STAR CONTROL II --------------- THE LAST FLIGHT

by Kelly St. Clair

based on STAR CONTROL II by Paul Reiche III and Fred Ford (Hope you guys don't mind...)

Dedicated to the memory of Derek "Toozday" Bacon 1971-1996. You are missed.

"/Vindicator/, you are clear and free to navigate. We're all depending on you. Goodbye and good luck!" "Thank you, Commander. /Vindicator/ out." Captain Paul Ford switched the screen off and turned to the helm station. "Oru, plot a course out of the system. Genki, half thrust until we clear the Moon, then go to full." "Ai, sir!" "Ai ai!" Shofixti paws darted over controls they could barely reach as the brothers worked their console in tandem. Although barely two years old, they had already reached their adult size of a meter- point-five. Shofixti cubs learned almost as fast as they grew, and Oru and Genki had quickly mastered the basic helm controls. The stars outside the forward bank of viewports began to sweep past in a stately march as the Precursor ship came about to a new heading. Fusion thrusters flared to life along the vessel's outriggers, driving /Vindicator/ smoothly out of Earth orbit. Ford surveyed the bridge, which still had a haphazard and unfinished look despite years of modifications and improvements. Half of the ampitheatre-sized space was taken up by the towering components of the computer: seamless metal cabinets, glassite tanks full of some clear fluid, and tall racks of optical chips each as big as an old-style book, all joined by bundles of cable to the operator's console in the center. Huddled in the shadows of this advanced alien Stonehenge were the auxilliary controls the Starbase engineers had rigged to run basic ship functions if Ford were ever incapacitated. Paul Ford had gotten his place aboard the starship - first as pilot, then as captain - simply because he was the only one who could make the ancient computer work. He'd been a shy and solitary youth back then, born and raised in the wilderness of Unzervalt, thrust suddenly into the spotlight because of his unique understanding of the system. His first month at /Vindicator/'s helm was the most exciting and scary time of his life. However, after a few battles with the erratically weaving robot probes (now only a memory, fortunately), Ford was ready to admit he needed more hands or some help. Thus the other consoles had been built, allowing him to delegate some tasks to others. But there was never any mention of replacing Ford as captain; he might have taken command out of necessity, but he'd lived up to the responsibility well. The many struggles of the last four years had tempered him into a confident young man. The faint vibration of the hull took on a deeper tone as the pearl-grey Moon drifted by to port and Genki opened the throttle up. The red ball of Earth shrank behind them rapidly as /Vindicator/ headed for the edge of the Sol system, where they could push "up" into hyperspace. Ford fidgeted in his padded seat. The command chair was mounted on rails and could move up or down to reach any part of the huge operator's console. Rows and rows of keys larger than his hand, each marked with a Precursor glyph, glowed with a soft inner light. A few sections of the board were dark, and had been since the computer was removed from the factory complex it once ran and placed aboard this ship. Dan Collins, Ford's first officer, noticed him squirming and leaned over to murmur in his ear. "Problem?" "I don't know. The ship doesn't... feel right." Indeed, the familiar low rumble of the fusion drives seemed somehow different this time. After countless hours spent in this chair, Ford had come to know all the sounds of his ship by heart. Collins nodded soberly. Years ago, he'd been a lieutenant on the /Tobermoon/; now holding the rank of Lt. Commander, he was one of the handful still aboard /Vindicator/ who'd been there from the beginning. His hair had gotten a bit greyer, but he still had the never-say-die attitude that had made Star Control a force to be reckoned with. "I wouldn't be surprised, what with all the tinkering the Chmmr did on her. Not to mention the giant bomb strapped to our keel." Collins smiled faintly, keeping his voice low. Ford made a face. "I'm not sure which makes me more nervous... that bomb, or our 'friend' down in the hold." Collins nodded again with feeling. "I'll be glad to be rid of them both... even if it means saying goodbye to this old girl." He patted a nearby handrail affectionately. And that, Ford realized, was the real source of his discomfort. Whatever the outcome of their mission, this would be /Vindicator/'s last voyage. All the years of desperate fighting, gathering resources, meeting new friends and old enemies, assembling a fleet... it all came down to this one bold stab at the heart of the Ur-Quan and their "great trophy", the Sa-Matra. Almost two-thirds of the starship's length was now encrusted with a seemingly random formation of translucent crystals. This was actually a complex amplification array, surrounding a large cylinder that had been welded securely to the ship's spine. Though pitted with age, the black metal still had a deadly sheen. The slumbering power inside that ancient casing was the one thing that might destroy the Ur-Quan secret weapon. Before fitting the bomb to his ship, along with their own strange crystal devices, the implacable Chmmr had informed Ford that /Vindicator/ would be vaporized by the force of the explosion. To keep this from being a suicide mission, the Chmmr had also provided them with an escape craft that could clear the blast radius. Probably. This was a job only /Vindicator/ could do. The whole assembly was too large and fragile to mount on any other vessel. But it still hurt to think of losing this ship. His ship. Ford broke the long silence. "Think they'll ever build another like her?" Collins rubbed his chin. "Hard to say. If we can find a way to bring the slave shield around Unzervalt down, the factory is still there... and the Chmmr have given us all the materials we could ask for. But without the factory computer, who knows if we can make any of it run again?" Ford's only answer was to sigh and run his hand along the smooth metal edge of the main console. He looked up to see Saturn grow from a speck in the distance to a fuzzy amber sphere, encircled by bands of golden light. The ringed planet slipped by to starboard and was gone. The Shofixti crew that Ford had spoken to didn't share his anxiety about this mission. To them, this was vengeance for the loss of their homeworld, and the Utwig bomb was the ultimate Glory Device. They'd actually drawn lots back on the Starbase for the honor of going along. Ford suspected that if asked, any one of them would happily ride the bomb into the Sa-Matra and detonate it manually. Ford was suddenly weary. The hours of final preparations and his own unease had exhausted him. He rose from his chair and stretched. "You have the conn, Dan. I'm going to my quarters." "Aye, sir."

