Alien Chronicles 3 - The Crystal Eye (53 page)

Israi flicked out her tongue. She did not understand, but she had no intention of sitting here in orbit while Ampris got away.

“Go after them,” she commanded. “Now. Contact Shrazhak Ohr and inform them of what is headed their way.”

The captain turned away from her and passed the order. Suddenly the calm, almost lazy atmosphere of the bridge changed to something crisp and efficient. Another ensign, also in new uniform, came and showed the Imperial Mother to her seat. She was located at the center of the bridge, almost in line with the captain. Her chair was taller than his, was much more elaborate, and was fitted with its own communications link and a master weaponry control.

Israi allowed the ensign to show her how to fasten her safety restraints. By then the ship was moving out of orbit, the main screen off again until they were on their way. When it came back on, it showed her a simulacrum of space as they slid past Viisymel’s moon and headed into the system. On an upper corner of the screen, however, the scanner grid showing the direction of the abiru ships continued to be displayed.

“We can catch up with them in a day’s time,” the captain informed her. “Or in four hours. It depends on your majesty’s pleasure.”

She glared at him, deciding he was a fool. “How far are they from the station?”

“Four hours.”

“Then get us there quickly. We do not want them to get away!”

He smiled. “I assure you, majesty, that they can’t get away. If they attempt to jump, the station will direct them straight into the jaws of the fleet, which is waiting at the first connective. Then they will be—”

“And what if they are up to something else?” she demanded, tired of his smug assurances.

“Such as what, majesty?”

“Have you made contact with the station yet?”

“No answer, sir. Uh, I mean, majesty,” the communications officer replied nervously.

Israi had the fleeting thought that perhaps as Supreme Leader she should occasionally train with her crew so that they would be used to her presence.

“Something is wrong,” she said, wondering what Ampris was up to. “We should be able to talk to the station.”

“It is probably a malfunction in the station’s communication equipment,” he said. “They’ve had a lot of malfunctions lately.”

But Israi refused to be reassured.

Her ship picked up speed. The four hours of travel time passed with agonizing slowness. No matter what the communications officer tried, the station did not answer his hails. “Perhaps they heard about the plague,” he guessed at last. “I was stationed there for a while. We used to listen to Viisymel news. They could have picked up a vidcast and panicked. It’s the only reason I can think of for them to stay off-line this way.”

“What are you up to, Ampris?” murmured Israi, trying to figure out how Ampris thought. She knew the wily Aaroun must be up to another trick, but what? Did the slaves not understand that Tanvek Ohr was their only chance to escape out-of-system? Shrazhak Ohr’s single working jump gate connected only to the coordinate where the fleet now waited.

“Coming into range now,” the captain informed her.

Startled from her thoughts, Israi sat up straight in her chair and stared at the image of the station now coming on-screen. Shrazhak Ohr was a long, metal cylinder, suspended vertically, with docking bays encircling its top.

“Wait!” the captain said, suddenly leaning forward. “Look at that.”

Israi stared at the screen without understanding. “What?”

“The jump gate is open!” the captain said.

“Of course it is, if they are going through,” Israi said impatiently.

“No, majesty!” he said, pointing. “The other gate. The
old
gate. The one that’s not supposed to work.”

At the navigations console, the Zrhel threw back his head, dropping feathers, and began to squawk in what passed for laughter among his people.

“Belay that,” the captain ordered, but the Zrhel cackled and squawked without heeding him until someone hit him with a stun-stick across the back.

Israi stared at the screen, unable to believe what she was seeing. Yet in an instant, her mind had grasped everything. For years, the jump gate to Ruu-113 had been declared inoperable, but that must have been a lie. The Zrheli engineers had indeed sabotaged it, as had been suspected off and on, and now they were opening it for Ampris. Not for the Viis, who owned Ruu-113 and who were in dire need of its resources, but for a rabble of worthless slaves who thought they could defy the empire.

“No!” Israi screamed, furious that Ampris had somehow accomplished what Israi and her predecessors could not. “She will not have it! Captain, close in and fire at them.”

“But, majesty, we’re too close to the station. If we hit it—”

“The traitors are giving them Ruu-one-one-three!” she shouted. “Stop them. Even if you have to destroy the station, you must stop them now!”

