(C) copyright 2008 by Steven Sharpe
Two months passed after the ordeal on the planet Cauldra. Three months after their battle with the people from another galaxy. And now, they were moving again.
They had reached Open Cluster 2391 and had set up a small base of sorts from which to operate. Now, the RPN Segin was was outward bound again, with 600 of her 790 crew members aboard. Her ultimate destination was her home, now occupied by the Orion Association, who had forced them into exile. But for now she was making a detour.
Choh Namreh watched the star in the centre of the viewer grow steadily brighter. It was a small red star, located 130 light years from the nearest enemy occupied space. Besides the star, the system also contained two planets. Around one of the planets orbited a ship.
"Any more on it, S'Bath?" he asked, looking away from the viewer.
"Not much," the intelligence officer replied. "Going by its size, I'd say it was either a small freighter, a frigate or a destroyer."
Namreh called battle stations.
By the time they crossed the star system's Lipsey Barrier the bridge was fully manned and the ship was ready for anything...they hoped. Dropping deeper into the star's gravity well the heavy cruiser decelerated to a velocity well below the speed of light while they studied the situation. The encounter with the Feknar had taught them a thing or two.
"A spectral class M0 dwarf star," S'Bath reported. "The gas giant is average for its class with a small ring system and five moons. The other planet is a type E8, habitable by our kind. Gravity 0.76 Standard.. That is all I can do at this point with the passive sensors."
"Do an active scan," ordered Namreh after a pause. "They should be aware of our presence by now."
"Scanning..." said the intelligence officer.
After a moment Tarwan, who was monitoring the scan from his own station, commented, "I'd swear that was a Ras Alhaguean frigate."
"And I'd swear that you were right," said S'Bath. "It's transponder indicates that it is the Polastar, and it is in mothballs."
"Mothballs?" Namreh asked. "What is a first line warship doing in storage out in the middle of unexplored space?"
"I don't know," the intelligence officer replied, "But she's completely shut down, except for one reactor that is barely ticking over for basic power and life support."
"There is no information on the fate of the Polastar in our records, captain," said Tarwan.
"Her flight deck doors are open," observed Namreh, as the image on the viewer started showing more detail.
"What do you make of the planet, S'Bath?" inquired Tarwan.
"It still looks like a type E8. Geologically old, little tectonic activity. Just the way we like them. There also appears to be a shuttle on its surface, directly below the frigate, which is in a synchronous orbit."
"Any sign of intelligent life?" asked Namreh.
"Plenty of life down on the surface but nothing sufficiently advanced to show up on my sensors."
"Take us in," the captain ordered the helm officer. "Put us on top of the Polastar. Maintain battle stations."
The heavy cruiser came to rest a few minutes later in orbit seven kilometers away from the apparently deserted ship.
Shortly thereafter a landing party was dispatched to the frigate, consisting of Namreh, Chok, Lewis and a squad of marines. They all wore space suits, and because of the bulk two shuttles were necessary. Tarwan was left in command of the Segin. Janice Gordon, her first officer, had remained back in OC 2391 as the base commander. While the captain was gone, S'Bath was to scan the planet in search of the frigate's crew.
The shuttles approached the Polastar cautiously, and, even though the symbol of the Ras Alhaguean Navy painted on her hull was unmistakeable, her presence out here was suspicious. Their star charts were outdated and the borders of the Orion Association could be much closer now than what they indicated.
They had not always had such a paranoid view of the unknown. While the Central Field and the Kingdom of Pleione had still existed they had ventured out into open space fearlessly, taunting the unknown. But now it was a different era. The Central Field had been overrun, and the Segin was alone.
Or was she?
With a short blast of their hydrogen jets the shuttles entered the frigate's flight deck.
It was completely dark within the ship and there was no artificial gravity. Floating above the deck, they shone their floodlights around. At the far end of the chamber were parked three shuttles. The control room door was open, and nearby, stained on the bulkhead, their lights picked up the unmistakeable marks of laser burns and dried blood. But there were no corpses.
In their space suits the landing party disembarked from the Segin's shuttles. Namreh, Chok, Lewis and a marine slowly floated across the flight deck to the control room. Entering, they flashed their torches around the room. The controls were off, save for a solitary glowing green light.
"I'll have things going in a minute," Chok said, as he went to work.
He was right, as he always was where anything electrical or mechanical was concerned. The flight deck was soon flooded with light as the controls came to life. The flight deck doors slid closed and the area was pressurized.