"Lights." The door slid shut automatically behind Paul as he walked in. He shrugged out of his uniform jacket and tossed it over the back of a chair. Ford's room was identical to the forty-nine others in this crew pod: a living area with a bed and some other furniture, and a small 'fresher cubicle in back. He went into the latter and splashed some water over his face; it helped dispel some of the fatigue. Emerging from the fresher, he sat down on the bed and looked around the room that had been his home for the last few years. A soft white glow came from the ceiling panels. The bare metal floors were covered with mats of woven Unzervalt grass. Most of the older furniture was made of wood, while the new items were plastic or other artificial materials more readily available on the Starbase. This was the original crew module, the only one that had been placed on /Vindicator/ for this voyage. Sitting on a shelf above his bed was a collection of souvenirs and knicknacks. There were a few stone arrowheads he'd made as a boy; a necklace of beads and Pkunk feathers, guaranteed to ward off curses, evil spirits, negative vibrations, and dandruff; a model of a Syreen Penetrator, given to him by Talana; a twisted chunk of greenish metal which had once been part of the hull of an Ur-Quan dreadnought; several pretty stones from the beaches of a dozen worlds; and a mask of beaten gold, resembling a sun, which the Utwig had told him was the "Radiant Visage of the Savior." Last but not least was a charcoal sketch of his parents in a small frame. Soon, tomorrow perhaps, he would have to gather up all of these mementos and place them aboard the escape pod. Ford picked up the picture and looked, as he had many times before, at the smiling faces of his mother and father. He could only hope they were alive and well under the slave-shield the Ur- Quan had placed over his homeworld. Unless the New Alliance won and they found a way to bring down the hated red shields, he would never see them again. The wall clock was showing a little after 2100 hours, ship's time. Perhaps it would be best for him to turn in early. The ship was in "cruise mode" right now; in another hour or two, they'd enter hyperspace for a short trip before using the Portal Spawner. With the Androsynth mystery still unsolved, it had been decided not to risk activating the device within 10 light-years of Sol, or in the same place twice if possible. Paul finished undressing and climbed into bed, pulling the covers up around his chest. "Lights," he murmured, plunging the cabin into darkness again. It took him almost an hour of tossing and turning to fall asleep.