On board the last cargo ship in the convoy, Ampris stared at the Zrhel female on-screen. Through a side port in the nose of the cargo ship they could all see the jump gate looming ahead. Its accelerator rings swirled in a dizzying array of colors, ever widening as it spread itself into position.

“Switch your piloting to station control,” the Zrhel operative said crisply. “All ships, comply.”

Over the speakers, the various ships acknowledged the order. The pilot of Ampris’s ship was the last to call in. He was a rangy Aaroun with striped fur and a brown mask across his eyes similar to Ampris’s. Before their departure from Viisymel, he had been a shuttle mechanic. Now he was sweating his way through trying to navigate this unwieldy ship into position.

A light flashed on the console in front of him, and he sagged with relief. “It’s engaged,” he said in disbelief. “I didn’t think I could get it right.”

The Zrhel seemed to have heard him over the open channel. She opened her beak, her eyes gleaming fiercely. “Miracles happen every day,” she said. “Let us do the work now.”

Ahead of them the swirling colors inside the jump gate opened to reveal the vortex itself. Ampris tried to look at it, but found it hurt her eyes. It seemed to be pulling her in, and she had to blink and look away.

Beside her, Elrabin stared with his mouth open. Velia put her hands over her eyes, and Jobul’s fingers found Ampris’s pulse.

“I’m fine,” she said impatiently, but he went on with what he was doing.

“Ampris,” the Zrhel said from the viewscreen.

“Yes?” Ampris replied immediately, managing to get her wrist away from Jobul.

“Timing is critical for passing through the gate. We have programmed it to pulse open for a limited span of time only. Pursuit ships are within range. Do you understand?”

Ampris glanced at the pilot, who sat upright with a curse. Elrabin was looking around wildly as though trying to remember which control he was supposed to operate. Finally Velia reached across him and flipped on the scanners.

A small screen in front of Elrabin showed a single ship, closing fast. He yelped. “They’re right on top of us!”

Ampris turned her attention back to the Zrhel. “We understand,” she said.

“You must go in one at a time,” the Zrhel said. “If anyone panics and attempts to jump line, you will destroy station control, and the gate will malfunction. It is not a question of the number of things that can go through at the same time. It is a question of mass. Your ships are each very large.”

“Understood,” Ampris said. Her mouth was suddenly dry, and she glanced at the scanners again. At the front of the line, the lead cargo ship entered the vortex and was suddenly sucked from sight. Ampris’s heart jumped. One through. One free.

“When the gate starts to close, even if you are not all through, no ship must attempt to enter,” the Zrhel said. “We have set the gate to destroy itself by collapsing in on its own matrix. This will prevent the Viis from ever reaching you.”

Gratitude filled Ampris. She smiled at the screen. “You have done far more than we could have hoped for. Thank you for your assistance.”

The Zrhel nodded. “It is now time for us to ask you for a favor in exchange.”

Elrabin glanced up in alarm. “What now?” he muttered.

“Of course,” Ampris said to the Zrhel without hesitation. “Name it.”

The Zrhel seemed to hesitate. A feather dropped off her head, floating to the desk in front of her. “Our families,” she said, her voice less harsh than before. “We commandeered a few escape pods and maintenance shuttles when we took over the top of the station. We believe we can hold the Viis personnel prisoner long enough to get our families off the station. But these craft lack sufficient power and speed to enter the gate, even under station piloting control. Will your ship tow them through?”

“Of course,” Ampris said.

“I don’t know how to use the tractor,” the pilot said, throwing up his hands.

Ampris looked at the Zrhel. “Can you give us instructions?”

The engineer nodded her head, shedding more feathers. “One moment while I call up your ship’s manual.”

“Hey,” Elrabin said. “This Viis ship is coming right up on our tailpipe.”

The Zrhel said, “We have identified the pursuit ship from its call sign codes. It is the Kaa’s warship,
Imperial
.”

Silence filled the cramped flight deck while everyone stared at one another.

“Israi,” Ampris said. She curled her hand around the Eye of Clarity, feeling it pulse warmly against her palm. “She is staying with this to the end.”

