Chapter Eleven

“I lost her cape.”

Corii looked over at Yedda as he spoke, confused. Simion gave a glance over his shoulder as he piloted the hopper through the narrow valleys of the mountains of Chinngard. He pulled back on the control sticks to gain a little height, blowing the tops off trees and then levelling out.

“Lost what?” he asked, peering through the low clouds as they engulfed the tiny craft.

“Our sister’s cape. I think I dropped it back at the palace.”

Corii shook his head in amazement. “You worry about the damnest things, Yedda.”

They flew on in silence, only the occasional sniff or cough between them. The sky was dark, the two moons of Chinngard hidden by the thick cloud. Or was it smoke? They had flown so far they thought they would at least see some clear sky, but it was overcast. Every settlement or province they flew over was burning, a large Janos transport situated just outside the limits. The odd flash of weaponsfire could be seen below. Over every hill was the red glow of defeat.

“Three minutes until the landing field,” Simion said. “What ship were we looking for?”

“The Recurring Dream,” Yedda said, shifting in his seat. “Arkin said we were to contact the captain of the vessel and he would get us out of here.”

“Arkin,” Corii tutted after he said the bodyguard’s name slowly. “Do you think...?”

Simion looked over at Corii sharply. “I don’t want to think. I’ve seen enough tonight for it to become a recurring dream. How can the Janites be so vicious?”

The hopper dipped as they cleared the trees. They were following a valley. “They have religious fervour on Janos. The civilians want the other planets to realise their heresy. They’ve had a lot of practice.” Yedda said this very casually, as if explaining it over a dinner conversation. Simion’s face screwed up with worry, out of sight of his brothers. He was worried for his brothers, his sister.

The hopper swung around the side of a mountain. The landing field was in sight.

So was a Janos transport, its underside flaring as control jets brought it in for a landing next to the site. It filled the cockpit of the hopper, so close they could see figures moving about in the windows. It was heading for the mass of ships on the landing field.

Simion cursed loudly, pulling on the control sticks to manoeuvre the hopper from impact. The little craft twisted onto its side, causing Corii to yell and use the plastiglass of the canopy as support and Yedda to grip tightly to his sister and hope his seat straps would hold. Simion gritted his teeth, trying to stop the hopper from fighting back and levelling out.

At that moment a defensive cannon on the field fired a bright blue beam of energy that appeared instantly below the Janos vessel and swept upwards. The beam sliced through the transport like a wire through cheese, taking off a third of the underside and completely severing a landing strut. There was a rattling explosion and the ship toppled, starting to slowly spin as it lost control. A weapons port opened and fired erratically back, the missiles landing far short of the field, tearing up grassland and plastcrete.

The hopper levelled of it’s own accord, Simion cursing at the safety systems installed in the vessel. The beam had vanished, but it had passed so close the hopper had blown an engine from the incredible heat the triplets could feel through the canopy. Warning lights flashed on the console. Simion leaned forward to get a better grip on the controls. “I’m losing it!”

Corii looked back at the enormous transport as it started to fall. It was a hundred meters long, and as it fell he could see small figures leaping from airlocks with gravity parachutes and drift away from the doomed ship towards the landing field. He turned back to his present situation as he felt his body become light. The hopper was heading for the ground.

It struck nose first at an oblique angle, sliding over grass and then the solid surface of the landing field. Sparks flew from under the hopper as it screamed along, bits of its underside flying off. Its landing carriage was gone, ripped from their fixings easily by the impact. The little craft slid for a few dozen meters before coming to a stop. The canopy was ejected automatically, and it fell with a crash to the ground twenty meters away.

Whilst the canopy was arcing through the air the triplets were already unbuckling and climbing from the hopper. None were hurt, and Yedda was about to carefully hand the child to Corii when Simion shouted, “There’s the ship!”

The Recurring Dream was not as large as the other vessels on the pad. It sat quietly, one of six ships on the field. On the lower part of it’s light grey hull were painted the words Recurring Dream in the eloquent lettering of Fedarn, the Prime Lord’s world. It was not as long as other transports, probably twenty-five or thirty meters, but it was a welcome sight.

Simion turned with a huge smile as the Janos vessel slammed into the treeline at the base of a mountain. He was ecstatic at finally reaching what appeared to be safety. The stricken ship seemed to collapse as if deflating, falling over and sideways on its uneven underside and erupting within, obscured by smoke.

Corii looked ahead at Simion as he smiled, but then he saw his brother’s face change as he looked up and behind him. Simion drew his blaster. “They’re coming!”

Corii turned, grabbing his own weapon. He could see the blue shapes of Janos troopers floating towards them, hanging from gravity parachutes, the fire of their crashed transport making them glow with evil intent. Their first burst of blaster fire exploded beside Yedda and the child. It was accompanied by the wailing of their prayers as they fought.

“Run!” Corii yelled, raising his pistol and pulling the trigger. He had aimed at the lead figure whose helmet crest identified him as the leader. The pistol whined but did not fire.

Yedda just ran, forgetting about defending himself and just despairing about his sister. He could see the lower ramp of the Recurring Dream opening and a figure appearing at the top waving them in. He pumped his legs as fast as they would go.

