A movement caught Tristan’s eye. An injured crewman had hidden beneath a console and was turning a pistol towards him. Tristan drew his pistol and shot the man in the head. He turned at the sound of movement behind just as the Captain launched herself at him. He sidestepped and shot her, and she hit the deck dead.
He holstered the pistol as he ran over to Aesia’s prone body. Gently putting his arm under her he rolled her over. Her eyes flickered open and tears ran down her cheeks. The shot had passed right through the middle of her chest, missing her heart by inches. There was no blood, the heat had cauterised the flesh as the beam passed through her body.
She trembled in his arms. “Aesia, stay with me.” She smiled faintly, reached up and touched his face. Her eyes closed, and she went limp. Tristan lay her gently down on the deck.
Everything came into sharp focus, his whole body cold like ice. The controls for the dampening field had to be here somewhere. He sprang to his feet, scanning the consoles for anything, something he did not recognise. He moved from console to console his movements swift and sure. He kept his mind focused, holding onto the coldness and detachment like a crutch, keeping the thought of Aesia dying or dead from overwhelming his senses.
The life support console had a small panel with a green light that slowly dimmed and brightened in time with the small fluctuations he could sense in the dampening field. That's it! It has to be it. His hands shook as he turned the key switch below the light. The light turned red. His hands clenched into fists, his breathing stopped. No Difference! Oh God.
He moved to the next console, his mouth was dry now. He felt faint; he had forgotten to breathe, Guardian? The thought seemed far away.
Cassiopeia, is that you?
Yes Tristan. Stronger now
Tristan felt his heart leap in his chest. He whirled round, rushing over to Aesia’s limp form, and he picked her up, holding her close.
Cassiopeia, can you transport two?
Yes, if you keep the other person close.
Your medical bay. NOW.
The lurch, and he was standing in the spotless whiteness of the small medical bay in Cassiopeia’s bunker. An avatar was standing by the single medibed.
Tristan, with a single stride, stood above the bed and gently lay Aesia down.
“Tristan, my protocols will not allow me to heal the Sicceian.”
It took a moment before Tristan realised what the avatar had said. “Cassiopeia, you have to be fucking joking!” Tristan felt anger rise from the pit of his stomach threatening to overwhelm him. “Heal her NOW, you stupid bitch.”
The avatar backed away from him and shook her head. “I’m sorry, I can only act on a Guardian or another if a Guardian’s life is at stake.”
“Then scan her! You can do that?”
“Yes but…”
Tristan clenched his fists resisting the urge to grab the avatar around the neck and squeeze. “But nothing! Do it!” he growled.
A semicircular arm came from the foot of the bed and slowly moved along Aesia’s body. “Her life signs are very weak, Guardian... Oh!” The Avatar manipulated controls at the side of the Medibed. “Healing protocols engaged.”
“How long will it take?”
“I don’t know, her injury is extensive. I can’t guarantee she will recover, I’m sorry Tristan.”
“Right, please do your best.”
“Yes, of course.”
Tristan bent down and kissed Aesia. Her cold skin made his chest tighten. Cassiopeia, where is Tristain?
Playing with one of my avatars in her room.
Don’t let her know about Aesia until you know the healing is working and she has regained consciousness.
As you wish.
Now meet me in the conference room please.
The conference room was situated across the corridor from the medical bay, so Tristan did not have to walk through the main living quarters.
Cassiopeia stood waiting for him.
“Why are you avoiding Tristain?” she asked.
Tristan sighed and sat down. “Because as soon as we finish here I have to leave again. If she sees me, she will ask questions, and the answers will upset her. While she is happy playing leave her.”
Cassiopeia sighed. “All right, Tristan. Now, what did you need to discuss?”
The Sicceians are constructing something on that large asteroid. Can you access the details from my memory, please.” There was a slight tingling as the AI accessed his mind. “Are you able to identify what it is?”
“Yes.”
Tristan ground his teeth. “Well, what is it for God’s sake?”
“A matter transfer drive system.”
“Why would they build a drive system on the surface of an asteroid?”
“That size of drive would be capable of moving the asteroid.”
Tristan gasped. “They are going to crash that asteroid into Mylia.”
“Something that large would destroy all life on the surface. It might even knock the planet out of orbit.”
“I have to destroy that drive system, Cassiopeia.”
“Yes, Tristan the loss of life would be enormous if you don’t. If you just damage the drive there is a chance they could rebuild the system. The best option would be total destruction.”
“So how can I accomplish that level of destruction?”
“The drive uses energy fields to accelerate the matter, the ice core of the asteroid in this case, building a considerable thrust. The fields will also regulate the matter flow ensuring there is no overload in the system. If you reverse the fields then the reaction will be into the core, causing a massive overload. The resulting explosion would destroy everything within a hundred mile radius.”
