We find ourselves in a dramatically altered solar system in the 22nd century where a long period of peace is coming to an end. Captain Accolon must fight a hard-sci-fi battle to leave the mere passenger cruisers and conquer a commanders seat on the much revered Ghost Ships, before the solar system tears itself apart. http://zunavi.dk/story.aspx?s=2 http://zunavi.dk/story.aspx?s=2 http://zunavi.dk/pics/rssButton.gif 12 12 For a moment the Hercules resembled all the other debris behind Starchaser, but suddenly it bustled with glowing light. A few seconds later the lights passed the hunted ship like angry fireflies as the projectiles sought their prey. A couple met the hull of the alliance ship, sending shivers thoughout the craft. The turrets on either side of the ship turned halfway around to aswer the fire, but the small calibre could do next to nothing against the incoming battleship.
"How far to the survivours?" Accolon asked, surprising even himself by the calmness in his voice.
"Are you even considering…" Guinevere began, but her voice trailed off. Another round of projectiles hit home and activated a flashing red light on Pauls controls.
"First membrane reached," he announced, thowing his ship into a new series of break-neck maneuvers. None in the cockpit could do anything but amire the pilot skills of the trekker.
"How far to the survivours?" Accolon asked again, this time more forcefully.
"We cant stop!" exclaimed Starlance, "If they hit us with their big guns we are lucky to even notice our passing."
Accolon switched his own screen to the signal tracker, finding the distress call in their close proximity. What did it matter? Paul was right. They would need dazzling luck to rescue anyone, let alone get away alive.
The following moment, dazzling luck appeared.
All of a sudden, the forward camera screens turned completly white, until the focus adabted to the strong light. They were heading directly towards the illuminators in the front of a huge ship. Paul pulled the Starchaser upwards to avoid the newly arrived obstacle, and when they had left the intense beams of white light, the ship behind it became clear. It was a battleship carrying the huge orange triangle of the federation. Salvation! As the small vessle passed the front batteries of the larger, the battleship began returning fire to the Hercules.
"CFS Wodden to alliance vessle, it looks like you need a bit help here," a voice boomed from the speakers in the cockpit. Before anyone could act, Accolon opened a channel and spoke:
"Federation captain Accolon to Wodden, glad to see you. Can you hold the line while we salvage the survivours at these coordinates?" He transmitted them as he spoke.
"Thats partly why we are here, captain. Get in there swiftly. Well hold them off."
"Understood, Accoon out." A simple nod form the captain made Starlance move his ship directly towards the wreck signalling for help.
Outside, the Wodden turned about a quarter, blockading the futher pursuit of Hercules and presenting her starboard broadside to the enemy. The advantage of allignment was godsent, for the Hercules fairly outclassed the Wodden, despite them both being battleships of the line. While Starchaser came to a halt near the borken hull, Wodden began pounding her foe with the heaviest of guns her arsenal could provide. Normally she would have launched ships the size of Starchaser to intercept missiles and wreck havoc, but the chance of having to leave some behind was too great.
"Touching the hull in 3… 2… 1…" Starchaser shook a bit as she grapped the grey metal wall. A tube was lowered onto the raw surface, sealing itself with an expanding gell.
"We are ready to cut." Paul informed, and Accolon left the cockpit with guinevere and Harwyn. The admirals would probably like to know what was going on, but at this moment they could go to hell for all Accolon cared. A latch in the main corricor of the ship lead to a small airlock chamber, conveniently equiped with cutting tools. Apparently, these operations werent that uncommon in deep space. Harwyn shut the latch above them, and as they waited for the floor to open, they equiped themselves with oxygen masks, sealing them at the collar. A hiss announced the opening of the floor, revealing the bare interior of the tube below them. At the bottom of the well like compartment, a rough grey metal surface was visible. Bursts of light entered the tube through the transparent gell sealing the gap between wreck and ship.
"Lets go." Accolon encouraged and pushed himself off down the tube towards the broken hull. If they were lucky they would find the marooned crew on the other side of the metal armour. If they were unlucky, the Wodden would break line before they could get back from a search.
http://zunavi.dk/story.aspx?s=2&c=17 ”What the heck is this?” Harwyn almost shouted as the Starchaser left the ghost realm after having come to a halt near Callahan Primerus space. With no time to answer, Accolon grabbed the defence controls and fired up his laser turret. The scarlet ray speared ahead of the ship, evaporating the incoming debris. Guinevere quickly followed suit and together they attempted to clear a path in front of the vessel.
