Da’ren slumped in the pilot’s seat and wiped his brow with a shaking hand. He looked at Tristan. “That should not be here!”
One of the others turned from the view port “It looks like the remains of ships.”
Da’ren was about to engage thrusters to get them away from the debris field when Tristan put a hand on his arm. “Wait.”
They all turned questioning faces towards him.
“Something destroyed these ships, so we should stay in the debris field for the moment and check.”
Da’ren looked at him wide eyed. “I hadn’t thought of that.”
“Let me see if I can locate any ship’s nearby.” He shut his eyes and concentrated. Connecting his senses to the freighter’s computer, he scanned the area of space around them but found nothing other than drifting rubbish. The sensors were rudimentary compared to the Sicceian warship they escaped from and the debris did not help.
“Da’ren, can you nudge us towards the edge of the debris field please? Make us appear to be drifting debris.”
“Yes, sir.” The ship moved in short bursts so as to present as little as possible to any ship that may be nearby. After about six of these nudges Tristan could see beyond the destroyed ships. A large power signature was visible and he turned the optical sensors in that direction. A black shape lay silhouetted against the daylight brightness of the planet. A Sicceian warship.
“The Sicceians are here.” There was a groan behind him.
“They must have obtained the colonies location from the crewmen they tortured.” Tristan had been with them long enough to recognise the note of despair in Da’ren’s voice.
Tristan sighed. “How large is this colony?”
“One of our newest ones. Only one small city and outlying villages on the main continent.”
“How long could they hold out against a Sicceian attack?”
“No more than a few days at the most, why?”
Tristan ignored Da’ren’s question. “I don’t think I can access their ship’s computer at this distance, but they are between us and the planet surface so...” Tristan paused, collecting his thoughts.
He checked the sensors again “They're not moving, so they have probably not spotted us yet. Obviously not expecting an attack from space. Their arrogance gives us an advantage. Keep the debris field between them and us and move away from the planet. There is an asteroid belt further out, set course for that. The asteroids will make it difficult for their sensors, hiding us as we traverse the system. We can then come back in the shadow of the planet. Once we are close we can fly round at low altitude and land before they can do anything about it.”
“Good plan, Tristan, let’s hope the colony is still holding out.” Da’ren did everything Tristan suggested.
They came round from behind the planet and flew in low, landing quickly, a little way from the main colony. The colony was the size of a large town, signs of battle everywhere with crumbling buildings and smoke rising from many as they flew over. The outlying areas were littered with hastily thrown up earth work defences. Da’ren landed the craft on the edge of a wood in a small clearing.
Tristan felt his pulse race as he stood and made his way to the main hatch. This would be the second alien planet he had ever been to. He was about to start down the ramp when one of the Mylians called to him.
“Tristan, Sir.”
He turned round and had a laser pulse rifle handed to him. “Thanks.” They disembarked and quickly made for the cover of the trees. Once they were safely away from the ship the crew stood looking at him and waiting for orders. Tristan took a deep breath as strange alien woodland scents and smells assailed his nostrils. He looked at the expectant faces in the starlight. He knew as far as they were concerned he was now the leader of their small band.
He could not feel any Sicceians nearby, so under cover of the trees they should be fairly safe from detection.
“Right, let’s see if there are any survivors in the colony.” He led them off, having taken his bearings before they landed.
Skirting round the edge of the wood, they broke cover and ran towards the smoking town. They reached the abandoned outer defences and proceeded to pick their way past empty defensive ditches and ruined defence emplacements. They made slow progress, slipping and sliding in the churned up mud.
Tristan felt his chest start to heave with the effort and his breath came in ragged gasps. His companions were having the same issue breathing. He called a halt for a moment so they could recover their breath.
He glanced across at Da’ren, now bent over, hands on his knees. “Da’ren, are we high up here, the air seems rarefied?”
He did not answer immediately, so Tristan waited while he gathered his breath.
“Yes, Tristan, we are on a fairly high plateau. It takes a few days to get used to the altitude.”
