Community Event / Creation ... than to arrive

[Straylight0]

Thought I'd take a shot at doing a serial story for a bit of fun and as a writing exercise in developing technique. Here goes! Apols for the way spaces keep vanishing when I post...



Elite:...than to arrive


1.


Space takes different people different ways.

Some people look at the countless stars bright and steady as jewels in the black, and wander lust drives them out amongst them. Others gape at the millions of worlds, the billions of cities and stations,the trillion people, run back to their home and hide behind their little front door. A few look at the pitiless, frozen void and any kindness or mercy that they used to have in their soul evaporates away into it.

Karlon yawned, spat his gum at the vac bin and missed. It bounced off the control panel and drifted in the zero-g: a slow-spinningslimy little lump. Karlon swore and reached out to fumble for it,transferring his left hand from the throttle yoke to the main flightstick. The gum drifted through the “Functions” holofac display and down towards the floor; as Karlon’s fingers stretched he inadvertently twisted the joystick. The ship yawed sideways and the chunk of minerals he had been trying to scoop bounced off the hull with a reverberating clang. Straightening up, Karlon realised that he was also now heading straight for the abraded grey mass of the asteroid. Grimacing, he seized the throttle and yanked it hard back for reverse thrust. Jets burst from the front of the ship, blowing rings of dust from the space rock, and the ship juddered to a halt. As it did so, the floating gum hit him in the back of the head and this time, it stuck.

Karlon groaned and closed his eyes. Sure enough, there was thudding and rustling from the companionway. A moment later Captain Thurden came floating out onto the bridge. He was a sturdy man in his fifties with greying hair and a perpetual sour expression. Thanks to Karlon the grey hair was tousled, the eyes were red and the expression even sourer.

‘What the hell are you doing, can’t I even leave you to mine for a few hours on your own while I get some sleep?’ growled Thurden,glaring at the youth strapped into the pilot’s chair. ‘You forge those aptitude scores or something?'

‘Sorry boss.’ Karlon dropped his eyes in case Thurden thought he was eyeballing his reflection. ‘It’s the zero-g in the cockpit throws me, they can’t simulate it planetside.’

Thurden fastened his magnetic boots to the floor and clomped over to the instruments. ‘You’re haven’t collected much product.’

‘Pickings are thin out here!’ protested Karlon. ‘If we didn’t come to the edge of the system to mine...’

‘We’d run into more pirates, I’ve told you before. It’s slow out here but it’s safe!’

Karlon tried not to swear. Mining was incredibly slow work at the best of times; after a few hours of it, he was ready to turn pirate himself. ‘Bloody dark as well,’ he muttered. ‘At least we got a bit of sunlight to help out today.’

‘What?’ Thurden leaned forward, grabbing the back of the chair and leaning forward into the cockpit. A waft of armpit odour hit Karlon; the Captain reckoned time was better spent mining than washing. ‘That’s not sunlight, you fool! We’re a million light-seconds out! And it’s coming from the opposite direction!’

‘This is my third twelve-hour shift!’ protested Karlon. ‘Any wonder I make mistakes?’

‘Wrong colour as well.’ Thurden grabbed the controls, but being leant over the chair, he fumbled and nearly hit the asteroid himself. Swearing, he let Karlon take them back. ‘Show me where it’s coming from. You can do that, can’t you?’

It was the most excitement they’d had in space since... well,ever; Thurden wouldn’t even let him dock the ship yet. Karlon thumbed the thruster switches and smoothly brought the ship up around the asteroid, turning their old Adder-class vessel to face the source of the light.

It wasn’t the sun; it was blazing blasts of nuclear fire, six jets arranged in a circle, facing half-on to the ship. As Karlon focused the sensors, velocity and distance information appeared on a holofac display.

‘It’s coming towards us but its facing away,’ said Karlon in puzzlement.

‘That’s a deceleration burn!’ snapped Thurden. ‘Try to correct for the glare.’

Karlon pushed buttons and the smart canopy dimmed the engine flare while enhancing the brightness of the great, dark bulk behind.

‘By the waters of Earth!’ he gasped, ‘is that what I think it is?’

Thurden straightened up. ‘I’m afraid it is,’ he said,and heaved a great sigh. He turned and his boots clumped off across the cockpit.

Karlon squinted, tried adjusting the sensors; they did not know what to make of their target, finding nothing on file to compare it to. ‘So what do we do now?’

There were rummaging noises from one of the lockers, and the footsteps came back. ‘We do what is necessary,’ Thurden told him.

Karlon looked at his reflection. The Captain had raised a heavy wrench and was swinging it at his head.

There was no time to dodge. Everything turned red, then darkened to black.

* * *​

 

[Straylight0]

2.


‘You’re the new guy then? Come and meet the rest of the flight.’

The flight-suited man just managed to finish his words before the transport took off again, drowning his words with the turbinic roar of its vertical thrusters. Dan nodded and turned a moment to watch the blunt-nosed ship rise, tip, bank and soar away into the violet-tinged sky. This was it, then; his first assignment to another system. The air smelled sweet after space-stations, and after having the confines of walls or cockpits around him, the horizons gave him a moment of dizziness.

‘Fresh out of academy, huh?’ The welcoming party was a genial round-faced man with dark hair and skin, who offered a large hand with a firm shake. ‘I’m Richard but people call me Booster. You got a nickname?’

‘Um, not yet.’

‘You’ll get one. Welcome to Perabyssos 4!’

They picked up a flight bag each and headed across the landing pads towards a set of pleasantly whitewashed concrete buildings. Dan looked around as much as he could; the starport was fairly standard,if slightly better kept than most. The gravity was slightly lighter than he was used to and the air slightly thinner, but higher in oxygen; the hills looked green and rolling. Not every alien planet is an exotic jungle,he told himself.

‘Like it? It’s far from a terrible posting, P4. Decent beer,plenty of farmers’ children getting frisky on weekends... not much action, but that’s no bad thing.’

‘They only gave me my allocation at the last minute,’ said Dan. ‘What do I need to know about this place?’

‘You’ll pick it up soon enough. Local word for “ass” is “,”accent’s fairly standard otherwise. We got an Imperial party here but they’re cool, all the aggro stays in the parliament and the football field. Watch out for the Darzians, though. They’re a weird local sect who settled this planet first, and weren’t happy when the Federation said others had a right to land as well. There was some trouble in the early days, a war and some terrorist attacks,but things quietened down. They still tend to keep to themselves,though; our little troublesome minority.’

‘How do I watch out for them? They wear any special clothes o rsomething?’

‘No,they look normal except they never smile or say please or thank-you. Militant evolutionists I think. Against their code to apologise and they reckon charity is a sin... odd bunch. But nasty in a scrap.’

The security force accomodation block was probably quite standard, buy with each square metre of a planet probably costing less than a hundredth of that on the training station, it seemed palatial. Booster waved at a sturdy steel-framed bed in a communal dorm, helped Dan stow his bags, pointed out a couple of necessities and then led him up a flight of stairs. ‘Meet the rest of the squadron!’

The common room spread out along the first floor, with panoramicwindows overlooking the port. There was a wall of trophies, medals and unit memorabilia, a couple of oil paintings, and only three of the ubiquitous “Patreus and yo’mama” posters. The base obviously kept the informal ban on virtual reality here; a gratifying number of the pilots were playing cards or other communal games. Most of them grinned and waved, although one flame-haired girl at the window only looked around briefly.

Booster led him to a table. ‘This is most of Flight 45, otherwise known as... the Crimson Teddybears!’

Dan froze in the act of sitting at their table. ‘Excuse me?’

‘We get that a lot.’ Booster settled down and waved at the other pilots, who were grinning broadly. ‘We like it. Shoot the pirates right between the eyes while they’re laughing, and any survivors have to say they got their kicked by a teddybear!’

‘I see.’ Dan tried to sound convinced.

‘These are Janzine and Derek, but you may as well get to know them as Polo and Doc. The woman at the window is Arjanna, our flight leader.’

Dan looked at her turned back. ‘She seems a little....’

‘That’s just her. She’s one of the few Darzians in the service; doesn’t mix much but by God, she can fly. Never touches flight assist or target tracking. Her people practice arranged marriage and did genetic modification when it was legal; Arjanna’s been bred for ten generations to be the perfect warrior.’

Dan ventured a bit of humour. ‘Genetically bred to have the perfect ass as well, I’d say!’

Booster’s grin froze. ‘Perhaps I should have mentioned that she’s also got very acute hearing?’

The woman snapped round on her heel and marched straight towards him. Her face was set like stone and her eyes drilled into his. Dan fel this face freeze and his shoulders lock up. Act casual,he thought to himself, before realising that she was his superior officer. He tried to spring to his feet but his legs tangled in the chair and he crashed to the floor.

Arjanna stood over him. ‘You have given insult and by the laws of my people we must fight a duel.’ Her voice was completely flat. ‘Do not worry, it does not have to be to the death. Honour will be satisfied by three broken major bones on your part.’

Dan managed to make his mouth open and close, but not to make any properly formed words come out.

Arjanna continued staring for a moment, then her face rippled and split to release a great coughing snort. Behind Dan the rest of flight 45 exploded into laughter, thumping the table and howling.

‘Sorry about that.’ Arjanna offered Dan her hand. He took it and found himself pulled smoothly to his feet despite being rather larger than the woman; she was either solid muscle, had incredible balance, or probably both. She clapped him on the arm. ‘This is the fourth millennium; only some of us are arseholes these days. I can even say please forgive us, but we like to wind up every new recruit.’

‘Worse things happen in space,’ Dan managed.

‘Besides...’ Arjanna pulled out a chair, ‘your isn’t bad, either.’

A loud bleeping made everyone look away from Dan’s blushes. A large holoscreen at the head of the room glowed into life and the face of a grey-haired woman in a severe uniform appeared.

‘Listen up pilots. We have a mining ship running in from far-system, shot upbadly. Pilot’s in a panic, shouting something about a huge vesselcoming in from interstellar space and attacking him. I want the Bears scrambled and checking it out directly. Rest of you, stay alert.’

Arjanna saluted. ‘Sir, our new recruit hasn’t even unpacked his bags yet.’

‘Well then I hope his flight suit is on top.’


Notes:


Forthe Patreus posters see:https://forums.frontier.co.uk/showthread.php?t=144473


“Perabyssos”is a holding name for when I find a system that fits the bill. Needan Earth-type world that’s Federation but with an Imperial factionpresence, a gas giant at the far edge, and a plausible distance fromEarth for... well that would be telling!

 

[Straylight0]

3.


Karlon was dreaming about being back home, in his warm bed. But he wasn’t comfortable. He was sick and the bed was floating about horribly;had he drunk too much? He was never going to joke about “zero-g bed” again if so. The covers were over his face making it hard to breathe, and hadn’t been changed for months; they stank and clogged his mouth and nose with dust and dirt. He put out his arms to push them away, but the duvet was intangible, and his hands waved in empty space.

Something metal smacked him in the face.

Karlon yelped and peeled his eyes open against the stickiness that seemed to cover them. The darkness was lit only by red emergency lights, but he could just make out a set of steel bars in front of him. His arms had passed between them, but his head had made contact, and was aching afresh. He groaned and tried to push himself back, flailing helplessly though the gaps. He twisted his body and pushed against the bars with his stomach, sending himself backwards. He was weightless, so he was still in space—unless Hell was freefall as well. He turned a slow somersault and collided with a nearby wall. He stretched his feet but there were no magnetic boots on them; in fact, they were bare. The wall felt grimy under his toes, and sickeningly warm. In fact the whole place was hot and humid, and theair was mucky as well. When he looked at one of the lights, the air between him and it was full of floating motes. Wherever he was the filtration system was no longer removing the floating bits of skin,hair, nail clippings, navel fluff, nasal by-products... Karlon clamped his mouth shut and suppressed a wretch. Breathing through his nose seemed to be the least bad option.

His fingers went to the back of his head. He felt sticky blood, scab(probably there was some of that floating about too) and that damnlump of chewing gum. He’d been hit! He wondered for a moment if it would have broken his skull if he hadn’t had long hair to cushion the blow. But what had happened? Everything was fuzzy. He’d just been mining and so bored...

Boredom sounded good, now. He found a grab-handle on the wall and looked about. As far he could gather he was in a small room, half of which was locked off by crudely welded steel bars and a gate with a padlock. A small door with a porthole was on the opposite side. He was in some kind of prison.

