Chapter Ten
Mabraant, Mabra System, Fazaal Sector, Gaashox Quadrant
The day of the mission finally arrived. Every detail had been checked, every system thoroughly tested before they took off. Even so, Grogaan’s friends remained nervous and a little anxious; after all, it was their first mission. Grogaan was quite the opposite. He remained calm and methodical the whole time. He did, however, fear the prospect of failing to live up to his friends’ expectations of him, and now those who put their trust in him to do what no one else had achieved.
He attempted to counteract this fear by focussing on what this mission meant to him: The first step in achieving the fulfilment of his vow of vengeance. The high probability of engaging the Krelathans in combat served to increase his anticipation and excitement, which helped him remain focussed.
Once outside the system, Kopaz Squadron accelerated to lightspeed and headed for their destination. Five hours later, they decelerated at the fringes of the Drelena system, which still left them a flight of about forty minutes. The last section had to be done at sub-lightspeed through one of the largest systems in the quadrant before reaching the principal planet.
Drelena was the second largest star in the Fazaal sector; the largest one being that of Quarsa. There were sixteen planets orbiting the star with more than forty moons orbiting those planets, and three extremely large asteroid belts, making it a hazardous system to the unwary. It was on the fringes of those belts where the Krelathan raiders ambushed their intended victims. They utilised many of the larger stable asteroids on the outer perimeter, one of which housed their secret base of operations.
Drolees, the principle planet, was one of four inhabitable astral bodies, the fifth closest to Drelena, and had a temperate climate with vast oceans and continents.
Grogaan set his sensors to maximum range and intensity, and selected full charge on laser cannons and shields, not wanting to be caught unprepared. There was no sign of any raiders, but the anticipation of contact heightened his senses and he felt the adrenaline flowing through his veins.
“Alright Kopaz Squadron, maintain close formation, shields and lasers on full charge, and keep alert,” said Grogaan.
“Roger that, Kopaz Leader,” they all replied.
When the squadron passed through the asteroid fields and reached the principle planet of Drelena without any sign of Krelathan fighters, Grogaan was filled with mixed emotions. He was relieved at not having to engage in combat in such a dangerous place, and yet he was disappointed for not having had the opportunity of putting his ship and his skills through the ultimate test.
They were allocated docking bay gamma-forty-five of the commercial spaceport at Franton, the primary city of Drolees, and headed there without delay. The transport they were required to escort was located in docking bay beta-twenty two in the adjacent complex. The gamma complex contained fifteen large bays, each large enough to hold six starfighters or a small cargo vessel. There were offices and rooms for use by the pilots and crews of docked ships, and were situated behind each bay with exits to the city streets.
There was nothing elaborate or ornate about the port, which was built from plain dull permacrete walls with lots of small skylights to allow light into the building. It was a depressing, unpleasant place, unlike the commercial ports on Mabraant.
After securing the ships against overly inquisitive strangers, and under the watchful eye of several curious pilots who were milling around their own ships, the four set off to find the transport’s crew. They found them in the spaceport’s own cantina, which was almost as dull as the docking bays, but darker and cooler. The air conditioning was functioning reasonably well, as was the extraction systems, a bonus considering the temperature inside and the smells emanating from either certain individuals or the food being consumed.
Grogaan could just detect the aroma of stale Breolan tobacco, not one of the nicer brands available, but cheap enough for most space pilots who indulged in the habit. The more expensive Fadaran brand tobacco made from the Polasta leaves had a much more pleasant aroma, and was popular among the merchants of the sector. It was a habit Grogaan refused to indulge, finding it unsociable and distasteful. ‘It clouds the judgement and stability of the mind,’ he had read in a report that had been proven authentic, especially regarding the cheaper brands. However, like everything else, it was the individual’s choice to eat, drink, or inhale whatever they desired to.
With what he had endured during the last few years, and although disapproving of the habit, Grogaan despised no being from doing what was needed to cope with whatever life threw at them. The stress of combat, loss of friends, family, or livelihood affected beings in different ways and everyone dealt with them the best or only way they knew how, so he tended to keep his opinions on this and many other sensitive subjects to himself.