”Big one ahead!” Accolon informed Paul, who launched a missile to blow a way through a large chunk of twisted metal.
”Evade for Gods sake!” Years as a captain had granted Accolon a certant voice of command, and Paul immediately brought his ship into a curved maneuver past the more troublesome debris. The elegant craft swung its way through the maze of broken metal, until a room of relief was found in the midst of the storm.
”This is the federation navy,” Accolon answered Harwyns question, watching the few yet functional identification beacons spread around them, transmitting data of ships no longer in existence. Souls, he knew they were called.
”Make a scan for survivours.” The order was carried out as though he was captain of the Starchaser, despite the fact that it belonged to Starlance. An empty box appeared on the screen in front of Paul, along with a search bar checking all frequencies. As it drew closer to the end of the line, a line of text appeared in the box.
”Theres still someone out there!” the trekker cried out with excitment. The battle had been decided not long ago then. He touched the text, ordering the computer to lock on the signal. A second later the information was transfered to a sonar screen, showing a, for untrained eyes, complicated picture of the surroundings.
”They are a few kilometers to the AS.” Aft-starboard. Front and right. Paul slung the Starchaser slightly sideways, relightening the engines. By following the directions in which the signal grew stronger, they could pin point the location of the stranded survivours.
”It’s not going to be easy in these conditions.” Harwyn pointed out as the density of the debris cloud increased.
A loud crash swept though the ship as a lump of melted metal collided with the hull, spraying grey flakes of paint into space. Occasionally a missile was released to remove larger obstacles, and the railgun turrets were even put to work as a hail of floating grenades appeared in front of the Starchaser.
”Try contacting the survivours on the radio,” Guinevere suggested, and before Accolon could intervene, Paul opened the channel. As the dot on the screen in front of him appeared, Accolon really didn’t feel surprised.
”Damn it! We got company.” Another dot. ”More than company.”
”Are they federation?” Harwyn asked, checking his own screens, blue light illuminating his face.
”Hardly. How far to the survivours?” Accolon was too busy trying to retrieve data from the incoming dots.
”Can’t be far away now.” Paul actually sounded anxious. Accolon pressed on one of the dots, and accesed the information batch. Password required.
”You don’t have any override programs in this system, do you?” Paul pressed a button on his left, never taking his eyes from the navigation screen. A circular pattern appeared on Accolons screen, showing a distinct pattern rotating around the rings. A small arrow awaited his commands at the top of the maze-like system. With superb skill, the captain moved the arrow in between the rotating patterns, narrowly avoiding the blocks that would otherwise terminate the override, and finally making it to the centre. A green flash removed the image, leaving an open data file with ship informations.
”Sweet Lord! Someone really hates us.” His Imperial Majestys Ghostship Hercules. A battleship.
http://zunavi.dk/story.aspx?s=2&c=16 At first, Accolon didn’t notice the change, as his gaze was fixed at the stars. Space was black as ever, and the distant suns just as bright as before. It was first until he turned his eyes downwards again that he discovered what the ghostdrive had done. Everything was grey shades. The once blue instruments of the controlboards were bright grey, the red logos on the seats a darker grey and everything stood out as though beheld through a pair of too powerful glasses. Too sharp to be natural.
”Is there something wrong with the constellations?” Guinevere was peering through the roof windows, and when Accolon followed her example, he also came to conclusion. The view from the window had changed with the passing to the second layer.
”We are not in the normal world,” Starlance explained while engaging the controls anew, ”Light as we register it in this realm is not like light in our own. It’s the whole idea of ghost travel. No speed limits. This sort of light is instant. You are watching the galaxy live, my friends.” It was obvious that this phenomenon was quite ordinary for the trekker, so Accolon did not pursue it. A glance at the navigation instruments told him that any sort of coordinates had been lost.
”How do we find Callahan without navigation?” He inquired with more curiosity than nervousness. His fascination of the ghost concept was overpowering his fear of the interceptor, which was without doubt entering the layer the very instant.
”By using the Beacons of course. The lighthouses of the ghost realm. Literally. If you know the crude direction you can pinpoint places of interest by their beacons. See?” A grey light had begun flashing on the board in front of Paul, reading the text: Callahan Primerus and a lot of numerals. The trekker pounched the controls and… nothing happened. Or so it would seem from the indside.
Outside, the Starchaser lunged forward with an incredible eagerness, forcing it’s way through the wierd space with ever rising speeds. Far behind it, the Star Wraith had lost all hopes of catching it, but there was no mistaking the course.
