Guardian Awakening (14 page)

“Come on, follow me.” He had located a shuttle bay not too far away. The computer had given him the directions.

They cautiously exited the room and proceeded down the corridor. He opened his mind and tried to listen for any Sicceians that may be coming their way as they crept forward. He felt something. There were two guards walking down the corridor from the left. In less than thirty seconds they would be discovered. Tristan looked round for somewhere to hide. It was the worst possible place to be caught. There was nowhere for them to go. Tristan cursed under his breath. The guards would be on them within seconds and their escape would be short-lived. In desperation, with clenched teeth hands balled into fists he lashed out with his mind, mentally hitting them as hard as he could. He felt their thoughts, memories, almost their very essence. He withdrew, ripping and pulling viciously at their consciousness as he did so. It had been hard and fast. His stomach knotted, but he had not lingered long enough to suffer the nausea of the first time.

They heard the guards fall just as they rounded the corner. The two guards were lying in the corridor, their bodies twitching. Tristan was shocked to see there was blood seeping from their ears and noses, foam on their lips as they convulsed silently and died. He heard gasps behind him. The Mylians looked at Tristan in awe while he bent down and took the guards’ guns. One he kept and the other he handed to Da’ren.
 

Fear showed in their faces. Tristan wondered if it were fear of him rather than of discovery.

They passed a bulkhead and turned right down another corridor. After a short while they came to the docking bay. There were several small ships on the deck. They ducked in through the wide hatch. His gaze swept the area, his mind ready for discovery. He held his breath, ready to destroy any mind that became alert to them. Nothing, they hid behind a pile of storage crates.
 

Tristan turned to Da’ren and hissed, “Quickly, which ship would best suit our escape?”

Da’ren hesitated for a moment eyes looking over the assembled ships. “That one.” He had chosen a small, fast freighter, with the main hatch open and the access ramp down. Keeping close to the wall, they moved round towards it.
 

There were several technicians in the area working on two of the small ships. Tristan was not sure he could handle all of them at once. He thought quickly. Any second they would be discovered. He motioned to Da’ren and quietly whispered for him and his comrades to take out the technicians working on the closest ship. They nodded. Tristan lashed out with his mind at the furthest technicians. They crumpled and lay twitching on the deck. The remaining technicians spun round, alarmed, but it was too late; the Mylians were upon them. They were swiftly dispatched. Tristan bolted for the ship Da’ren had selected, closely followed by the Mylians carrying the injured female between them.

Tristan ran up the ramp, half expecting to deal with more Sicceians. He found the ship empty. “Da’ren, you can fly this?”

“Yes, if the computer control system is disabled, otherwise no. It manages everything and requires telepathic control.”

“Right, you take the pilots seat, Da’ren, the rest of you find yourselves seats.” Tristan sat on the right of the pilot seat, noticing the others had not moved. Once he sat, they all selected seats avoiding the one next to him.
 

He accessed the computer, bypassing any restrictions easily. He smiled to himself, he was getting stronger. A warning voice in his head whispered
now don’t be getting cocky, Tristan!
The ship had been fully fuelled and ready to go. He removed the computer interlocks and set the system to manual control. “OK, Da’ren you have full manual control of the ship, please get us out of here.”

Da’ren opened his mouth to say something, but Tristan had already shifted his attention to the main computer. He closed the docking port inner door, vented the atmosphere and opened the outer door.

Da’ren nodded. “Oh! OK, let’s go.”

The ship lifted and turned towards the open port. Da’ren pushed the controls forward the ship shot out into space.

While Tristan concentrated on the main computer he was only vaguely aware of what was going on around him. He heard a faint distant voice. “Sir, they will just shoot and destroy us.”

He took a moment to digest what had been said then shook his head. “No they will not.”

He fought against the artificial intelligence controlling the Sicceian war ship. He had to disable the weapons. He strained against the machine, forcing his way into its core systems. Compared to a simple system computer, the warship’s systems were vast. Gaining access and opening a few doors he had found easy. Full control a different level all together.