Tristan waited until everyone had recovered. “Right, OK, is everyone fit to continue?” They all affirmed they were. “Let’s go then.”
The ground flattened out for a few hundred yards, then they came to another defensive line, where they were challenged.
There was a momentary silence broken by heavy breathing before Da’ren, gasping for breath, was able to speak. He had been to the colony many times so he and his crew were quickly identified.
The sentry’s attention turned to Tristan. “What about him? I have never seen his species before.”
“He is with us, he helped us escape from the Sicceians.” There was a chorus of agreement from the rest of Da’ren’s crew.
“Yes, without him we would all be dead,” the female, said taking Tristan by the arm.
The sentry looked keenly at all their faces, “all right we need all the help we can get. The colony commander has his Head Quarters just off the main square. Go see him and he will apprise you of our situation.”
They were allowed to pass. Dawn was just breaking when they walked into the town square. As he walked, all Tristan saw were women, young children and old men cowering in doorways and ruined buildings. They all looked exhausted, dirty, and had a haunted look to their eyes. When they reached the command post, it was a scene of chaos, with a few people running in and out, exhausted and wounded people slumped against the walls. There were moans and screams coming from rooms off the main entrance hall.
Da’ren glanced around then turned to Tristan. “This is the colony meeting hall and administration offices.”
People congregated around a table set up to one side of the hall. An old Mylian, who appeared to be in charge, sat at the table surrounded by scattered papers. His eyes were haunted, as he looked at the people round the table all clamouring for his attention. He emanated an aura of despair and gave Tristan the impression he was near breaking point. He turned towards them as they entered.
“Da’ren, what are you doing here? We thought you were lost weeks ago when you failed to arrive with your usual supplies delivery.”
“Mr Mayor, are you in command?”
The old man nodded. “Yes, the military commanders are all dead. I’m all that is left of the colony authorities.” He glanced at the rest of Da’ren’s crew. It is good to see you, but unless you have brought a battle fleet and several thousand troops, you are definitely in the wrong place at the wrong time.”
Tristan stepped forward. “Do you know when the next attack is likely to start?”
The Mayor looked surprised; he had not noticed Tristan among Da’ren’s crew. “Who and what are you?”
“My name is Tristan, and I’m human.”
Da’ren interrupted, “He saved us from the Sicceians.”
The others affirmed Da’ren’s statement. The Mayor looked doubtful. “I think you will find it harder saving everyone here.” He laughed dryly then coughed. “Get along with you now. There are plenty of weapons stacked round the side of the building. We have more of them than able bodied people to use them.” He turned to a soldier who had just run up to the table.
With a shrug Tristan walked away followed by Da’ren and his crew. They stepped outside into the early morning sunlight. Tristan turned to Da’ren.
“Da’ren, do you know why the Sicceians bother with ground assaults. Surely it would be easier and more efficient to bomb this colony out of existence from the air?”
“That’s the way they always do it. Why destroy perfectly good slave breeding stock?”
Tristan frowned. “Da’ren, the Mayor, what’s his name?”
“Morden.”
“Well, Morden didn’t say when the next attack was likely to start so we don’t know how much time we have.”
“No. So what?” Da’ren sounded cautious. “We have not had any sleep for hours, Tristan.”
Tristan looked at the tired faces around him. “If we sleep now and are overrun we will be prisoners again. When they find out we are the ones who escaped, how long do you think they will let us live?”
Da’ren sighed. “OK, what do you want to do?”
Tristan bit his lip for a moment, he had not had time to think things through. Right, by the seat of my pants then!
“Rather than waiting for the inevitable, I want to try and capture one of the Sicceian’s ships, then, if I can disable the other ship’s computer systems, we might have a chance of destroying the Sicceians. Without functioning computer systems, all their ships would be sitting ducks.”
He paused to let his plan sink in. “Are you willing to give it a go?”
The female crew member, Myalita, was the first to speak. “Well I for one don’t want to be a Sicceian prisoner again, so as far as I’m concerned let’s give it a go. What have we got to lose?”
The rest agreed with Myalita.