After removing his space suit Namreh went out onto the flight deck again and inspected the stains on the bulkhead. He wondered what had happened on this ship, and what had happened to her crew.
He reentered the control room and went over to the exit door which opened into the ship proper.
It slid open slowly. The mechanism was worn.
"How long has she been deactivated, Arny?" Namreh asked.
"Three or four years, I'd say," the engineer replied, shining his torch out into the darkened hall. The air was cool and stale.
They stepped out and faced a map of the frigate's decks on the opposite wall.
"I'm going to the engine room," Chok said, and with that he turned right and headed down the hall.
Namreh turned left and floated up the hall. The rest of the party followed. A moment later they reached a bank of elevators. They hung in mid air before the closed doors, waiting for Chok to turn on the power. Several minutes later the lights came on and seconds after that gravity was restored, and all seventeen men and women crashed to the deck.
"Warn us, next time," Namreh muttered to no in particular as he heaved his bruised body off of the deck. He turned and faced the rest of the party.
"I want this ship completely searched," he said to them. "When you're done, report by intercom to the bridge. That is where Lewis and I will be."
The captain and navigator entered the elevator and went straight up to the bridge. It was a small, cramped room; the Segin's was almost palatial by comparison.
They split up and searched the room: Lewis to the ship's information banks and Namreh to the log. On the Segin both of these were incorporated into the main computer; but on a ship of this size and complexity they would be separate. Namreh found what he was looking for first. The log was contained in a small unit by the communications section.
He set the log playback to the date of the last entry - over four years earlier - and listened.
"...First Officer Spinak reporting. The mutiny has spread through most of the ship, now. We've retreated to the bridge and locked the doors. The captain is dead and there are only nine of us loyal ones left. We've got to escape from the Polastar somehow - only the flight deck is held by the engineer and his mutinous gang. The captain and I never thought that there would be a mutiny when we were planning to desert, but - " There was a pause, then: "They're breaking down the door! This is the end!" In the background, Namreh and Lewis heard a metallic crash...then the unmistakeable sizzle of lasers being fired. There was a scream, a thud, and then the log went dead.
"I guess the mutineers won," Namreh said, looking down. For the first time, he noticed the blood stains on the deck.
"But where is the remainder of the crew? The mutineers?" Lewis wondered. "Down on the planet?"
"Probably, if they survived," Namreh replied. "Do you have the ship's information and telemetry?"
"Yes. The ship is the RANV Polastar, frigate type, Zebron class. Three thousand tonnes, type II fusion reactors, ion warp drive. Capable of a 17 light year Jump. Armed with lasers. Commissioned in May 2085 at the Ras Alhague Naval Shipyards. A pretty basic escort vessel," Robbie concluded.
Namreh nodded absently. His mind was on other things.
Shortly after, the reports started to come in. For the most part the ship was in excellent condition...except for places where the walls were burned and blood stained. Also, the officer's quarters had been ransacked...which was to be expected.
When they returned to the Segin, intelligence officer S'Bath had a report on the planet ready.
Given more time for a detailed study, they had located a cluster of primitive grass huts, huddled around a cooking fire, indicating a settlement. It was located about a half a kilometre from the grounded shuttle. A settlement of that size could not support more than a few dozen inhabitants.
Namreh decided to lead a landing party down to the planet for a more detailed investigation.
The medium shuttle from the RPN Segin landed within a few meters of the Ras Alhaguean shuttle. It was the only decent landing site in the area. The side hatch opened, disgorging Namreh, S'Bath, Peeple, Scud and the inevitable marines. All were armed.
They were parked in a grassy meadow, under a clear, deep blue sky and a dim red sun. There were hills a few kilometers away, in the direction of the settlement.
They went over to the other shuttle and looked it over. It was in poor shape. The blue paint and orange insignia were faded and flaking. Some small animal had made a nest in one of the thruster nozzles. In front of the entry hatch was a crude wooden cross driven into the ground, with flowers growing around its base. Carved into the wood were the words -
The Great Machine. It waits, should we ever need its benevolent aid.
"Sounds almost religious," S'Bath remarked.
Namreh stepped around the cross and pressed a button in the hull by the hatch. The door slid open with a wrenching groan, revealing a dark and dusty interior. The cabin of the shuttle had been stripped clean.
After closing the ship up again they headed for the settlement, following a well-worn path. They left two marines behind to guard the Segin's shuttle.
