ship without erasing this program.”

 

“Should I be playing with this?” The Captain asked
realizing he might trip something in it which could cause it to self destruct.

 

“It’s OK sir. I have a number of copies of the whole
system in here,” the Ensign said reaching into his breast pocket and taking out
a mini storage disc player loaded with a data discs with the program now name
and tagged, ‘Smuggler’s Almanac’. “If you do trip a destruction code we have
copies of the information.”

 

“Ah, this looks promising,” the Captain said looking
at the monitor. “It looks like the safest place we can go is under the very
eyes of the Trigeals themselves, Norfis. That planet is quarantined but the
Norfians are a noble race with knowledge of many things. Their contempt for the
Trigeals led in part to them being quarantined. Their main problem was they
incite people to seek the truth. The Trigeals don’t like that but they would
probably know more than anyone what has happened to the Emperor and a possible cure.”

 

“If it’s quarantined how do we get there Sir?” the
Ensign asked marking the Norfis data on the storage disc with a flag for
attention later.

 

“It’s all in here, the approach codes, Trigeal
monitoring stations, best times and methods of avoiding detection. Apparently
the Volen have been trading with the Norfians for some time, mainly in
information technology. It’s risky running the Trigeal gauntlet but it can be
done in a vessel such as this with the modified cloaking systems,” the Captain
said.

 

“But will the Norfians accept us?” The Ensign asked
with concern.

 

“I don’t know. They seem to accept Volen traders
though, this ship has been there before so I don’t see too much of a problem
with that. It is a risk we’ll just have to take. We really don’t have any
alternative,” the Captain stated, “and it’s the best chance for the Emperor
that I can see.”

 

“I’ll set the course Sir,” the Ensign said and leaned
forward and brought up the navigational screen. Suddenly a flashing, WARNING
sign erupted across his screen and a siren sounded throughout the ship.

 

The Captain brought up the tactical screen and symbols
danced and navigational lines materialized. The Captain sat back in his seat
and sighed.

 

“Who are they Sir,” the Ensign said with controlled panic
creeping into his voice.

 

“A Confederate Starfighter Squadron in V formation.
They know we are here and are on an attack vector,” the Captain stated as he
watched the screen intently.

 

“Can we outrun them sir?”

 

“No. Somehow they knew exactly where we were.” A low
constant beeping came from the console indicating a positive beam emission from
the Starfighters. “That’s their lock on our hull. The cloaking is ineffectual
now.” The Captain said to the Ensign who was looking at him with wide open
eyes.

 

“Volen Cargo vessel.
This is Confederate Starfighter Squadron under
Assengi Imperial Directive. You will surrender your vessel immediately and shut
down all engines and weapons systems. Acknowledge.”

 

The Captain’s lips formed a thin hard line. He seethed
at the thought of the Assengi and powered up the
weapon’s
systems. “Ensign, the Assengi must not get the Emperor under any circumstances.
Do you understand?” he said forcefully and dropped the ship in a ninety degree dive
away from the V formation of the Starfighters forming overhead.

 

“Yes Sir,” the Ensign replied terrified but
instinctively plotted the vectors of each of the eight Starfighters. The
Captain looked across and saw the Ensign’s monitor and nodded a grim
acknowledgement.

 

“OK Ensign. I can buy us a little time but we can
never escape from eight Starfighters. That trick you did with the blaster on
that moon base, making it spin and fire all directions at once. Can you do that
to a ship’s
weapon’s
systems?”

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