With sleep came the dreams. He was standing on the bridge again, watching a parade of alien faces flicker across the main screen. He was seeing Blazer spacecraft rusting in neat rows on the landing fields, while the manta-shapes of Orz ships cruised overhead. He was listening to the story of the Ur-Quan revolt against the Dnyarri, as told by a Melnorme trader. He was calling Captain Burton's name over and over as a Slylandro probe lashed the crippled /Tobermoon/ with lightning. He was handing the repaired Ultron to an awed Utwig. He was trading insults with an old Shofixti. He was speaking with the voice of Dogar and Kazon. He was looking down on a rainbow world. And then, the familiar nightmare began. The Dnyarri somehow escaped its cage; the Taalo shield failed. The Umgah were forced to repeat their operation on a thousand Talking Pets. As they did millenia ago, the reborn Dnyarri enslaved every race in this part of the galaxy... but this time with Humans as their favored pawns. The disobedient Ur-Quan, Kzer-Za and Kor-Ah both, were ordered to commit mass suicide. The Chmmr were also exterminated; the Dnyarri still remembered and feared the Taalo. Orz and Arilou fled this universe, closing their portals behind them. The planet-bound Slylandro were again judged to be useless but not worth the trouble to destroy. The remaining races, New Alliance and Hierarchy both, became the second Dnyarri slave empire. He saw himself on the bridge of /Vindicator/, working the controls like a puppet, while the frog-like Dnyarri sat on his shoulder and croaked orders into his ear. It opened its mouth and said, "Captain Ford? Captain Ford, are you there?" Paul sat up in bed, gasping. The bridge officer on the intercom screen repeated his question. He rolled over and hit the TALK button. "Ford. What is it?" "Sir, there's an Arilou captain here that wants to speak to you, personally." "Put him on." As Ford's head began to clear, he noticed that the view out the porthole was neither starry blackness nor the constantly shifting ruddy glow of hyperspace, but the bright green light found only in the weird dimension of quasi-space. The officer's face was replaced by an image of a small figure sitting in a lotus position atop a large red sphere. Lights danced around the inside of the skiff's tiny cabin. The Arilou looked almost like a smiling Human child, if not for the green tint to its skin. It looked at him with large dark eyes and spoke in a fluting voice. "Why are you troubled, my child? Is it fear of what you carry with you? Or fear of losing your ship?" Ford didn't bother asking how the alien knew what he'd been thinking; he knew he'd never get a straight answer. Instead, he simply nodded. "Both, actually." The Arilou rolled a ball of light back and forth in its hands. "Your concern about your cargo is wise. It is an evil thing from a time long past, one that might be best forgotten. But for now, it is needed for a greater good... and soon, it will not matter anymore." "Do you mean the Dnyarri, or the Precursor bomb?" The Arilou smiled. "Yes." Before Ford could say anything, the little alien continued. "As for your vessel... no doubt it is very precious to you, but in the end, it is only a thing. Things can be replaced. Do not think that a thing is what makes you special, my child." Ford was left at a loss for words. "Thank you," he finally said. "Is there anything else you can tell me?" "Help comes at unexpected times. Those you thought lost may surprise you." Another riddle. Ford smiled and shook his head. "Goodbye, my Arilou friend." "Goodbye, clever child. Be at peace." The screen blanked, leaving Ford with a calmer heart but no fewer questions. He gave orders to proceed to the Crateris portal and went back to sleep. This time, no nightmares troubled him.

/Vindicator/ floated in a sea of rippling green. A few kilometers off her bow was a swirling vortex, through which could be seen the red void of hyperspace. The "hole" was hundreds of meters across, easily large enough to accomodate the starship and the smaller vessels docked to her sides. Ford eyed the vortex with much the same mix of excitement and nervousness as when he'd first set out from Unzervalt. Shortly after getting a suitably large Portal Spawner from the Arilou, they had charted the fifteen permanent portals from quasi-space to hyperspace. This one led to a point near the Crateris cluster, where Zoq-Fot-Pik scouts had recently located the Sa-Matra. Once they passed through, they would be in enemy territory. He turned to Collins, near his side as always. "Sound GQ." The response was immediate. He could hear the klaxon echoing through the ship: "General Quarters, General Quarters. Condition Yellow. This is not a drill." On-duty crew would be rushing to their battle stations, in case someone was waiting for them on the other side of the portal. Ford slid his chair back and forth, pressing the keys of the operator's console in a particular sequence. Even before Paul was born, Professor Farnsworth had managed to get the computer to display text in English. (That, alas, had turned out to be the limit of the famous scientist's ability.) Right now, the computer was saying that all systems were operating at top efficiency. The ship was as ready as it'd ever be. He cleared his throat. "Ahead one quarter." "One quarter, ai." The vortex seemed to expand as /Vindicator/ glided forward and passed through it. There was a faint shudder, then the familiar feeling of vertigo and pressure as the ship entered hyperspace. Behind them, the portal seemed to vanish; it was only visible from the other side. Ford was watching the scanner. Space around them was clear. He turned to the helm. "Plot a course for Delta Crateris, flank speed, engage."