The path wound its way out of the meadow and through a copse of tree-like plants. They crossed a small stream via a crude bridge and continued walking. They were on their guard, even though thee had been no sign of the mutineers from the Polastar.
The land started to get more broken and irregular. They wee walking along the base of a rocky outcropping when it happened.
"Halt!" said a voice from above. "One move and we will kill."
They froze in their steps. All but the high-strung ship's doctor, Peeple, who jumped and let out a yelp.
There was a twang and a swoosh of displaced air. Peeple fell forward, to lie face down in the sand, an arrow embedded between his shoulder blades.
Namreh saw the doctor die out of the corner of his eye and he felt the anger boil up inside him. But he gritted his teeth and hoped that the others would do likewise.
A man jumped off the top of the outcropping and landed on the ground a meter in front of the captain of the Segin.
He was as tall as the captain, well built and muscular. He was clad in an animal skin and was barefoot. His long hair and bushy beard completely obscured his facial features, save for a set of dark, deeply inset eyes. In his hands he held a bow and arrow, ready to fire.
His eyes scanned the members of the landing party, before they locked onto the cold blue eyes of Choh Namreh.
"Welcome," he said, "To Heaven."
Eight more men leapt off the top of the outcropping and surrounded the offworld party. All were armed with primitive but obviously deadly bows and spears.
Namreh favoured the person who was apparently the leader with a murderous glare, but he did not move, as he and the rest of his group were stripped of their lasers and communicators.
The man spoke again.
"You are Pleionese. We were expecting Orion bastards."
"You murdered one of my officers," Namreh started.
"Who are you?" the man interrupted.
Namreh thought rapidly. It would be to their advantage to cooperate with these people - to a point.
"Captain Choh Namreh of the RPN Segin."
"Ah, the Segin. I should have known as soon as I saw your uniforms." He paused. "Come. Let us go to our village."
They set off down the path again, leaving Peeple's body where it lay.
"So, the Orion Association was actually defeated by the Central Field," he said as they walked.
"No, it didn't," Namreh replied. "Orion overran the Field and we on the Segin deserted when everything collapsed."
The man regarded him with those strange dark eyes.
"That is a good story, Captain, but it is not original enough. It is obvious that the Field is still solvent, and that you are here to arrest us and return us to Ras Alhague...against God's Almighty Will."
"For what reason, Mister - ?"
"I am Sorl, Chief Engineer of the RANV Polastar."
Namreh's suspicions were confirmed.
"Why should you return us to Ras Alhague?" Sorl laughed softly. "You know the answer better than I do. To hold us on charges of desertion - "
"You're all wrong, you bloody mutineer," Namreh spat.
"Ah, you have been listening to the Polastar's log, so there is another charge against us. But, may I inform you, captain, that it is God's will that we remain here for all time, and here we shall stay. You will never remove us."
"What makes you so sure that the Central Field is still in existence?"
"Your uniforms are quite new; they exhibit no signs of wear, as they would if you had not visited a supply base for a long time. Also, you are all obviously well fad. Without external supplies, how could that be?"
The Segin is a much larger and better outfitted ship than the Polastar," replied Namreh. "She was designed as a commerce raider and is completely self supporting. We are - "
"You are being entirely unreasonable, Namreh," Sorl said stubbornly. "God has warned me of your real mission and you cannot fool Him. We have had time to prepare and are ready for you."
He's a raving maniac, Namreh thought. There will be no way of getting through to him. But, he had to continue to try.
The path made a sharp turn around the rock outcropping and suddenly they were in the village. It consisted of a sorry collection of huts, as S'Bath had reported. Women and small children were huddled around a fire. One of the women held a crying baby. The children were filthy and the women, though fairly young, were tired and worn in appearance. The same could be said for the men who surrounded them. But, no matter what their appearance, they all regarded the offworlders with hostile expressions.
"His warning was well founded, as it always is," Sorl said to them, stopping. "And here they are, come to return us to Ras Alhague."
"These people are Pleionese," one of the women said, "Not Orion bastards."
"Yes, the Central Field has survived; but their intentions are the same."
"The Central Field is dead," Scud spoke up, "But with no thanks to you."
The engineer spun around and faced the communications officer. He levelled the bow, the arrow pointing at Scud's heart.
"Nothing could help the Central Field against the Mintakans," Namreh said quickly. "The only thing to do if you wished to survive was to desert."