Corii swore as he ran, trying to flick the safety catch over so that he could fire a shot. Arkin had always said that when the real fighting started he would forget his fear and become professional in battle. Well, he had left the safety catch on his weapon and he was as scared as a rodent in the glare of a predator’s eyes. He moved the catch, spun, and fired off several shots to cover his brothers.

Simion was already firing, his first few shots just slowing the oncoming soldiers down. When one of his shots slammed into the gravity parachute of a trooper it exploded and dumped the man on the ground below. The others realised their folly in remaining in the air and decided to continue the attack on foot.

Simion turned to run but as he put his right leg forward it suddenley became useless and he toppled forward and onto his chest. He lay there stunned and annoyed at the hindrance and looked down to see what he had fallen over.

What he saw made him scream louder than the engines of the Recurring Dream, which was starting up. He had been hit in the back of the leg, and the impact had turned his knee into a fused mass of flesh and bone that was still burning. He grabbed his thigh and roared defiance at the troopers who were approaching, sitting up as best as he could and firing shot after shot.

“Simion!” Corii turned to see his brother fall, could almost feel the pain in his own leg. He began to run back to aid him but Simion was changing cartridges and just stared at him.

“No, get out of here!” he shouted, trying not to grit his teeth in pain. He slammed another cartridge into his pistol and primed it. “Go on, there’s no time!”

Corii looked at the troops and then at his brother. He fired at the enemy, but they returned fire with accuracy, catching him slightly on the shoulder and so close to his feet he could feel the heat through his boots.

“Go!” Simion screamed again. “Familee must live on!”

Corii gagged, turned, and ran up the ramp after Yedda and his sister. The ramp was already closing before he reached the top.

Simion sat up with a fresh cartridge, the smile on his face was a mixture of pain and madness. He faced the enemy side-on as his father had taught him, so that they would have a smaller target to fire at. He raised his weapon and fired, screaming with a voice that was filled with grief and anger.

“Come on! Come on! Eat this, you Janos freaks!”

The first shot exploded in the leader’s face, his helmet crest igniting as he fell. The second felled another trooper, the third another. In all, five soldiers lay dead before they snapped from their shock and returned fire.

Simion had nowhere to dodge, no dexterity to move. The hail of incoming bolts scored hit after hit. His death was short and explosive.

The Recurring Dream was rising slowly, the troops on the ground firing up at it with their rifles, but the thick hull of the transport took every shot, designed to be hit by things more dangerous than small arms fire. With a roar it ascended into the sky.

Yedda was hurrying to the cockpit of the transport with Corii. “Where’s Simion?”

There was no answer. Corii breathed deeply as if hyperventilating, staring at the floor and gripping his weapon tightly. His face was twisted into a snarl.

“Where’s Simion!” Yedda cried. Corii’s visage twisted further as if his anger had reached boiling point.

“He’s dead!” he screamed loudly, the sound muting the roar of the engines and the hum of the deckplates. Yedda fell silent, shocked. He shook his head in disbelief. No. Shock. Disbelief.

“He’s dead,” Corii said more softly. “He’s dead.”

Their sister murmured and began to cry, the small sobs slipping from her mouth as if she was trying to hold them back. She gripped her brother tightly, then looked at him deep in the eyes. Her first word was a trembling sound, rimmed with sadness and fear.

“Death.”

The Recurring Dream departed the confines of the planet Chinngard, leaving the world from its dark side so that it appeared to be a black smear across the stars. It flew at its fastest speed, moving quickly into the depths of space. The misery was left behind and all on board were quiet. The two brothers, now involuntary twins and orphans, moved from the corridor and into the spacious cockpit.

The room was circular and domed, the far side of it was a mass of screens and readouts with a huge bowed viewport. Several seats were scattered at different positions but were empty. There was one huge chair at the fore, made small by the great monitors. It spun around to reveal a middle-aged man with a ruffle of black hair and a patchy uniform, which looked as though it had been cannibalised from all the worlds of the sector. He had a rugged face, with thin eyes and a crooked mouth. He climbed from the seat and approached them, his expression one of pity and caution. The brothers moved in. The child cried softly.

The man gave a slight bow, although it was more of a bend at the waist in the weightlessness.

“I’m captain of the Recurring Dream, Captain Lovo. Welcome aboard, although I wish it was...” he stopped, knowing that mere words could not alleviate the pain that was emanating from the men before him. They were both grimy and dishevelled, Corii’s shoulder, although the hit had only burnt the skin, was still smouldering. Lovo motioned to two seats. “Sit.”

“Arkin said you would get us out of here,” Yedda said quietly as he moved to the seat. He grabbed the seat’s armrest and pulled himself in, his arm still protecting his sister. Corii moved in next to him.

“You’re a free trader, yes?” Corii said simply as he clipped the buckles into place. “Can Arkin trust you?” Lovo moved back into his own seat.

“I should hope he can,” Lovo said with a hidden smile. “I’m his cousin.”

The brothers looked at him incredulously. He was obviously human and not a towering lizard of Arkin’s race.

Lovo smiled. “It’s a long story,” he said.