The Captain was not difficult to recognise. He stood out clearly among the others who were currently frequenting the cantina. Maneron, from Breolis Primar, had spent the better part of his life on Mabraant earning his living from the merchant trade. He was a short stout fellow with greying hair, pleasant with a cheery disposition, and kept a well-groomed appearance, which was essential for trading with the more affluent citizens of the sector.
Grogaan approached the Breolan as if he knew him. “Captain Maneron, it’s so good to see you again and here on Drolees of all places.”
The Captain turned round, his expression neutral, but his eyes were bright and sharp. “And you are?”
“Don’t you remember me? I’m Antaan Frazor from Pesteron. You trade with my family,” he lied convincingly. Grogaan moved a little closer and whispered: “I’m actually Squadron Leader Learman of the MDF. My friends and I are here to escort you home.”
“Of course. You’ve changed since I last saw you. Hey, isn’t that the cloth I sold your mother?”
Grogaan nodded.
“Excellent quality, even if I do say so myself.” He gazed left and right to see if anyone was listening, and then lowered his head. “I’m pleased to meet you, Commander. Unfortunately, the ship is currently being repaired, so we’ll be unable to leave for at least another two days,” he whispered, and quickly told Grogaan about the incident.
“Fair enough. We’ll speak later in the office behind bay gamma forty-five,” he whispered, and then spoke normally. “Make sure you stop over next time you’re on Leeston. Ma will be delighted to see you again, and she’s after more of this fine material. She used the last of it on these flight suits.”
“I sure will,” said Captain Maneron nodding before walking away.
Grogaan meandered through the crowd and found his friends at a table in one of the corners. It was the farthest away from the bar, and also the quietest. He smiled. Some habits were hard to break. It also allowed them to keep a watchful eye on the clientele.
“What’ll it be lads? Mabraleen ales all round?”
“Yeah sure, if they serve it here,” said Zaack.
The other two agreed.
Grogaan returned to the bar to order the drinks, but the barman was busy serving other customers. While he waited, he gazed round and took note of the other clientele. He had not seen so many different species in once place before and found it unsettling. The atmosphere in the place was depressing and stifling, making Grogaan feel uncomfortable and anxious.
“What can I get you flyboy?” asked the barman in a deep gruff voice. He was a very stocky ugly humanoid with long black unkempt hair, obviously not a native of the planet, and definitely not the sort of person one would like to meet in a dark alley late at night. He was rather well placed in the cantina, lacking a bright and cheery disposition: A stark contrast to Captain Maneron.
“Four Mabraleen Ales, please, if you serve it here.”
“We do.” The barman took hold of some tankards and began filling them with the ale. “Not seen you around before. You here on business?”
“Just passing through,” said Grogaan matter-of-factly.
“Classy f
light suit you’re wearing. I bet you’re here for that transport. It’ll take some damn smart fighter escort to get that home safely, what with all the raiders about this system.” The barman banged two filled tankards down in front of his customer, spilling some of the contents, and began filling the other two.
Grogaan looked at him with a neutral expression, thinking the decision to remove their insignia was a good one. “Only a fool would take on escort duty in this system. No, me and my brothers are on our way to Leeston on family business and stopped for a break. Besides, it’d take more than a few fighters to survive against those raiders.”
The barman returned Grogaan’s stare as he put the second two drinks on the bar, wondering if the young pilot was lying. “If that’s the case, how come you know the captain of the transport?”
“Captain Maneron? Who doesn’t know him? He’s a well-known and respected merchant in this sector, ain’t he? He’s been to my family’s warehouse on Pestoran several times to trade cloth and farming equipment. Where else do you reckon us simple homesteaders could get our hand on starfighters at cheap enough prices, and wear decent flight suits? My ma made the suits from material bought from him. Well known on Pestoran for fine work she is,” he said paying the barman.
The barman nodded but did not look too convinced.
Grogaan realised there was something different about his sensory ability here on Drolees, which intrigued him. He wondered if it had anything to do with Guardian magic, and what the implications might be. He tried focussing his thoughts on what was causing the difference, and felt raw energy permeating the air around him. A tingling sensation shot through his body making him shudder, and his eyes widened with surprise as he sensed the barman was hiding a secret.
As he turned and walked away, the ability increased as he subconsciously drew on the energy around him without realising he was doing it. It heightened his senses further, and he heard the thoughts of the barman in his mind.
