Quest For Earth (2 page)

Her friend caught up with her, bright green eyes wide, short red hair flopping in all directions. ‘Holy crap, what's that noise?' gasped Bree, stuffing her shirt tails into faded, tatty cargo pants.

‘I think it's the ship. Perhaps we have collided with an asteroid particle or a piece of space debris.' Sherise, breathing hard, slapped her hand onto the security panel beside the double doors.

The next instant, the floor shifted into a sharp incline. With a screech like rending metal, the ship slammed down. And kept going.

Sherise cannoned into Bree; pain shot up her leg as her ankle twisted. Squealing and in a tangle of arms and legs, they rolled across the floor and slammed against the opposite wall.

The bottom dropped away from her stomach and Sherise fought the urge to vomit until long sectons later, the ship levelled out. With a guttural breath, she scrabbled onto her hands and knees.
By all the stars in Darkos, what is happening?
If the ship had slipped off the mapped path that corkscrewed through the Vortex, they were doomed.

She clawed to her feet and hauled a white-faced Bree upright. ‘It could be a malfunction,' Sherise said hoarsely. Their eyes met. The words had failed to reassure.

Sherise hobbled over to the panel and punched in the code with trembling fingers, her pulse beating rapidly. In her mind, insidious voices whispered half-remembered tales of other star ships that never made it out of the massive Azzirt Vortex, the most notorious black hole on the edge of the outer reaches of the Seven Galaxies.

And the most treacherous.

The door zoomed upwards.

Energy emanating from the personnel within the Centre flooded over her. Her skin tightened in response. She sensed the fear and tension crackling in the air as the crew worked with grim precision at their designated tasks. Both Darkon and Relic warriors side-by-side at consoles, others grouped around data streams. The on-duty crew were easy to discern by their clothing; flight suits complete with anti-gravity boots. The enormity of the situation was apparent by others clad in body-hugging sleep pants, their feet bare.

Sweat prickled her scalp.

Vid-screens streamed stark live images of the drama unfolding. For several sectons she forgot to breathe as the scenes burned into her brain. She wrenched her gaze away from a storage area engulfed in a fiery inferno to glance at her friend. A large red contusion had appeared on her forehead. Bree stood rigid, staring at the screens, her hands gripped together so tight the bones in her finger gleamed white. In her shabby clothing she reminded Sherise of their long imprisonment on Gazood with its horrendous deprivations and primitive way of life. The only difference now was neither wore their scuffed, sturdy boots, both having discarded their footwear, intending to seek their rest after the meeting with the passengers.

Sherise shook off the memory of their incarceration, flicked her long, dark braid over her shoulders, and limped across the room, leaving Bree standing by the door.

Her bodyguard, the fair-haired Relic warlord called Kondo, broke off his conversation to intercept her. Young, well-built and handsome, he'd been assigned to his current position by her brother who, Sherise well knew, had hoped their relationship would evolve into something warmer and permanent. Her brother believed such a union would cement their races' somewhat shaky alliance. Kondo had once been the leader of the renegade Relic race and, for many cycles, their bitter enemy. He'd abdicated his position at the end of the war, but not before he'd taken Sherise hostage and negotiated a truce with her brother. He and his people had sided with the Darkons in the last, massive assault against the Elite Forces which, thank the stars, they had won.

Now the Relics and Darkons were allies and keen to see no further bloodshed between their people. But this battle-hardened warrior was not the man for her. In fact, a family of her own did not figure in her plans. Sherise intended to dedicate her life to her faith upon her return home.

His gaze swept over her to linger on her toe where blood seeped over a torn painted nail. ‘You are hurt …'

‘Not now, Kondo.' Sherise brushed past him. He kept pace as she hurried towards the bridge. ‘What happened?' she asked over her shoulder.

‘We've collided with another ship. For reasons yet to be determined, our sensors did not register its presence until too late. The
Quinnie
now travels along the outer cusp of the mapped path.'