”Just for your notice, we have passed light speed.” Paul announced a few minutes later. Though he had full control of the ship, it still felt like sitting in the tip of an untamed rocket, blasting away through the solar system. To gain a mean of understanding their speed, Accolon turned a turret camera towards the Sun. He could observe it passing by. At that realisation, he could not supress a loud laughter. It was madness!
”Seems you have a trekker in you,” Paul commented, leaning back with his work done, ”ETA 8 minutes.” He reached behind him toward Guinevere, and she took his hand in hers.
”I better check on the admirals,” Accolon decided, already halfway out of his seat. When the door shut behind him, silence enveloped him. Not silence as it had been in space, but a quietness only distrubed by a low growling of the engines and humming from the life support system. His magnetic boots echoed gently as he made his way sternwards towards the cargo hold.
Apparently, the officers had not noticed the minor fight before the beginning of the ghost run, so Accolon didn’t bother feed them the fact.
”Will the fleet remain at the docks in a hostile istuation as this?” he asked the post admiral after the initial talk regarding the beginning of their voyage.
”That depends on whether any of our possessions has been attacked. If they have, the fleet is bound to respond in either pursuit or mobile defence.”
”Wont this leave Callahan Primerus exposed?” Accolon further inquired, frowning at the prospect of the capital left defenceless.
”Naturally, but the ground and orbital defences will be able to withstand a siege long enough for the fleet to return. Anyway, it is not Callahan Primerus that holds the true sovereignty of the federation, but the fleet. As long as the fleet remains, the federation remains.”
”Taken that the empire wont bombard the city.”
”Don’t be absurd. This isn’t medieval times, captain.”
The other officers had watched the rapid exchange with passive interest from their various positions on crates and containers. Something about their sedentarity troubled Accolon. Was this the men and women supposed to lead the federation in conflict? Hopefully more aspirering captains manned the fleet. Captains able to act in the absence of the admirals.
”What role do you intend this ship to play when we are reunited with the fleet?” the admiral demanded, as the former subject seemed dead. ”Hopefully you will contribute it to the light division?” On the rare occasions of fleets coming together to form battle lines, all scout crafts and lesser battleships were formed into a light division, intended as protection for the major battleships and cruiser. They would swarm the friendly fleet, blasting missiles and fighters out of the space as the battle raged, risking no only enemy fire but friendly also.
”That is not my call. Besides, she’s an alliance vessel.” With those words he terminated the conversation, leaving the admirals and officers behind. Passing the controls at the door a quick thought of flushing the cargo hold out into space occured to him, but it would be a terrible waste of provisions. As he paced the distance back to the cockpit, dark thoughts gathered about his mind. Something was completly wrong, and he doubted they would find a waiting navy at the Callahan docks.
http://zunavi.dk/story.aspx?s=2&c=15 ”Buckle up everyone, for this is going to be a crazy ride.”|Paul had taken the pilot seat in the tiny cockpit, where four seats, two on each side of the main console, now hosted himself, Accolon, Guinevere and Harwyn. It was like a large edition of the double cockpits used in fighter planes on Earth, with the seat in front a bit lower than the one behind it. Above them, two thick plates of glass acted as windows, allowing a little light from the space station inside the ship. The two front seats, mostly illuminated by the blue ligths from the many displays, were for the pilot and the navigator, the last one occipied by Harwyn, while the two in the back held most of the combat controls. It was a quite crammed space, with all the instruments and people, but once settled into the comfortable chairs, you felt as though you were one with the ship, your fingers directly controlling the gun barrels and laser turrets, as though the ships curcuits were mere extentions of your sinews. Just as the ejection thrusters had puched the Starchaser away from the docking slot, Harwyn picked up an all too familiar signal.
”Interceptor bearing directly upon us at two times cruise speed,” he announced, locking the imperial ship on the tracker computer.
”Well, we are about to see if he has met a trekker before,” Paul replied cheerfully, maneuvering the ship away from the safety of alliance cannons. ”Want to teach him a lesson before we go?”
”Remember we are on a mission, Paul,” Accolon began, but the trekker had already hurled his ship towards the approacing enemy. ”Well, at least we wont be bored.”
The bold maneuver would probably give them an advantage in the initial engagement, but it might also be recognised as a hostile act and thereby deprive the Starchaser the support of the alliance turrets currently training themselves on the imperial ship.