He pushed against the barrier. For a short while the machine intelligence resisted. He increased the pressure, and the barrier suddenly folded, like pushing against a jammed door that gives away without warning, he fell through. He gasped, catching his breath.
HE
was the ship. He floated disembodied, a sea of stars around him. Five other ships were there, large, looming black shapes against the field of stars. His hands gripped the arms of the seat. He felt his chest tighten, he had forgotten to breathe. Did he need to? It took an effort to pull back and start breathing again.

The vastness, beauty and… and POWER. He could see the minds controlling the ships systems, the bridge where they were responding to the unscheduled launch of the freighter. It was seductive to be part of such power and knowledge. It pulled at him he wanted more, but a warning went round and round in his mind,
here is madness.
His knuckles were
white now, where he gripped the arms of his seat. Sweat beaded his brow as he pulled back, back, pulling away from the almost total connection.
Just maintain control of the sensors, hide our escape.
 

What was reality? Something, yes something he needed to say but his mind did not work. He needed, wanted the power of the warship, but he must say something? He strained against the power holding him. With a snap he returned to being small, insignificant, limited. He sighed and turned to the pilot next to him. “Da’ren, keep the warship between us and the rest of the fleet.”

“Yes Sir.”

He regained connection with the AI, holding the sensor array, fighting the urge to connect fully with it. He blanked out their small ship; nothing would track them as they moved away from the bulk of the warship.

 
As the distance increased, the connection weakened. He must maintain his contact with the computer. The minutes passed and he could hold on no longer. Sweat ran down his back, his shoulders slumped, a throbbing ache in his head as he strained to hold on.

He heard Da’ren’s voice in the distance. “Sir, we can start the Star Drive now.”

Tristan nodded. “Do it.” He let go and immediately, blackness, he passed out.

Tristan moaned his head throbbed. He took a deep breath, filling his lungs. Had he forgotten to take his pain killers? He was sitting,
fallen asleep on the couch again.
He opened his eyes streaks of light flashed past in front of him rainbow colours in their tails. “Where am I?”
 

A strange voice in an even stranger language answered him. It all came flooding back in a rush and his stomach twisted. He had dreamt he was back in his cottage alone on Exmoor. He wanted desperately to be there. The voice came again his mind focused.
 

“Are you all right, Sir?”

He turned towards the speaker; alien eyes stared back at him. “Yes, yes, I’m fine thank you. How long was I out?”

“About an hour, Sir.”

Tristan sighed. “Da’ren, please call me Tristan, I’m not an officer, drop the Sir.”

Da’ren shifted in his seat and looked uncomfortable. “Yes Si … Tristan.”

The crew had started to relax, relieved to be free. The death of the tortured female while Tristan had been unconscious dampened their sprits and muted any celebration.
 

The next few days were uneventful. One thing irked Tristan; they treated him with undisguised awe. As far as they were concerned he was the Admiral of their little ship.

After four days flight they arrived in the vicinity of a small Mylian colony world. Da’ren shut down the Star Drive. They emerged into normal space. A large spinning chunk of metal appeared directly in front of them. Da’ren pulled hard on the controls. The ship shuddered then lifted away, the object bounced harmlessly along the underside. Drifting, spinning objects were everywhere. Da’ren skilfully avoided large chunks, but small pieces rattled against the hull. He finally brought the ship to a shuddering halt.

Chapter Nine: Dark Days

Da’ren slumped in the pilot’s seat and wiped his brow with a shaking hand. He looked at Tristan. “That should not be here!”

One of the others turned from the view port “It looks like the remains of ships.”

Da’ren was about to engage thrusters to get them away from the debris field when Tristan put a hand on his arm. “Wait.”
 

They all turned questioning faces towards him.

“Something destroyed these ships, so we should stay in the debris field for the moment and check.”

Da’ren looked at him wide eyed. “I hadn’t thought of that.”

