Chapter Nine

The sensor operator sat back, surprised at the new signals appearing on her screen. She reached up to the control board above her head and twisted a few dials to try and clarify the image but the improvement did not make the new dots on her monitor any clearer.

She looked over at another operator and called him. “Wurri, switch to sensor arc three-one-seven. Tell me what you see.”

The other operator slid his chair down the screen bank and arrived at a certain cluster of monitors. After a few dials twisted and a few buttons pressed, the screens showed different data and charts. He studied them and shrugged. “Looks like a convoy. Three starships. Why? What’s your problem, Shedda?”

Shedda squirmed and made a face, annoyed with the man she had been lumbered with for night duty. Everyone knew he couldn’t take anything seriously. She tried to re-adjust the screen again to get a better picture. “I’m reading three ships but mass displacement says there should be at least six. I’m calling the Colonel.”

“And interrupt his dinner? Did you know it’s his birthday today? I’m not sure how pleased he’d be. Re-adjust on a tighter frequency. I’m sure they’re just a convoy. You haven’t even got a clear definition according to this.” Wurri slid himself back along the bank to where he had been working, shaking his head with exasperation. Why did he have to get night duty with this woman? Everyone knew she was paranoid.

Shedda tried to boost the signal, tried to bounce the sensor beam off a deep recon satellite. Suddenley, the link to the satellite vanished, and the range of her sensors was halved. The detail of the three signals was just an unrecognisable blob on the screen.

“Er, Wurri. I just lost the link with my reconsat. The computer is not showing any kind of hardware failure.”

Wurri cursed softly. He had been hoping for a quiet night, maybe even catch up on some sleep. He paused the data he was working on and slid his chair back down to the end of the bank, jumping out as it reached the end of the sliding rail and crossed over to Shedda.

He leaned closer to the screen, much to the distaste of Shedda, and peered at the image. He checked the positioning of her beam and took the controls himself. “Look, you’ve overcompensated. The beam has to be wide enough to make contact with the reconsat. Here.” He repositioned the beam’s direction and frequency, tightened up the signal and pressed the enable button.

Nothing happened.

He frowned. He must have just pointed the emitter a few degrees off. He re-adjusted and pressed enable again.

Nothing.

“Call the Colonel,” he said hurriedly and jumped back over to his own monitor, wiping the data he had been reviewing and trying to contact his own reconsat which was a little further afield from Shedda’s and not in the flight path of the unidentified starships.

As he positioned his scan he heard the panicked voice of Shedda. “I can’t raise Colonel Stepha. I can’t contact any of the command staff! They’re not answering!”

A single synthesised chime of a bell started to ring around the halls of the palace. With every ring, Shedda tried to call a command officer and Wurri tried to get a location on the starships. When the twelfth bell struck, Wurri found his target.

Six huge starships, packed tightly into three pairs to hide their numbers from long-range scans. As they approached the outer edges of Chinngardian space, they began to divide and drift apart to make two wide triangles of three ships. He could also see that each ship was despatching three transports each.

“I have six contacts bearing three-one-seven, ten minutes from orbit. Targets appear hostile.” Wurri looked over at Shedda, a silent apology in his gaze. She met that gaze, the fear in her eyes evident and her hands trembling. “I have no signal from the commanders.”

The communicator unit on her desk squealed loudly, making both her and Wurri jump at the sound. She slammed her hand on the receive stud and almost shouted, “Sensor operations!”

The deep, welcome voice of Arkin drifted over the speaker, “Sensors, why have you been trying to call Commander Eevans?”

“Mister Arkin, Sir, I have been trying to reach any and all of the commanding officers for the past few minutes, Sir. I have received no answer.”

“That’s hardly surprising. I just found him dead outside his chamber door.”

The two operators looked at each other in fear.

“Sensors, give me a situation report.”

Shedda transferred the link from Wurri’s station to her own, “Sir, we have six inbound starships, three transports apiece in a conflict formation. We have already lost one reconsat, probably disabled by the incoming ships to avoid detection. Corporal Wurri spotted the ships on a backup satellite, Sir.”

“How long till orbit?”

She checked her readouts. “Nine minutes, Sir.”

“Alert all positions. Keep me posted.”

Arkin switched off his comlink and looked down at the body of Commander Eevans. His body was twisted and misshapen as if great agonies had taken him before he died. There was blood mixed with vomit spilling from his mouth, and his hands had gouged deep furrows in his cheeks, the flesh still pink and red under his fingernails. His hands were still over his face, contorted into claws. Arkin shook his head and rolled him over.

He reset the frequency of his talker and switched it on. “Chief of the watch.”

“Tiran here.”