Tristan smiled. “Excellent, there were Sicceians beyond a small ridge over in that direction.” He pointed across the town. “Near where we landed. I propose we go and scout them out and see what we are up against.”
They walked out of the ruined town past the sparsely manned defences without being challenged. As they were walking down the slope from the town, the altitude did not have such a negative effect as when they first landed. Having cleared the defensive lines, Tristan led them to the edge of the wood. They made their way to the foot of the low hills then cut along the base of the ridge until Tristan judged they were opposite the Sicceian camp.
He kept his senses alert, listening for any Sicceians that might discover them. As he suspected, they were so confident there were no patrols; they had not even posted any lookouts. Tristan and the Mylians moved quietly through the scrub towards the top of the ridge. There was silence around them, as if even the very land held its breath for what was to come.
The cover was low but adequate. They carefully made their way up to a small vantage point Tristan had noticed, which he hoped would allow them to look down on the Sicceians without being discovered.
They crawled the last few meters and peered over the top of the ridge. Below them, three large ships, presumably troop carriers or cruisers, and four smaller ships that looked like escorts of some sort, were spread out on a large open field. Troops lolled around talking to one another. There seemed to be very little preparation for an attack on the town. Tristan could not believe the arrogance and complacency. At least they were not under pressure from an imminent attack.
Each ship had only two sentries guarding the entrance ramps and even they were paying very little attention to their duties, just standing about chatting to one another. Tristan shook his head; bloody amateurs!
He almost felt sorry for them, as they were about to pay dearly for their lack of discipline and arrogance.
One of the small escort craft stood closest to their position. The ramp pointed away from the other craft and was opposite a small clump of trees. They could make their way under cover from the ridge down to the trees, then from the trees to the ship in a short dash. They could board the ship without being seen by anyone in the main camp.
He turned to his companions and spoke softly. “See that small escort ship on the side closest to us?”
They all looked where he was pointing. “If we make our way along the ridge so we are opposite it we can use that copse of trees as cover. Come on.”
They slid down below the ridge and, crouching low, ran until Tristan judged they were adjacent to the copse. They worked their way back up the slope then plunged into the trees on the other side.
They picked their way carefully towards the ship, the copse hiding them from view. At the edge of the trees closest to the ship they flattened themselves on the ground. The two laughing and joking guards were not paying any attention to what was going on around them.
Tristan and his companions lay quietly. He assessed the scene in a few seconds then whispered to the others.
“I will try and access the computer and disable it first. I will take out those two guards and then create a diversion. As soon as you see the guards fall, rush for the ship. We will then take off and destroy the other ships on the ground. Is everyone clear?”
They all nodded. “Yes, sir.”
Ignoring the guards for the time being, Tristan tried to access the ship’s computer. The computer challenged him, requesting a logon ID, but he pushed past it without any difficulty. The now familiar power and intelligence rushed through his mind. He was the ship. He pulled back with an effort, it was like a drug pulling him in; he had pushed too hard. He only needed control, not to be the ship. I must be more careful.
He disabled the telepathic control systems and interlocks. The ship could now be handled by the Mylians. From his link he found that the ship, while compact, was heavily armed. Perfect!
Could he reach the other ships? He tried, each computer had a unique identification. He accessed each ship in turn. This time he was more careful not to meld with the ship, just to control it. He could very easily become addicted to the power and resources of knowledge a full link gave him.
He disabled their weapon systems and drives without alerting the crews of his presence. He returned his attention to those around him. They were looking at him expectantly.
He whispered “Ready?” They all signalled with the thumbs up sign he had shown them.
He turned his attention to the two guards. He lashed out, tearing their minds, and they fell silently, twitching and foaming at the mouth, blood gushing from their ears.
“Now!” They broke cover and rushed up the open ramp into the ship. The four remaining crew members died without knowing what hit them. Tristan accessed the large ship at the far end of the field and set off a power plant overload alarm. All the Sicceians turned their attention towards the farther ship.
Tristan’s Mylians settled into the captured ship without being spotted by any of the enemy.