Karlon felt around and found a grille; he was going to get his mouth as close to the air supply as possible. But as he felt it, he realised there was no air coming out. Life support in this room was non-functional. Once he used up the oxygen in here, he was going to die.

 

[Straylight0]

4.


Flight 45 had a standard allocation of system security craft, arranged on the lot behind the base. Carrying his helmet under his arm, Dan looked at the neatly arranged ships with approval; they appeared clean and well-maintained. There were three Eagle fighters with their swept-forward wings and pointed noses; ahead of them were two of the more powerful Vipers, solid-looking triangular craft with thrusters on the rear corners and four weapon pods at the front.

Even now, it surprised him how large the ships were close-to; even an Eagle managed to hold some living-space for extended flight, although not as much as the Mark 1. He nodded to the technician (note to self: by them a beer, it always pays to keep your ground-crew happy) and put his foot on the bottom rung of the ladder before looking back at the others.

Derek “Doc” was a small man with a scar down the side of his face, and Janzine “Polo” was a tall slender woman with improbable blonde hair, climbing into the other Eagles. It did not surprise Dan to see than Arjanna was climbing into a Viper, which looked to be equipped slightly different to standard. That left the other one for Richard “Booster”, but he was hanging back speaking to a girl in civilian dress. Their conversation looked a little heated.

‘No dallying, we got a mission and she isn’t supposed to be on base anyway!’ yelled Arjanna from her entry hatch. Booster exchanged another couple of words, raised his hands, and ran for his ship.

Dan climbed in, slipped on his helmet and settled into the seat. It took a few moments adjusting the piloting position to suit him, but he could do the rest in flight. The controls were already in default configuration, which was what he was used to. He turned on the main power and waited as the intertial gel emerged from the chair to envelop him. Some prospective pilots could never get used to the smart material and quit, but Dan had always found it quite comforting as it covered his arms, legs and chest. It would cushion him against impacts, hold him in his chair, squeeze him in high-g manouvres to keep the blood flow to his brain... wonderful stuff. He twisted his head and shook his arms to make sure the gel’s grip was not too tight; it was fine

‘Mommy bear, ready to launch,’ came Arjanna’s voice over the comms. ‘Check in.’

‘Polo bear, ready to luanch.’

‘Doc bear, ready to launch.’

‘Booster bear, ready on time anyway.’

A pause.

‘Um... Dan bear, ready to launch?’

‘Sorry to break it to you,’ said Booster, ‘but you’re Baby bear until you’ve had a couple of fights. Them’s the rules.’

The ships launched and climbed rapidly through the atmosphere. Dan concentrted on remaining in formation, which was a pity because he would have liked to look down and see more of his new posting. From what little he’d seen on the way in, it seemed green and pleasant. It occurred to him that he didn’t even know the standard day length.

The violet-tinged blue gave way to black, and a Coriolis spaceport rolled past on their starboard. Dan had never seen one painted blue before.

‘Everyone confrim blue navlock and engage supercruise.’

‘Mommy bear, that’s not our mission vector,’ said Polo a moment later.

‘It’s on the way. See my target?’

Dan toggled his display to show Arjanna’s objective. It was the chunky form of an Adder-class ship heading towards the planet at high speed, and the sensors immediately flagged significant hull damage.

‘Mining ship Kobolt, this is Federal Security. Throttle down and prepare for inspection,’ called Arjanna.

‘Security, this is Captain Thurden. I’m en route to planet ASAP for repairs and debrief as requested by Commodore Thule.’ The voice managed to sound both shrill and sulky at the same time.

‘I am acting on her orders, consider this a preliminary. Don’t make me interdict you, your ship has enough hull damage already.’ Arjanna had gone back into her flat menacing voice.

‘Very well.’ The adder decelerated, and the security ships closed in. Dan wrestled with the throttle, trying desperately to match speed and position with the others. They were obviously well-drilled in frameshift disengagement, and not just relying on shared telemetry. He had mixed feelings on finding himself in a unit that obviously pushed their training hard. Then again, most of it probably came from the flight leader.

They came to a halt a few hundred metres from the adder, the blue-white-green of the planet’s day-side below it. Closer up, the damage was obvious; blackened gouges, holes, rents in the manouvering fins, places where the hull-plates had melted and run.

Arjanna’s viper flew up to the mining ship and started moving around it, always keeping its canopy facing. Dan watched in fascination; the ship was moving smoothly in all of its six degrees of freedom at once, with none of the jerky up-down-left-yaw-pitch that characterised most pilots. He was reminded of some of the fish he’d seen in an aquarium.

‘Lot of damage here,’ said Arjanna, still without expression in her voice. ‘Seems they hit everything that wasn’t critical.’

‘Like I said on the comms, I was lucky. But poor Karlon wasn’t. The poor boy was working in the hold when the hatch got blown out. He was sucked straight out into space!’

‘So, one direct system hit and an awful lot of plain hull strikes.’

‘I don’t know how their targeting system works! All I know was huge and had a lot of lasers. Opened fire the moment we flew closer to look what it was. Be careful!’

‘Thank you for your co-operation and advice, Captain. Proceed.’

Bear flight formed up again, facing away from the planet and the sun. Nothing but night was visible in their crosshairs. Behind them, the adder slunk away, dipping towards safety.

‘Let’s go see this thing for ourselves,’ said Arjanna.


*

In the cell, Karlon jerked himself out of sleepy misery as he heard a loud clang from the door. Something was coming.

 

[Straylight0]

5.

More clangs, and the door shook. Karlon grabbed the bars and pulled himself upright; or at least, he had a fifty-chance of being upright. There was no telling which way up the door was.

The metal rang again. The handle twisted with a shriek of unlubricated metal, first a bit, then all the way round. The door flew open and hit the far wall with another clang that bounced off all the hard walls and made the dirt dance in the air.

Two people came into the cell, grabbing the frame to push themselves through. At least they were human, even though they were every bit as filthy and disturbing as the cell itself. He couldn’t see much in the dim red emergency lights, which might be a blessing. The man seemed to be swathed in layers of clothes with frills, straps and tassels, and loose ends of tied scarfs and cloths floating around; his head had been unevenly shaved a few days ago, and now was a field of stubble. The woman was wearing a great deal less; he could not tell what was bodystocking, tights, tears, tattoos or muck on her skin. Dreadlocks lashed around her head like the flailing tentacles of some sea creature. Her face seemed to be smothered in makeup as well, with a great deal of smudged black and red, and the odd glint of piercing.

‘Well, what have we here?’ said the man. He anchored his magnetic shoes to the floor the same way up as Karlon. The woman wedged herself the other way up in a corner. Karlon could see that they both had the wasted legs of people who have spent a long time weightless without exercise.

‘Where am I?’ he gasped. ‘Am I on that ship?’

'We’ll be asking the questions, sunshine!’ snapped the man and coughed. ‘The air in here’s even worse than outside! What’s he been eating?’

‘There’s no oxygen coming out the vents in this room!’ said Karlon.

The woman drifted over and grabbed the man’s shoulders, massaging them as she hovered upside-down above him. ‘Told you there was a reason the other prisoners died.’

‘Guess we’d better tell the captain,’ said the man. ‘Wasn’t our fault after all!’ He seemed about to say something else but the woman pushed herself forwards, the recoil sending the man bending backwards at the knees. Karlon retreated to the back of the cell as the woman grabbed the bars and started crawling around them like a huge spider. Her eyes were wide and white in splashes of black.

‘Are you rich?’ she hissed.

‘Not really!’ said Karlon. He had bounced off the back of the cell and was now drifting forwards again.

‘Then what use are you?’ shrugged the man.

‘Anyone care enough to pay for your return?’ asked the woman. ‘Anyone at all?’

‘A few hundred would do,’ put in the man hopefully. ‘Make it a thousand and you can get out now.’ He held up a key and waggled it in his fingers.

‘I’m sure my parents could raise that!’ said Karlon. ‘Let them know, they’ll get you the money!’ He had reached the bars again directly in front of the woman, and stuck his arms out sideways in case she thought he was getting fresh. Hmph, as if anything round here could be “fresh.” The woman was upside-down again in relation to him, and he averted his eyes from her very short skirt.

‘We’d have to get a message to the planet,’ said the man. ‘It’ll mean asking His Nibbs. He’s very keen on the comms blackout.’

‘Not worth it for just a few hundred creds.’ The woman pushed herself away from the bars again in a slow somersault.

‘You got a set of rods on this ship? Get them to me and I bet I can unclog these vents!’ begged Karlon. ‘I’m a qualified engineer and pilot. I can be useful to you!’

‘We tried that, we just get even more dirt floating about,’ muttered the man. He pulled a face. ‘Been months since we got new filters. Old ones choked up ages ago.’

‘You don’t need filters for the big stuff!’ Karlon saw a ray of hope. ‘The system uses cyclones for the particles. They’re back behind the filters. Let me out and get me some tools, I’ll have them emptied and running for you.’

‘No more floaters?’ The woman grabbed the key off the man and tried to push herself back towards the bars using his shoulder, but he seized her leg to stop getting flipped back again. They tussled for a moment. ‘Let me go, we’re keeping this one!’

‘No one gets out without the word from the boss,’ said the man.

‘Then let’s go ask him!’ The woman stretched forward and clipped the key against the wall near a light; it was obviously magnetic, because it stuck there. The man pushed her towards the door, then followed her himself.

‘Where am I and who are you, anyway?’ asked Karlon.

‘Time for that later,’ said the man, clumping out through the door.

‘Leave that open, without the air I’ll suffocate!’ yelled Karlon.

‘Oh? Sure,’ said the man, pausing in the act of closing it. He pushed it open and left. The door swung fully open, bashed off the wall, and rebounded back.

‘NOOOO!’ screamed Karlon, but they didn’t hear. The door slowly pivoted round, hit the frame, and locked neatly shut.

*

If you are enjoying this or have any comments/corrections, please post a reply and let me know. It's at times like these even the most hardened introvert realises they'd love a bit of attention!

 

[Straylight0]

​6.

‘I got a bad feeling about this.’

Teddybear flight had reached the fringes of the Perabyssos system. The light was dim even with enhancement, the sun hardly different from the far more distant stars. Flickering bars on the comms panel showed radio contact with base was weak, almost gone. Aside from the ringed planet in front of them, the navigation pane showed a six-figure distance to the nearest celestial body. Even by the standards of space flight, it was cold and empty.

‘Nerves, Booster?’ said Polo.

‘Maybe.’

‘He’s right,’ said Arjanna. ‘Our contact is between the planet and its rings, moving at high sublight speed without frame-shift. We’ll have to synchronise velocities with it. Waiting for it to for it to come out would take too long but if we go in, our escape vectors for coming out again will be limited.’

Dan fidgeted in his seat, making the inertail gel around him wobble. He peered at the scanner. ‘I can’t get much on it except that it’s very big. Looks like that miner was right.’

‘I don’t trust him,’ said Arjanna. ‘That weapons fire looked all wrong. I don’t like this situation either, but it is our job to take risks. Polo and Booster, you hang back here. Doc and Baby, we’re going in.’

Dan frowned in annoyance. Perhaps they were heading for a fight, in which case he wouldn’t be stuck with the handle much longer. Then the frown turned ito concentration. Racing towards a planet at the speeds of a modern spacecraft was always a tense time; inserting yourself by a moving target between a belt of rocks and a planet while trying to hold formation and not disappoint a hard- flight leader, even more so. He heaved a sigh as the disengage kicked in and the three ships dropped back into normal space.

The iron-grey mists of the gas giant dominated the right of his canopy, fading to shadow in the distance; to the left spread its ring system, visibly breaking up into the granules of its constituent rocks, glimmering very slightly. But his eyes snapped straight to what was ahead of them.

‘What is that?’

It was, indeed, huge. Scale was difficult without context, but it looked larger than a space station. It was roughly cylindrical, but tapered slightly in towards the front from where it flared out into a huge device like a skeletal funnel. At the rear was a ring of huge engines that looked different to modern thrusters, with great heavy, flaring nozzles. The body almost did not appear solid at first, being covered by a mass of pods and armoured casings. The most numerous of these were flat plates meeting in sharp angles, making the ship’s surface appear angular and bladed, almost as if it were covered in metallic thorns. It was also obviously old; there were pits and scars of asteroid damage, and zoom windows showed the slow abrasion of space-dust. At high velocities, space became far less empty. The whole thing rotated slowly about its axis.