”Come on…” Paul whispered to himself, ”Offer a dance…” It happened the moment he had finished the sentence. A quick succession of white flashes from the interceptor announced the launch of a series of missiles.
”Now! Fire my Couldarns!” Paul shouted excitedly, using Accolon and Guineveres surname to encompass them both. As ordered, Accolon moved his fingers along the screen in front of him, activating the left laser turret with the other hand. The screen shoved the view from the front camera with the distant enemy vessel and projectiles marked by blue rings with a small note of information attached. As his fingers on his right hand increased the intensity of the laser, a red ray burst into the cameras view, following the motion of the fingers on the screen. As fast as possible he dragged his left index finger towards the marks reading ”Missile”, waiting for the tell tale flashes when they exploded. Another red beam was present, that controled by Guinevere, and together they harnessed the red lasers which lanced far ahead of the ship to defend it from the incoming harm. Before they could finish the work, Paul pressed a button on his right, dropping a package behind the Starchaser. When it was clear of the vessel, the container burst asunder, releasing a fan of small missiles which immediatly lauched themselves against the interceptor. This happened so close to the enemy that the Star Wraiths defence lasers failed to pick out all the incoming warheads, resulting in a scattered series of explotions along its hull. Metal debris were spread into space around the ship as glittering stardust. The next instance the two ship passed each other with blurring speed, rapidly building up a distance between each other.
”Are they coming for another round?” Paul asked almost hopingly. White dots passed all around them as the Star Wraith poured superheated shots at them, but thanks to the trekkers skills none found it’s target. ”Are they even trying?”
”Let’s just get out of here. We are wasting precious time.” Accolon switched to the rear camera, watching the Star Wraith behind the screen of white hot shots meant to melt holes in a hull.
”Alright, hang in there.” Paul pressed another button, summoning a whirl of data on his screen. With a few taps on the monitor, a wierd high pitched sound spread throughout the ship, heralding the activation of the Ghostdrive.
”Destination: Callahan Primerus, I presume?” Starlance inquired, recieving a curt nod from Accolon. He pressed a finaly button, ending the penetrating noice. In fact, everything went quiet. Even the growling of the engines faded away. Inside the drive, the open connection to the second layer, which so far had been held in check by powerful magnets, were released to consume the ship, dragging it into the ghost realm. It was as though the ship sighed and moaned, and then, with no further warning, the world changed.
http://zunavi.dk/story.aspx?s=2&c=14 "So it was you who made that… illustrious docking?" Paul asked when he and Guinevere had detached themselves from each other. "One would almost think your autopilot had broken."
"Thats not far from the truth," Accolon confessed, taking a seat in the low couch after having spent the initial waiting studying the small home. Obviously both ceiling, floor and walls was made of polished metal, illuminated by the same white panels as in the corridors outside. All furniture was made of painted metal and padding covered by white canvas. In the end of the square room, a broad window showed thousand of stars, in front of which a table and the couch was placed. A larger table in the middle of the room held an untidy collection of stelar maps, probably a crude result of charting done by deep space treks. On each side of the room there were two doors, leading to the other three rooms of the home and to the docking station. From his position at the couch Accolon could just see the point of Pauls ship outside the window.
"So, why are you here?" Starlance asked, looking back at Guinevere while adding: "Not that Im not pleased by your visit."
Accolon rose from his seat, unable to relax much longer. His doubts about Paul had not faded during the first part of the visit, but nor had it increased.
"The Outer World Empire has attacked the federation. An interceptor almost made our day a good deal shorter trying to get rid of the admiralty. They are here, outside."
The easy look on Pauls face evaporated like ice before a flame, taken aback by the many news in so few words.
"My God, are you alright?" Whether the question was meant for both of them or just his sister, Accolon did not know, but nor did he care.
"No one was injured." He said impatiently, brushing the need for concern aside. "But we were unable to return to a safe federation port."
"So you need shelter?" Paul asked, sounding as though he wished to help. A plus to his record.
"No, to be blunt we need your ship."
Paul opened his mouth to reply, but finding no words he closed it again.
"I… the Starchaser?" Accolon nodded gravely.
"The very same. We need her." And they needed her soon, for an enemy was looking for them, and he now had Bedwyr VIs docking information as a lead. He would be there soon.