/Vindicator/ had originally been designed to the elephantine proportions of the Precursors. To walk her corridors was to stand in the halls of giants. One of the first tasks of the Humans who'd refitted the starship was to convert the vast interior compartments to their own scale. The main briefing room, for example, had once been some kind of storage closet. A table had been moved in, with plenty of chairs, and curtains hung to dampen echoes from the high ceiling. A bank of monitors had also been installed so that Ford could address all of the other ship captains at once. Ford was seated at the head of the table, with Dan and the other senior officers beside him. Most of the faces on the screens were impassive Utwig masks; however, there were also three Pkunk and the single eyestalk of a Spathi. Captain Fwiffo had been part of the ship's complement since /Vindicator/ first arrived in Sol system, and he was not at all happy to be here now. "Doomed! We are doomed, I tell you!" Fwiffo was saying. "You have gone mad, hunam!" The clam-like alien spun around in little circles and wailed. "Ohhh... why did I not ask for a transfer back to Spathiwa when I had the chance? Now I am trapped outside the safety of the shield, alone once more in a hostile universe..." He stopped and pointed a thin arm at the screen. "This is YOUR fault, Captain!" "Calm yourself, honored Spathi," murmured one of the Utwig. Cold methane fog swirled around the robed figure's waist. "With the Ultron in our hands again, we cannot fail." "Hello? HELLO? Awaken from your dreamy state! We are in the middle of Ur-Quan space. There is no chance of escape. In a few short hours, we will be attacking the largest fleet in this galaxy. If you wish to commit suicide, hunam Ford, why do you not just detonate the bomb now and save the Ur-Quan the trouble of annihilating us?" Ford shrugged helplessly. "What can I say, Fwiffo? You agreed to come along..." "Only because you got me drunk on Syreen firewine!" the little alien huffed. "Um..." Ford coughed and changed the subject. "Look, if we don't strike now, before the Ur-Quan and the Kor-Ah resolve their Doctrinal Conflict, no place in this part of the galaxy will be safe. And in any case, we can't turn back now. You wouldn't want me to jettison your Eluder for the Ur-Quan to pick up, would you?" Fwiffo's eye got even wider. "Of course not!" he sputtered. "Captain, how could you THINK of such a thing?" "My point is, right now the safest place for you to be is right here, where /Vindicator/ and the other ships can protect you. That's why you joined up in the first place, remember?" The Spathi mumbled something, and Ford pressed on. "So fight with us, to end the threat of the Ur-Quan forever!" "Uh... right, Captain! Together, we cannot lose!" Fwiffo nodded enthusiastically. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to go run another check on the escape pods..." The screen went dark. Ford smirked and turned to his exec. "What's the latest report on our pursuers?" "Long-range scanners show three battle groups following us so far. We estimate that each group has between two and five Ur-Quan dreadnoughts. And God knows how many more are waiting for us at Delta Crateris." Ford nodded. "Hopefully, we won't have to engage more than a handful of those. That's where our 'friend' comes in." That was the only reason he hadn't spaced the loathsome creature long ago. "Still, we won't have much time before reinforcements arrive," Collins repeated. "Maybe an hour, at most. Probably less." Ford turned back to the bank of monitors. "We'll be relying on the Juggers to punch us a hole through their defenses. They have the best shot of going toe to toe with the big ships. Even still, there will be casualties." Another Utwig - it was hard to tell them apart, with those masks - waved a hand dismissively. "The power of the Ultron will protect us, Captain. We will clear the way." "Good. I want to hold the Furies in reserve, until we see what we're up against." Ford felt guilty about sending the Pkunk into battle at all; as far as he knew, the crews of these three ships were the last of their race. But the Pkunk captains, as cheerful as ever, had sought him out on the Starbase and politely insisted that they be part of this mission. They had all had visions of Furies in battle against a huge dark form that could only be the Sa-Matra. Once the Pkunk set their minds to something, there was no arguing with them. Ford had run out of excuses while trying to prevent their doomed journey to reconcile with their warrior brothers. Now the Pkunk were no more, and the Yehat, busy fighting a civil war, had refused to discuss the matter with him. It wasn't fair. They'd brought the Shofixti back from extinction, only to lose a new ally to the same fate. If only... Ford forced himself to put his regrets aside. His attention was needed here and now. Once they reached Delta Crateris, there would be no room for error. "All ships will go to combat alert as soon as we drop from hyperspace. You are NOT to engage until my order..."

The red veil of hyperspace parted, and those on the bridge of /Vindicator/ had their first look at the Ur-Quan armada. "My God..." "There's gotta be hundreds of 'em..." "I've never seen so many..." "QUIET, everyone!" Ford rose to his feet, waiting a moment for the noise to die down. "All ships, report in." A chorus of voices came over the intercom as the captains sounded off. Even Fwiffo confirmed he was "ready to die, probably in a very painful and un..." The chirping voice of a Pkunk cut him off. As the tac-net fell silent, Ford dared to look at the main screen again. The computer had identified over a hundred dreadnoughts in wide orbit around the fifth planet, as well as twenty or so of the black Kor-Ah ships. They formed an impenetrable ring that would close like a noose around any ship that tried to pass. He took a deep breath. The Ur-Quan would detect them any moment now. It was time to employ his own secret weapon. He tapped a rarely used button on the intercom. "Dnyarri, are you there?" At first glance, the creature that appeared on the screen looked like an ordinary Talking Pet: small, tan, and mostly head. But there was a malevolent intelligence in its yellow eyes, and it spoke with its own voice. "Yes, Captain." "We've arrived..." "Yes, I know. I can feel them." And it smiled. It was the first time Ford had seen an honest emotion on the Dnyarri's face. It scared the hell out of him. Ford hated his next words. "I want you to use your powers on the Ur-Quan." "Certainly, Captain," it crooned. "Simply turn off the shield..." Suddenly, someone was squeezing his brain and there was a voice in his head. (TURN OFF THE SHIELD,) it commanded. "Stop it," Ford said through clenched teeth, "or so help me, I'll vent the hold to space!" The pressure went away. The Dnyarri was glaring at him. "With the cursed shield blocking me," it said peevishly, "the most I can do is confuse them briefly... make them see what isn't there..." "Do it," Ford said, glaring back. Once again, he was glad he'd made sure the Taalo shield had a separate power supply in a sealed case, where not even he could get at it. "Very well," said the creature, salvaging some of its dignity. "Now, once I start, I'll have only one chance... so you'd better be ready." The Dnyarri closed its eyes and began to concentrate, while Ford and the rest of the bridge crew watched nervously.