‘That,’ said Doc, ‘is a generation ship.’

‘But it can’t be!’ gasped Dan. ‘They all arrived or were confirmed lost years ago!’

‘Seems they missed one,’ said Arjanna in a matter-of-fact tone.

‘How do you lose something that size?’ asked Dan.

‘Well if you know anything else that big which crosses interstellar space at sublight velocities using a ram-scoop, I’d like to know about it.’ Doc sounded like he was enjoying himself.

‘Scan it as well as you can from all angles,’ said Arjanna. ‘Then we report back. Split formation.’

‘Why would it attack a mining ship?’ Doc’s eagle did not move except to adjust its course away from the giant.

‘I’m not sure it did,’ said Arjanna. ‘You maintain safe range for weapons fire. I’m going in closer.’ Her Viper flared its engines and started forwards.

‘What does this mean for the system?’ asked Dan.

‘Trouble.’ Doc’s voice was clipped.

‘Four new contacts, behind the cap-class!’ called Arjanna. ‘Two sidewinders, cobra, eagle. Scanning... they’re deploying weapons!’

‘Think I can guess their legal status!’ said Doc. ‘Going weapons hot.’

Ahead, streaks of laser and dotted lines of shot came from the newcomers. Sparks and fluorescing clouds of vapourised metal flew from the impact points at the rear of the generation ship.

‘Frag!’ spat Arjanna. ‘Call the cavalry!’

Movement came from the giant form. All along its length, pods were opening. Muzzles raised themselves up and swung around. The comm lasers in Dan’s sensor array picked up the hull vibrations and put them through the speakers, filling the cockpit with a screeching and groaning of motors, the throb of gimbals and servos. Thermal signatures glowed from scores of barrels below Arjanna’s viper.

‘If it wasn’t hostile before, it is now,’ muttered Doc.

*

Note: It seems that italics do not survive the hyperjump to bulletin board. Apologeys!
Note2: I don't have access to the Elite Canon Writers' pack, so more apologeys for any lore violations. Hopefully they can be corrected later

 

[Straylight0]

​The pirate ships were within range. Dan pressed the trigger--

SERVERS DOWN FOR MAINTENENCE said the computer.

‘Damn it!’ he roared, punching and kicking the controls to no avail. More text appeared on the screen

UPDATE SCHEDULED AT PEAK PLAY TIME WITHOUT NOTICE FOR YOUR MAXIMUM CONVENIENCE

Dan beat his head off the canopy a few times. Out in space, the pirate craft were frozen, not even their drive trails drifting. Dan heaved a sigh and sat back on the chair.

‘Anyone want to play I-spy?’ asked Booster over the comms. ‘We only have six hours plus everyone downloading at once to kill...’
* * *
Just kidding everyone, here is your next exciting installment:​



7.

Karlon did not exactly hate effort and exertion. Sometimes, it was necessary. He didn’t like to think he was one of the lazy slackers who were just content to learn agricultural machinery and a bit about horticulture, then spend the rest of their lives farming. Plenty of the children at school had been like that, and while Karlon enjoyed slacking off as much as the next person, he fancied more out of life than a plot of flat fields and weekends at the same naff clubs in what passed for a capital city. Not that there was anything wrong with that if you liked it, and he certainly didn’t enjoy the idea of dogfighting for his life or having to escape a neutron star, but space... that was interesting. Not to mention a great way to impress the girls.

Mining had turned out to be more boring than driving a tractor though, and getting locked away to die in an airless (and smelly) prison cell did not seem like much of a lark either. He could hardly describe it as exciting either; unless he thought of something, it was just a matter of waiting to die.

Which was all a roundabout way of saying that it was time to put a certain amount of thought and effort into finding a way to not die here. Would probably be worth a bit of exertion in the long run, too.

Karlon looked at the key where it was stuck to the wall. He stuck an arm through the bars; too far away. It was within the length of a leg, but when he tried, his knee was too big for the gaps. He grabbed the bars and tried bending them apart, pulling until it felt he was going to burst something, but they wouldn’t budge. Doing more exercise probably wouldn’t have made any difference there, he consoled himself.

He looked back at the vent. If he couldn’t get to the air, could he make the air come to him? If he unscrewed the vent, perhaps he could stick in an arm and unclog it.

The problem being, he had no screwdriver. The little multi-tools he normally carried had been all removed from his pockets, which was one bit of efficiency he really wished the pirates hadn’t managed. His buttons were plastic and their edges only broke when he tried them in the screw-heads, which were somewhat corroded anyway. Someone had seriously skimped on costs building this... whatever it was. Karlon had thought non-stainless screws were outlawed in spacecraft.

He tried just pulling on the vent in case it broke, but the slats cut viciously into his fingers. They would probably sever his tendons beffore he could shift it; not that he had the willpower to pull any harder, anyway.

Damn it!

Karlon scratched the back of his head. His fingers hit the chewing gum and he groaned. Even the little annoyances were still here...

The gum!

Wincing, he pulled at it, gently teasing it out from amongst the hair and scab. Then he popped it into his mouth and chewed, pulling faces as he did so. The faces were helped by having to pull a number of long hairs out of his scalp while he did that and twisting them together. He then put one end of the braid into his mouth and worked it into the gum.

Karlon moved up to the bars, took the gum out of his mouth, wrapped the other end of his improved cord around his finger, and took careful aim before flicking it at the key.

It hit just next to it and bounced off.

‘Oh come on, you were sticky enough earlier!’ begged Karlon. He pulled the gum back and did it again. This time, the gum hit the key and stuck.

Gently, he pulled on the braid. If the hair pulled out of the gum instead of pulling the key off the wall, it was back to square one.

The key moved. It slid a few centimtres along the wall and stuck. Karlon tugged a bit more; nothing. He though of praying, but couldn’t remember if there was any particular deity his ancestors had favoured, so he tugged again.

The key came off the wall, and the gum came off the key.

Karlon found he was holding his breath. The key was drifting in his direction. He kept holding his breath in case he disturbed the air currents.

Gently, the key drifted through the bars. With great care, Karlon caught it.

He reached out and fumbled with the padlock. ‘Don’t drop the key, don’t drop the key!’ he muttered to himself.

The padlock clicked open. Karlon disengaged it carefully, pushed open the cage door, and made for the main door. He yanked the handle and pulled it open.

Never had such dirty air tasted so good!​

 

[Straylight0]

8.

Space flamed with laser fire. The beams from the generation ship were redder and spread out more than modern weapons, but there were a great many gun batteries, and they looked powerful. Arjanna’s viper spun, twisted, dived, flipped and boosted upwards but great slashing rays scored several hits, making her shields flare and flicker.

At the great vessel’s stern, the attacking ships did less well. One of the sidewinders exploded into an expanding ball of debris; the eagle corkscrewed away trailing a glimmering cloud of escaping air, and the shield signature winked out from the cobra.

Streaks appeared on the radar behind Dan and turned into green dots. ‘We’re here!’ said Booster. ‘We couldn’t get word to base; something is jamming our long-range comms!’

Arjanna’s engines flared again, propelling her away from the giant. Her shields read as low, but intact. ‘Glad you’re here. Those clowns just woke this thing up. Thank Darwin its guns have limited range!’

‘I never even heard of one being deliberately armed!’ said Doc. ‘Still, we should be able to take those remaining ships now.’

‘Negative!’ snapped Polo. ‘We have a large offender group approaching around the planet. A python-class ship in the lead with two adders, at least six more small about five minutes behind them. Something’s stirred up the hornet’s nest!’

‘Yeah, I’d advise we make our exit in the opposite direction,’ suggested Booster.

‘We stay,’ ordered Arjanna. ‘The law says that generation ships have to be protected, I remember that much. The python could do it serious damage, and it will never believe we can be friendly after that. The gen ship needs to see us fighting its attackers.’

Dan diverted full power to his shields, hoping to charge them strongly for the upcoming fight. The sidewinder and eagle who had arrived at the stern of the huge ship were now flying towards them, but maintaining a cautious distance from its guns; the cobra seemed to be hanging back.

Sensors registered the dull boom of a spacetime disturbance, and three forms appeared near the bow. Two were the chunky forms of adders, larger than their security craft but slow and designed for civilian use. The other was the huge, wide form of a python; a huge multi-purpose craft, but well suited to combat. Normally, Dan would have been worried with all five of the fighting that on its own.

‘Baby and Doc bears, engage the ships at the sterm. Booster and Polo, keep those adders busy and help distract the python. Remember that eagles are fragile, people, and we need to be seen fighting more than we need to win. Fly for evasion not attack. I’m going to take out the python.’

‘Do as I say not as I do, much?’ said Booster. Obviously the second in command had some latitude.

‘Don’t worry. I’m me.’

Dan saw Polo increase her speed and pushed the throttle to full. The two pirate ships were heading straight at them. As they neared weapons range, he distributed power to engines and weapons.

>Here we go. My first fight.<

 

[Straylight0]

9.

The rest of the... whatever it was, wasn’t much cleaner than the cell had been. Where was he? Karlon made his way through a passage, pulling himself along the wall with his hands. If it was a station, it wasn’t rotating to simulate gravity. If it was a ship, it was an astonishingly quiet one; even an idle craft generally had a multitude of hums, throbs and the occasional whir going on. He thought he could hear some wheezing, which could either be whatever life support was still working, or people exposed to the long-term effects of it working badly.

If this was a virtual reality game, Karlon was sure he would find a convenient weapon to hand very shortly, be able to use it, and in a few goes would be able to overpower the first guard. Not being a game, he could not even find a spanner, had not had a fight in real-g let alone zero-g for years, and there would certainly be no second chances at overpowering any guards. His plan was to surrender immediately on meeting anyone.

He rubbed at his forehead, which was still aching. The passage was short, and opened at another which was also short running crossways. There was something familiar about it... yes! He was on a spaceship. An ordinarily sized one as well, not the giant he fuzzily remembered from before. If only he was more eperienced, he’d be able to recognise the type immediately from the general size and layout. It didn’t help that the main corridor aft was sealed off with welded plates marked “VAKYOOM DONT TUCH” in red paint, and a couple of other doors were fixed shut as well.

He poked about a few rooms. The place was cluttered; there were hammocks hung in corridors and compartments that hadn’t been meant as crew quarters. The washroom should have been cordoned off as a biohazard; the galley needed the germ warfare squad to be called in. So far, everything was deserted. The upper comanionway...

Ooops.

Karlon had wandered onto the bridge. A ship this size didn’t have its cockpit in the nose but a bridge at the top instead, only it was a little late to back out now. The place was mostly dark, but some things still worked; his two captors were talking to the hologram of a tall man in a combination of security armour and leathers. He had a long face accentuated by the enormously long sideburns that extended down in front of his ears and flared out from his jaw; his chin, however, was clean-shaven.

The stubble-headed man and the spidery woman had their backs to him, but the holographic figure spotted him immediately. ‘Who is that?’ he demanded, pointed a bony finger.

The flesh-and-blood crew spun around.

‘That’s the prisoner the miner sold us,’ said the man. ‘He must have escaped!’

‘Well we can’t have break-outs!’ said the hologram. ‘Kill him.’

The man produced a wide-barreled gun from under his layers. ‘But... erm...’

‘He’s going to fix the air filters for us! Says he doesn’t need parts!’ put in the woman.

‘Really?’ The man’s expression relaxed. ‘In that case, getting out of his cell shows commendable initiative and ingenuity, I’d say. Welcome him to the crew and get him a beer. Now you’re sure the jammer is working alright?’

‘Perfectly, boss!’ said the woman.

‘Then how am I speaking to you now again?’

‘Special frequency it doesn’t affect only we know about.’

‘Well that’s good then. Carry on.’ The hologram flickered and vanished.

The man relaxed and put his gun away. ‘Nice one, mate. I’m Billhook and this is Lixxie.’

‘Two x’s, no living ex’s,’ said the woman.

‘Here.’ Billhook reached into a compartment and threw a bottle across the room. Karlon clumsily caught it; there was no label, but he knew this type of container. It was cheap import beer, marked as any one of a number of brands before sale irrespective of the contents.

‘Thanks, but my head is still aching like anything!’ he said. ‘Have you got any water?’

‘You don’t want to go there,’ said Lixxie. ‘Our recyclers don’t get rid of the taste. Or much else.’