"Im coming with you." Starlance had found Accolon awake early the following day, sitting on the couch watching the stars. It had taken a little more persuation, but in the end, Paul had agreed to help the federation admirals. Having quartered the officers in a nearby hotel, Accolon had returned to Pauls home to inspect the Starchaser. She was an agile vessle built with a sleek mainhull flanked by two flat wing shaped engines. Unlike the Bedwyr VI, her surface was not burnished to a radiant shine, but rather dull grey with her name writen in large red letters on both engines. Along the ridge of her main body, like spikes on a dragons tail, missileheads were just visible, and on each engine a laser defence turret was resting. As a final armament, a large gunbarrel lurked below the ships belly. Starchaser was a light ship designed for small encounters far from Earth. Being a ship intended for a very small crew, Paul and Accolon had to empty some of the cargo hold in order to carry the admirals, removing mainly food supplies as they were less needed for the impending journey.
"I had expected nothing els. I suppose she is coming too?" Accolon rose from the couch to face Paul. He simply nodded. None of them had expected nothing els.
"Whats that?" It appeared Paul was wearing one of the rare firearms of the space age. A long carbine rifle designed for the few encounters where battleships chose to use the boarding halls. A boarding of a ship could take precious time in a battle, requiring compartment to compartment fights all across the craft, and because of this the boaridng halls were built. They were huge halls on the sides of the ships, captable of staging huge battles where the entire defensive force of the ship could be deployed. This large fight would decide the fate of the engaged ships far quicker than by traditional boardings.
"There are other laws in deep space than here. Old habits, I suppose."

As they checked the systems before flight, the admirals boarded and stoved themselves away in the cargo hold. In the middle of the ship was the pearl of the oyster. The Mk II Ghostdrive. The Starchaser was, as far as Accolon reckoned, an old scouting vessel for the alliance navy. The Chaser Class Corvette, designet for reconnaissance in the years of unrest following the liberation of the colonies. The first ship to carry a Mk II Ghostdrive. The original drive required an unmoving platform to contact the soul anchor, but the Mk II could do this while moving at any speed, thus making it idle for scouting vessels. Eventually all ghostships were manufactured with Mk IIs, but this was the pioneer ship. And an old one.
Just as Accolon finished running the green light test of the drive systems, Guinevere came aboard as the last passenger.
"Had a good night?" he commented as she passed him on her way to the cockpit. The ship only had one level with a corridor running along inside the innder hull.
"Perfectly well, thank you," she replied before disappearing through the hissing door in the front of the craft. The airlock door shut close next to Accolon and the engines hummed into life. After a last system check of the armaments, Accolon went to join the party in the cockpit. Finally they were moving again, but also away from safety of alliance space.
http://zunavi.dk/story.aspx?s=2&c=13 As expected, a small continget greeted them outside the hangar where Bedwyr VI now rested. A band armed with titanium rapiers in the alliance fashion.
"Lone Eagle greets you welcome to alliance space, but we must know what business you have here." The question asked by the leader of the welcoming group was pure protocol. Little suspicion shrouded the relationship between the federation and the alliance, but the inquiry was required.
"We are here to meet the citizen called Paul Starlance. This is his fiancé," Accolon answered, nodding towards Guinevere. "The rest is family and friends."
The groupleader seemed to consider the reply for a moment, then he put out his hand.
"Welcome to Lone Eagle."
Accolon shook his hand, and they all followed the band to the arrival area. When they were left alone in the small hall where dozens of corridors ended up, Accolon turned to his sister.
"Well, you know where he lives, right?" With a quick smile she lead them through one of the entrances, down a few corridors illuminated by white panels in the walls and finally to a more busi road closer to the heart of the station.
"The station is built around ring shaped corridors working as the main veons of foot traffic on each level." Guinevere explained as they made their way through the crowd in the broad hallway. Federation stations was built with a centre from where smaller roads lead outwards.
"This way they shorten the distance from the habitats to the main veins and centrelize non-habitation facilities." About a quarter round the ring, she turned left, going outwards through a smaller tunnel. Soon the corridor divided further, until the additional entrances lead to homes instead of more roads. At a door marked 2020, they stopped. Guinevere was about to touch the chime, when she thought better of it and withdrew her hand.
"Maybe everyone but Accolon should wait outside until we have cleared things up?" she suggested, and some of the officers immediately stepped back. When the rest had made a bit distance, she chimed the bell.

"So it was you who made that… illustrious docking?" Paul asked when he and Guinevere had detached themselves from each other. "One would almost think your autopilot had broken."
