“Doesn’t make any sense,” Kril muttered. “There has to be more to the message.”
“ZZ-Designates often find themselves operating under less than ideal conditions for long-range communication,” another officer suggested thoughtfully. “Obviously this one did not have time to complete its report and intends to do so at some time in the near future.”
Kril repeated the cryptic line to himself. “The last Starfighter . . . What could the rest of it be?”
“The last Starfighter . . .” Xur declared portentously into the resulting silence, “. . . is dead! That’s the message! There was one on that ship fleeing Rylos. As ordered, the ZZ-Designate took care of it. The last Starfighter is dead! The last suggestion of a threat has been terminated. There is nothing to stop us now.” He turned wild eyes on Kril. “No longer any reason for this display of excessive caution, Commander. We have wasted too much time already. Full sublight speed. On to Rylos!”
Kril found himself hesitating only momentarily. Xur’s interpretation of the message seemed so natural, so correct, that truly there was no reason any longer to hesitate. He gestured to communications and engineering.
One elderly officer spoke from his station. “Shouldn’t we do a follow-up on this message, sir, to seek positive confirmation?”
“By all means,” Kril agreed, “but the time-delay between here and this backward world where the message originates would keep us waiting unconscionably long. We do not want to give the Rylans any cause for hope, much less time to strengthen their energy shield. This close, it could destroy our engines if reactivated. For a change, Xur makes good sense. By all means put through a request for clarification of the remainder of the message and report to me when it comes in. But I will not delay longer for a formality.”
“As you wish, Commander.” The elderly officer moved to comply with the directive, disquiet nagging the back of his mind.
Alex shifted impatiently in his seat, itching for the fight to begin while aware that Grig would not take them out until just the right moment. Something massive and dark appeared on his battle screen and he stopped squirming.
“The command ship.”
“Yes, that’s it,” Grig said. “Not as well-screened as I expected. Most of their attending fighters are well forward, moving in what amounts to review formation. It’s almost as if they’re on parade. And why not? There’s nothing left to threaten them, is there?”
Alex smiled as Grig activated the gunstar’s oversized engines. Slowly they drifted out of the crater under minimum power as the command ship lumbered majestically past.
A large opaque blister was clearly visible against the smooth metal surface of the massive vessel.
Grig pointed it out immediately. “There, Alex. At the far end. The fighter command center.”
“I see it.” Alex tried to push himself back into the yielding cushion of the gunnery chair. He strove to blank his mind of everything but the target on the screen, just as he did when he was playing the game back home.
Grig glanced back and up. “Good luck, Starfighter. The League expects every being to do his or her or its best today.”
It made Alex smile, exactly as Grig had intended. “Thanks, Grig. For everything.”
“For what? I haven’t given you a thing, Alex.”
“You’ve given me confidence, insight, and a feeling that maybe I’ve grown up a little out here. For starters.”
The Navigator/Monitor looked away, embarrassed. “Those qualities were in you all the time, Alex. I merely helped them rise to the surface, just as you have risen to the occasion.”
“You’re a good man, Grig, even if you aren’t a man.”
“The term is relative, Alex. It translates well. As does your friendship.”
Alex let that warm thought flow over him as Grig turned his attention to the ship’s systems. The Starfighter’s gaze settled on Maggie’s picture, resting nearby. So far away. She was so impossibly far away.
And what was he doing here, a kid with SAT scores barely above average and grades pulled down by lack of sleep and study time? How the hell had he ended up in this position, with so much riding on an ability he’d perfected while playing at it in his spare time?
Something Mr. Solomon, his history teacher, had said in class came back to him now. “It’s always been a matter of debate as to whether great men make history or the sweep of historical events makes great men.”
“Life support, check,” Grig was murmuring.
“Fire control guidance, check,” Alex declared.
“Emergency backup systems, check.”
“Weaponry activated, check.”
“Propulsion, check,” said Grig as the gunstar suddenly erupted from the surface of the asteroid.
“Let’s go!” Alex shouted, unable to contain the excitement he’d kept bottled up inside him ever since they’d left Rylos. It was for real now. For real and forever.
Long time, forever. He tried not to think about it, tried not to think about dying. If you got philosophical during the game, it would eat your quarter. More than his quarter at stake now. Metaphysics versus reality.
He concentrated instead on the shape looming steadily larger on his battle screen. One chance. Their surprise would probably give him one chance to take out the fighter command center before the Ko-Dan recovered. The game only gave you one chance.
The universe no longer existed. There was only the image on the screen. He blotted out everything else.
Alarms sprang to life within the command chamber of the flagship as a detection officer announced, “Unaccounted for craft in central formation.”
“What is it?” Kril turned instantly toward the detection station, trying to divide his attention between it and the main screen. “Adjust sensors to track.” The view forward blurred momentarily as input was shifted.
“Tracking,” announced an officer.
“Identification.”
“Not possible yet, Commander. It’s moving too fast for an accurate reading . . . wait; first generation computer image is going up.” A faint outline appeared on the screen.
Xur recognized it immediately. “A gunstar . . . that’s impossible!”