Master 115 felt a brief wave of dizziness pass over him, followed by a strange sense of forboding. He swung his head over to peer at the scanner. Space was clear, but as he continued to look, he noticed that his ship was drifting out of position. Mouth-tentacles waving angrily, he turned to the Ilwrath slave at the helm. The Talking Pet by Master 115's side translated his words faithfully: "We are off course. Compensate." The Ilwrath hastened to comply as Master 115 waved his shock- baton for emphasis. But the controls would not respond properly. The Ilwrath kept two eyes on the Master as it fought to correct the dreadnought's course. Everything it did just seemed to make matters worse. Master 115 jabbed the slave impatiently with the baton. Sloppiness in the performance of duty was not to be tolerated, not when that duty was guarding the holiest of holies. The Ilwrath jumped, its many limbs jerking wildly, and redoubled its efforts. "Master," it finally said, "something is wrong with the helm. We are continuing to drift." Master 115 snarled and drew back the shock-baton to swat the slave again. With one of his smaller eyes, he could see his ship was not the only one having trouble; in fact, it looked like most of the honor guard was breaking formation around the planet and moving slowly towards the edge of the system. The Ur-Quan held his blow, turning to face the scanner. What was happening? The feeling of wrongness returned, stronger than before. There was a spot on the scanner his eyes would not focus on. Something was there that didn't want to be seen. Something... evil. DNYARRI! In that instant of terrified realization, Master 115 froze. He was suddenly paralyzed, unable to move or speak. He could only hang from the ceiling and watch as the Ilwrath slave, still trying to correct the ship's course, steered them further and further from the Great Trophy. He wished very much that he had been allowed to scream.

Ford watched, amazed, as the entire Ur-Quan fleet floated serenely past their position. The neat ring was breaking down into a chaotic cloud, though there had been no collisions yet. They were already beyond the orbit of the outermost planet and showed no signs of slowing. He switched off the intercom and sat down carefully in the command seat. "Genki, head for that planet, full speed." "A-ai." For once, even the Shofixti were subdued. The angry red orb of Delta Crateris V grew steadily in the forward windows as the long, tense minutes ticked by. The bridge was silent except for the whisper of the air vents and the soft beeps from the various consoles. Even the sound of the engines at full thrust seemed muted. Ford tried not to look nervous, to be an example to his crew. He put thoughts of losing the ship from his mind. What mattered now was winning this battle. For Earth. For the New Alliance of Free Stars. For the future. Behind them, the Ur-Quan fleet continued to recede. There were no other ships on the tactical display. Had the Dnyarri gotten them all? Where was the Sa-Matra? The fusion thrusters cut off at last and /Vindicator/ coasted toward the planet on a cometary path. They were close enough to the small world now to see it had a single grey moon about the size of Ceres. The surface of the planet was a volcanic hell: dark scabs of barren rock, ranging in size from islands to minor continents, drifted slowly on the magma seas. Scans revealed no energy sources on the surface. "I don't understand," Collins said. "The Zoq-Fot-Pik said it was here. All those ships had to be guarding SOMETHING." "On the moon, maybe?" suggested young Oru. "That's no moon," Ford said with dawning certainty, starting to rise from his seat. "That's..." Before he could finish, there was a series of loud pings from Ensign Holliday's sensor console. Her voice rang out clearly: "Captain, I have five... six contacts emerging from the moon's shadow. Ur-Quan and Kor-Ah dreadnoughts." Ford nodded grimly. "Launch the Juggers." Along the sides of /Vindicator/, docking clamps released and barrel-shaped spacecraft fired small thrusters, moving away from the flagship before activating their own drives. The Juggers moved like ortogg cows, but their front ends bristled with guns. They took up a screening formation in front of the flagship. Ford thumbed the intercom again. "Dnyarri, can you...?" The creature's face was more pinched than usual, and he could see strain in the yellow eyes. "No... too many," it whispered. "You must fight..." "Captain, the lead dreadnought is hailing us." "Huh?" Ford looked up in surprise. The Ur-Quan had never been much for conversation. Only with the plea of a long-dead race had he ever managed to get an explanation for their actions. He shrugged. "Put them on, I guess." The triangular head of an Ur-Quan appeared on the main screen, with its many eyes and four grasping tentacles. As it spoke, an inset appeared in one corner for the Talking Pet translator. "Human! You dare to come here, to this most sacred place? You have only sealed your fate! The penalty for your species shall be