“Going to be the end of
us,
see?” Elrabin said nervously, his ears swiveling back and forth. “I’m looking at this light that just came on. It means they got weapons locked or something, right?”

“They are not as close as they appear,” the Zrhel assured them. “Just coming into range now. They will wait until they are closer, to make sure their weapons do not hit the station. Please, Ampris. Our favor.”

“Yes,” Ampris said, tearing her attention from the approaching warship.

“We are ejecting our small craft now. Stand by to receive instructions via computer linkup.”

Lights lit up across the console in front of the pilot, who sat there helplessly, shaking his head.

From the side port, Ampris could see the escape pods bobbing forth from the hatches. She wondered how the Zrheli had managed to take over control of the station, even temporarily, and supposed she might never hear the story.

Her gaze met the Zrhel’s on-screen. “And what about you?” she asked. “Are you not going to come? You said the gate was programmed.”

“The Viis could break out at any time and override our programming,” the engineer replied. “It is better that we keep a skeleton crew in place.”

Ampris felt her throat choke up. She knew what the engineer was saying. The Zrhel in front of her would never live to see another day. “You are very brave,” Ampris said, “and I salute you.”

The Zrhel opened her beak, and her fierce eyes softened for a moment. “Honor our memory by keeping the sacred places on Ruu-one-one-three protected.”

“I will,” Ampris promised.

Their eyes met and locked, communicating what words would have been inadequate to express.

“I have a young son,” the Zrhel said. “His name is Preicet.”

“I’ll find him,” Ampris promised her. “I have young sons too.”

“Be well, Ampris,” the Zrhel said. “Prosper in freedom.”

Israi sat on the edge of her seat, straining against her safety restraints. “Faster! Closer!” she commanded. “Another ship has gone through.”

“We’ll pursue them through the gate, majesty,” the captain said. He had lost his air of smugness and now looked grim and harried. “Helm, slow to quarter speed.”

“No, do not slow down!” Israi commanded. “We must fire on them now.”

“Majesty, if we fire weapons, we will destroy the station,” he said.

“We do not care as long as they are stopped.”

“Destroying the station will destroy the gate!” he said in exasperation, glaring back at her.

She blinked, startled by his defiance. Reluctantly she saw the wisdom in his words. “But they are all getting away. Only one ship is left, the one pulling the debris with it.”

“Those pods, captain,” said someone. “Has to be the traitors from the station.”

“Or Viis personnel who have been jettisoned by the traitors,” the captain said.

Israi did not care what the escape pods contained. She wanted Ampris and she was about to lose her. “They must not get away.”

“No, majesty,” the captain agreed. “No one is going to escape. I’m calling the rest of the fleet in. We’re all going to go through that gate after them.”

Israi’s head was spinning as they closed in on the final ship in the line. Ruu-113 was almost considered a fable. She’d never believed in it herself, never believed it would be accessible again, yet suddenly here was the gate, open before her. All she had to do was enter. Her beleaguered Viisymel was saved after all. It could recover by drawing on Ruu-113’s limitless resources. It would thrive once again, and her name would go into the Book of Greats.

“Captain!” shouted a crew member in warning.

“I see it,” the captain said. “Slow engines.”

“What are you doing?” Israi screamed at him. “We must follow!”

“Majesty, the gate is closing,” the captain said patiently. “We can’t follow.”

“Closing!” She glared at the screen and saw the accelerator rings moving into position. The last abiru ship, with its flotsam of pods and maintenance shuttles bobbing behind it, was now entering the vortex.

They
were
getting away. Israi’s rill stiffened. Ruu-113 belonged to
her,
not to Ampris and her rabble.

“Stop them!” Israi commanded.

“Majesty, we cannot.”

She glared at the captain, whose rill began to redden. “Go after them!”

“The gate is closing,” he protested. “We’ll be caught in the collapsing matrix.”

“You are a coward!” she shouted. “We relieve you of command! You!” She pointed at the helmsman. “Send us forward. Now!”

“Belay that order,” the captain said, and the helmsman obeyed him.

Israi could not believe they would defy her. She flung off her safety restraint and hurled herself at the console. The Zrhel navigator was laughing there, his eyes quite mad.