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Just My Imagination: Part 4 - The Rescue by Andrew Williams He opened his eyes. No! Not here again! He couldn't do anything here! Scott looked around his bedroom, wanting to sleep, to return to that other world where he could make a difference. Here there was only the darkness of night, the knowledge that by morning his friend could be dead. In the next bedroom he heard the gentle snoring of his mother. Lying down on the bed, trying to sleep, his eyes swept the room. In the darkness he saw a familiar shape, all angles and straight lines. His computer. The moonlight reflected faintly off the monitor screen. He got up, slipped a set of headphones on and turned on the computer. It whirred into life, and in moments he was faced with the normal mess of icons. He grabbed the mouse, and clicked on the one labelled "Flatspace". And he was gone. He grabbed his head as the feeling hit him - like being struck to the back of the head. And then the strangest sensation - that everything he saw was somehow.. doubled. "Are you alright, sir?" asked Jenny. "Yes," he replied, as he heard another voice in his head (Yeah, I'm fine). "Are we ready yet, Jeff?" "All set," replied the radio. "You set the course, we'll follow you." Scott punched commands into the pad on his chair. "Okay, folks, this is it." Sparks flew over the ship as they plunged into hyperspace. The mini fleet continued towards enemy territory, stopping and charging the engines on the way. The Scarrid were strangely absent - were they unwilling to attack a group of ships, or were they up to something? Theories and rumours sparked between the crews of all the ships. Scott heard none of it. He sat in his cabin, in the darkness, talking to himself. "So who are you?" (My name is Scott. I'm fifteen. I live at home with my mother. On Earth.) "Earth? The birthplace of humanity? That's just a legend. I'm not even convinced that planets were real." (I've been playing a computer game. It's called "Flatspace"...) Scott saw images of spaceships, Scarrid fighters, space stations, a hyperspace map - but all from above, as if such a thing were possible. "But this is all real! This is my life! Your school, your mother, a world - that's the fantasy." (I've got an idea about that. It's utterly insane, but... What if you were to imagine something that, somewhere in time and space, was real?) "You mean, like you?" (Yeah. And if that person were to imagine someone else that, somewhere, at some time, was also real?) "You mean me." (What if, by imagining each other, we've got some sort of telepathic bond?) "Either that, or one of us is just a figment of the other's imagination." (Maybe. I've been dreaming about you since I got Flatspace.) "I've been dreaming about you since... well, since Mike started us on this mad hunt for a Scarrid outpost. About two weeks." (Two weeks. About the same here.) "What do you know about Mike?" (Your Mike? - same as you. There's a Mike in my world too - and he's in hospital. He's very ill and he could die. I thought that, if we could save Mike in this universe, we'll save my Mike as well.) "Is everyone in my world also in yours?" (I don't know. I had a sister called Jenny.) "I remember that. If your Jenny is dead and mine's alive, what's to say our Mikes will both survive?" (I have to try.) "So what do you want me to do?" (I'm going to try and join you. I've got a ship in "Flatspace" - and I've got a few tricks I can try. If I can't get to you - good luck, Captain.) "Good luck, Scott." Captain Scott got up, activated the lights, and jumped at the sudden sound of a red alert. The intercom buzzed. "Captain to the bridge!" "On my way, Jenny." "What... is... that?" he gasped. "It's a Scarrid saucer," replied Jenny. "Sort of." "But it's... enormous!" "No records of this vessel on the database," confirmed Collins. "It's a new model." Scott pressed the radio button. "Peterson! Jeff! You seeing this?" "Can't help you, I'm afraid," replied the radio. "We've got another two over here." "Jenny - can we run for it?" "They'll tail us all the way. We fight them here, or we fight them with enemies on both sides." "Collins! Can you scan that saucer? What defenses are on board?" "Heavy armour plating, low level shielding - not detecting ECM." "Arm a missile. Ready the rocket launcher. Attack!" Scott returned to his body, slumped in front of the screen. He rose his head, feeling dizzy and weak. Slowly his strength returned to him. He had something to do, something important. Next door, his mother snored gently. Good. He didn't want her to come in and see him. Checking the speakers were still switched off, he started a new game. Now to see if those cheats Mike had found online worked. Soon Scott was flying about in an Entrepeneur Mk I, some very basic equipment - and a billion dollars in cash. He docked at a station, traded his ship for something big and meaty. Now then... no problem with the main gun, so leave that. Fit a few larger, faster missiles. Shields... drat, no decent shields. He'd have to look around. Generator... replaced with a bigger model. Hire a few turret gunners. Fit some machine gun turrets. A few tons of ammo are available, buy them all. ECM... have to make do with flares for now. Slow thruster fitted - he'd have to lump it. I don't need cargo space, so let's get some armour plating fitted. What about the hyperdrive? Best available. Range is okay. Hire some mechanics and medics. The ship that eventually launched was bigger and badder than anything Scott had flown before. Slow and undershielded, he set course for the next sector, mindful that every minute it took him here, his counterpart would be fighting for his life. His, and Mike's. This station was too small. Select the next sector, and into hyperspace... "Evasive action!" "What in the hell was that?!" Parkes consulted his database. "Plasma cutting torch, sir. Used to slice up debris, but equally good at slicing up ship hulls. Limited range - if we keep our distance we should be okay." "You heard him," ordered Scott. "Let's get some distance between us and this... what did you call it, Jenny?" "King Saucer," she replied. "How are the rockets doing?" "Some damage to their hull," reported Parkes. "If we can avoid that death ray of theirs, we can take 'em." The engines flared and soon the King Saucer was shrinking away on the viewscreen. Scott gave the order to turn and fire, and soon several rocket explosions were followed by a larger