extinction! You..." The Ur-Quan suddenly fell silent and its tentacles writhed frantically. The Talking Pet's shrill voice managed to convey the horror of its owner. "HUMAN! THE DEVIL IS ABOARD YOUR SHIP! KILL IT NOW, IF YOU STILL CAN!" Ford's nightmare passed vividly before his eyes again. Before he could say anything, the screen went blank; transmission had been cut from the other end. "No quarter asked or given," he murmured. The Ur-Quan would fight to the death to make sure the Dnyarri aboard his ship was destroyed. He couldn't blame them; were the sides reversed, he would probably do the same. "Ur-Quan ships on attack vector," said Collins from over his shoulder. "Juggers moving to intercept." Ford nodded acknowledgement, sliding his chair back and forth along the rails as he keyed the commands to warm up /Vindicator/'s single Hellbore cannon, just in case one of the dreadnoughts got through. He would have liked to bring more guns, but the bomb assembly took up most of the space on board. For this battle, they would have to rely on their auxilliary ships. One of the green dreadnoughts opened fire. The bridge crew gasped as no less than six plasma bolts, any one of which would have severely damaged or destroyed a lesser ship, slammed into a Jugger with no apparent effect. Moments before the first bolt struck, the Utwig ship had been enveloped in a shimmering glow. Now that glow faded and the Jugger fired back at its attacker, scoring several hits on the larger vessel. Another ship, this one a black Kor-Ah, fired on a Jugger with the same result. Ford began to believe the Utwig claims about the miraculous powers of the Ultron, and how it would protect them from all harm. None of the green Ur-Quan were launching fighters; the tiny craft would be ineffective, and easily mowed down by the constant stream of fire from the Juggers' guns. The protection was not perfect, however. As the bridge crew watched, an Ur-Quan managed to hit several times when a Jugger's shield wasn't on. The Utwig ship shuddered with each impact, finally exploding in a glittering burst of debris and hot gas. Ford hadn't even known the captain's name. The Jugger was soon avenged by one of its fellows. Even the whirling blades and expanding rings of plasma thrown off by the Kor- Ah ships weren't giving the Utwig much trouble. Often they would drift backward in front of an oncoming enemy, putting up their shield just long enough to block incoming projectiles before resuming their own steady fire. Ping! "Captain?" It was Holliday again, sounding concerned. "Another battle group has just entered the system and is heading this way at high speed." Ford nodded. That would be the first of the reinforcements. They'd have to finish this fast. The defenders were down to two dreadnoughts... He winced at the glare of another explosion and corrected himself: one dreadnought. But they'd also lost three Juggers, and the one now engaged with the last Kor-Ah was somewhat damaged. At last the final dreadnought blew apart, leaving only a few drifting blades and a cloud of tiny fragments. The five surviving Juggers closed up around /Vindicator/ in escort formation. "Scan that moon," Ford ordered, pointing, "and put it up on the main screen." "Aye, sir." It was immediately obvious that this was no ordinary moon. Magnification revealed several red domes on the rocky surface and a large circular area that glowed a bright blue. All of these showed up brightly on an energy scan as well. But most peculiar was the deep-radar image: instead of a ghostly image of the moon's cross section, it showed only solid white. That indicated either incredible density or a stasis field in operation. Ford was inclined to bet the latter. "That, people, is our target. The Sa-Matra." "The whole moon?" Collins looked up at the screen in disbelief. "Not exactly." Ford hoped he sounded more certain than he was. "The Zoq-Fot-Pik said it was big, but not that big. That's probably just a hollow shell, and the ship is inside." He pulled a laser pen from his pocket and used it to point with. "See these domes? They look like generators for a force-field... this one, covering the entrance. We knock out the generators, bring down the force-field. Then we..." Ford paused to swallow the lump in his throat. "Then we fly /Vindicator/ inside, right next to the Sa-Matra, and blow her up." There was a moment of silence on the bridge. Collins met his gaze and nodded. "Aye." "Battle group approaching," Holliday warned. "Six more ships... Captain!" The sensor operator whirled to face him. "IFF tags them as Yehat!" Ford blinked. Yehat Terminators, here? So far from their space? That could mean friend or foe, depending on what side of the civil war these ships were on. "Hail them." An image of another bridge appeared on the main screen, dimly lit by Human standards. Pterodactyl-like figures bent over control pedestals set in the floor. Their eyes glowed faintly in the darkness. The one in the center looked up and spoke. "Awk! Captain, there is little time, but you must listen. THE REVOLUTION IS