Her muscles locked and she stared at him. The lines beside his hard mouth had deepened into trenches. In his steel-grey eyes she detected a flash of sorrow before he turned away and indicated the lines of data that scrolled in a continual motion from the ceiling to the tiled floor. Her gaze followed his gesture.

A group of Darkon warriors stood muttering to each other as they studied the runes and equations.

By the stars! I was correct.

‘Will she hold?' She grimaced at the faintness of her voice and hid her clenched hands behind her back. With her brother the leader of the Darkon Empire, she held rank higher than the
Quinnie's
Commander; although during the long journey she had limited her responsibilities to overseeing the welfare of the ship's passengers. She lifted her chin. Now was the time to don the cloak of a leader.

But following her failure on Gazood, this robe was one she was afraid to wear again.

Kondo shrugged. ‘I do not know. This is your Darkon technology, not mine. The outer shell of a compartment bay has been destroyed and should the
Quinnie
be unable to maintain her course …'

Sherise raised her voice and let it ring throughout the Centre. ‘The
Quinnie
will hold.'

The warriors fell silent, absorbing the command within her words.

‘Of course, she will hold.' With the clipped steps of the military, Commander Dyrke El Zen crossed to her side. His stern gaze swept the room and the crew returned to their tasks. ‘You are damaged. I will send for the medic.'

‘Later, Commander. Your report please.' Sherise braced herself. By what she'd seen so far, the news would not be good.

He cleared his throat, standing feet apart with his hands clasped behind his back, shoulders as straight as tempered metal. ‘The outer hull is compromised in several sections. Reports are yet to determine the extent of the damage. We lost power when one engine compartment exploded upon impact and our energy field has been weakened, reducing our manoeuvrability. Sensors are destroyed, along with escape pods and three transport shuttles. Communications are damaged.'

Stars above! And my people?
‘What of our crew and passengers? Has everyone been accounted for?'

‘Several compartments are cut off and we have yet to establish their status. We have received reports of at least twenty personnel either injured or deceased. Rescue teams are on their way but, with comms down, it is too soon to say how many have been lost.' The groove between the Commander's brows deepened.

‘I will report to the medie chamber and assist our medical team.' She hesitated, sensing there was more left unsaid.

Dyrke's murky red and black aura crackled with tension. Her breath hitched in her throat. That quicksand feeling of dread in the pit of her stomach warned danger lay ahead.

The Commander jerked his chin toward the forward screen. ‘Another mass has been detected. Impact in ten sectons.'

Oh, goddess Cercis, save us.

‘Issue the order to strap down, including the rescue teams. How many people have been evacuated?'

‘With limited communications it is difficult to say.' Dyrke snapped his gaze from the screens to her face.

‘Change our heading. As soon as the mass has passed, get us back on route.'
That is, Cercis willing, we can find the correct co-ordinates.

The Commander inclined his head and barked out a string of orders. A warning alarm clanged throughout the ship.

‘This way, lady.' Quick as a sneaky coda worm, Kondo grabbed hold of her arm and frog-marched her across the room towards a duplicate command chair. While she fumbled with the catch Kondo loomed over her, his large body casting a distorted shadow.

Apparently satisfied she was secure, he strode over to Bree and towed her to a row of chairs behind Sherise. Held captive by her harness, Sherise stared at the screens. Ahead lay the pulsating inner-most layers that marked the exit of the Azzirt Vortex. And beyond lay Earth.

‘We're going to die.' Bree's quiet words beat inside Sherise's head in unison with the thumps of her heartbeats.

What of the injured? What if they were unable to reach safety? She pushed words past her clenched jaw and directed them over her shoulder, ‘I will not die here and neither will you. You must have faith.'

Doubt gnawed like a hungry rodent but Sherise had to believe they would survive. They had come so far, endured so much hardship and loss. Surely Cercis could not be so cruel.

The
Quinnie
jerked from side to side, struggling to change course. A flow of gravitational waves and negative pressure collided in the ship's wake and exploded into particles of stardust, debris and anti-matter that rippled across the screens in swirling colour. It would have been beautiful if the situation hadn't been so dire. Riveted by images of the ship's now blackened hull, Sherise swallowed, forcing down the bile burning her throat.

