Space Trader (Galactic Axia Adventure) (15 page)

Ironically, it had been the Horicon probes that first consistently plotted the weather of space. Augmenting their data with that from the Jibbah ships helped the Horicon further refine the pattern of cosmic disturbances. Soon the science of predicting what the ships and probes would find as they traversed space matured, and consequently, the safety of ships passing through space was greatly enhanced.

But with every breakthrough came unexpected consequences. The Horicon and Jibbah were not alone exploring the universe. Piaffè shuddered at the thought of what had been unwittingly unleashed, a menace that had nearly stopped exploration by the Jibbah and threatened their very existence.

Piaffè looked over his data and sighed as a result of the last of the signals he was analyzing. He had narrowed the possible locations of this mysterious Horicon but the possibilities were still too vast. What he would need now was a sustained transmission he could home in on rather than the short bursts he had received so far. He knew it wasn’t his primary mission to find this Horicon survivor but Piaffè was none-the-less curious.

Putting that quest back on hold, the little Jibbah again focused on the historical information he’d been sent. Piaffè knew that the information would eventually reach the home worlds of the Jibbah for analysis, but his mission could not wait. The urgency in the first contact from the Horicon was obvious. Piaffè would have to make use of the data now in an effort to help their friends. Using the time tags provided by the Horicon, Piaffè applied his own intense scrutiny to the task.

∞∞∞

Ian stared out the control center window overlooking the landing bays. To his left was the bay holding the
Cahill Express
. To his right and farther out was the holding bay where the tractor rays had brought down the Red-tail ship. Even from here, Ian could see the distortion field of the different rays holding the enemy ship captive.

“I know you’ve got it grounded by the tractor rays,” Ian said to Lyyle who was standing next to him. “But what is to keep him from firing his weapons? He should have full ship systems now that he is out of the nullifying effect of the Optiveil.”

“You can’t see the difference from here but we have a dampening field on him as well,” Lyyle answered. “It’s one of the other projects that grew out of the development of the Optiveil.”

“You people are full of surprises,” Ian remarked dryly. “Now tell me why the decision on whether or not to let him burn was put in my hands?”

“Maybe I should answer that,” Cap said from behind the two men as he stepped onto the observation deck. The trader was only mildly surprised at Cap’s sudden appearance.

From what he had observed, Cap was more than just provost for this area. Either that or Cap dabbled in areas of interest that were not normally the responsibility of a man in his stated position. Now Cap Embrel hinted that he had more authority than that of a simple provost. If Ian had read his inflection correctly, it was probably Cap that decided it should be put to Ian regarding the disposition of the Red-tail and his ship. Ian patiently waited for the explanation.

“If you’re expecting some convoluted speech that hints at dark and mysterious secrets, you’re in for a disappointment,” Cap said. “The truth is much simpler. I just thought that since you have more experience with Red-tails than we do, you might see some purpose in his capture instead of his destruction.”

Ian nodded.

“Besides, I already have enough pieces of melted glass for my office.”

Ian remembered the melted glass screen displayed in Cap’s office from the last Red-tail ship. The provost’s use of humor was quite disarming about what was in reality a very serious situation. Ian’s suspicion about Cap’s position and authority grew stronger. But again, that was for another time. Right now, they had a dangerous Red-tail to deal with.

“Although I would be inclined to have the Red-tail destroyed just on principle, I think we need to place him in custody for the present,” Ian offered thoughtfully. “Are you able to use those tractor rays on an individual?”

Cap nodded.

“Believe me, don’t try to handle him with anything less than stun weapons in the hands of armed guards wearing full body armor.”

“You make him sound dangerous,” Lyyle offered from where he was listening.

“Dangerous would be an extreme understatement,” Ian said firmly. “Even experienced troopers only take Red-tails captive with full teams of guards. And that with fully charged weapons at the ready. You don’t want to let him have the slightest chance of breaking free or attacking anybody.”

Cap read the coldness in Ian’s tone and again nodded as he made a mental note about the trader.