"Thats not far from the truth," Accolon confessed, taking a seat in the low couch after having spent the initial waiting studying the small home. Obviously both ceiling, floor and walls was made of polished metal, illuminated by the same white panels as in the corridors outside. All furniture was made of painted metal and padding covered by white canvas. In the end of the square room, a broad window showed thousand of stars, in front of which a table and the couch was placed. A larger table in the middle of the room held an untidy collection of stelar maps, probably a crude result of charting done by deep space treks. On each side of the room there were two doors, leading to the other three rooms of the home and to the docking station. From his position at the couch Accolon could just see the point of Pauls ship outside the window.
"So, why are you here?" Starlance asked, looking back at Guinevere while adding: "Not that Im not pleased by your visit."
Accolon rose from his seat, unable to relax much longer. His doubts about Paul had not faded during the first part of the visit, but nor had it increased.
"The Outer World Empire has attacked the federation. An interceptor almost made our day a good deal shorter trying to get rid of the admiralty. They are here, outside."
The easy look on Pauls face evaporated like ice before a flame, taken aback by the many news in so few words.
"My God, are you alright?" Whether the question was meant for both of them or just his sister, Accolon did not know, but nor did he care.
"No one was injured." He said impatiently, brushing the need for concern aside. "But we were unable to return to a safe federation port."
"So you need shelter?" Paul asked, sounding as though he wished to help. A plus to his record.
"No, to be blunt we need your ship."
Paul opened his mouth to reply, but finding no words he closed it again.
"I… the Starchaser? Accolon nodded gravely.
"The very same. We need her." And they needed her soon, for an enemy was looking for them, and he now had Bedwyr VIs docking information as a lead. He would be there soon.
http://zunavi.dk/story.aspx?s=2&c=12 "Federation vessel 0105, please stand by in high orbit as we confirm your landing request." More than a few hours following the near fatal space chase, Bedwyr VI had arrived at the alliance outpost Lone Eagle. Like Shallow Space Nine, the space station was constructed mainly as a listening post, but had in time grown into a small community supporting both military personel and ordinary families. It was often wealthy families which settled down in these stations, partly due to the relatively high military protection, but mostly because of the isolation and the unlimited oppotunity to expand. The space available allowed most homes to have their own docking bay for their ships. Ideal for trekkers. "Roger that Lone Eagle command. Entering high orbit." Harwyn had rejoined Accolon in the small cockpit, staring at the smudge of radiant grey in the midst of all the blackness. "Sure hope they wont be too inquisitive down there," he said, turning his attention to the screen in front of him. He trained the stern cam on the outpost, finding more than a handful of canons pointing at the Bedwyr VI. "Well, at least we know someone down there. Should clear most of the suspicion, unless the good admirals decline wearing normal clothes." Since a full party of federation admirals would rouse a lot of attention, Accolon had distributed the spare clothing the ship carried among the officers. Hopefully they would have redressed when he returned to the main deck. "Federation vessel 0105, you may dock at the main bay. Welcome to Lone Eagle, protectorate of the Solar Alliance." "Thank you Lone Eagle command. Entering apporach run." At that point, a startling truth dawned upon the captain. Something he should have thought of hours ago. "Eh, lieutenant? I think we are forced to make a manual approach." Harwyns eyes whiped towards his captain, betraying his own forgetfulness. "Oh. Well this is going to be interesting then. Better warn the passengers." He pressed a worn looking button, activating the cockpit microphone. "Ladies and gentlemen, I bid you all seat yourself as we are about to make a manual approach. God be with us." Harwyn cut the transmission with a smirk, looking back at Accolon. "Well, we have trained for this." "Indeed. I hope no one will notice. A stabbed automatic pilot isnt really that subtle. Grab the buffer engine will you?" For the first time in their career, the two pilots activated the manual maneuvering controls. Due to the design of the cockpit, no protesters were able to enter, an event Accolon had no doubt would happen if the possibility had been there. Two metal bars with a glass plate between them emerged from the control board in front of Accolon, and when it was in position, light began to fill the glass. A lot of digits showed in the middle, while two glowing spots appeared in the middle of each half of the glass board. Placing a hand on each spot, captain Accolon had gained almost full contorl of his vessel. Moving the right spot around made the ship pitch and roll, while the other turned the ship and controlled the speed. Carefully at first, Accolon moved his right hand forward and the left a bit to the right. Bedwyr VI responded by pointing its nose at the grey outpost. "So far so good." Harwyn commented, having grabbed his own glass panel. A bit faster than