In the forward vid-screen churning blackness forked by streaks of sizzling white energy split the darkness. Beyond the exit, a brief taunting glimpse of twinkling stars beckoned.

Life.

‘The
Quinnie
fails to respond,' said Dyrke.

Her gaze whipped to the Commander, his dark skin drawn taut over his cheekbones, the hollows beneath pronounced.

He added quickly, ‘Sensors advise the energy field is more compromised than our first report indicated.'

‘Where is the weak point?'

Dyrke's quiet words resonated through the wide room. ‘Starboard compartment. It's on fire and burning out of control.'

Which housed their supplies and the hydroponic section. And where many people worked.

‘Impact five sectons,' said the chief navigator. He spun round on his chair, his gaze darting between Dyrke and Sherise.

Sherise sucked in a deep breath. She knew that smell. The room reeked of sweat and fear. The same scent she now wore like dirty body-armour.

‘We must stabilise the energy field.' She worked the words through numb lips. Not only did the energy field shield the ship from anti-matter but it expelled a constant charge that maintained a tunnel through which the ship could traverse a vortex. On arrival at the edge, the ship would exude a massive surge, exerting negative pressure to keep the gateway open sufficiently to exit. Without a functional energy field, they would be trapped. ‘We cannot afford to lose any more power. Any word on whether the people have evacuated?'

‘Negative. There is no response from that sector.'

She gripped the armrests. No idea then if anyone was still alive in the burning compartment.

But if she waited too long to give the order, the energy field would give way and everyone on board would die. Through her mind flittered horrific visions of bodies on fire while the ship disintegrated.

I need more options.

There remained only one.

They had to jettison the starboard compartment.

The forward vid-screen showed a mass of twisted metal hurtling towards them.

Closer.

Closer.

‘We need a decision,' said Dyrke.

Sherise licked lips cracked dry, swallowed over the acrid taste in her mouth and forced out the order. ‘Proceed, Commander.'

‘Release the starboard compartment. Bank thirty degrees to the port side,' barked Dyrke. When his navigator shot him a horrified stare, the Commander held up a hand. He ground out, ‘Now, ensign.'

Another jolt accompanied by a screech of metal and Sherise knew the clamps attaching the burning compartment to the rest of the ship had been severed. On the stern vid-screen the starboard compartment and its extruding bays sheared off and a moment later were sucked into the heart of the Vortex. One last flicker of light before the compartment was swallowed by blackness to vanish forever.

The ship jostled from side to side as they sped past the wreck. At the very last moment, the metallic mass rolled and slammed into the
Quinnie's
tail section.

The ship went into a spin. Without its own gravity and force field, the people on board would have been smashed to a pulp. Her heartbeat pounding in her ears, Sherise gripped the armrests and prayed. The vibrations shaking the ship increased to such an extent she thought her teeth would surely fall from her head. Her gaze remained strained on the forward screen, willing the ship to hold until they'd passed safely through the Vortex exit.

‘Ensign, get us back on course!' Dyrke said.

‘Steerage will not respond, sir,' the navigator shouted.

‘The power source is falling,' called another.

‘We must use the connection.' The Commander had spoken into the comms.

Sherise met his fierce gaze and nodded. She knew it was now all down to the Commander and herself and any others who held the gift from their ancestors. She delved deep into her essence where her link with the
Quinnie
had lain dormant all these years. For many sectons, her power source shrieking in protest, the
Quinnie
battled the forces determined to rip her apart.

Bearing down with every fibre of her being, Sherise concentrated, channelling into the ship's heart.

She counted her heartbeats.

Measured them against the beat of the
Quinnie's
energy source.

A current surged from where she gripped the armrests, zipping through her body to pierce the inside of her brain, blanking her vision with a burst of white light. She squeezed her eyes shut, breathing shallow pants while pain ripped through her. Simultaneously, the ship shuddered from stern to bow.