‘So that’s how the raiders know when to attack ships passing through this system; he’s an informer, a spy for the Krelathan’s. This will have to be reported,’ he thought.
Now Grogaan was aware of his heightened senses, he began to feel the emotions of other clientele as well. He detected a lot of anger and hatred, which was directed not only at the Krelathans. Being able to sense so many emotions, some of which were very powerful, made him feel even more uncomfortable, and because he was not able to control his gift, it was threatening to overwhelm him.
Grogaan tried to block the feelings by focussing his thoughts on his friends and the mission they were on, and rushed over to where they were seated. “Here you go lads; Mabraleen Ales all round,” he said with a slight warble.
“Thanks. My throat is so dry,” said Eldaan, whose stomach rumbled loudly. “What about something to eat?”
“Don’t you think about anything else?” said Zaack.
Eldaan sighed heavily. “I suppose I can wait,” he said and looked around the cantina. “Not much of a place is it? Give me the Klaret any day!”
“You can say that again. I just hope we don’t have to stay here longer than necessary,” replied Zaack.
Grogaan was amazed at being able to feel the emotions and sense the thoughts of other people. He was wondering why it had not been so apparent on Mabraant, when he was distracted by a conversation being held at a nearby table. He focussed his mind on the group, and heard not only what they were talking about, but also several other conversations nearby. Much to his disappointment, his concentration was disturbed by Doraant nudging him.
“Any news circulating Grogaan?” he asked.
“Well, the Krelathans have been increasing their attacks, which also seem to be more prevalent in this system than any other. The Fadarans in the far corner have heard that the Matheans have allied their forces with the Krelathans, and there’s a new empire expanding in the Hadon sector.”
Zaack frowned and looked at his friend. “If those Fadarans are talking over there, how the heck can you hear them over here?”
Grogaan laughed. “You should have some idea about that Zaack. It’s probably something to do with the gift you’ve always insisted I have. Well, I’m beginning to accept the fact that I might indeed be gifted, because it seems to be stronger here. I can hear people’s thoughts, those in close enough proximity that is.”
The three other pilots just stared at him open-mouthed.
After a few moments, Zaack shook his head and smiled. “I knew it. You are sensitive to the powers of the astral realm, just like the Guardians.”
“Keep it quiet Zaack. We don’t want everyone in here knowing,” said Grogaan.
Zaack shrunk back in his chair, hoping no one had heard. He sighed when it appeared no one had, and no one was paying them any undue attention.
“So how will the Matheans joining the Krelathans affect us?” asked Doraant.
“First, it explains why the attacks have been more frequent and successful. Secondly, with more ships and pilots, they can send out more raiding squadrons while retaining sufficient resources to protect their fleet and homeworld.”
“They can’t be any more successful than they have been,” said Eldaan.
“You’ve got a point there,” replied Doraant.
Zaack took a long drink of his ale and then wiped his mouth on the back of his hand. “It also means they will devastate our forces even quicker than before. Knowing how greedy those Krelathans are, they’ll soon start conquering worlds outside their own system, starting with the weakest.”
“They wouldn’t dare try anything like that, would they?” asked Eldaan.
“I wouldn’t dismiss the possibility,” said Grogaan. “They’re a ruthless people, and if they weaken the defences of a world sufficiently enough, who would be able to stop them invading? No one.”
“All the more reason to stop them before it’s too late,” said Zaack.
“Hence why we have to prove ourselves on this mission, and make sure we make a difference. Then maybe the MDF will listen.”
“They had better,” said Doraant.
“Anyway, back to more relevant details. I’m afraid we won’t be leaving for at least two days.” The other three looked aghast, but said nothing, so Grogaan continued. “The transport was involved in a small incident while trying to land, which unfortunately caused more damage. The authorities are still investigating the matter, and until they are finished the transport is grounded.”
“Why would they do that? That sort of thing happens a lot at the busier spaceports,” said Eldaan.
“Maybe so,” replied Grogaan, “but there have been reports of accidents being arranged. Whether it’s to bring in extra work to the maintenance depot, or obtain free repairs has not yet been established.”
“Sounds suspicious to me,” said Eldaan shaking his head.