Kril turned angrily. “So: The last Starfighter is dead. I suppose cargo pilots are flying that?”
“It’s conceivable,” Xur snapped back at him. “If one ship remained operational but all the pilots had been killed in our attack . . .”
“Whoever’s on board that ship knows how to handle it,” said Kril. “Those aren’t amateurs coming at us. Amateurs would have been detected long before this. How they slipped past our fighters I can’t imagine, but it wasn’t by luck and it wasn’t by accident. As for myself . . .” He glanced toward the head of bridge security. “I’m sick of dealing with amateurs. This farce has gone on long enough. Seize him!”
A towering Ko-Dan officer advanced eagerly toward Xur, who activated his scepter and aimed it at the alien. The Ko-Dan officer halted. Xur backed toward the doorway.
“How dare you? I’m the Emperor of Rylos, by decree from your own Emperor! I command you to . . .”
“You command nothing. This fleet is now on battle standby. I take no orders from this point on from anyone except the Imperial War Staff. It is my opinion that you constitute a danger to the stability and effectiveness of my crew, Xur. Your demented ranting is detrimental to their temperament. I won’t have that during a combat situation.”
As Xur reached the heavy doors leading to the first corridor beyond, they parted, to reveal not a path of retreat but additional security personnel. They promptly grabbed him from behind and removed the deadly scepter from his grasp.
“You’ll pay for this,” Xur sputtered. “You’ll pay with your lives! All of you!”
Kril turned away in disgust. “Get the ‘Emperor’ out of my sight. Lock him up until I have time to decide what to do with him.” He dismissed Xur completely from his thoughts as he turned back to face the main screen. It clearly showed the
gunstar approaching at incredible speed. “All defensive systems lock on and destroy the intruder!”
Lights brighter than the distant stars suddenly filled the void around the charging vessel. Alex thought the display was beautiful, like a laser show at a rock concert. All he needed to make the dizzying attack Grig was conducting complete was a good tape of AC/DC or Styx or Def Lepard. Although even if he happened to have one along, he couldn’t have done much more than stare at it. He didn’t think gunstars were equipped with cassette decks.
The eruption of defensive fire from the command ship was so lovely he forgot to be afraid.
“Three milliparts to strike zone, Alex. Don’t miss. We won’t get another unopposed pass.”
Alex noted the explosions and beams of deadly energy lighting space all around them and occasionally rocking the ship as the gunstar’s defensive screens took the brunt of the fire.
“This is unopposed?”
“Remember what I said; everything is relative.”
“Don’t worry. I’m ready.”
“Two milliparts. Wait until you’re sure,” Grig warned him.
Then the command blister was in the center of Alex’s floating battle screen and it was so much like the game back home that he almost, but not quite, relaxed. His fingers moved quickly, instinctively over the fire controls. He was no longer concerned. He’d had plenty of practice.
“Now, Alex!” Grig shouted, afraid the moment would pass. Even as he spoke the gunstar’s weapons systems fired simultaneously at the command ship as Alex threw everything the powerful little vessel possessed at the target. Flaming gas burst from the surface of the blister, enveloping it completely.
“Got it!” Alex yelled as he continued to pour fire into the flagship.
“No time to finish it off now, Alex. The rest of the armada’s nearly to Rylos.” But Alex continued to attack until Grig wrenched them out of range.
The crew of the command ship fought to brace themselves as the big flagship shook from the after-explosions triggered by the devastating attack. The sub-officer standing behind Xur was thrown to the deck. Xur kept his balance, threw himself on the unsteady guard in front of him and regained control of his scepter. As both guards tried to recover they lost their heads to the deadly beam of energy generated by the staff.
Xur vanished into a nearby tunnel, but his destination was revealed by a light that began flashing on a nearby wall panel. The third guard, who’d been temporarily dazed after being knocked against a wall, noted the flashing telltale and staggered to a communications module to report.
“Xur has taken an escape pod and has fled the ship. Repeat, the prisoner Xur has taken an escape pod and has fled the ship!”
The information was relayed to the bridge and was subsumed in the flood of damage reports. Xur’s escape troubled Kril, but he had little time to deal with the flight of a single obstreperous Rylan.
He still found enough time to issue a long overdue order. “Tell the proper agencies to seek and destroy Xur.”
The officer recording the directive looked thoughtful. “I could order a ship or two out of the middle squadron. They would locate and finish off the escape pod in a few moments.”
“No!” Kril steadied himself as still another explosion rocked the great ship. “There’s a gunstar loose out there with a Starfighter behind its firepower, or haven’t you noted that as yet? That is an unpredictable element. There is no room in our plan of assault for unpredictable elements. It must be dealt with to the exclusion of everything else, and instantly.”
“Yes, Commander,” said the apologetic officer.
Kril whirled to face communications. “Alert all squadron commanders. Tell them what has happened here. All units to function to . . .”
The communications officer replied sorrowfully. “The fighter command blister is gone, Commander. Completely gone. We have no way to direct our fighters.”
Kril growled something so vile that even under the present desperate circumstances his subordinates were shocked.