Karlon gulped. ‘They’d better go on the list after the air. Any soft drinks?’

‘Eh?’ Billhook pulled a face. ‘We’re pirates, matey boyyo!’

‘Oh... yeah.’ Karlon boosted himself further onto the bridge, looking around himself. The smart-glass of the bridge seemed to be working, brightening the view enough for him to make out a number of large rocky shapes that were quite familiar. There were also a number of long metal booms radiating from the ship he was on, other objects tethered to the sides; there were cargo cannisters, pods of machinery, chunks of wreckage, several smaller ships. None of them looked to be in working order.

At least he could see the prow of the ship; its shape and size could only be one thing. ‘I’m on a python!’ he called.

‘What’s left of it.’ Lixxie jumped up and seized the ceiling next to him. ‘Hasn’t flown for years. Blackburns found it and made it our base of operations.’

Karlon managed to bite the top of the bottle (thin cheap metal) and took a swig. The alchohol content was barely worthy of notice, anyway. ‘Now I’m not a hostage, any chance you could tell me what’s going on? Who is Blackburns?’

‘The boss we were just talking to,’ said Billhook. He was helping himself to another beer. ‘Pirate lord of out-system. Not a bad guy to work for.’

‘The other facial hair was taken,’ said Lixxie. She grabbed Karlon’s arm and flipped herself back towards the floor, only spilling a little beer as she did so.

‘So what am I doing here? Did you say he... sold you to me?’

‘ ’Course. We don’t shoot up ships for nothing, you know!’ Billhook reached out to catch Lixxie, but she slapped his hand away and grabbed his forearm herself.

‘I’m payment for shooting someone? Who!?’

‘We shot his own ship up,’ said Lixie, fitting her magnetic shoes to the floor and standing still for a moment. ‘He wanted it to look good.’

‘So you know him?’

‘Thurden?’ Billhook took a swig. ‘He drops us supplies from time to time in return for us letting him mine out here.’

Karlon took a swig as well, feeling that he needed it. ‘I thought we were leaving emmergency drops for other miners!’

‘Not terribly bright, is he?’ sneered Lixxie. ‘Saves it for technical stuff I suppose.’

‘So... waters of Earth!’ Karlon slapped himself. ‘I remember now. The generation ship! But why would Thurden clunk me, dump me here and have you shoot his ship up?’

‘Does it matter?’ asked Billhook. ‘He told us it was a huge score as well. Humungous great ship he said, hardly any guns, collectors would pay top credit even for just a piece of hull. Enough for every pirate in this system and more besides, ’cording to him. Very keen Blackburns got the word out so that every freebooter in the system would get in on it.’

‘Except fragging us!’ said Lixxe. She was now folding herself into a space where it looked as if a console had been removed. ‘We got our rides shot up and spare parts borrowed, so we have to wait for the hunters getting home.’

‘It would be magnificent out there!’ said Billhook, waving his bottle. ‘We worked out a pincer movement with the others. Half in from the other front, us and the other half in from the back a minute later. The ship and any pigs that have shown up...’ He let the bottle float and smacked his hands together. ‘Bam!’

*

 

[Straylight0]

10.
10.

Back on Perabyssos, the spaceport basked peacefully in the sun. From time to time, the howl of thrusters rang off concrete and faint waves of dust flew across the runways and pads.

At the side of the Federal Security compound, the woman Booster had been talking to sat on a step. A small camera drone hovered around her head with a faint whine of fans, and she drummed her fingers on her satchel. She heaved a sigh, stood up and walked over to where a guard waited by the door.

‘Please?’ she said.

‘Still can’t,’ said the guard, without looking around. Her uniform was crisp, and she stood away from the wall without slouching. ‘I shouldn’t let you through when Booster is around either, even if he does “pilot your asp” on Saturday nights. And Thursdays when he’s supposed to be on training leave.’

The first woman pulled a face. ‘Do you have to use phrases like that?’

‘Federation guard manual section 3.4.7 paragraph two, and I quote, “when not addressing a senior officer or in the presence of minors, personnel on guard duty must take every opportunity to employ euphemisms and colloquial language for the promotion of without explicit terminology.”’

‘Oh,’ said the woman. She walked back a couple of steps, then turned round again. ‘How did you know about the Thursdays?’

‘Section two: observational skills, gathering of intelligence and use of bush telegraph.’

The woman tapped the camera drone, making it wobble. ‘How do you know I’m not recording now?’

‘Recording lights are required by law and not on. You might have disabled them but you need to stay in my good books.’

The woman sighed and kicked at the ground, but it had been swept too clean to have any grit or pebbles on it. ‘Want a coffee Gillian?’

‘Wouldn’t mind a tea.’ The guard pulled her dark glasses down to the end of her nose and turned her head to look over the top of them. ‘What else you after, Debra?’

‘Oh come on!’ Debra jumped up and down. ‘A damaged ship lands, your best security flight scrambles with my boyfriend on it—who tells me nothing either--you feed me that line about the bush telegraph and still tell me nothing?’

‘It’s actually driving me bonkers as well, but I don’t know any more than you do. I want to be jumping up and down too.’ Gillian had returned to standing perfectly still.

‘Perhaps you should have your tea less than military strength?’

‘Section one top priority, beverages fit for duty personnel--’

‘Okay! Colour of old tights it is.’ Debra turned to go, but after a moment a cough made her turn back round.

Gillian had cocked her head and put a finger to hear ear, then she lowered it. ‘It would be dreadful if a journalist was away getting tea when the captain of the damaged ship came out of the building.’

‘Yes it would,’ nodded Debra. ‘Although there’s no reason to assume that would be happening now rather than in, say, five minutes.’ She checked the drone and stood facing the door.

‘None at all,’ agreed Gillian.

The door opened and Captain Thurden came out. His face was flushed and his throat and jaw were twitching furiously as he sub-vocalised on a communications implant. He was even making some hand-movements as well, as if he were face to face with the person he was speaking with.

‘Captain! Sir!’ Debra jumped in front of him. ‘Have you any comment about the attack on your ship? What has happened out there? Rumours of a--’

‘Get out of my way woman!’ Thurden pushed her roughly aside. ‘No, not you! I really do need to speak with Minister Straughn--’ His voice went back to the faint rumble of sub-vocal.

A taxi whizzed round the corner of the building, its six wheels skidding slightly as it jerked to a halt. Thurden had paid extra for one with a human driver.

‘Captain! If there’s something big and nasty out there, the public needs to know as soon as possible!’ called Debra, running after him.

Thurden stopped with his hand on the door and looked at her. ‘Tell everyone to prepare for the worst,’ he snapped, and climbed in. ‘Extra ten credits if you get to the assembly within five minutes,’ he told the driver. The taxi roared off as he finished slamming the door.

‘Bit of a drama queen I think. He’ll talk more later,’ said Gillian.

‘Assembly building, did he say?’ Debra checked the little camera drone.

‘It’s illegal to send them more than fifty feet away from you for surveillance, you know,’ said Gillian.

Debra pulled a face. ‘They keep telling us.’

‘You know I’ve heard there’s a kiosk in town does really good tea,’ added Gillian. ‘My hover-bike’s the red one if you want to go fetch some.’ She tossed Debra a key-tag. ‘Be careful, it’s extremely fast.’

*

Apols for reducing writing speed; I wasn’t well the past week and besides, all the bugs and some other things have notably reduced my enthusiasm for Elite. More should be coming, a number of scenes are already planned out in my head.​

 

[Straylight0]

11.

Dan took his hands off the stick, wiggled them, and put them back. He tried to swallow but there was no saliva. The thorny angles of the generation ship glittering below, the sweep of the planet on one side and its misty rings on the other, all vanished as his vision focused in on the ships ahead. They had shrunk small now that they were facing head on, and somehow it felt that the wedge of the sidewinder was staring straight at him. Dan’s fingers twitched on the joystick, making minute adjustments to line up the crosshairs.

‘You take the sidewinder, I’ll take the eagle,’ said Doc.

IN RANGE

Dan slammed his fingers down on the triggers. His ship thrummed and slowed for a moment as streams of slugs gattled from the multicannon at his target, glowing white with heat. Was he hitting? Flashes of light disturbed his vision, streaks of white linking to the other ship and great splashes of blue energy washing over his forward shield. His eyes flicked sideways.

Jesus! Two-thirds shield gone!

He jerked the stick sideways and hit the “boost” button. The acceleration slammed him back into his seat; he’d been hunching forward over the controls. He pushed the scontrol left and right, twisting the yoke, hauling it forwards and backwards, taking evasive manouvres. The muscles in his neck tensed and strained as the weight of his helmet tried to slam his head about, even though the inertial gel was taking most of the strain. The schematic of his ship registered another hit. He reached out for the power control. More power to shields, or more to engines? How had this happened? Where was the enemy?

The radar showed it as a red triangle, a stalk denoting elevation. On the target display, it was now facing away, but turning towards him. Dan rolled his ship around; now the pirate was below him and he pushed the stick forward, diving towards it. Blood rushed upwards and the lining of his helmet inflated to press on his head. It felt as if his eyeballs were trying to bulge up like balloons. How much negative g could you pull before you had a red-out? He’d done this plenty of times in training, but now it felt worse.

He saw the enemy but it was twisting sideways, and vanished out of his crosshairs. Dan rolled again and this time he climbed towards it; now the blood was draining from his head and he wanted it back. The gel constricted his legs and his lower body but he squashed the momentary feeling of panic, tensed his muscles and kept breathing from his diaphragm. The wide wedge of the sidewinder flew across his vision again, but this time he pushed the stick forward and kept it ahead. It swelled suddenly; he was going to hit it! He yanked back the throttle, jinked right and then left, only now it was powering away from him and climbing. Dan wrestled with the controls and squeezed the triggers again. Shot flew all over space except where the target was. It still had more than half its shields, he couldn’t let that go, he had hardly any! Throttle up, down... now the superior manouverability of his fighter would tell. The pirate might have won the initial joust, it wouldn’t win the mêlée. The enemy pilot made a mistake and flew straight away from Dan for the moment. He centred the crosshairs... but no bullets were flying. RELOADING, said the weapon status tags. Dan roared. Doc was saying something on the comms, but that didn’t matter. The guns clicked back to “ready” and he started spraying fire. The sidewinder had managed to turn and face him, and as its own shields flared and flickered under Dan’s barrage, its lasers began to pulse again.

Another stripe of dots met the sidewinder from above, and its shields fizzled out of existence. Sparks flew from its hull as high-velocity rounds ate into the metal. The sidewinder hit its own boost, soaring away on a trail of luminous plasma.

‘I said I’d got mine,’ said Doc. ‘You do know you’re growling to yourself, don’t you?’

Not that it mattered. Dan pulled the eagle round, throttle down as he turned then up as he started facing towards his foe. He was doing this, it was working! It wasn’t getting away from HIM! He reached for the boost button again--

Another line of magnetically accelerated iron struck the sidewinder, punching through its rear bulkhead. It started tumbling, its flight control lost, then blew apart as its reactor went critical. Doc had killed HIS target! HIS! For a moment, Dan nearly turned the ship on his friend, then he gulped.

‘Not bad for first combat,’ said Doc calmly. ‘Training is your friend, watch out for the anger. Why, I bet you never even noticed my guy shooting you.’

Dan looked at his shield indicator. It was nearly gone, the faintest blue tinge around the hull schematic. Suddenly, he felt cold.

‘The cobra’s run off. Put power to shields and head back to the bow at half speed while they charge. Things aren’t going badly there.’

Dan pulled his ship around and into formation with Doc, who he couldn’t help notice had nearly full shields.

Up ahead, a drifting skeleton of metal was all that remained of one of the adders. The other was twisting desperately under the combined fire of Booster and Polo, but it was Arjanna and the python which immediately drew the eye.

Her viper was dancing a similar kind of dance as it had with Thurden’s ship, only many times faster and infinately more deadly. Most pilots used “flight assist” mode all the time, having their ship’s computer fire thrusters so that it moved more like an aeroplane in atmosphere. In space, where you could otherwise find yourself flying backwards or sideways rather than the way you were facing, most people could get horribly confused otherwise, or fail to ever correct a spin. Military pilots were better trained and tended to deactivate it for combat manouvres; Dan realised with a stab of shame that he hadn’t touched his once in the fight, nor used any thrust beyond adjusting the throttle.