Accolon would have wanted, Lone Eagle drew closer and closer, leaving less time for mental preparation. By now, the computer would have located the docking bay entrance, calculated the rotationspeed of the outpost, checked for other flights, looked up commonly used vessel lanes and set a steady course. A toss to the left with the turning hand, Bedwyr VI threw itself into a hard turn, forcing both captain and lieutenant in the opposite direction. In the uncontrolled movement, Accolons right has slipped with the rest of his body, causing the ship to spin around clockwise. "Sorry about that." Right hand a little to the left and they were stable again. "If anyone is watching from the station…" Harwyn failed to suppress, provoking mildly mad laughter in the cockpit. "To hell with that! Lets get this ship docked!" Fortunatly, a glowing white square on the side of the space statn appeared as they reached around it, indicating the hangar was near. Accolon moved his left hand slightly to the right, and the ship followed the movement. The right hand pitched them a bit downwards, bringing them level with the entrance, and a few moves back and forth with the left control pointed them directly at the dock. "Almost there." Accolon breathed, as he arranged the ships horizontal axis with that of the hangar floor, using the right control. In surprisingly short time, the Bedwyr VI was heading towards the hangar entrance. "Maybe you should slow down a bit, captain." Harwyn pointed out, as they both stared at the approaching harbour. A blue flash reflected on the wall around the entrance as the front engines slowed down the craft. For his own amusement, Accolon decelerated in small bursts, simulating the same action when performed by a computer. Bedwyr VI silently hovered past the opening in the statiosn hull, slowed down even more and began a slow descend towards the floor. "Eh captain, the gravitation." The lieutenant pointed at the gravitaionmeter, which was rapidly rising. Unless they acted, Bedwyr VI would crash before it reached the landing pad. "Time for the buffer engines, Harwyn." From the belly of the ship blue flames flared as the vessel struggled to stay afloat. Harwyn carefully harnessed the side buffer engines, in order to avoid the ship tipping over. "Okay, put us down." They had arrived at a part of the hangar floor highlighted by now green lamps, and Harwyn gradually turned off the lower engines. The ship shook a bit as the suspension took the remaining cenimetres, rocking the craft to a stop. "We deserve a medal for this." Accolon decided, as he pressed the descend button on the arm of his chair. For now, they would relish in the safety of alliance space, but only for the time being, and out there, among the stars, a vicious enemy lurked. http://zunavi.dk/story.aspx?s=2&c=11 Stars. The small shiny dots more mysterious than any ancient ruin on Earth and more lustrous than the purest gold. They had always been there, for Accolon. In the sky day and night, on his journeys and now on his job. He felt a relation with them similar, he guessed, to the relationship between a pet owner and a dog or a cat. They were faithful companions, always there, always watching, and one day he would join them, but for now, they merely lit his way across the vast espanses of space.
He was back in the cockpit trying to think on too many things at a time. Who had betrayed them? Were they going to survive? What would the future be like? The chain of throughts was immense.
Heralded by the floor opening beside him, the elevator chair appeared again, but this time it did not contain Harwyn, but the grand admiral, whos unforgetable name was Cundrie. At first she just stared out at the stars, as the time slowly passed in awkward silence. Then suddenly:
”I am sorry that I didn’t accept your suggestion of betrayal. It was unproffesional, but I suppose it was due rank fever. Hard to avoid as an admiral, you know.” She made a half smile, then turned back to watch the stars. Accolon felt she had more to say, so he withheld his acceptance of the appology.
”Tell me about this person you are taking us to.” She had accepted his course of action. Following the pointless debate of treason, Accolon had proposed to take them to a person he knew and trusted. A person who could safely get them back to the fleet.
”His name is Paul Starlance-”
”An alliance boy?” Cundrie interrupted, and Accolon nodded. ”Why would he help the federation?”
”He’s a trekker, admiral,” Trekkers were the adventurers of the space age. The people who dared misfortune and brougt traveled far beyond the solar system, ever risking being marooned in deep space whith a broken ghost drive. Due to this risk, very few went out of communication range, and no official enterprises were commited among the stars. It was the land of the brave, the few. ”and soon-to-be my brother in law I believe.”
”Oh, so we need his ghostship?” She intentionally didn’t comment on the half hearted supressed sigh Accolon had let out after adding the last pjece of the sentence.He probably was a nice person, but a trekker nonetheless.
”Yes. A good thing my sister went along. Anway, with his ship we can reunite with the fleet without risking another race like this again.” Nodding, the admiral said:
”Very well, carry on then, captain.” There was no hint of scorn in the title when she uttered it, only a supressed respect. She went below deck again, leaving him alone.