“Look at them,” Alex said excitedly as they came within visual pickup range of the rearmost squadron of Ko-Dan fighters. “They don’t know we’re here. They don’t know they’ve been attacked yet!”
“They will know soon enough,” Grig said somberly. “We have only moments before the Ko-Dan patch through from the flagship on secondary communications equipment. We must make the most of them.”
“Don’t worry.” Alex readied himself. “I know what to do. After all, I’ve been recruited by the League to . . .”
“Life support intact, weapons systems still functioning at maximum, propulsion at full strength . . .” Grig was mumbling to himself.
“. . . defend the Frontier . . . and this is it . . .”
Grig sent the gunstar swooping down on four squadrons of Ko-Dan ships. Suicidal it might have seemed, but the Ko-Dan expected no trouble as they moved toward Rylos orbit, and they were used to doing battle under unified control. That control had been taken out by the single surprise pass at the command ship. It should take the Ko-Dan a while to adapt to operating without central tactical direction. Hopefully too much time.
Alex’s fingers played over the fire controls. Taken completely by surprise, the Ko-Dan ships were destroyed before they could react. And when they attempted to contact their fighter command center on the flagship and failed to get so much as a courteous reply, they began to panic. It must have seemed that they were under attack by a hundred gunstars. In every instance their delay in responding was fatal, as Grig wove neatly through the shattered formations and Alex obliterated potential opposition one ship after the other.
One squadron commander finally analyzed the chaotic situation in time to issue new orders just before his own ship vanished in a ball of expanding superhot metal and ceramic fragments. Grig turned the gunstar as two trios of fighters attempted to converge on the interloper from opposing directions, firing blindly at the target with all their weaponry.
The gunstar shuddered briefly under the combined attack but hull integrity was not compromised.
“We’re hit!” Grig announced a moment later. “Engine temperature is climbing, Alex. Drive’s overheating.”
“Evade!” Alex shouted, much as he would have hit the evade button back home.
Grig didn’t need the advice, sent the gunstar looping radically away from both sets of attackers. The blind charge ended in multiple destruction as the wildly aimed weapons of the opposing fighters blasted their opposite numbers.
Three more ships broke away from the milling, confused armada and dove toward the atmosphere below.
“Sector six,” he warned Alex. “Three ships making a surface attack. They’re going after a civilian target.”
“I see them,” Alex said grimly. The gunstar overtook the three fighters and Alex took them out with a single concentrated burst, using the minimum amount of firepower necessary to accomplish the job.
But now a whole series of warning lights glowed brightly on Grig’s console. “Damned engine temperature won’t come down. We need a minute or two so I can cruise powered-down and take the demand off.”
“Take us once around Rylos,” Alex suggested, a conclusion Grig reached independently. The gunstar stayed just above the ionosphere, skimming the outer edge of the Rylan atmosphere as it vanished from the screens of those few Ko-Dan ships alert enough to begin tracking it.
Grig ran the necessary commands through the ship’s system, was rewarded when the warning lights began to wink out, one after the other. With the demand down he was able to rechannel the drive and the affected area returned to normal. More important, it stayed there.
“Engine temperature steady, life support unchanged, weapons systems still operating at full efficiency . . . watch yourself, Alex. We’ll be back in attack range again in a minute or two.”
They raced across the terminator . . . only to have their screens stay blank.
Alex hunted for telltale images, found nothing. “He
y, where’s the armada? They must have run for it.”
“That would not be like the Ko-Dan.” Grig adjusted a control. Immediately both screens filled with ships . . . at the outer limits of detection.
“Uh-oh. They did retreat, but only to reestablish communication with each other and with the flagship.” He paused as several lights winked on. The multiple targets did not attack, but began to encroach slowly on the gunstar’s position. “Englobement,” Grig murmured worriedly.
Alex switched to a sternward view, saw the Ko-Dan in matching formation moving toward them at the same controlled, steady rate.
“What is it? What are they doing?”
“Spherical attack. Englobement. All ships abandon previous formations and assume positions equidistant from one another at a predetermined distance from the target, then reverse course and move in for the kill while the distance between them remains constant and shrinks. It means there’s no way out.”
“’Can’t we just shoot our way out of the sphere?”
“It’s a three-level maneuver. One sphere inside a second inside a third. Wherever we’d try to break through we’d run into a second and third line of fighters. They would hold us long enough for the others to collapse around us. We can’t do battle in every direction at once.”
“This wasn’t in the game, Grig!” Alex stammered.
His friend didn’t reply immediately, took a moment to adjust their heading. “The moon of Galan is still within the englobement. If we position ourselves near its surface at least one sector will be protected.”
“Look for another tunnel to hide in!”
“A useless move, Alex. They’d search us out anyway. Besides, Galan’s craters are meteoric in origin, not volcanic like the ones on that asteroid we used for cover. There aren’t likely to be any tunnels.”
“It was just an idea,” Alex mumbled. “I’m a Starfighter, not a geologist.”
“Then get ready, Starfighter,” said Grig grimly, “because we’re going to have to use the blossom.”