Arjanna, though, had complete mastery of her ship’s movement. It spun then stopped dead, shot forwards while twisting sideways to fire, slid around the python’s flank to attack its belly, then as the large ship started rolling to bring the guns on its upper deck to bear, her viper boosted back around the other flank, dropping back towards the stern as it did so. All the time her lasers burned every instant she was facing it, and every few seconds a pair of cannon-shells exploded against its shields. She seemed to be leading the python into making every move she wanted.

But she was still one small fighter against a giant, and it was a giant with turret guns. No matter how good she was, she could not avoid all the sprays of laser and lead it sent in her direction. Her shields were nearly half gone, although so were those of her target.

The other adder turned into a ball of fire. ‘Moving to assist!’ called Booster.

‘No, I’ve got it right where I want it!’ said Arjanna. ‘His afterburn capacitor should be recharged by now, let’s make him use it...’

She accelerated before the python’s bow. Its engines flared and the big ship moved with surprising speed, accelerating after its tormentor. Its main guns flared, nearly striking the viper as it spiraled towards the generation ship.

The generation ship...

The python was roaring straight into the range of its gun batteries. The laser arrays opened up. One blast caught Arjanna a glancing blow, but most were focusing on the larger, slower, easier target. The python’s shields sputtered and went out. It turned over to try to bring its weapons to bear on the new threat; Arjanna flipped her viper and flew back to shelter behind it. The arrow of her ship pointed straight into the python’s belly; a long burn of laser and two cannon volleys slammed straight into its powerplant then she turned and boosted away, the thrust from her ship knocking the python off balance further. Gobbets of molten metal streamed from its hull on both sides; it turned over again and tried to escape, but more turrets were locking on. The python spewed fire, swelled, and burst. A second later its reactor detonated; there was more liquid debris than solid scattering across space.

‘Target fixation!’ said Arjanna. ‘Even experienced pilots can lose track of where they are in a fight. I believe I heard Doc telling you that earlier, Dan?’

‘Wow... I mean roger!’ said Dan.

‘Speaking of which, look behind us,’ said Doc.

Dan checked his radar. There were... three, no, five new ships there. Another new contact appeared; a ship had appeared in the other direction as well, before the bow. How many had Booster and Polo seen on the way in? Another newcomer...

‘Must be all the system’s pirates, joining together...’ said Arjanna.

‘No you’re not staying to fight them!’ snapped Booster.

‘Both our ways out are blocked off!’ said Polo. It sounded like she was trying to keep panic out of her voice.

‘We need options,’ said Arjanna. Was it Dan’s imagination, or did she actually sound a little rattled? ‘Masslock on this thing is about six kilometres, we could get that easily off its flank and jump to the ring system.’

‘You’ve forgetten the enormous relative velocity!’ said Doc. ‘No modern ship travels at this sublight speed. We’d hit the mass concentration of the rings and the deceleration would tear us apart!’

‘Then we turn off the velocity compensators,’ said Arjanna.

‘Are you mad!?’ yelled Booster. ‘We’d be hitting an asteroid field at... God knows what speed!’

‘We’d have a better chance than staying here, much as it pains me to say it,’ said Arjanna. ‘Don’t worry, the ring’s not as solid as it looks.’

‘She’s right, it’s our best chance!’ said Doc. ‘I’ll tell you where to find the override. Follow me. And if you get a chance, say a prayer.’

----
Off for a week, unlikely to be more updates during that time​

 

[Straylight0]

112.

Minister Straughn was having a bad day at work. That is to say, he was at work, or at least the serious part. The Planetary Assembly did not have a huge amount of power or influence; the representatives of the Federation, Empire, and Peraybyssos Corporation were far more important. It did not have a huge amount of money or prestige, either. Despite being a genuine Earthlike planet and a valuable agricultural exporter, the Council had only a modestly sized building and the dome was cheap glass instead of diamond. What it DID have was an enormous number of members from every haystack and chicken coup across the lands, all convinced their local farmers’ market was of galactic importance, plus a byzantine network of rules covering block votes, guaranteed rights of Darzians, imperial protocol consultations, human rights and trade regulations.

Minister Straughn sighed and pushed a hand through his thinning grey hair as he stood at the podium. He honestly couldn’t recall where the current debate was at, or even what it was about. Something relating to trade deals for genetically engineered hedgehogs under referral to double committee derailment being purposely delayed and retabled for.... well that moron with the green hair had already been speaking on it for thirty minutes. Straughn wanted to yell at them and say exactly what he thought, but had to rein himself in. One outburst could easily cost him the next election; the populace might not even be able to find their planet on a starmap, but they were instantly all over any gaffe on the social media, and one viral moment was more important than any amount of policy or corruption scandal. Not for the first time, Straughn envied the Empire. Shame they were all tyrannical fascist scum, but things would go a lot smoother if he could simply tell idiots to get fragged.

He realised there was an expectant silence; the droner had finally shut up, and people were looking at him. ‘Well, I think that’s enough for one session!’ Straughn said loudly. ‘Shall we re-convene this tomorrow?’ He looked up at the Speaker on his podium, who nodded and banged his gavel. Straughn reminded himself to buy the man another bottle of Lavian brandy sometime.

Most of the councilmen headed straight out of the room with barely-concealed relief, expect for the troublesome ones who started gathering in groups and talking heatedly. The minister turned to head for his office, and touched his ear to activate the link to his secretary. ‘Can you have a briefing on where we left that ready for me tomorrow?’ he asked.

‘Of course,’ said Tom’s voice in his ear. ‘By the way, I’ve scheduled you an urgent meeting straight away in committee room 7 with PR Officer Silgoe, Organiser Tara and Captain Thurden.’

‘You what?’ said Straughn, having made sure he was facing away from anyone else. ‘I was having drinks with the constituency club at five, then it was family night! Who is this Thurden person anyway and why the devil put me in with that scary Darzi woman?’

‘Begging your pardon sir,’ said Tom, ‘but he got shot up by a giant spaceship and was most insistent. Says all the planet needs to organise fast or we’re done for.’

Straughn left the chamber, hesitated a moment, then turned his steps towards the committee room. ‘Sounds like a military matter to me, why isn’t the commodore dealing with it? I could do with some food!’

‘Sir,’ said Tom with a faint tone of reproach, ‘this might actually be important.’

Straughn rolled his eyes and took a breath, not caring if Tom heard it. ‘Well don’t cancel the family night, I’ll see I can wrap it up inside thirty minutes.’

The committee room seemed fuller than normal, for all that it only had four other people in it. The egos of three were so big that all of them needed at least five seats to themselves. There was Silgoe, the man from the Perabyssos Corporation. He was the standard over-groomed functionary in an expensive suit, but even at his most obseqious, he knew clearly that YOU understood who he worked for.

As for Organiser Tara... Straughn still got goosebumps around the head of the Darzian community. She was always dressed in black and at least a hundred years old, but had the vigour of someone a third her age. She never went anywhere without at least one bodyguard; her regular one, stood behind her, was a six-foot-plus mass of muscle, cropped hair, and never the slightest mark of boredom or wandering attention. Between them, they gave the strong impression that the terrorist strikes of five centuries past might return at any second.

The space-captain Thurden had taken the head of the table and was sat there as if he were heading a council of war; again, Straughn had to remind himself that manhandling a constituent could lose an election.

Straughn sat down at the side of the table remaining, not bothering to conceal his annoyance. ‘So what’s this about? Speak plainly, man.’

Captain Thurden didn’t hesitate. ‘I haven’t told the security forces this yet. There’s a generation ship heading into the system. I take it you know what that means?’

‘Why don’t you spell it out for us?’ Straughn replied. He prided himself on dodging difficult questions.

‘Federation law says that generation ships must be protected from any and all interference and communication at all costs,’ put in Silgoe smoothly. ‘Furthermore they must reach their destination, settle it and evolve for at least a century before contact.’ Trust the ’stard to be fully briefed on everything orbiting the core.

‘Well that’s going to be a little difficult, see how we’re already here!’ Straughn said and leaned back, feeling he had made a decisive point.

‘What if they decide to remove us?’ asked Thurden. ‘Wouldn’t be the first time. Load of settlers got evicted from somewhere a gen ship was heading, I remember that from school.’

Silgoe now had a datapad on the table in front of him, and had cocked his head. Straughn knew perfectly well he had a whole team of researchers and experts at the end of his data stream to brief him, not just a single political intern; the git could probably win any quiz show in the universe without breaking a sweat. Now Silgoe nodded. ‘There is a legal precedent. Even if we were not removed from our planet, an influx of population without any wealth of their own or modern skills would cause social upheaval plus strain on infrastructure and resources. That could adversely affect our profit margins.’

Straughn didn’t quit follow that, but he had a momentary vision of many acres of fine land turning into refugee camps or reservations. ‘But this is OUR planet!’ he exclaimed.

Organiser Tara had been saying nothing, just watching with disturbingly bright eyes and body language reminiscent of a panther that, although recumbent, was still wondering about a quick snack. Now she laughed, showing large teeth. ‘Now you know how WE felt when YOU showed up!’

Straughn was thrown for a moment, but Thurden didn’t hesitate. ‘You might not like us,’ he said to Tara, ‘but I think we can both agree we don’t want any more people piling in to join us, right?’

‘Correct.’ Tara gave a shallow nod. ‘What have you told the Federation?’

‘I told them I didn’t know that it was but it attacked me,’ said Thurden. ‘I also got word to the system pirates that it was unarmed and a rich haul. Think they were dumb enough to fall for it.’

‘Perhaps they have destroyed it?’ asked Straughn hopefully. ‘I mean, that would be a terrible tragedy,’ he added.

‘I don’t know if it had any guns, but even so the pirates of all the sector would take a month to shoot that thing to pieces and carry it off,’ Thurden told him. ‘We need to do something else .’

‘But didn’t it attack you?’ Straughn was feeling a little out of his depth.

‘Paid the pirates to fake that. But even if we have turned it hostile, I don’t trust those Federal do-gooders.’ Thurden pulled a face.

Straughn drew his beath in to say something, although he didn’t know what, when there was a loud thudding from the corrider outside and a brief scream. The door shook then burst open, scattering some splinters of wood onto the carpet.

Another large man came through the door. He wasn’t wearing the traditional black, but the soberness of his dress and the studied lack of expression obviously made him a Darzian. One arm was round the neck of a struggling young woman, and the other hand had a camera-drone in it, its small motors whining.

‘Well well,’ said Tara, ‘who has been listening to things they shouldn’t, and how shall we make sure you do not speak of them?’​

*

 

[Straylight0]

13.

–- DROPPING – TOO CLOSE ---

--- WARNING --- VELOCITY COMPENSATORS DISENGAGED ---

--- BRACE FOR IMPACT ---

An FSD smash was a cruel thing. One moment the asteroid layer was expanding to fill the canopy, making every muscle tense for collision. Then there was a brief pause and vision filled with the mist of space-time distortion as the abused vacuum expanded back to its normal size. Then suddenly the asteroids leaped up to be even bigger again, and Dan’s ship was plunging into them at what seemed an even greater speed.

If he was screaming, he didn’t care. A grey lump was racing at him and he slammed the controls all the way over, hitting maximum thrust. It passed but then there was another, and then another two with an impossibly small gap between them. He jerked the nose backwards and forwards. There was an impossibly huge and jagged continent in his way and he slammed the boost, propelling the ship sideways, but now he couldn’t see where he was going and he was traelling sideways as well. A sharp “snap” sound and the last of his shields were gone. Jets burst out of his ship in all directions as the thrusters fought desperately to slow it to some kind of survivable speed. Surely there couldn’t be more rocks... but they’d hit the ring obliquely, they weren’t taking the shortest route through. His head bounced off the inside of the helmet and the intertial gel hardened like cement for an instant. A crack raced across the canopy as a tiny pebble struck it. He tried to hit boost again but it was gone, he banked and tried to aim for a gap but another ship was heading for the same one and he clanged off it, the view starting to spin. He thought there was more screaming from the comms, and crackles of static.

Then there were only a few small rocks, and the blessed black void. The howl of thrusters began to subside as the ship finally started to right itself.

‘I think I lost something,’ said a dazed voice. Dan looked up and saw Polo’s eagle drifting nearby. It only had one wing.

‘Well!’ said Arjanna brightly. ‘That wasn’t so bad, was it?’