“Well that would stop them rebuilding it! Have you sufficient knowledge of this type of drive to give me instructions on how to reverse the fields? If so give them to me now please.” The tingling returned. Before he could take a breath, he knew everything about the drive systems the Sicceian’s were using to move the asteroid. He felt something warm on his upper lip. He wiped it with the back of his hand. His nose was bleeding.
“That is a normal side effect when using instant knowledge transfer, Tristan.”
“Not a problem, Cassiopeia. Can you modify my armour to look like Sicceian armour?”
“Yes, it is done. Where do you want me to send you?”
“I noticed a small crater off to one side of the pit. Can you send me there, please.”
“Yes of course, are you ready?”
“Yes.” Tristan crouched down just as he felt the lurch. The white ceiling became inky black space with the glowing silver band of the Milky Way stretching from horizon to horizon. Either side of the band it faded to individual stars. The Milky Way from this region of space never failed to take his breath away. He glanced round, there was no one nearby, so he moved to the edge of the crater, lay on his stomach, and peered over.
The plain below, with the pit at the centre, was full of activity. The open gantry framework partly concealed the large doughnut structures stacked one above the other, the field acceleration control for the drive system. Off to his right, the concrete building projected from a low cliff on the edge of the plain. He watched the building. There were doors along the base, two small recessed ones either end and large double doors in the centre. The cables that ran from the gantry structure entered the building at the side closest to him. The building currently seemed deserted. All the work centred on the pit, with many suited figures working on the frame. As he watched, a group broke away and started walking towards the concrete building. If they continued on their course, they would pass the edge of the ridge where he was hiding.
He moved back from the ridge and worked his way to a gap that opened on the path the Sicceians were taking. He waited, heart thumping in his chest, the only sound was the rasping of the air regulator with every breath. When the Sicceians passed they would have their backs to him. The group walked close to the gap as Tristan had hoped. He waited until the last one walked by then, taking a deep breath, he stepped out behind them. He held his breath, no one broke their stride or looked back. He took another deep breath and sighed as he fell into step. His sudden appearance had gone unnoticed.
As the group neared the building, Tristan started to hang back. He ducked quickly into the first door recess as the group passed.
He stood still in the shadows for a few moments just in case any of them should look back. The Sicceians carried on, seemingly unaware of him.
Once they had moved away, he turned to examine the door. It was the outer door of a simple manual airlock. The glass portholes showed an area beyond full of cabinets.
He cycled the airlock, stepped through and ducked behind the nearest cabinet. The room proved to be deserted. From his new implanted knowledge, Tristan recognised the area where he needed to change the connections to reverse the field flow.
He folded his armour and walked over to the cabinet. Indicators showed the system had not been powered on. To reverse the field he had to transpose six different circuits. He worked quickly, removing the fasteners for each board, then changed their position. He stood back once he had finished and shook his head. The boards were color coded, and even a cursory glance would show the boards were out of sequence.
“Damnation! I shall have to prevent them from checking in here before firing up the engine.” He sat down, leaning against an adjacent cabinet.
I’m going to have to create a diversion, make them look elsewhere.
If he were to transpose the connections on the coils it would have the same effect as transposing the boards. He could do that and then ensure he was discovered as he worked. The Sicceians would think they had caught him in the act and repair the damage he had caused. If he timed it right just before they were going to fire the engine, they may not check in here.
He accessed his headpiece radio to listen to the Sicceians chatter over their short-range suit radios. From the snatches of conversation they planned firing the engine in five hours time. His earlier distraction of their fleet and rescue of Aesia had caused them to bring the event forward. They were concerned the Mylian’s might organise an assault now their work had been discovered.
They were unaware there was nothing currently in the Mylian system that could face their Battleship. Tristan stood and walked over to the airlock. He checked his sensors; no one was close by at the moment. He activated his armour and cycled the airlock. He stepped out of the building and lurked in the shadows, waiting for a party of Sicceians to pass.
He didn’t have to wait long. A large group were walking back from the parked ships to the construction site. As before he waited until they had passed then tagged onto the end. He was grateful for the suits limited vision as no one noticed him. They quickly reached the tripod, and the engine cores loomed over them. It had not looked so large from a distance. The power distribution room was at the base of the furthest leg. With the number of Sicceians working, Tristan peeled off from the group and walked over to the power room as if he were meant to be there.
He checked the room was deserted and then he opened the door and slipped in. An hour had passed so he had four hours before the system fired up. He modified the coil connections. Everything was heaver in the distribution room so he could work while still wearing the armour suit.