"You stick to your guns, captain," Sorl said, lowering his bow. "But it is no use. He sees through your lies, and He has confided in me." Sorl's eyes burned feverishly. "Every night after sunset, before laying our heads down to sleep, we look up into the sky to pay homage to the Polastar, which God has left for us, should we ever need its services."
"Last night," another of the women said reverently, "We saw your ship in the sky beside ours."
"It was God's warning to us," another man said.
"We heeded the warning, we captured you, and now we shall reap the reward."
"Reward?" Namreh repeated. "One of my men is already dead. You will pay for that."
"Perhaps I will," Sorl replied, returning Namreh's deadly stare, "But not before you die. For that is God's will: to vanquish all of the heathen pigs who try to stand in the way of the destiny of his disciples. You cannot stop us," he continued, his voice rising. "We shall destroy you, as we destroyed the God-scorning crew of the Polastar, when they laughed at us! His anger was all engulfing at the sound of their laughter! As our reward for killing them, God freed us from the unclean Polastar, and showed us the way to peace and joy in Heaven."
"If you let us go, we will leave you alone - " Namreh offered.
"But you will not. You will return - or you will send others - to harass us or to try to take us away. Now that you have found us, there will be no lasting peace. We are doomed, captain; but if we are then so are you." Sorl turned to the man holding the captured weapons. "We have no need for them. Destroy them."
The lasers and communicators were tossed into the fire.
"We have talked enough," the engineer from the Polastar said. "It is time for God's reward: the hunt."
The captors murmured excitedly.
"The hunt - ?" Scud asked.
"It is God's will," Sorl said. "We shall free you; then, in ten minutes we shall follow. We will hunt you down like animals, and kill you like the vermin that you are."
He smiled a wolfish smile.
"That constitutes mass murder," S'Bath said. "You already have one death to answer for."
"What is murder, when God deems it necessary?" Sorl asked. He raised his bow again. "Or you can die here, without a fight. You have ten minutes."
Namreh stared at him, hardly believing his ears. Was this fanatic serious?
Sorl stepped forward, his arrow pointed at Namreh's heart. The other party members watched them intently.
Namreh spun around.
"Come on," he said, and strode away. The others followed.
When they were out of sight of the camp, Namreh stopped.
"There's no way we can reach the shuttle in the time remaining," he said. "Nor can we stay here for long. That man is insane and he's brought the others down to the point where they may as well be insane, too. They're taking this thing seriously, so we had better, too.
"So, what we're going to do is split up. That way, we'll be less vulnerable. Then, we each make our way back to the shuttle via a roundabout route. Now, let's get a move on."
He gave no one a chance to speak, though he could see the looks of protest in their eyes.
Reluctantly, they scattered.
"And good luck," he half said to himself as the lat of them disappeared. He wondered if he would ever see them again.
Then he set off himself, turning off the path and into the bushes to the left.
He was alone. His objective was the Segin's shuttle; but he could not head for it directly. The mutineers would be expecting that. So, he intended to circle back around the village, cut across the hilly ground and come down on the far side of the ship.
It was difficult going, off the beaten path. The ground was sandy and rock strewn, but hardy, leathery leafed bushes still managed to grow in profusion. Namreh found that it was all but impossible to travel silently. After several minutes he was soaked with sweat and caked with sand and dust.
The ten minutes had to be up by now, surely. Unfortunately they had also taken his chrono. He paused uneasily before moving on, this time at a slower pace, and more cautiously.
He caught a glimpse of a hut some meters away to his left. He was too close for safety. More wary than ever, he edged away.
Some distance behind him he heard a twig snap. He stopped dead and listened. No more telltale noises but there was no doubt in his mind now that he was being followed.
He looked down at his feet and saw the impressions in the sand that he was leaving. No wonder that Sorl had been so confident about getting them. There was no foreseeable way to escape the sand and he could not afford to spend valuable time in trying to cover his tracks. So, he continued on, every minute expecting to feel an arrow embed itself between his shoulder blades.
His mind kept wandering back in time, to the sight of Peeple lying face down in the dust, downed by Sorl's arrow. He had been the Segin's chief medical officer for over a decade. Namreh had never been particularly fond of the high-strung doctor, but he had been one of his officers.
If I survive, Namreh thought, I will get Sorl...