“You have any ideas about it, Grogaan?” asked Zaack.
“I reckon it’s linked to the attacks by the Krelathan raiders,” he replied.
“How can that be?” asked Doraant.
Grogaan sighed and shook his head. “A damaged ship has to remain in system for a few extra days awaiting repairs, right?” Doraant nodded. “This gives the raiders enough time to set up an ambush.”
“Okay, but how do the raiders get to know about it?” asked Eldaan.
Grogaan pointed discreetly over his shoulder toward the barman. “They have a contact who is able to learn when ships are arriving or leaving without arousing suspicion, and then pass on the information by coded message.”
“You always were the smart one among us,” said Doraant.
“It’s just lateral thinking, that’s all,” answered Grogaan.
Sitting at a nearby table were three young pilots, whose half filled glasses contained an orange non-alcoholic drink. “You seen those MCIs over in docking bay gamma that arrived earlier?” asked Wrenkle excitedly.
“No. Why? What’s so special about them?” asked Hosrak.
“T
alk about top grade. They’ve got smart paintwork, and they’ve got four extra laser cannons on the nose, two extra on the wing tips, as well as two extra torpedo launchers, and, it looks like they got extra manoeuvring jets as well. I bet they’re faster than standard model MCIs too.”
“Get a good long look at them did you?”
“Why, don’t you believe me? Go and see for yourself then.”
“Maybe I will.”
“And sooner rather than later. Anyway, I wonder who they belong to.”
The two pilots were becoming restless having been on Drolees for longer than they expected. They were not usually impatient nor did they become restless easily, but for reasons beyond their comprehension, they were unable to settle on Drolees as they had done on other worlds.
Jedrool was amused by his friends’ banter, and knew it was their way of releasing tension. He had already seen the new arrivals and pointed discreetly at them. “Probably those newcomers over there, who I reckon have come here to escort that transport to Mabraant.”
“What makes you thing that Jed?” asked Hosrak.
“Because they’re the only fighter pilots who’ve arrived recently, and with upgraded starfighters. They’re probably Mabraant’s finest, and the only pilots capable of escorting the transport with any hope of success.”
Wrenkle and Hosrak looked over to see without making it too obvious.
“Or foolish,” said Hosrak, who was dubious about their ability. “Still, they’ll more than likely end up as space debris once those raiders meet up with them.”
“We’ll soon find out,” said Jedrool, who looked at the one who was obviously the commander. There was something about the man that intrigued him. As he continued looking at him, he felt a strange force tugging at his mind, prompting him to think on the words of the prophecy written centuries ago by an ancestor of his. It was a prophecy that Xarasss, a wise elder from his homeworld, had decreed was coming to pass, and would change everyone’s lives forever. Jedrool, who had been waiting for a sign, believed he might have just been given it.
The three men were from Jestung, the fifth planet in the Jesenen system. It was a hot and humid forest planet with many species of wild animals, some of which were vicious and deadly. The Jestungans had been a moderate tempered humanoid species, having kept their towns to a minimum, preferring small settlements hidden among the trees of the forest, and living off the bountiful vegetation and wildlife contained in and around their homes.
The second inhabitable planet, Jestant, had a cool climate and was covered mostly by ocean. Only about ten percent of the surface was dry land and that was predominantly mountainous. Although there were a few small forest plains, they were high up in the mountains. The inhabitants carved their dwellings directly into solid rock high in those mountains, preferring to live the way their people had done for many millennia.
Both peoples were superstitious, following their traditions and religion very rigidly, with few individuals ever leaving to seek lives elsewhere. Several Guardians from this system had been adept in prophesying, and all of their prophesies were written down meticulously and carefully protected over time.
The last prophecy was written five years before the slaughter of the Guardians two hundred and four years ago by the sorcerer Praxilian, an event that had also been prophesied a hundred years before it occurred. Unfortunately, many had chosen to disbelieve an event so destructive could or would ever happen again, but it did. However, it was the prophecy spoken two hundred and nine years ago that Jedrool was now pondering, one he knew was going to have a considerable impact on his own life as well as countless others.
Later that afternoon, the four Mabraantan pilots were checking over their ships to make sure they had not been tampered with, and were ready for a quick take off when a warning klaxon sounded. Several Droleesan pilots raced to their ships and took off while others scurried out of the way to avoid the jet-wash from the ships’ engines.