Da’ren sat himself in the pilot’s chair and fired up the engines while the rest of the crew took their places at the weapons consoles. Tristan released the weapons control computer for them and ensured that all the weapons were ‘hot’. Interfacing with the ship’s sensors and guidance system, he commanded Da’ren to take off. The hatch closed silently and the engines roared at full power. The Sicceians could only turn and stare as the small powerful ship rose from the ground. Tristan turned to the Mylians manning the gun control consoles.
“Fire at will.”
His companions’ shooting was deadly accurate; with a few low passes everything in the field was soon destroyed and burning, running figures cut down. The Mylians were exacting revenge for years of oppression and war.
Having seen what was going on, the defenders from the colony poured out of the town to finish off the remaining Sicceians. Tristan’s ship remained overhead and cleared any resistance where groups of Sicceians tried to make a stand.
Tristan monitored the sensors carefully. He had not forgotten the battle cruiser in geostationary orbit. Someone had obviously got a message through as the ship had started to move. Tristan left it for as long as he dared. The resistance on the ground was dying down and the Mylians were just mopping up. Tristan could safely leave them to it and take on the battle cruiser.
He directed Da’ren where to go. The Mylian’s being unable to interface with the Sicceian ship’s computers were at a disadvantage. Visual sensors were only backup systems on Sicceian ships and not sufficient for battle conditions. As they accelerated toward the approaching battle cruiser, Tristan attempted to access its computer. He was still too far away.
The blue of the sky gave way to darkness and stars. They were closing fast on the enemy ship. A beam of energy passed overhead, making their ship shake.
Da’ren looked across at Tristan. “That ship will blast us out of the sky before our weapons are in range.” There was an edge of stress to his voice.
Tristan gazed into the distance. “I know, but we are still too far away.”
Da’ren started to Zigzag, making targeting more difficult. Another blast passed underneath them, making their ship pitch up. Da’ren struggled with the controls, bringing the ship back under control.
“Now would be good, Tristan.”
Tristan held up his hand for silence. He had a weak link, just a few more seconds as sweat prickled his forehead and between his shoulder blades. He gripped the arms of his chair. He was in. He had no time to gain access to specific systems, so he just shut the complete computer system down. Their little ship then fired everything it had at the battle cruiser.
They overshot the drifting Sicceian ship. Da’ren looped up and over and lined them up for their second pass when the Sicceian engineers managed to bypass the main computer and bring the thrusters on line. The ship started to move away. Tristan, exhausted by the effort and strain, was unable to gain connection with the auxiliary system controlling the thrusters.
Da’ren accelerated towards the retreating ship. They were overtaking it fast when the battle cruiser disappeared. The crew must have rebooted the computer to bring the ship’s Star Drive on line.
They had no choice but to let it go; it was impossible to track a ship with an active Star Drive. Tristan slumped in his seat while the others hugged each other and whooped with joy. With Tristan’s help and leadership, they had turned certain defeat into victory and saved the surviving people of the colony.
Da’ren landed the small craft, and they all disembarked to cheers from the defenders. The last Sicceians had been rounded up and the Mylians quickly dispatched them.
Tristan, sick at heart, sat alone. Many of the Sicceian dead were females, any one of them could have been Aesia. His emotions skidded away from that thought like drops of mercury on glass. Even though she might well have betrayed him and left him for dead, she was in his head, the gentle warmth of her presence was like a caress in his mind, a caress that so easily turned to a raging fire at her touch. Now there was nothing but emptiness where she had been. He shivered and looked up at the starlight sky. There came a deep almost overwhelming sadness. He was conscious of the slow beat of his heart. It was a sadness that made him question his place in the universe, his reason for being. Aesia! What have you done to me?
Tristan sat on one side and watched the Mylians celebrating. They kept a respectful distance from their newfound saviour and let him sit on his own in peace. Silently, a woman brought him a plate of food, bowed and disappeared back into the celebrating crowd.
He held the plate but his head had started to ache. The swirling music, the cloying scent of death spun through his senses. Sickness shook him, so he closed his eyes and rocked forward. The ground was cool and damp. The last thing he remembered were gentle hands lifting him.