He could feel the person following him getting closer, but he dared go no faster. Then, he broke out of the underbrush and found himself on a rock ledge overlooking the stream that they had crossed earlier. At this point, he noted, it had broadened out into a pool, dark and still, with another outcropping on the other side, about eight meters away.
Namreh had an idea.
He sat down on the edge of the ledge, his legs hanging over the water; then, he slowly lowered himself in.
The water was cold and he went into it as far up as his neck before his feet touched the bottom. He hid under the overhanging ledge, and waited for the hunter.
Within minutes he heard the swish of bare feet on the rock over his head, accompanied by heavy breathing - almost panting. The hunter stopped for a moment. Namreh held his breath. Then there was a blur in front of him, as the hunter dove into the water. Namreh took a quick breath and ducked under the water's surface.
Underwater, he could hear the hunter swimming away from him. Seconds passed. Namreh's lungs started to ache. The sounds of swimming stopped, replaced by a rubbing or scraping sound. Finally there was silence. Namreh waited for as long as he could, before surfacing again to inhale gasping draughts of air. He looked across the pool. The long haired figure of his hunter was just disappearing into the bushes on the far side.
Namreh moved quickly, because he knew that the hunter would return as soon as he realised that there were no tracks or wet footprints in the sand. The captain of the Segin swam across the pond, encumbered by his uniform. Under the ledge on the far side the water was only waist deep. That suited him.
A moment later he heard the footsteps again. Another pause, and then his pursuer jumped into the water less than a half meter in front of Namreh. Namreh lunged, grabbed him in a stranglehold and plunged his purser's head under the water. The mutineer struggled, but Namreh was by far the stronger, because he was a new offworlder from a place where the gravity was considerably stronger. After a few minutes the struggling weakened and then finally ceased. The body went limp.
Namreh hauled his victim up and took at look at his hunter.
It was with a jolt of surprise that he saw that he had just drowned one of the women.
He felt no remorse, though, as he removed from her body her bow, arrows and a long bone knife. Everything was wet and he had never used such primitive weapons, but knew that they were effective. Then, he let go of her body and let it drift away. He climbed slowly out of the water, and, with his new bow and quiver of arrows slung over his shoulder and the knife stuck in the belt of his pants, set off into the bush.
Several hours later he lay on a sandstone ledge, looking over the edge cautiously. It was not unlike the place where they had been ambushed; only here there was no path, only a grassy clearing with trees growing in the background. Namreh had managed to circle around behind the village and cut through the hills. Now, he was on the edge of the rocky zone by the meadow. Though the dim red sun was now low on the horizon and the air was rapidly cooling, the sandstone was still pleasantly warm. He ached all over, his clothes were in shreds and his skin scraped, cut and bruised. He badly wanted to sleep.
Then, he saw a movement on the ground below. Alert now, he rested his hand on the bow at his side, and watched.
A man walked warily across the grass and stopped directly below Namreh. It was Sorl. The beard was unmistakeable.
He seemed to be regarding something off in the bushes. Namreh followed his gaze, and saw one of his marines, moving slowly through the trees, his back to them.
Sorl raised his cocked bow and took careful aim. Namreh gathered his feet beneath him and jumped.
He landed on top of Sorl and they went sprawling to the ground as the arrow shot off harmlessly into the treetops. Namreh thought he had him, but Sorl was tough and he fought viciously with his bare hands, as they went rolling across the grass. But the Ras Alhaguean's muscles had become used to this planet's lower gravity over the years, while Namreh's were conditioned to the Pleionese standard. Gradually the captain gained on him, until he was on top of Sorl, pummelling him with his fists.
"Sorl!"
Instinctively, at the sound of the new voice, Namreh rolled to one side, off the mutineer, as he heard the whish of an arrow past his ear. He leapt to his feet and charged at the newcomer, who was still holding his expended bow in the firing position, a look of stark surprise on his face. He hit him with a flying tackle, sending them both careening into the outcropping.
There was a sickening crunch, as the mutineer's head split open against the sandstone.
Namreh let go, and straightened up. The man was obviously dead. He turned to face Sorl again, and saw that that fight was over, as well.
The arrow had missed its intended target by millimetres; instead, it had embedded itself in Sorl's neck, severing his jugular.
Namreh sighed, and felt the energy drain out of him. Sorl was dead. He had his revenge. But it was a hollow, empty victory that gave him no satisfaction. Peeple was still dead. No amount of revenge would change that.
He turned about and started to walk back to the shuttle.