‘Three... four... five,’ counted Booster, breathing hard in between each number. ‘We got lucky.’

‘Luck be damned!’ snapped Arjanna, ‘that was skill! I’m proud of all of you. Dan especially, I haven’t even given him Darzi- boot camp yet.’

‘Eeeerrrrwherrrrkmmmerrr....’ whimpered Dan. His fingers seemed to have sunk into the plastic of the flight controls. It was going to take a crowbar to separate his teeth and two cargo tugs to straighten out his back. He was glad his flight-suit was waterproof, and his heart must be about to finish its lifetime allocation of beats.

‘We need to report back,’ said Arjanna. ‘We got long-range comms yet?’

‘I have good news and bad news,’ said Doc in a hoarse voice. ‘The good news is we’re all alive. The good news is, we’re all alive. The bad news is our long-comms are still jammed. The good news is we’re all alive... and I’ve picked up the source of the jamming, it’s a megametre or so from us on the outside of the ring, not reading strong enough to be a ship. Did I mention how good it is we’re all alive?’

‘Shiny!’ said Arjanna. ‘Let’s go blow it up.’

*​

 

[Straylight0]

14.

Karlon smacked the chisel one more time, breaking off another chunk of gunk from the sides of the cyclone filter. He’d cleared as much as he dared this way, but without proper solvents, that was all he could do. He picked up the bottle of hair conditioner and slathered it into the workings, jiggling the rotors until they turned with a scraping sound. The pirates didn’t even have any silicone oil, so it was the best lubricant he could find.

He fitted the module back into the cavity, locked it into place, and replaced the access panel. ‘There,’ he said. ‘Try now.’

Billhook pulled the switch. More of the horrible scraping came from the machinery, but it subsided into a dull grinding and finally a kind of a whir. More dirt came jetting out of the vent, but then after a few moments it subsided and it became clear that the muck they could see was being disturbed by a jet of cleanish air.

Lixxie immediately flung herself forward and shoved her face against the grill, inhaling with a look of bliss on her face. ‘Aaaah! Now maybe my lungs will clear enough to start smoking again!’

Karlon stretched himself after reaching into the confined spaces. ‘You know, there are still films where people go crawling through air ducts in ships. As if!’

Lixxie’s dreadlocks waved behind her head. ‘What else can you fix?’ she asked. ‘Anything with computers? I installed the jammer but I try to plot routes and distances on the galaxy map sometimes, and the button that’s supposed to select your next waypoint never works. That should be easy, right?’

Karlon frowned. ‘That never worked in the adder either. I asked Thurden about it once and he just gave me a pitying look like it was something everyone knew!’

The motor throbbed and shook for a moment, then kept going more smoothly.

‘It’ll probably fill up again in just a few minutes,’ said Karlon. ‘We’d better get some more rubbish bags ready.’

‘I’ll get some!’ said Lixxie. ‘Blackburns has some tubes of Medb starlube hidden in his room as well. Maybe it’ll work better than the hair gel!’ She went bounding from wall to wall up the passage.

Karlon gulped. ‘I don’t even want to know what it’s doing there. You know it’s a high-grade engine product, right?’

‘No idea but the rest of the canister kept us in high-end booze for months!’ said Billhook. He sniggered as he caught Karlon watching Lixxie’s legs vanish around the corner. ‘I wouldn’t get your hopes up, mate. She hasn’t played Park the Python with anyone yet.’

‘I wasn’t thinking that!’ protested Karlon. ‘I’ve been kidnapped by pirates after all. I want to get home!’

‘Sure you weren’t.’ Billhook took another swig of beer, or as close to a swig as you could get in freefall; like all bottles these days, it had a valve under the cap and a piston that moved up the bottle as you sucked, so it could be drunk in zero-g. ‘I think you’ll have to work your passage home, but don’t do too good a job or we’ll never let you go!’

There was a blood-curdling scream, cut off abruptly. A second later there came another, again cut off. Then a third. The men looked at each other, and then took off down the corridor. At least, Karlon tried to; he started running as if he was in gravity, but his feet left him behind and he wound up turning a somersault. He managed to get his legs under himself, crouched down and pushed off after Billhook. At least he now had a pair of magnetic gloves to go with the boots. He was pleased to find himself catching up with the flying mass of tassles and fringes that was Billhook the pirate, and actually managed to overtake the older man as they reached the access to the bridge. Blood was thudding in his ears but he didn’t think there had been any more screams.

Lixxe was crouched over the controls.

‘What happened?’ yelled Karlon, then coughed as he realised just how much floating dirt he’d inhaled on their mad dash.

‘The alert klaxon’s bust so I did it manually,’ said Lixxie. ‘We got company. Cops!’ She pointed to the target display. There were four small fighters there, weaving between asteroids as they approached.

‘Chaffing hell!’ muttered Billhook.

‘Please don’t shoot them!’ begged Karlon. ‘Maybe if you let me go they’ll leave you alone!’

Lixxie laughed. ‘As if we’d have the power for guns even if they still worked!’

There were flashes from the lead ship, then the ones behind. An instant later Karlon felt the floor, walls and ceiling shake as if he were inside a huge bell. A wave of pressure made his eardrums pulsate. The impact was followed by rapid clattering. ‘They’re firing at us!’ he screamed.

‘I left my beer behind!’ groaned Billhook. ‘I want to be drinking when I die!’

Lixxie shrugged. ‘I said we shouldn’t cannibalise the shields, did anyone listen to me?’

‘They’re police! They’re supposed to ask us to surrender first!’ yelled Karlon.

‘That’ll be the jammer, can’t get through it at this range without the key,’ said Lixxie. ‘But they’re fighters, no room for troops. They’re not going to board us to take prisoners and they aren’t going to leave us alone either. Doubt I’ll be seeing you in hell Karlon, so nice knowing you while it lasted.’

There was a sizzling noise, then a fresh set of impacts. The ship didn’t lurch from side to side like in the movies; rather, it vibrated and started to drift around under the assault.

‘Turn off the jammer!’ Karlon screamed over the sound of more multicannon rounds striking the hull. ‘They’re probably going for that!’

One of the main lights came on, showing the squalor of the bridge in too much detail. ‘They just got it,’ said Lixxie. ‘That was taking most of the generator output.’

There was a sizzling sound, then another explosion. The light exploded in a shower of sparks. Karlon clamped his mag-gloves to the floor and scrambled to the control panel on all fours, stabbing at the communication panel. ‘They haven’t stopped! I’ve got to—oh no! They’ve destroyed the communication array along with the jammer!’

‘‘You’re getting very het up about this!’ commented Lixxie.

‘I don’t want to die!’ Karlon stabbed buttons and shrieked as a burst of slugs struck the canopy in front of his face. For a moment it felt like being indoors in a hailstorm, but hail didn’t leave flowers of fracture-rings. He pushed himself off backwards. After a moment, he became aware that his whimpering was very loud.

‘It’s stopped!’ he managed, and then went back to whimpering.

Billhook arrived back on the bridge with a bottle of whiskey. ‘I got some of the good stuff to die with!’ he said. ‘It’s gone awfully quiet. This the afterlife?’

There was a garbled crackle from the console, then the shapes on the display turned around and started leaving.

Lixxie peered into a flickering holo-display. ‘The kid turned on the distress beacon. Suppose the fuzz felt merciful. They’d got the jammer they were after, anyway. How did you know it was separate to the main antenna, Karlon?’

‘I didn’t.’ He heaved a big sigh. ‘I’m getting fed up with nearly dying!’

A sound like a whip made their heads snap round. A crack had appeared in the canopy, linking up some of the bullet-pits. For a moment it was still, then the ends began to grow and fork, zig-zagging across the diamond-glass.

‘Where are the remlock masks?’ asked Karlon.

Billhook coughed on the whiskey bottle, which had already gone down a significant amount (or rather “gone up” seeing how it had the same adaptation for space alcoholism). ‘Survival gear’s out on the combat ships. We didn’t actually have enough for all of them, either.’

‘Maybe we’ll be okay!’ Karlon was feeling the urge to take on a religion. ‘I mean, they say diamondglass is actually stronger than most of the hull....’

A triangle of the window vanished, and a high-pitched shriek of excaping air filled the bridge. A torrent of dirt started whirling out into space, and the cracks spread further.

‘They talk biowaste, looks like we’re still going to die. Nice try though,’ said Lixxie.

‘Erm.... actually I got another idea,’ said Karlon.

*

 

[Straylight0]

15.

The bodyguard heaved Debra further into the conference room and kicked the door closed behind him.

‘You’re hurting me!’ Debra clawed ineffectually at the man’s hand where it sank into her shoulder. ‘Let me go! You can’t hold me!’

‘Evidence to the contrary, dear,’ said Tara. She looked almost happy, and glanced around at Straughn. ‘I believe the First Minister has a number of emergency powers in the event of a threat to the system. One is deputising militia, and another is having security risks interned. I would say this spy should vanish for the remainder of this crisis, wouldn’t you?’

Straughn scratched his head and thought furiously. What had he been saying that she might have heard or, worse, recorded? He didn’t think he had advocated murder or anything... but then again, he’d definitely heard Thurden admitting to crimes, and he hadn’t been showing concern for the safety of the generation ship. ‘Yes, that’s right,’ he said thoughfully. ‘She might jeopardise the safety of this planet. We shouldn’t harm her, but we can’t let her speak, either!’

‘The public definitely has a right to know!’ shrieked Debra. ‘You’re putting them in danger keeping this—ugh!’ She broke off as the other bodyguard slapped her in the face.

‘Neither of us like nosy journalists. We’re finding all kinds of common ground here!’ said Tara.

Silgoe had craned sideways so the little camera perched on his earpiece in front of the impossibly slick hair could see Debra. ‘She’s not one of ours. Potential troublemaker, the corporation would probably have needed to arrange her sasking and blacklisting within a few years.’

‘We can hold her somewhere for a few days easily enough, stop this getting out, let her go when it doesn’t matter any more,’ said Tara. ‘We won’t do her any permanent harm, although... it’s odd how many people join our philosophy after they’re been are guests for a while.’

‘No...’ Debra fell quiet again when Tara’s bodyguard put his hand on her throat.

‘You going to come quietly, or shall I render you unconscious?’ sneered the huge man.

‘Easy Brand,’ said Tara. She looked back at Straughn, who nodded and then swallowed after she looked back.

The second Darzian produced a small gun, waved it in front of Debra’s face, then poked it into her back. Brand took her drone held it in front of her, and tightened his grip. Veins and tendons stood out on the back of his meaty hand, then the plastic crumpled and crushed, spilling microchips and servo-motors onto the carpet. ‘Ooops,’ he said. ‘Take her away.’

Ashen-faced, Debra moved towards the door, but it opened before she got there. Gillian came into the room, followed by two other uniformed Federal soldiers. Unusually, they were carrying rifles in addition to their usual sidearms. ‘Is there a problem here?’ asked Gillian in a mild tone, but her eyes were hard.

The Darzian twitched, and his gun vanished. ‘Not at all, officer.’ Debra ran herself across the room and put the guards between herself and the Darzians. She looked like she was fighting the urge to fling herself on Gillian and cry.

‘What is this about? You’re interrupting an important meeting!’ blustered Straughn.

‘We’ve heard back from our scouts, and we have reason to believe that Captain Thurden was not entirely honest with us,’ said Gillian. ‘He will be accompanying us back to base.’

Thurden scowled. ‘Am I under arrest?’

‘You will be if you don’t come voluntarily. I warn you, I get crabby when I have to do paperwork and put cuffs on too tight,’ said Gillian.

Thurden got out of his chair. ‘Well I’ve said what I had to say, sure I can leave the matter in your hands.’ He crossed the room with bad grace.

Gillian bent and picked up the remains of the drone’s central circuit board, chips trailing on wires. ‘Litter removal, no extra charge!’ she said. ‘As you were.’

Straughn watched them go, scowling. ‘Is that going to be a problem?’ he asked.

Tara shrugged. ‘Probably not, but we should move fast. We have established that we are concerned about the Federation, but what of the Empire? They recognise our legal possession of this world but I’ve never heard of them accomodating colony ships.’

Silgoe nodded. ‘They are comitted to protecting Imperial citizens and assets on this planet and thus, by extension, support our interests too.’

‘Then I’ll contact the Consul as soon as possible,’ said Straughn. He appreciated that the company man had allowed him to say that himself. ‘Do we have any other suggestions?’