Grogaan was sitting on the side of the cockpit watching the commotion when he sensed a warning that something bad was about to happen. He then noticed one of the docking bay officers meandering in his general direction. When he was close enough Grogaan spoke to him. “What’s all the commotion for, Sir?”
“Never been here before, have you son?” the man replied sounding dejected.
Grogaan shook his head.
“That’s the alert siren. Main control set it off if an incoming ship is under attack and in need of assistance. Why, do you think you could be of any help?”
“Maybe,” said Grogaan in a matter-of-fact way.
The man sighed heavily. “We can usually muster only four or five fighters at any one time, and most of them, well, nearly all of them never return,” he said, sounding disconsolate. “We cannot keep this up much longer; far too many good pilots are being lost, and there aren’t many left, not many at all.”
“It’s the same over in the Mabra System,” sighed Grogaan.
“Forgive my manners. I’m Captain Larantian, Gamma Port Commander. Any problems you come and see me. And you are?”
“Squadron Leader Grogaan Learman, engineer and fighter pilot. Pleased to meet you, Sir.”
Grogaan knew what had to done. It was not his responsibility, but knowing his squadron was ready and capable of dealing with the Krelathans, he was unable to sit back and do nothing. He turned sharply and called to his friends. “Let’s go guys. We’ve got work to do.”
He looked at the Captain as he climbed into his cockpit. “This one’s on us.” As he closed the canopy, Grogaan felt apprehensive but excited. At last he would be able to see how he and his ship performed in real combat.
The Captain nodded showing his approval and gratitude, stepped out of the way and watched the young men take off and head for trouble. He wondered how good they were and whether they would survive. Even with starfighters that were obviously more heavily armed than standard models, he feared their stay on Drolees would be cut short. He admired their courage and their willingness to intervene in a situation that had nothing to do with them. With head and shoulders slouched, Captain Larantian strolled toward his office to wait for the outcome. ‘So many young men dying: When will it end?’ he wondered.
Kopaz Squadron arrived on the scene just as the last of the Droleesan fighters exploded into space dust. “Seems we’re too late to help those Droleesans,” said Kay-One. “Sensors show ten fighters, four Kraylons and six TS5s. Kay-Four with me: Two and Three; you know what to do. Let’s go and show ‘em we mean business.”
There were howls of delight from the others, which masked their nervousness.
“The four Kraylons are peeling off toward the transports,” said Kay-Two.
“Two and Three engage the Kraylons and stop them from disabling the transports.”
“Roger Kay-One,” they replied.
“Kopaz-One, this is shuttle Jay-Two-Nine-One, thank you for coming to our assistance. We will also engage the Kraylons.”
“Glad to be of service,” replied Grogaan.
Zaack and Doraant broke away and headed directly for the Kraylons while Grogaan and Eldaan attacked the TS5s. The increased firepower of Kopaz squadron’s ships gave them a distinct advantage, and after a couple of volleys, the Krelathan ship exploded in a ball of flame, forcing the other raiders to break formation.
Eldaan roared with delight, and while he followed one, Grogaan pursued another. Grogaan closed in fast and fired just as the enemy pilot banked to the port. The TS5 exploded in a ball of flame.
“Great shot Kopaz-One,” roared one of the shuttle pilots.
Eldaan took a little longer to destroy his target and as he did so, a TS5 pulled up on his tail. His heart began to race and sweat began to moisten his brow as he tried to shake the raider off his tail. “I’ve got a tail Kay-One and I can’t shake him.”
“I see him.” Grogaan pulled up banking to the right as Eldaan nose-dived, rolled, and veered to his right. Grogaan matched his manoeuvre perfectly, br
inging the TS5 directly into his sights, but he was a little out of range.
“This is too easy,” he mouthed silently. Grogaan remained relaxed even though he could feel the anger bubbling up within, but Eldaan was becoming very agitated as his ship rocked about when it took a couple of hits.
A few moments later the TS5 banked to port, bringing him into range of Grogaan’s lasers, who opened fire with all eight laser cannons. The first salvo took out the shields, and the second hit the engines and the power generators. The ship exploded in a fireball. Grogaan veered hard to port and just managed to avoid a large section of the fuselage tumbling violently in his direction.