“Tiran, this is Arkin. We have inbound hostile ships and Commander Eevans is dead. I want a trooper to check the chambers of every commanding officer staying here tonight, and anyone who attended Colonel Stepha’s birthday celebration. Pass me over to the ground chief.”

“Understood.”

“Ground chief Operl here.”

“Chief, I trust you heard what I said to Tiran.”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Prepare all palace defences for an orbital attack, and call the other provinces to prepare for ground offensive. Priority one.”

“This isn’t a drill, is it, Sir?”

“No, Operl, it’s not.” Arkin disconnected the call.

He stood and flung himself down the hall to his own chambers that were only a few doors away from Eevans’. He quickly entered and crossed over the sparsely furnished room to a secure cupboard. He inserted the design of his ring into the cupboards handle where a small circular depression was set and the doors swung open. Inside were his personal weapons. His heavy blaster pistol, sword and wrist shield. He quickly placed his pistol across his waist for ease of drawing, checked the sword was switched off and strapped it to his back, and then donned the wrist shield, turning it on but not active so that it could warm up.

Then he heard a scream down the hall and a surprised yell. Someone had found the body of the Commander. He jumped out of his doorway to see two assistants, the man and wife cleaners of the great hall, and he barked orders at them. “Get all none-combatants to the lower bunkers. Don’t dawdle.”

“But, Mister Arkin, the Commander...”

“Is dead. There’s nothing we can do for him. Go!” His dark eyes and menacing tone made the pair scurry down the corridor to alert the rest of the palace staff.

An alarm had started ringing throughout the palace. How many people, Arkin thought, would think this only a drill and roll over in their beds to try and get back to sleep?

His first call would be on the brothers. They were only on the floor above and he could check on them before checking on the Baron. He grabbed his comlink from his belt as he headed for the stairs. “Sensors, what’s the situation?”

“Sir, we just lost our last reconsat, but the incoming ships are clear on our ground sensors. Five minutes maximum.”

Five minutes, Arkin thought with a snarl, clipping the comlink back on his belt. He inserted a charge cylinder into the back of his pistol as he leaped up the stairs, yelling at anyone in his way to get to the bunkers or to defensive positions, whatever their role in the palace dictated.

His yelling had disturbed Yedda, who opened his door, still dressed from his day’s duties. “Arkin...?”

“Sir, did you or your brothers go to the birthday celebrations tonight?”

Yedda looked around at the hurrying palace assistants and the guards with their weapons ready. Confusion covered his tired face. “No, we decided to let the Colonel celebrate without three miserable triplets ruining his fun. We ate in Corii’s chamber. What... why?”

“I just found Eevans dead, looks like he was poisoned.” He let his words sink into Yedda’s brain, letting him work out for himself that he was probably poisoned at the celebration, along with other guests.

“Oh, no,” Yedda grabbed his jacket from his dresser top, and opened the top drawer to retrieve his pistol. The other two brothers were opening their doors, now, questioning the noise and alarms.

“Check on the Baron, there’s possible enemy ships coming in,” Arkin yelled over the increasing shouts and calls in the hall, “I’m going to get your sister.”

The triplets adjusted their uniforms and holstered their pistols. As they ran to the staircase Yedda told the other two what Arkin had told him. They increased their pace and drew up to their parent’s door out of breath.

Yedda knocked. There was no answer, but he just thought he had not heard the reply over the noise in the corridor.

“Father?” he shouted, banging the door now in unison with Corii. “Mother!”

Simion just pushed them aside and slammed his fist into the operator panel. The doors refused to budge, so Corii inserted his ring into the depression in the controls. The doors hissed open.

All three brothers burst in and halted as one, a perfect line of exact likeness, the same eyes, and the same expression.

And they just stared.

And stared. And stared. And stared.

And screamed.

Arkin jumped the last few steps of the staircase to the medibay, squeezing through the door before it was fully opened. The white walls of the bay were covered in screens and cabinets, with small attending seekers buzzing around the air. He ran across the room to the doctor’s private quarters. The door slid open before he got there, and doctor Turor stepped out. Arkin nearly ran into him and caught himself just in time. The doctor stared at him in astonishment. “What is happening?” he demanded.

“Doctor Turor, where is the Baron’s daughter?”

“Asleep. In there.” He pointed to a side door leading from his office. “What is it?”

“Wake her up and get her dressed. Warmly. There’s a fleet of starships coming and it doesn’t look good. Quickly, man!”

Turor jumped at the sharpness of Arkin’s demand and ran to the room where the child was resting, grabbing his coat from the back of his metal chair which clattered to the floor noisily.

Arkin’s comlink squealed. He grabbed it and activated it. “Arkin.”

“Sir, this is sensors. The starships have launched all their transports and they just achieved orbit.”