“What do they do with captured Red-tails in the Axia now?” Sony asked. Beside him, Usa stood there wide-eyed.

“There are a few places where captives are kept for study,” Ian admitted as Cap stepped over to the side and picked up a handset. He spoke in low quick tones and then hung up.

“You make it sound like Red-tail captives are a rarity,” Lyyle observed.

“They are extremely rare,” Ian answered. “There are probably fewer than a dozen throughout the Axia.”

“I would think with an area as vast as the Axia there would be more Red-tails captured,” Sony said. “I don’t know how big Galactic Axia is now, but just considering our old records, it should still encompass hundreds of worlds. If battles are even half as common as records suggest, there would be thousands of chances to capture them.”

“Thousand of chances, yes,” Ian agreed. “But good reasons not to. You obviously don’t understand Red-tails like we do in the Axia,” Ian replied evenly. “They are an implacable foe and are dangerous even in captivity. In space, where we fight them most often, they give no quarter, nor do we. They will fight to the last individual even against overwhelming odds. The few captives we get usually come from ground conflicts.”

“If they are as you describe, why have any captives?” Usa asked, finally speaking up.

“I’ve wondered that myself,” Ian agreed. “But the scientists keep captives to study. I think they want to understand our enemy to overcome them better. Beyond that, I am aware of no other purpose. There has never been a successful exchange of captives because they tend to eat any humans they capture. The Red-tails come here to our galaxy to kill, destroy, and hunt game. Us!”

“That sounds rather harsh,” Lyyle said.

“You wouldn’t say that if you’d seen half of what I have.”

“All that aside for the moment, we have to deal with the present situation,” Cap said, drawing the conversation back to the present. “I’ve already alerted the necessary personnel to deal with the Red-tail.”

As if to illustrate his point, a line of armored vehicles rolled up to the Red-tail ship and two squads of armed soldiers spilled out. While the people in the control bunker watched, the squad blew the hatch off the Red-tail ship and charged inside. A minute later, the soldiers came out dragging a stunned and limp Red-tail between them. They secured the prisoner in the armored holding cell on the back of a truck.

When they drove away, Cap turned to Ian. “That’s taken care of,” he said with satisfaction. “Now what do we do with the ship?”

“Personally, I’d suggest that you study it thoroughly,” Ian answered. “But only under one condition.”

“And what is that?” Lyyle asked. It was clear he was eager to get a crack at exploring the alien ship.

“That you keep the dampening field in effect,” Ian replied evenly. “We don’t know what traps or automatic weapons systems the Red-tail may have set up. The last thing we want,” he added as he turned to study the now empty ship, “is to have it blow up in our faces.”

∞∞∞

The computer lab was dark now and empty of the human technicians. Professor Angle and the rest of the staff had left hours ago. Ert enjoyed working with the humans, Professor Angle in particular. But there were times when he enjoyed being alone. Now was one of those times.

Being careful not to raise any alarms, Ert searched all the history records in the human’s computer system. Although vast by human standards, Ert had no difficulty digesting and analyzing all of the diverse material. He had sent the synopsis of his research in the last transmission to the Jibbah ship. He suspected the pilot of that craft was even then trying to correlate it with the timeline of the Horicon themselves.

But what Ert searched for was only hinted at in those records. It was his hope that his Jibbah contact would ferret out, without undue suggestion, the information hidden there. This was just part of Ert’s plan. The rest would depend on not only what he and the Jibbah could find, but also what to do about it. Action was required.

Ert now focused his attention to find the means with which to act. Again accessing parts of the human communication system, he tried to track down the vessel he’d noted earlier. Nothing was there.

Backtracking the records, he followed the progress of that ship from its visit earlier with someone called Captain Tyrone. But shortly after that, the trail went cold—vanished as if swallowed by space itself. Ert could find no record of any distress call or even the electromagnetic hash that would indicate the destruction of the ship. There was no evidence of battle. The ship had simply vanished.