‘You can count on our support,’ said Tara. ‘If any new opportunities arise, I’ll let you know.’ She got up and padded out of the room, followed by her guards. Not so much as a word of goodbye or thanks.

Straughn tapped his ear. ‘Did you get that, Tom? Don’t have to tell you it’s confidential. Draft me up a couple of messages to forward to the Imperial Consul, outlining our concerns and asking if we can count on his support. I’ll be up to the office in a few minutes.’

Silgoe had risen and walked around to him. He was holding a round device with a large amber button. ‘May we speak privately, minister?’

Straughn nodded. ‘Of course.’

Silgoe pressed the button, which lit up. Straughn’s earpiece immediately began emitting a low rustle of white noise. The device was a privacy scrambler, disrupting all electromagnetic communications around the two men and the majority of unshielded electrical devices as well.

‘The Empire on its own may not be enough; they might not be willing or able to confront the Fereration,’ said the corporation man. ‘It may be wise to follow... certain other avenues.’

‘You mean like Thurden did asking the pirates to destroy it?’ said Straughn. ‘I couldn’t be involved with anything like that. Officially.’

‘You would not have to be,’ reassured Silgoe, not missing a beat. ‘All monies and organisation would be taken care of elsewhere. All we would need is assurance that you would not aggressively pursue any prosecutions against corporate entities that might become implicated in unethical actions.’

‘If they were protecting Perabyssos then I’d say they were being patriotic!’ said Straughn after taking a moment to work out the last sentence. ‘Are you thinking of hiring the Code? I heard they chased off a Fed capital ship, I bet an ancient generation rust-bucket would be no match for them!’

Silgoe shook his head. ‘The Code would rob it blind, but they wouldn’t destroy it. We had hopes for the Cosmic State, but they appear to be re-inventing themselves with a modicum of honour, and could not be relied upon for disposal work of this nature.’

‘Who then?’ asked Straughn.

‘There are two main possibilities,’ said Silgoe. ‘First, you may have heard of a subculture known as “griefers.” There are certain individuals who take great pleasure in murder, destruction and humanitarian outrages for own sake. That they have severe psychological disturbance is a given, but they can be surprisingly effective nonetheless. Some are able to operate because of very high financial assets and connections that shield them from legal repercussions. We know how many of them can be reached via the darknet.’

‘They don’t sound like people we want around.’

‘Not normally, but the opportunity to commit mass murder of protected colonists would be sure to attract them. It would have the advantage of requiring no money and being virtually untracable. Some of them would be bound to show up regardless once news got out.’

‘If they are going to come here anyway, let’s hope they go for the... right... target.’ said Straughn. Despite the scrambler, he felt the need for additional deniability about this.

‘A stronger possibility is known as the Kumo Crew,’ said Silgoe. ‘They are a nomadic pirate force who have recently begun setting up bases in the Pegasi sector. They are known to be highly organised and fearsome. With the right inducement and prospect of loot and infamy, I am quite sure a detachment might come here and act for us. They have no fear of either Federation or Empire.’

Straughn thought. The Federation was bound to send an enforcement party; would the Empire really risk war over what was, after all, only a minority on a Federal planet? Even if they did, it seemed likely that the two giants would balance each other. Something needed to tip that balance in their favour.

‘Do it,’ he said.

*

Just realised I’ve broken a rule of thumb from the writing group: Try not to have characters whose names start with the same letter. Well so much for that...

This thriller technique isn’t that easy. This is the second potential cliff-hanger I could have ended a section on, but I can’t because there’s nothing to intersperse it with, or the sections was simply too short! Heh well.

Having to break up the exposition as best I can..

- - - Updated - - -

15.

The bodyguard heaved Debra further into the conference room and kicked the door closed behind him.

‘You’re hurting me!’ Debra clawed ineffectually at the man’s hand where it sank into her shoulder. ‘Let me go! You can’t hold me!’

‘Evidence to the contrary, dear,’ said Tara. She looked almost happy, and glanced around at Strangn. ‘I believe the First Minister has a number of emergency powers in the event of a threat to the system. One is deputising militia, and another is having security risks interned. I would say this spy should vanish for the remainder of this crisis, wouldn’t you?’

Straughn scratched his head and thought furiously. What had he been saying that she might have heard or, worse, recorded? He didn’t think he had advocated murder or anything... but then again, he’d definitely heard Thurden admitting to crimes, and he hadn’t been showing concern for the safety of the generation ship. ‘Yes, that’s right,’ he said thoughfully. ‘She might jeopardise the safety of this planet. We shouldn’t harm her, but we can’t let her speak, either!’

‘The public definitely has a right to know!’ shrieked Debra. ‘You’re putting them in danger keeping this—ugh!’ She broke off as the other bodyguard slapped her in the face.

‘Neither of us like nosy journalists. We’re finding all kinds of common ground here!’ said Tara.

Silgoe had craned sideways so the little camera perched on his earpiece in front of the impossibly slick hair could see Debra. ‘She’s not one of ours. Potential troublemaker, the corporation would probably have needed to arrange her sasking and blacklisting within a few years.’

‘We can hold her somewhere for a few days easily enough, stop this getting out, let her go when it doesn’t matter any more,’ said Tara. ‘We won’t do her any permanent harm, although... it’s odd how many people join our philosophy after they’re been are guests for a while.’

‘No...’ Debra fell quiet again when Tara’s bodyguard put his hand on her throat.

‘You going to come quietly, or shall I render you unconscious?’ sneered the huge man.

‘Easy Brand,’ said Tara. She looked back at Straughn, who nodded and then swallowed after she looked back.

The second Darzian produced a small gun, waved it in front of Debra’s face, then poked it into her back. Brand took her drone held it in front of her, and tightened his grip. Veins and tendons stood out on the back of his meaty hand, then the plastic crumpled and crushed, spilling microchips and servo-motors onto the carpet. ‘Ooops,’ he said. ‘Take her away.’

Ashen-faced, Debra moved towards the door, but it opened before she got there. Gillian came into the room, followed by two other uniformed Federal soldiers. Unusually, they were carrying rifles in addition to their usual sidearms. ‘Is there a problem here?’ asked Gillian in a mild tone, but her eyes were hard.

The Darzian twitched, and his gun vanished. ‘Not at all, officer.’ Debra ran herself across the room and put the guards between herself and the Darzians. She looked like she was fighting the urge to fling herself on Gillian and cry.

‘What is this about? You’re interrupting an important meeting!’ blustered Straughn.

‘We’ve heard back from our scouts, and we have reason to believe that Captain Thurden was not entirely honest with us,’ said Gillian. ‘He will be accompanying us back to base.’

Thurden scowled. ‘Am I under arrest?’

‘You will be if you don’t come voluntarily. I warn you, I get crabby when I have to do paperwork and put cuffs on too tight,’ said Gillian.

Thurden got out of his chair. ‘Well I’ve said what I had to say, sure I can leave the matter in your hands.’ He crossed the room with bad grace.

Gillian bent and picked up the remains of the drone’s central circuit board, chips trailing on wires. ‘Litter removal, no extra charge!’ she said. ‘As you were.’

Straughn watched them go, scowling. ‘Is that going to be a problem?’ he asked.

Tara shrugged. ‘Probably not, but we should move fast. We have established that we are concerned about the Federation, but what of the Empire? They recognise our legal possession of this world but I’ve never heard of them accomodating colony ships.’

Silgoe nodded. ‘They are comitted to protecting Imperial citizens and assets on this planet and thus, by extension, support our interests too.’

‘Then I’ll contact the Consul as soon as possible,’ said Straughn. He appreciated that the company man had allowed him to say that himself. ‘Do we have any other suggestions?’

‘You can count on our support,’ said Tara. ‘If any new opportunities arise, I’ll let you know.’ She got up and padded out of the room, followed by her guards. Not so much as a word of goodbye or thanks.

Straughn tapped his ear. ‘Did you get that, Tom? Don’t have to tell you it’s confidential. Draft me up a couple of messages to forward to the Imperial Consul, outlining our concerns and asking if we can count on his support. I’ll be up to the office in a few minutes.’

Silgoe had risen and walked around to him. He was holding a round device with a large amber button. ‘May we speak privately, minister?’

Straughn nodded. ‘Of course.’

Silgoe pressed the button, which lit up. Straughn’s earpiece immediately began emitting a low rustle of white noise. The device was a privacy scrambler, disrupting all electromagnetic communications around the two men and the majority of unshielded electrical devices as well.

‘The Empire on its own may not be enough; they might not be willing or able to confront the Fereration,’ said the corporation man. ‘It may be wise to follow... certain other avenues.’

‘You mean like Thurden did asking the pirates to destroy it?’ said Straughn. ‘I couldn’t be involved with anything like that. Officially.’

‘You would not have to be,’ reassured Silgoe, not missing a beat. ‘All monies and organisation would be taken care of elsewhere. All we would need is assurance that you would not aggressively pursue any prosecutions against corporate entities that might become implicated in unethical actions.’

‘If they were protecting Perabyssos then I’d say they were being patriotic!’ said Straughn after taking a moment to work out the last sentence. ‘Are you thinking of hiring the Code? I heard they chased off a Fed capital ship, I bet an ancient generation rust-bucket would be no match for them!’

Silgoe shook his head. ‘The Code would rob it blind, but they wouldn’t destroy it. We had hopes for the Cosmic State, but they appear to be re-inventing themselves with a modicum of honour, and could not be relied upon for disposal work of this nature.’

‘Who then?’ asked Straughn.

‘There are two main possibilities,’ said Silgoe. ‘First, you may have heard of a subculture known as “griefers.” There are certain individuals who take great pleasure in murder, destruction and humanitarian outrages for own sake. That they have severe psychological disturbance is a given, but they can be surprisingly effective nonetheless. Some are able to operate because of very high financial assets and connections that shield them from legal repercussions. We know how many of them can be reached via the darknet.’

‘They don’t sound like people we want around.’

‘Not normally, but the opportunity to commit mass murder of protected colonists would be sure to attract them. It would have the advantage of requiring no money and being virtually untracable. Some of them would be bound to show up regardless once news got out.’

‘If they are going to come here anyway, let’s hope they go for the... right... target.’ said Straughn. Despite the scrambler, he felt the need for additional deniability about this.

‘A stronger possibility is known as the Kumo Crew,’ said Silgoe. ‘They are a nomadic pirate force who have recently begun setting up bases in the Pegasi sector. They are known to be highly organised and fearsome. With the right inducement and prospect of loot and infamy, I am quite sure a detachment might come here and act for us. They have no fear of either Federation or Empire.’

Straughn thought. The Federation was bound to send an enforcement party; would the Empire really risk war over what was, after all, only a minority on a Federal planet? Even if they did, it seemed likely that the two giants would balance each other. Something needed to tip that balance in their favour.

‘Do it,’ he said.

*

Just realised I’ve broken a rule of thumb from the writing group: Try not to have characters whose names start with the same letter. Well so much for that...

This thriller technique isn’t that easy. This is the second potential cliff-hanger I could have ended a section on, but I can’t because there’s nothing to intersperse it with, or the sections was simply too short! Heh well.

Having to break up the exposition as best I can..

 

[Straylight0]

16.

Commodore Thule paused inside the door of the security compound, and allowed herself a sigh. She had examined herself in the mirror before leaving her office. Grey hair neatly combed and bound, uniform clean and straight, boots and buttons nicely but not excessively polished, spine perfectly aligned despite her age and a decade behind desks, shoulders ready but relaxed. Still, there were times when you still had to allow yourself a moment.

She started across the airfield, wincing at the afternoon sun. Having the HQ down on the surface had been her idea, although of course they maintained a significant presence on the station as well. Being planetside underlined they were not expecting trouble, and thus trouble became less likely. The pilots mixed with the locals, they had better living conditions, they bolstered planetary security and the local economy. Besides, the intelligence reports had said that trouble was more likely from within than without on this posting. Fortunately, that hadn’t happened beyond the occasional bar fight. All in all, it had seemed a civilised and relaxed end to her career, keeping peace and training new cadets.

Thule was too old a soldier to ever have taken this as a given, of course, and now circumstances were proving her right. You should always be ready. She still felt a small pang as she left the forecourt and passed the saluting guards at the main gate, though.