WON! The Starship Clans have pulled the honorless Queen from the High Perch and renounced our allegiance to the Ur-Quan!" A brief cheer went up on the bridge at this good news. Even Ford smiled thinly. At least it hadn't all been for nothing. But the Yehat captain was still talking. "We have a new Queen now, Captain... and you will never guess who she is. A PKUNK!" Ford stared. "Yes! Not all of us rejected what our brothers had to teach us, about war as well as peace. They have shown us how to fight without fighting, and to have peace with honor. They helped us to victory!" Ford was nodding numbly, overcome by emotion. The Pkunk... alive after all. It was more than he could have hoped for. "Our new Queen, Brakky Girdy the First, sent us here with all speed to help you! We have brought Furies and Terminators. Now we can attack the Sa-Matra together! AWK! HOOT!" Ford could hear the Pkunk captains greeting the newcomers over the tac-net, hear Collins giving orders for them to pull into formation with the others. Again he forced himself to concentrate at the task at hand. They could celebrate later, if they won. If they lived. "We need a ship to go in first and see what kind of defenses that thing has," he mused aloud. "One that's fast and agile." He thought a moment, then pressed the intercom button for Fwiffo's ship. The Eluder should be just about perfect for the task. Instead of the Spathi captain's eyestalk, however, a Shofixti face appeared on the screen - one of the /StarRunner/'s crew. Ford's eyebrows drew together. "Where's Fwiffo?" "Begging your pardon, honored sir," said the young Shofixti as it rubbed its whiskery cheeks. "Captain Fwiffo is... um, well, he's hiding under his bed and won't come out." Ford sighed. "Thank you." He switched off and ordered one of the Pkunk to move in instead. The small craft peeled off and flew towards the "moon", sunlight glinting off the faceted wings. The bridge crew watched in anxious silence, half expecting the fragile- looking vessel to be instantly blown apart by some terrible Precursor weapon. As the Fury approached, there was a flicker of motion on the screen: a small green sphere emerged from the forcefield as if it wasn't there. Another sphere followed, then another, like a string of pearls. They moved toward the Pkunk ship, tracking it unerringly. Ford opened his mouth to call a warning, but the Pkunk captain had seen the danger and was turning to avoid the green orbs. Precursor technology or not, the Fury was faster. It darted in closer and fired a long burst from its three-way cannons, strafing a generator dome. Before the spheres could catch up, the ship was gone. "Jerk! Dodo! Idiot!" The taunts of the Pkunk rang out over the tactical frequency as the ship came around for another pass. As if in response, something new came flying out of the shielded hole. It looked like an Ur-Quan plasma bolt, but larger, and like the spheres it turned to follow the little Fury. The Pkunk ship fired another volley at a second dome, but this time one of the spheres clipped a wing; there was a bright flash and the Fury was knocked violently aside. The pilot recovered quickly, jetting to safety. The green balls followed. "Looks like some kind of mine," Collins observed quietly. "Let's just hope they don't get hit by the big ones," Ford replied. Another fireball was now pursuing the Fury, and a third emerged as they watched. The Pkunk ship outpaced them easily. "Loser! Baby!" After several more strafing runs, one of the red domes cracked and exploded. Then another. The Fury swung around for another pass, skimming the rough surface of the "moon" - and met a fireball coming the other way. BOOM! Ford shook his head sadly and reached for the intercom to order another ship in to finish the job. He hadn't completed the gesture before a gasp from one of the bridge officers made him look up. The Pkunk was back, surrounded by a fading nimbus of light. It immediately accelerated to avoid the spheres and fireballs as they closed in. "Am I seeing things? I thought that ship was destroyed." "It was," Collins confirmed, shaking his head. "That's quite a trick." Ford rubbed his chin. "I guess there's something to all that Pkunk mysticism after all." The Fury was flying backward now and firing at one of the mines. The green sphere was soon destroyed, but another emerged from inside the shell a moment later. "Concentrate on the domes," Ford ordered. "We'll make a run for it through the defenses if we have to." The Pkunk captain appeared briefly on his screen. She seemed in good spirits, despite her recent death and resurrection. "As you wish," she trilled. Another dome shattered moments later. "Captain, more ships dropping from hyperspace at the edge of the system." A pause. "IFF confirms battle groups are Ur-Quan dreadnoughts." Ur-Quan. They were running out of time. Three domes left. Two. The forcefield wavered. "Moron! Twit!" The Pkunk captain sang as her ship darted out of the way of a sphere. Watching the little ship move, Ford was reminded that the Orz term for combat was *dancing*. "Juggers, move in and see if you can shoot down some of those things." The Utwig ships were big and slow, but they had the firepower to destroy spheres quickly and their shield to keep them safe from the fireballs. Only one dome was left now, and the blue forcefield was nearly transparent. It flickered and went out entirely as the Pkunk blew up the last dome and fled the battleground, their job done. The hole gaped like a dark mouth. "Take us in, Genki. Nice and slow." Ford leaned forward in his chair. "Juggers, cover our back." With all the field generators destroyed, the green mines and fireballs were no longer being replenished. Utwig pulse lasers made short work of them. The entrance, easily large enough for a ship ten times the size of /Vindicator/, grew in the forward viewports. There was an anxious silence on the bridge. Ford keyed the tac-net again. "All ships, disengage. Repeat, all ships disengage and get clear of the system. This is going to be one hell of a bang. With luck, the Ur-Quan will be too busy to pursue you." He swallowed. "Be careful, everyone." The few vessels still docked with /Vindicator/, including the /StarRunner/, cast off and began accelerating away. The Juggers, Furies and Yehat Terminators were already scattering toward the outer system. Meanwhile, behind them, more and more Ur-Quan ships were dropping out of hyperspace and moving toward this spot at full speed. The moon was indeed hollow, and inside... Ford stared at the huge shape hanging before them in the shell's dim and cavernous interior. It was disturbingly organic in its curving lines and the coral-like texture of its blue surface. Asymmetrical arms projected from each end of the kilometers-long vessel, bent inward like claws. A large greenish egg was sunk into the smaller end - the front or the back? Amidships was something like a massive turbine, glowing redly as it turned. It was an ancient leviathan from some alien sea. His lips moved, mouthing a word: Sa-Matra. "It's bigger than the Starbase," Collins said in a choked whisper. Ford just nodded. "Right under her nose, Genki. We have to be sure." The intercom beeped for attention. "Ford." The ugly face of the Dnyarri appeared on the screen. "The Ur- Quan are coming, Captain. I cannot stop them this time. We must leave, now." Ford allowed himself a smile at last. "Wrong. We're leaving. You're staying." The creature's yellow eyes widened. "What? You... you can't DO that! You promised..." Collins leaned in over Ford's shoulder, grinning ear to ear. "We lied. We Humans do that too." "No, you can't!" the Dnyarri shrieked. "Obey me! OBEY ME!" Ford braced himself, but thanks to the Taalo shield, he felt only a passing urge to do as the evil thing said. With a feeling of great satisfaction, he switched off the intercom. For once, his conscience was silent. Collins chuckled. Ford's smile faded as he looked up and saw the Sa-Matra looming over them. While growing up on Unzervalt, the starship had been the biggest thing around. Its long, skeletal frame had towered over the human settlement. He'd never thought of /Vindicator/ as small... not until now. "Five hundred meters." Oru read off the distance. "Three hundred. One hundred." "All stop." Ford's knuckles were white on the arm of his chair. "We're close enough." He turned to Ensign Holliday. "How close are the Ur-Quan ships?" She shook her head helplessly. "I can't get a clear reading through the shell, sir." He nodded, taking a deep breath before pressing the intercom button. "All hands, this is the Captain speaking. Abandon ship. All hands to the escape pod." Throughout /Vindicator/, the skeleton crew would be leaving their posts and hurrying to the Chmmr-built escape pod in what had been their lander bay. Bridge officers stood and moved to the elevator without shutting down their consoles. Many favored Ford with a sympathetic glance. The Shofixti kept chattering about glory. Then it was just him, and Dan, and the Button. The Button was in a box that had been crudely welded to the main computer board. It was red. Pressing the Button would start a five minute countdown, both for the crystal array's charging sequence and to allow them time to escape. Collins stood in respectful silence as Ford looked around the empty bridge. The captain finally spoke. "We had some good times, didn't we?" "That we did." Dan cleared his throat. "Paul, I hope you're not thinking of going down with her." Paul smiled sadly and shook his head. "Get going, Dan. I'll be right behind you." The exec hesitated, but a long shared look convinced him the young captain would do as he said. Collins left. Paul lifted the cover over the Button and looked at it for a moment. Then he put a hand on the console, on the computer only he could understand, on the ship... "Goodbye," he murmured. He pushed the Button. Klaxons went off and the lighting turned blood red. He set his jaw and ran for the elevator, not looking back. If he had, he might have seen the single word printed on the main screen:

GOODBYE.

-------------- Kelly St.Clair kellys@efn.org