Ert was perplexed. This new wrinkle would take time to analyze. Obviously, there was some explanation, and Ert was determined to find it out what it was.

Chapter Thirteen

The rhythmic lashing of his heavy tail telegraphed the Red-tail commander’s impatience. He paced the length and breadth of his bridge while underlings in the work pit below scurried feverishly to carry out his last command.

Orders flashed back and forth among the ships of this attack cluster as they formed for transit. This group was smaller than the commander would have liked so he had little patience for anything that might cost him a needed ship when they arrived at their destination.

“Cluster reporting ready for transit,” his direct underling reported to the commander.

Issuing a low snarling growl, the commander acknowledged this report with a simple nod. The sensor screen showed the tight cluster formation of the ships under his command. He was inwardly pleased but did not show it outwardly. That might lead to a slackening of discipline, which the commander despised.

“Signal the transit station that we are ready,” the commander ordered. His second nodded and then relayed the order to those in the pit. The commander snarled at the consternation he could see on the communication operator’s face.

Despite his nervousness, he carried out the order efficiently. “Transit command acknowledges,” came the report. “Enter at your discretion.”

I am the one to make the decision,
the attack cluster commander thought sourly. By leaving the entry command to him, the operators of the transit station could avoid punishment if the transit failed. Although he despised their tactic, the commander understood the system that fostered such behavior.

“Enter the zone,” the commander ordered tersely. Through the forward viewport of his ship, the commander watched the lead elements enter the swirling matrix of the transit tube. As they disappeared, he could see them bucking against the anti-gravitational forces that took hold of each individual ship.

I wish it could have been one of the natural tubes,
the commander thought as his ship drew closer.
These forced tubes always ride rougher.

Seconds later the forces of the transit tube took hold of his ship and hurtled it toward the projected exit point in the human galaxy countless light years away.

∞∞∞

Piaffè’s detector system registered the energy surge in the empty space he was observing. The location of the forces was much closer than Piaffè liked so he moved his little ship farther away. On advice he’d been given, the little Jibbah pilot made sure not be in a line directly between the loci and the nearest large concentration of bipedal-occupied planets.

Piaffè watched the fabric of space begin to tear apart. At the same time, he felt the fur on the back of his neck rise in reaction.

Stray spatial matter soon coalesced into a swirling mass of distortion. Both the ship instruments and his own optic nerves reacted to the scene unfolding in space. Faithfully recording the data as directed by the mysterious Horicon, Piaffè gritted his teeth as his gut roiled in reaction to the visual spectacle. He knew what would soon appear through the fissure in space, but this knowledge did not help his discomfort.

A concentrated flash of light far above the visible spectrum of humans announced the full establishment of the distorted transit tube. The Jibbah had long considered it a violation of the natural order of physics to tear and force the transit tubes. Their symmetry was a thing of beauty—but not to those who used them now.

The first ship of the enemy cluster tumbled out of the maelstrom, followed quickly by the rest of the cluster. Piaffè had never personally seen the ships of these marauders but that did little to suppress his sense of rage and fear. Even though it was now in the twilight of its existence, the Jibbah still had a natural loathing and hatred for the red creatures. Tragic experience had evolved into a racial hatred forged over many millennia.

Such had not been the case when the Jibbah ships had first discovered the Red-tails. At that time, the red creatures were only just starting their expansion into their own galaxy. The friendly overtures by the Jibbah turned tragic as any contact with the red marauders met with a fatal end.

Immediately, the elders of the Jibbah forbade contact with the Red-tails. Joined by the automated probes from the Horicon, they had taken up positions to observe the rise of this malevolent species with hope that with maturity, the red creatures would become more peaceful. Such hope turned out to be in vain.

The creatures were inherently demonic. Their home planet of Hadeous was a torturous atmosphere of volcanic upheaval. Fire, brimstone, and thick clouds of acidic toxic smoke forced the monsters to seek shelter underground where the living conditions were worse than they were on the surface.