End Game

End Game

  The Prophecy #14

  By John Stevenson

  Copyright 2010 John Stevenson

  It was dawn and Simeon heard the officer shouting to some soldiers. He tried to blank the sounds of fear and misery from his mind, and instead tried to think of the simple pleasures of dawn that he had always enjoyed. But he couldn’t as a guard gripped his arms behind him. Another came beside him. “The lord marshal decrees that you shall watch the traitors die,” he snarled. In his hand was a small, but cruel looking hook, in his other a razor. “He will not have you close the sight from your mind.” The guard brought the hook up close to Simeon’s face

  Simeon felt ice cold in his heart, and he felt his legs weaken. The thought came to him that he would cheat the Marshal of his wish, by throwing himself to his death, but suddenly a scream beside him made him go rigid. For a moment he thought he saw someone go over; and he turned away from the hook to see the victim. There was no rope dangling, but there was a commotion. A guard was lying on his back, his body still. Other militia were milling around in confusion. Simeon felt the guard holding his hands release them, as he saw a second guard go to push one of the rebels over the ramparts; but an instant later he too crumpled to the ground. Panic swept the soldiers as they stepped back in bewilderment. Then suddenly they were all staring out over the city in alarm.

  Simeon spun back just in time to see that several hundred meters away was a thing like nothing he had ever seen. Red and sleek it was coming out of the sky faster than a meteor. An instant later the thunderous crash of a sonic boom pounded their ears, as the thing shot straight over their heads, making everyone fall to the ground.

  Every face: guard and rebel spun around to see the thing go into a hard upward turn that took it over the Marshals apartments, and perilously close to the face of the mountain. It rose past the rocky crest and shot vertically high into the air, until it slowed, and began to fall back. It rolled unhurried over, and began hurtling down directly towards them.

  Everywhere there were screams as rebels threw off their nooses, and scattered in as great a panic as the guards. Suddenly the sky erupted in a brilliant pale blue as what looked like lightening passed between the apparition and the Drakken.

  The massive saucer still hovering peacefully in the courtyard rocked violently, and when the blinding light faded from Simeon’s eyes he saw a great black scar of twisted metal. Smoke appeared a little off center on its hull.

  His eyes were not quick enough to have seen that the red craft had made another impossibly tight turn, but he felt the powerful gust of wind as it missed the top of the wall by a man’s height above him and streaked off over the city.

  In the courtyard there was a screeching, crunching whine, and the Drakken tilted. With an explosive burst of thrust a concentrated tube of flame issued from under it and slowly it rose out of the confined area. Then the red thing was back; sparks and explosions raked the walkway, missing rebels, but killing five or more guard. Then it was going up again.

  The guards who hadn’t already fled didn’t wait any longer and leapt down: several steps at a time, to the courtyard

  It had turned again and was falling towards them a second time. In a burst of flame the stairway collapsed taking more guards with it, and an instant later another explosion shook the Drakken before the red shape sped back over the city

  This time there appeared no obvious damage to the saucer, and now it was hovering up to and above the wall, like a spiked bull looking for a matador to hate. Almost instantly it crested the wall, the saucer was off after its attacker, leaving all who had witnessed the exchange dumfounded.

  “Round one to us,” said Isla as Quone disappeared behind them. “As for round two we no longer have surprise, the Drakken is under full power; arming, and after us.”

  “Did we do much damage?”

  “According to the scan; on our first pass we hit the cloaking generator. It’s likely then that they will be unable to disappear from view.”

  Nicholas smiled. “That worked then?”

  “Yes… but otherwise the damage will affect them minimally. You probably don’t want to know but their weapons appear to be in working order?”

  “No I didn’t want to know that.”

  “Their shields were down: it could be a mistake that we did not target for destruction.”

  “And as you pointed out, if their drive had gone critical the city could now be a cinder.”

  “The Marshal would consider it collateral damage.”

  “And I term it unacceptable loss of life.”

  “So you want to commence plan B.”

  “What’s plan B?”

  “Practically anything you would care to suggest.”

  “Is that a joke?”

  “I don’t think so; I am merely awaiting your instructions.”

  “We’ll… we lead them into the mountains, far from people and maybe lower down amongst the valleys we will have the edge. We would have an edge?”

  “Possibly, but your plan depends on the Drakken following us.”

  Nicholas had assumed they would and the realization made him think. “They will won’t they?”

  “They are. I doubt they would let us get away with a strike like that; in fact I am registering their probe. They are trying to interrogate my command processor.”

  “They can do that?”

  “It is normal procedure for craft in the same airspace to exchange information on such things as identification, course and cargo, but I have blocked any reply “.

  “Don’t.” Nicholas’s mind was at last cool. “Tell them that I, Nicholas Day of Boramulla; take it upon myself to be the champion of the peoples of the rebellion; and that I challenge them to battle for the freedom of the planet Earth.”

  “It is done…A little provocative, and quite a lot melodramatic… Oh that didn’t take long I have a reply.”

  “It says?”

  “The gist is they want you to surrender. The reply is nowhere near as poetic as yours.”

  “How disappointing.”

  “They are calculating our range, and are about to lock on their weapons.”

  “So we really have got their attention.”

  “Every last bit.”

  “Can you stop them locking on?”

  “We do not emit the heat source they seek. If we stay low and fly in an unpredictable way they will have to target manually.”

  As the countryside zipped below them Nicholas looked out towards the inland sea “You fly by gravity right?”

  “That is the primary drive.”

  “It works anywhere?”

  “I would expect so.”

  “That doesn’t answer my question.”

  “Remember Nicholas I am as new to flight and battle as you are,” said Isla huffily.

  “Will water affect the flying?”

  “Ignoring the semantics, Basilisk was never intended to be a Sub…. to travel under water. The external collectors and exhausts would be flooded; but theoretically water entering the drive system is no different to gases evacuating the system, in a vacuum. Flow either way needs to be controlled so I see no reason why any susceptible areas could not be waterproofed as required, but my capabilities will probably be non-existent.”

  “Hopefully we wont need them: get ready, we’re going swimming.” Nicholas put the craft into a dive that brought them over the dam wall and down into the gorge. Without hesitation Basilisk plunged into the deep pool at the foot of the wall. A great plume of spray shot up to rain back into the already boiling water; then a massive wave rose up out of the depths and surged outwards to wash violently downstream, where it lifted, and tossed small boats tied at a jetty. Several men, riveted to the spot in amazement were seconds later drenched in a torrenti
al downpour. The scene was almost too dramatic to miss from above, as seconds later the Drakken shot over them.

  Immediately the saucer had passed Basilisk broke out of the river. Water was still pouring from the sleek sides as another discharge streaked out from the small crafts weapons to hit the underside of the warship. This time the Drakken was only partly taken by surprise, and had begun to turn as the blast hit the hull. Any damage that may have been done was obscured as the sky exploded in what appeared to be every weapon returning fire at the same time. Basilisk shook and rocked as the air around it seethed with explosions. Then they were off again at right angles to the direction they had come.

  “Nicholas they were onto us very fast,” said Isla concerned. “I doubt we can risk many more hit and runs, before they manage to get a shot in that cripples my systems.”

  “Hit and run; down. Confrontation out of the question, time for plan C...” As Nicholas spoke a new voice interrupted them.

  “... Please identify yourself.”

  “It’s the station. They have either detected us or the explosion.”

  “What will they do?”

  “Probably