Having a few hours to kill, Accolon brought up all collected data from the interceptor on his screens. It was indeed an imperial interceptor class frigate, and an especially vicious one, having more missile ramps than the standard issues. That spoke of personality. A captain with tastes. Images of the ship also displayed a costumized vessle colour, with bone white stripes along the sleek hull above the usual dark imperial grey, making the impression of exposed ribs along the craft. A few zoom-ins uncovered the ships name. Star Wraith. A captain with frightening tastes. A few more minutes of observing the ship contributed to confirming his growing suspicions about the enemy captain. The Star Wraith was in prime condition. No sleazy hull repairs, no weapon ramps out of use. Nothing. This was a captain who knew his trade, and it gave Accolon a bad feeling about the enitre venture. Only one thing cheered him up. The captain had made a mistake in the chase, but in his guts he knew what would happen. The Star Wraith would show up again. Sooner or later. It would show up again, and Accolon was alone in his cockpit. Alone with the stars, who lit his path across the solar system.
http://zunavi.dk/story.aspx?s=2&c=10 Time was short. Their slim chance of escape might already be gone when Accolon finally reached the cockpit, so he prayed that Harwyn had enough sense to seize the opportunity. Far behind Bedwyr VI, the interceptor had relit its engines, slowly reaching out for the prey again. With less care than he would have preferred, the captain swung himself inside the hole in the gleaming hull, and watched the airlock door shut close after him. Even while the small room was still filling with air, the ship lurched forward as the impulse engine, intended to break gravitation velocity, kicked in.
Accolon peeled the oxygen mask from the collar seal with a small hiss, before he stepped through the inner door to enter the ship. As the airlock sealed behind him, a great sence of relief almost overwhelmed him, but he quickly gathered his wits. The smile on his sisters face radiated as much joy as he felt himself, generated by the remarkably succesful space stroll.
”I think I have had my share of thrills for this journey,” he said with an unsupressable cheerfulness, throwing the mask to Guinevere. She peered at the oxygen level. It was way below the red marker.
”Captain!” It was the grand admiral seeking his attention. ”What will you do now? Take us back to Shallow Space Nine?”
Before Accolon could answer, Harwyn appeared from the elevator seat.
”Pursuers lost of sight. Awaiting further instructions.” It was not entirely true, as the interceptor had a slim chance of finding them again, but it was most likely an escape. The question everyone was eager to sate with an answer visited Accolon too. What now?
”We have two options, people, and the crew of that interceptor knows them too. Shallow Space Nine og Callahan Primerus. Shallow Space Nine is the closest of the two, but Callahan is our destination. Which one to choose? Which one will the interceptor anticipate?”
A brief silence followed his words, as the close-to paradox question was digested. In the end, he brought them the answer.
”We go in neither direction.” A startled murmur broke out at once, spearheaded not by the grand admiral, but Harwyn:
”What do you mean? We must get the admiralty to the fleet before it’s too late, and the fleet is at Callahan.”
”Correct,” Accolon agreed, ”but so is our hidden enemy.” Another silence. Another wait for answer to a questionable acclamation.
”This entire set up was only possible because that interceptor had acces to our log.” He began pacing back and forth between the officers of the ship as he explained what he had suspected, and then come to believe true.
”To get a syncronization of our log, our phantom foe had to get up close to the ship to do complete the process, and the only time a ship came that close was when we left Leeon II and in the final approach to Callahan. I doubt the leech touched the travel log when we departed, since they would have to rely on blind luck to bring them close enough to a ship heading for Callahan, without making suspicious delay among the outgoing traffic. If would be more simply to snatch an inbound ship, waiting in the ghost layer until such a vessle would appear. No one would notice them… No one would question a battleship.”
”What?” the grand admiral burst in a mix of disbelief and anger, ”Are you suggesting a post captain would do anything like this, let alone an entire crew? It is an outrageous accusation!” Accolon stopped to return the stare from the admiral, and held her gaze until he was sure she would listen to his words.
”I only point out the obvious, admiral. We almost collided with a ghostship on our descend, and it was someone high in the ranks of the fleet who decided to send a commercial liner to pick up the admiralty of the federation. Treason, admiral. Clear as space. Treason.” By God, had the solar system gone mad? Accolon could feel the balance of power shifting even as he spoke. Unbalance. With all the side effects. Confusion. Panic. War. http://zunavi.dk/story.aspx?s=2&c=9