“Let me see if I can locate any ship’s nearby.” He shut his eyes and concentrated. Connecting his senses to the freighter’s computer, he scanned the area of space around them. Nothing but drifting rubbish. The sensors were rudimentary compared to the Sicceian warship they escaped from. The debris did not help.
 

“Da’ren, can you nudge us towards the edge of the debris field please? Make us appear to be drifting debris.”

“Yes Sir.” The ship moved in short bursts so as to present as little as possible to any ship that may be nearby. After about six of these nudges Tristan could see beyond the destroyed ships. A large power signature was visible and he turned the optical sensors in that direction. A black shape lay silhouetted against the daylight brightness of the planet. A Sicceian warship.

“The Sicceians are here.” There was a groan behind him.
 

“They must have obtained the colonies location from the crewmen they tortured.” Tristan had been with them long enough to recognise the note of despair in Da’ren’s voice.

Tristan sighed. “How large is this colony?”

“One of our newest ones. Only one small city and outlying villages on the main continent.”

“How long could they hold out against a Sicceian attack?”

“No more than a few days at the most, why?”

Tristan ignored Da’ren’s question. “I don’t think I can access their ship’s computer at this distance, but they are between us and the planet surface so…” Tristan paused, collecting his thoughts.
 

He checked the sensors again “They’re not moving, so they have probably not spotted us yet. Obviously not expecting an attack from space. Their arrogance gives us an advantage. Keep the debris field between them and us and move away from the planet. There is an asteroid belt further out, set course for that. The asteroids will make it difficult for their sensors, hiding us as we traverse the system. We can then come back in the shadow of the planet. Once we are close we can fly round at low altitude and land before they can do anything about it.”

“Good plan, Tristan, let’s hope the colony is still holding out.” Da’ren did everything Tristan suggested.
 

They came round from behind the planet and flew in low, landing quickly, a little way from the main colony. The colony was the size of a large town, signs of battle everywhere with crumbling buildings and smoke rising from many as they flew over. The outlying areas were littered with hastily thrown up earth work defences. Da’ren landed the craft on the edge of a wood in a small clearing.

Tristan felt his pulse race as he stood and made his way to the main hatch. This would be the second alien planet he had ever been to. He was about to start down the ramp when one of the Mylians called to him.

“Tristan, Sir.”

He turned round and had a laser pulse rifle handed to him. “Thanks.” They disembarked and quickly made for the cover of the trees. Once they were safely away from the ship the crew stood looking at him and waiting for orders. Tristan took a deep breath as strange alien woodland scents and smells assailed his nostrils. He looked at the expectant faces in the starlight. He knew as far as they were concerned he was now the leader of their small band.

He could not feel any Sicceians nearby, so under cover of the trees they should be fairly safe from detection.

“Right, let’s see if there are any survivors in the colony.” He led them off, having taken his bearings before they landed.

Skirting round the edge of the wood, they broke cover and ran towards the smoking town. They reached the abandoned outer defences and proceeded to pick their way past empty defensive ditches and ruined defence emplacements. They made slow progress, slipping and sliding in the churned up mud.
 

Tristan felt his chest start to heave with the effort and his breath came in ragged gasps. His companions were having the same issue breathing. He called a halt for a moment so they could recover their breath.

He glanced across at Da’ren, now bent over, hands on his knees. “Da’ren, are we high up here, the air seems rarefied?”

He did not answer immediately, so Tristan waited while he gathered his breath.
 

“Yes, Tristan, we are on a fairly high plateau. It takes a few days to get used to the altitude.”

Tristan waited until everyone had recovered. “Right, OK, is everyone fit to continue?” They all affirmed they were. “Let’s go then.”

The ground flattened out for a few hundred yards, then they came to another defensive line, where they were challenged.
 

There was a momentary silence broken by heavy breathing before Da’ren, gasping for breath, was able to speak. He had been to the colony many times so he and his crew were quickly identified.