“I thought these raiders were supposed to be experienced fighter pilots,” said Grogaan taunting the enemy, to which he heard a deep angry voice respond.
“You may find me a little more difficult to destroy, Kopaz leader.”
“We’ll see about that soon enough,” said Grogaan.
Meanwhile, Kopaz Two and Three were managing better than they expected, and were taking out the Kraylons one by one, with a little help from two of the shuttles in the convoy.
Grogaan took out another TS5 as did Eldaan, which left only one: The Krelathan squadron commander, who was the most experienced fighter pilot in the group posted in this region, but was finding Grogaan and Eldaan worthy opponents.
“The last one’s mine,” said Grogaan, “but stay focussed and watch for more raiders.
The two engaged in an amazing display of combat manoeuvres, each managing to gain the advantage for a brief moment allowing them to fire a few shots, but it wasn’t enough to damage either of the ships. The Krelathan’s experience was sufficient to prevent Grogaan’s exceptional ability ending the fight too quickly.
Grogaan felt his anger rising to greater levels as he concentrated harder. Memories of his father, brother and fiancée flooded his mind, reminding him of the oath he swore the day they were killed:
‘I vow to avenge your death, that of your parents, my brother, and my father. I swear I will make those damn Krelathan scum pay dearly for their atrocities. I swear I will not rest until they are vanquished or I am dead.’
Hatred and anger welled up inside, but he fought to control it, knowing it would affect his concentration and the outcome of this engagement if he did not. The Krelathan commander was proving to be a worthy adversary, a good test of Grogaan’s flying skills and his sensory ability. As he controlled his ever growing anger and channelled it into determination, he found his senses became stronger and clearer. His physical strength also increased, making control of the starfighter much easier.
Grogaan matched every move the Krelathan made, and was soon taking more and more shots at his target, slowly depleting the ship’s shielding and wearing into the Krelathan’s confidence.
“You’re good whoever you are, but are you good enough to make the kill?” taunted the Krelathan.
Grogaan switched the comm back on. “We shall see soon enough.”
The Krelathan tried every manoeuvre he could think of in an attempt to shake off his pursuer, but as the minutes ticked by, his confidence ebbed. Grogaan followed him relentlessly until he had him clear in his sights. “Now I’ve got you,” he said, and fired three salvos. Grogaan smiled and relaxed knowing he was the victor.
There was a giant fireball as the Krelathan’s starfighter exploded and disintegrated into space debris. Grogaan banked hard to starboard to avoid the debris, and rejoined his squadron to loud applause.
“Kopaz Squadron report in,” he ordered, and then sighed heavily, relieved it was over. It had been the most exhilarating experience of his life so far.
“Kay-Two reporting, no damage.”
“Kay-Three reporting, minor damage.”
“Kay-Four reporting, minor damage.”
“Well done all of you,” he said, unable to hide his delight at his and his friends’ performance. “Alright then, let’s escort those ships the rest of the way.” Now it was over and he was able to relax, he found his anger subsided with surprising rapidity, but it did leave him feeling mentally drained.
Despite their inexperience in actual combat, the self-imposed intense training they had put themselves through, had proved to be enough to make them competent fighter pilots. However, they knew the additional firepower and shielding had made the difference, allowing them to achieve what no other Mabraantan or Droleesan squadron had: The destruction of a Krelathan squadron without losing a single ship.
The lead shuttle took up his position in front of the transports with the one that had remained in formation, the other two taking up rear guard. “Kopaz Leader, this is Prince Grolak of Faidan. I offer you my thanks for your timely assistance.”
“There’s no need for gratitude, Your Highness. We’re only doing what needs to be done,” said Grogaan.
“Never-the-less, we are grateful to you and your colleagues. That was very impressive piloting Kopaz Leader, very impressive indeed.”
“Thank you, Your Highness. May I ask why you were travelling unescorted?”
There was a moment of silence before the Prince replied. “We started with an escort of eighteen starfighters when we left our home planet, but we lost twelve to Imperial forces before we could escape, and the other six just after we arrived here in the Drelena system. Eighteen fine pilots, good friends too.”