Once he had finished, Tristan checked the remaining time; three and a half hours. He had decided to wait until an hour before the firing sequence, constantly monitoring the Sicceian’s communications for the chance discovery of his sabotage in the concrete control centre. He lent against the wall behind the door and waited.
An hour and a quarter from the firing his proximity alarm went off. He tensed, someone was walking towards the door. He pulled his laser pistol. The door opened, and a technician walked through the door. Tristan held his breath. Some sixth sense must have caused the technician to turn. Tristan pushed the door closed with his shoulder and fired. The technician crumpled.
“Shit, now what?” The technician would probably soon be missed. Tristan’s mind raced. If he led them away from the distribution room and kept their security occupied he might prevent the premature discovery of his sabotage. He pulled the body behind the distribution panels, then strapped the technician’s pistol to his other leg. He cursed the Sicceian disguise that meant he could only bring one laser pistol and no heavy rifle.
He opened the door and stepped out. No one had taken any notice of him so he walked over to the far side of the site without being challenged. Sweat beaded his brow and ran down the side of his face, his hands itched to wipe it away. He cursed the armour, and space suits generally. The rim of the crater loomed large in his visor. He headed for a small outcrop that swung out from the larger crater rim. He ducked down behind it. He checked the two pistols. His, practically fully charged with a spare power pack, the technician’s pistol had been neglected and had only half charge.
Sitting with his back to the outcrop, Tristan took a deep breath. “Well here goes.” He aimed at the coil assembly and fired, knowing full well the pistol would cause little damage. The Sicceian’s dived in all directions. Two warriors with rifles turned towards him he dropped both in quick succession before they had chance to aim and fire. Using his superior armour, he sprinted out and scooped up the nearest rifle. Without stopping he swerved back to the outcrop. The cooling system cut in as laser fire splashed off his armour. He ducked down behind the ridge, aimed the rifle and picked off Sicceians that showed themselves.
Tristan held them pinned down for at least fifteen minutes before he noticed movement to his left. They were attempting to flank him. He turned, and crouching low ran behind the ridge into the crater. Twisting round he fired on the advancing Sicceians attempting to flank him by moving along the crater wall. It was time to start moving away, pulling the security forces.
With the flanking group pinned down he fired at the gantry to keep the technicians busy and away from his sabotage. As he dashed across a section of open ground, he noticed a couple of technicians moving towards the distribution building. He stood relying on his armour and shot one of them before the overheat warning flashed on his suit monitor.
He ran, utilising the armour body amplifiers at maximum; his superior speed allowed him to draw away from the pursuing Sicceians. He jumped down into a shallow ravine. He checked the rifle; it had enough charge for one shot. The technician's pistol he had thrown away, his pistol was at half charge. The ravine faced an area of open ground and bent round either side of him before it narrowed. The open ground made it difficult for them to flank him.
The second laser power pack was exhausted. Tristan had lost track of time keeping the Sicceians pinned down. They were now moving from rock to rock, getting closer all the time. Tristan looked up at the Milky Way arching above him. Well this is finally it. He was strangely calm. The last five years had been an adventure beyond his wildest dreams. He would be leaving behind at least one daughter who had the genetic code to control the planetary AI’s and hopefully maintain the peace. It would have been wonderful to spend many more years with Aesia - if she survived - and watch the children grow, but it was not to be. He smiled to himself remembering a line from a Tennyson poem he had read at school. “Better to have loved and lost than to never have loved at all.”
He threw the useless laser down and removed the battle staff clipped to his back belt. With a quick twist, it expanded to its full length. Taking a deep breath he climbed out of the ravine. Taking up a crouching stance, he braced himself for a volley of laser fire.
It didn’t come. Instead, a Sicceian emerged from a pile of boulders and walked towards him extending a battle staff. From their build and walk Tristan knew he was facing a female. He waited ready. She attacked, he parried the first few blows, but she avoided his strikes easily. Her movements were fast and fluid. She had the same speed ability as Aesia and was playing with him.
She lunged at him with a feint to his right, he shifted to defend as almost in a blur she struck at his left. The blow smashed into his elbow, warning lights flashed on his helmet display, pain made him bite his tongue to stifle a scream. His armour was damaged, left arm broken, and it hung uselessly by his side. As she spun round readying herself for another attack, the sun lit up her helmet. Tristan saw her face, a satisfied smile on her lips. She attacked again, this time his right leg gave away, armour smashed. The emergency seals clamped down on his leg, preventing loss of atmosphere to the vacuum.
He fell to his knees, and as he did so a blow to his helmet snapped his head back, his visor smashed, shards hitting his face The Emergency system sealed the breach and blackness engulfed him.