Engines were roaring above. She looked up and saw five ships descending; two vipers, two eagles, and a shuttle carrying the remaining pilot of the scout flight. Polo’s damaged ship had been unable to handle atmosphere and so landed at the space station; her wing-mates had waited until they could return together. Sometimes, you did dodge a bullet.

Thule turned her steps towards a building that was actually smaller than the Federal faculty, but looked bigger. It had started life in the same blocky white style, but had been embellished. Flowering vines flowed along its ridges and spilled over its roofs. Ornate urns in various-hued metals and cleverly patterned ceramics disgorged sprays of colourful flowers, and the walls had been washed in pastel colours to gently accentuate the plant-life. Its borders were marked by lines of low metal studs and statues at the corners. Thule knew that if there was any kind of trouble, those metal studs would suddenly rise to twenty-foot poles and deploy electromagnetic nets between them, while turreted weapons would suddenly spring up from behind those pretty vines. The Empire had more subtlety and budget for its security, but took it just as seriously.

Then, there was the ship parked beside their HQ. Sleek, streamlined, stylish, enamelled a spotless white with a metallic sheen, was an Imperial Clipper. Back next to Thule’s compound was the blocky shoebox-form of a Federal Dropship in general-issue grey.

Thule saluted back to the two guards at the door, whose uniforms were rather more gaudy than hers. Beyond them the entry hall had more potted plants and a pleasant scent of flowers. Murals had been hand-painted on the walls and the seats for waiting were studded leather, not tubular steel. The entry desk was real wood, and a civilian in an elegant dress stood up to greet her. ‘Commodore Thule, welcome to the Imperial enclave. How may we be of service?’ You could entirely miss the two unobtrusive slaves cleaning and polishing if you did not have your eye trained.

There was simply no beating the damn Empire for style, Thule thought. What she said was ‘Good afternoon. I asked the distinguished Consul for an emergency audience, is he available?’

The receptionist nodded. ‘He was honoured to clear his schedule for you. Please follow me.’

Thule knew the way perfectly well and could have got there faster, but a certain degree of protocol had to be observed. The Consul was bending and breaking enough rules for this meeting as it was. She followed the high heels clicking on stairs covered in a thin sim-wood panelling, then padding on a long strip of magenta carpet, until she was shown into his office. The desk was an imported antique, and with its contents probably had a combined age greater than all the people in the spaceport. Behind it was a human-reproduced oil painting of Senator Patreus, which after all the posters in the Federal building, looked odd without a cheeky caption. Holva duelling weapons were mounted either side of it.

Count Bastle, Imperial Consul to Perabyssos, was a middle-aged man with shoulder-length salt-and-pepper hair and a hawk nose but a ready smile. He made a small bow. ‘Greetings Commodore, I would ask how you are, but your face shows great displeasure. Did you have to kiss an especially malodorous corporate backside this morning?’

Thule gave a small bow back. ‘At least I know how to wipe my backside without ringing for a slave.’ The receptionist had disappeared.

Bastle’s smile appeared. ‘Touché! With the ritual insults exchanged, may I offer you a cup of tea? I have a particularly nice blend of one per cent Fujin. I think you would like the roasted variety with a drop of milk from Kobe cattle.’

‘That sounds wonderful, Roger, but I’m not sure we will have time,’ said Thule. ‘What have your sources told you about our interloper?’

Bastle’s smile faded. ‘I just got a message from the First Minister, fawning on me like the roach he is. Apparently it’s a generation ship, and he wants the Empire to guarantee the rights and property of all on this planet. Which we are beholden to do for our own people anyway, of course. The Empire has never recognised any special rights for colony ships.’

‘Whereas the Federation does, but hasn’t amended those laws for centuries because we never thought this situation would arise again,’ said Thule. ‘Frankly, I’m worried what we might do. Our bureaucracy can be as pig-headed as yours, only our leaders don’t have the right to over-rule it.’

Bastle heaved a sigh and leaned on his desk. His face looked, for a moment, much older. ‘How long have we got? Do we even know if there is anyone left alive in the ship?’

‘We’ve now got it on our long-range arrays,’ said Thule. ‘It’s under power and looks like it will assist its deceleration by looping around another two of the outer planets. We estimate eight days or so to arrival. It is astonishingly heavily armed for a generation ship, and thanks to a rogue captain and the system pirates, it’s now hostile. I shall be asking for permission to try communication, but I doubt I’ll get it.’

Bastle looked down at his desk, and spun an ancient fountain pen with his right hand. Then he looked up.

‘I’ll have to go for a personal consultation on this one,’ he said. ‘Protocol demands it. We may well have a military officer taking over, anyway.’

Thule looked up at the painting. Patreus had a stern and proud expression, and Imperial fighters were depicted roaring across the sky behind him. ‘Does it really have to be... him?’

‘You’d prefer a nice cuddly little Princess Aisling*?’ asked Bastle, a trace of his good humour returning. ‘You should look out for that one, mark my words. But no, it has to be our Patron. No other possibility.’

‘What would you guess at his response?’

Bastle closed his eyes for a moment. ‘I wouldn’t like to say. If this does end our pleasant relations here, I want you to know that I will regret it, and always hold you in high regard.’

‘Likewise,’ said Thule.

Bastle opened his eyes again and straightened up. ‘Well, I’ll have the Clipper prepared and by bags packed while I give the minister his emergency meeting. I’d suggest you not do the same because by the time your dropship got to a major system and back, this whole thing would be over.’

‘You’re never going to get tired of that joke, are you?’ snapped Thule.

‘Until free markets and democracy produce better results than autocracy and indentured labour, no,’ said Bastle.

‘We have military Asps you know,’ said Thule. ‘Probably better than yours.’

Bastle’s smile faltered again. ‘I hope you’re not going to need them.’


* pronounced like “Ashlynne”

 

[Straylight0]

17

In the far reaches of a solar system hundreds of light-years from Earth, on the furthest edge of a belt of pulverised rocks in the cold shadow of a lifeless gas giant, deep within the broken hull of a crippled ship, two pirates and a former hostage were waiting to die. Or at least, the two pirates were. The former hostage was chafing at the situation.

Karlon fidgeted again. ‘Never thought I’d be glad to be back in this cell!’ he said. ‘How come the only air-tight door in the ship is on your brig?’

‘I didn’t build the thing.’ Billhook had wedged himself into a corner, and seemed perfectly happy with his bottle of whiskey. He waved it at them; in the glow of the single emergency light, his face was red as blood anyway. ‘You want some? Nobody ought to die shober,’ he slurred.

Lixxe had actually been still for the last few minutes; now she glared at him, the whites of her eyes expanding in the dark smudges of her makeup. ‘If you spew I’ll kill you,’ she hissed.

Karlon winced at the thought of projectile vomit flying about weightless. The air was filthy anyway, and three bodies in here hadn’t improved things. At least two of them hadn’t washed in a long time, and panic didn’t do much. He had been slowly learning to ignore the foetor of the pirate ship, but there was bad and there was worse.

‘Nobody got any stinging in your joints?’ he asked. ‘That would mean the air’s getting out through the blockage in the air duct and we’re getting the bends. If it isn’t, we’ve got time.’

‘Time for what?’ asked Lixxie.

‘Time to plan some way of getting out,’ he said.

‘I hate to point out the obvious, but you just hustled us all in here very fast before the rest of the ship depressurised,’ she told him as if explaining to an idiot.

‘You know what I mean.’

‘Lad's a trier I’ll give him that.’ Billhook waved his other hand, which had his gun in it. ‘If you’re not drinking Lix then why not let me shoot you? Would be quick and give me more time to drink and the kid to make his plans.’

‘Frag you Billhook!’ snapped Lixxie. ‘I’m here to the finish. You couldn’t even hit a barn door with that thing anyway.’

‘Sure I can! See those windows on the door?’ Billhook raised the gun. Karlon flung himself off from the wall towards him, flapping his arms. ‘It’s okay Billhook, stop! We believe you! Don’t shoot!’ There was only one window on the door.

‘Oh alright then.’ The pirate went back to his bottle. Karlon rebounded off the wall near him and drifted backwards, trying to control his breathing. Was that the slow, low burning of carbon dioxide poisoning he could feel, or just panic? How much air did they have anyway? They’d made the class work it out time and time again at school, how long can you survive in a room 3x4x6m etc, and he’d forgotten all of it. It really wasn’t fair.

‘Just calm down Karlon,’ said Lixxie, taking his hand. ‘We’ve all got to die sometime. At least this way is quite elegant. Just think of the three of us slowly freezing and mummifying in our remote tomb!’

‘I’d still rather not,’ muttered Karlon. He fixed his magnetic shoes to the hull near her. After a while, he looked round ‘So, where do you come from then? How did you wind up as a pirate?’

An enormous and artificial grin spread over Lixxie’s mouth, zipping open from one corner to reveal a huge array of teeth, surprisingly white. ‘Why Karlon! A few hours left and you decide to chat me up? You want to burn up the last of the oxygen with me vaulting on your viper?’

‘No, I mean that wouldn’t be bad but but b- b- b- dammit!’ Karlon smacked his fist into the floor, and the clang echoed away through the bulkheads of the dead ship. ‘What makes you so eager to die? When they were shooting us up it was like you didn’t care!’

Black-painted lips closed back over the teeth. ‘Who says I’m the freak? You’ve hardly been out in space at all. A nice stable childhood messes you up, gives you the idea you can live happily ever after. You ought to stare out the window for a bit. It’s cold void out there. Places life can exist are a fraction of a fraction of a fraction of a percent. Life is the accident. It doesn’t belong.’

‘Wouldn’t that make it rather more valuble?’ asked Karlon.

Lixxie shook her head. ‘If it was worth anything to begin with, we’ve spread enough that not even our own weapons could exterminate us. Not that the universe cares. We were killing each other when we were only a few million, now an individual life is nothing. You live with that as a combat pilot and a pirate.’

‘I’m sure you’d still rather not die if you don’t have to, though!’ said Karlon.

‘You don’t get it.’ Lixxie wrapped her arms around herself. ‘The centre of the galaxy is a black hole. A giant rent in reality that just swallows anything, and will eventually devouring everything we have ever known. That is God, that is Science, that is the heart of the universe. It doesn’t care if we know or worship it, it just obliterates. Inevitable death; nothing comes back over that event horizon. It is the only truth, everything else is irrelevant. You must stop fearing it.’

‘Should have warned you not to set her off!’ muttered Billhook.

Karlon shivered. He wondered whether he should hug her, but decided against it. ‘Well I’m still going to stay out of its clutches as long as I can. You have all those crates and ships and things stored around this base, right? So you must have some spacesuits for handling it.’

‘Nope.’ Lixxie looked vaguely pleased.

‘Oh man, why does nobody ever have actual space-suits in space-ships!’ groaned Karlon. ‘How DO you handle it then?’

‘We got limpet drones,’ sulked Lixxie. ‘But you can forget about them, the control computer went bust with the comms array.’

‘Who needs a computer?’ asked Karlon, suddenly feeling absurdly happy. ‘If I can borrow your terminal, I can work them myself. I can access their control code using the standard library.’

Lixxie pulled the small slab of her terminal from a pouch and sent it floating towards him. Karlon grabbed it, clicked its magnetic back to the floor, and hunched over it. A holographic screen appeared as his fingers flashed over the little device, lines of code appearing.

‘You can program drones? Who in the galaxy learns that?’ asked Lixxie.

‘My great-grandfather’s fault,’ said Karlon. ‘He was a space engineer and I thought he was so cool until he started making me learn things like this when I was a kid. “Karlon!” he used to say, “these modern poshos have all their fancy computers and poncy degrees, but they’re always gonna need someone who can unblock a vac-toilet or work a drone when the software crashes.” Then he’d have a rant about how it was all a conspircay and we don’t actually need all the dedicated controllers they sell us. I thought he was so full of biowaste at the time, but if I get back home, I’m going to visit the old folks’ home and let him bend my ear for hours. Ah.’

The hologram flickered, and a rectagular frame appeared. A spotlight appeared in it, illuminating the inside of a hold, and as Karlon typed in more commands, robot arms appeared in the picture, waving about in front of the camera. ‘I’ve got a link,’ he said. ‘Should be able to work all its other functions if I’m patient enough.’

‘What are you going to do with it?’ asked Lixxie. In spite of herself, she sounded impressed.

‘Get me another bottle!’ called Billhook.

‘I haven’t thought that far ahead,’ said Karlon. ‘Any ideas?’

*