The Prince sounded sorrowful, and Grogaan knew how he was feeling.
“Well, we shouldn’t have any more trouble from here on in, Your Highness. Alright Kopaz Squadron, take up escort formation.”
“Roger Leader,” replied the others; Kopaz Two and Three formed up on the port side of the convoy, with Kopaz One and Four on the starboard side.
Breaking through the atmosphere, Grogaan eased forward and led the convoy toward Franton. “Drolees Control, this is Kopaz Leader requesting landing authorisation for eight transports and four shuttles from Faidan.”
“Kopaz leader, this is Drolees control, authorisation is granted. Faidan transports, you are allocated docking bays beta-sixteen through twenty-three, Faidan shuttles, docking bays alpha-four and five. Co-ordinates are being transmitted now.”
“We copy Drolees control,” responded Prince Grolak. “Kopaz leader, I’d like to meet you once we’ve landed, if you have no objection.”
“Of course, Your Highness,” he said.
Kopaz squadron reformed away from the convoy and headed back to the docking bays they had been allocated earlier. Grogaan felt an unusual tingling sensation running through his body as if he was charged with electricity. By the time they approached the planet’s surface the sensations had gone, but it was replaced with an intense feeling of satisfaction.
Now Grogaan believed he would be able to begin repaying the Krelathans for their evil deeds, and for murdering his loved ones.
A large crowd, comprising mostly of pilots, engineers, and docking bay personnel had gathered in the port, waiting for the return of the victorious pilots. Grogaan opened his canopy to the sound of applause and cheering. He climbed out of his ship and as he turned round, he was met by a joyful Captain Larantian who shook his hands vigorously.
“Squadron Leader Learman, that was an excellent performance by you and your friends. This is a day I thought I would never see, and one I’ll never forget.”
“Thank you Captain. So what’s all this commotion for?”
“For you and your squadron of course. Those transports you saved were carrying members of the Royal Family and important Senators from the Faidar System.”
Although Grogaan was pleased by the welcome, and understood why there was so much jubilation over their success, he would have preferred not to have had such a reception. For him, the success was personal, proof he was capable of doing what he set out to do, and that he would now be able to avenge the death of his family. He could not deny he was delighted, but refrained from showing it demonstratively, unlike his friends, not that he thought badly of them for it.
“That much I gat
hered, but such actions would not usually warrant a reception for lowly pilots such as us.”
Larantian smiled. “A modest pilot too!”
“Me! I don’t think so,” said Grogaan.
“Under normal situations I would agree with you regarding the reception, but this is a very important occasion. Faidan has recently joined a new empire, the Hebradon Empire I think, which is posing a threat to the freedom of this sector and beyond.”
“If they joined the Empire, why would the Royal Family and Senators flee?”
“I was only informed of the matter shortly before you landed, so I don’t know the full reasons. I also know they only just managed to escape through the blockade surrounding their planet, managing to deprive the Empire of a large proportion of the planet’s wealth, as well as some valuable equipment.”
“Well, they were lucky we arrived when we did. Another few minutes and the transports would have been disabled and boarded.”
“They were indeed fortunate, thanks to you. Not forgetting you volunteered to fight, something few would have done, especially here on Drolees. Everyone will be grateful to you and your friends for some time.”
Grogaan smiled. “Well, someone has to stand up to those damned Krelathans, and make ‘em pay for what they’ve done.”
Captain Larantian looked at Grogaan with wide eyes, surprised at his declaration. He detected something in his voice that suggested a personal reason behind his actions. “Well, you sure made them pay this time,” he said. “I just hope you live long enough to make a difference.”
“I intend to.”
“I believe you will, Squadron Leader, I do believe you will. Anyway, we must meet our guests. They should have landed by now and have requested to see you.”
“Yes, I know: Prince Petron Grolak. We’ve already spoken.”
Kopaz squadron accompanied the Captain to Docking Bay Alpha where the Prince’s shuttle was docked. This complex was reserved for the wealthier and more important clients who required a private facility. Access to the bay was restricted to approved and accompanied persons only, and entry for a group of four fighter pilots would be regarded as a great privilege to some, but not to Grogaan. He did not fight for glory or recognition, although he knew that was going to be something he would have to accept, if he was to achieve his goal.