one. "Target destroyed," announced Jenny, her voice almost lost amongst the crew's cheering. The radio crackled. "Peterson here," it said. "Need any help?" "We're fine, thanks," laughed Scott. "Let's move on." With a flash of irritation, Scott activated the turrets on his cruiser and watched as the pirates blew to pieces. He didn't have time for these distractions! A Starcity slowly approached and he requested docking permission. His big, slow hulk drifted towards the docking circle and he pressed the docking key. It was all taking so long! To the shipyard. What was on offer here? Fitted with a new engine, a bigger shield and two turret lasers, Scott relaunched. One thing remained, and the only place he knew that sold those would be a Penitentiary. He set a new destination on the hyperspace map and prepared to launch. As the green sparks faded and normal space asserted itself around them, several asteroid fragments flew worryingly close to the fleet. Weapons fire and enemy fighters, fortunately, did not. "Well, we're here," said Scott. "One of those asteroids is more than it appears." "Scanning now," replied Peterson. "There - top right of the radar screen. You see it?" "Target acquired. Let's go!" "We'll take point," said Peterson. "We'll entice out the fighters and lead them back to the others, so we can slice them up out here. We'll need the stun weaponry to disable the base, so let's keep the Pelicans clear until then." "Gotcha." The Pelicans took up vantage points amongst the asteroids, while the Enforcers, Scott and Peterson headed towards the Scarrid hideout. They were soon spotted and a rain of fire soon came out to greet them. "Scatter!" yelled Scott, and the formation broke apart, turning away as the base fighters emerged in pursuit. The turrets on the Butterfly churned into life even as they retreated, blowing two Scarrid fighters to fragments, and the Pelicans left several sparking and defenceless with a barrage of stun blasts. "That's all of them," said Scott, just before the ship lurched under a sudden impact. "Hey, watch those asteroids!" he yelled. "Red alert!" said Jenny. "Saucer squadron at three o'clock!" "Another squad at eight o'clock!" added Collins. "More from our side," said Peterson, over the radio. "Where did they come from?" muttered Scott, realising as he said it that they'd done exactly the same thing as they had - hidden the bulk of their forces amongst the asteroids, where the radar would be useless. Battle commenced. "Yes!" Scott hissed his triumph through clenched teeth, anxious not to wake his mother. When he was convinced she was still asleep, he turned back to the screen. His vessel was complete, fully crewed and fully functional. Now what? Not knowing exactly what he was doing, he stared at the ship on the screen and concentrated on the battle that was, even now, raging in some other universe. He knew the other Scott was in trouble, though he didn't know what was happening. He placed his hand upon the monitor screen, and, still concentrating, he felt it give way beneath his fingers. The ship grew closer as he fell into the screen, into that other world. As he fell, he had a worrying thought. Could you die in your dreams? "We're out of rockets, captain!" Scott swore before sending the order to the engineering section to reload. He didn't want to think about their report - that they were loading the last of their rockets as they spoke. Mike had told him time and again to replace that rocket launcher with an energy weapon but he'd never listened. On the other hand, energy weapons drained the batteries. One trigger happy member of the team had found that out to his cost - two saucers had been blown to pieces but the attack had left his shields depleted and his engines dead. The next attack had finished him. Twenty rockets left. No more missiles, so after those twenty rockets the only thing he had left to fight with was the weight of his own ship. The radio chirped. "Jeff here," said Peterson. "There's a ship entering the sector - emerging on a heading of 145, distance 45..." "I've got it on radar," said Jenny. "Captain... this is weird. It's big but I've never seen a hyperjump like this before." There was a moment's silence, even the Scarrid seemingly frozen in surprise. Peterson was the first to speak. "I have." "What is it?" asked Scott. "It was many years ago now, back when I was young - a few years before the Scarrid first appeared. There was a device we called a Fractional Hyperdrive - four glass components scattered across the galaxy - which, when found and reassembled, took a brave pilot into a different form of hyperspace. We never saw him again, but his exit spoor looked like that." "Could this be him, back again?" "I don't know." "Captain!" Jenny turned to face him. "It's coming through - and it's big!" The universe seemed to shudder and groan as the fabric of reality was split by the heavily armed bow of a full size Battlestation. The radio chirped again. "Captain Scott? I'm, uh... Captain Scott. I thought you might need a hand." Scott's mouth opened several times, but no sound emerged. Finally he managed five words. "Glad you could join us." "Is the Triquoquaric Annihilator ready?" "Ready, sir." Scott didn't know the crewman's name - he'd hired anyone available and hadn't stopped to look - but he felt a tremor of panic at the thought that they were here, they were real, and they could die. They could all die, him included. He wondered if it was possible to take them with him. Then he wondered if even he could get back. That was a horrible thought. "Fighter squadron - immediate launch. Help the other ships back there." "Affirmative, sir." Four fighters. None had shields - they were too small - so one good hit would end another life. Scott thought about the number of lives he'd been responsible for, the number of ships he'd personally blown up back in the "real" world - all in the name of "fun". He felt sick. Now wasn't the time for this. "Target the lead Saucer. Lock on all turrets and fire when within range." "The generator won't give us much firing time, sir." "I know, crewman," Scott replied. He winced again. Names, names... "We'll need to hit hard and fast, and keep away from the worst of it. The others will give us some cover." "Aye sir." At least, thought Scott, I hope they can. "What's our missile situation...?" Another ship exploded in the darkness. The older Scott swore. "Damn those saucers! Peterson, anyone, give me some cover. I'm going to try and reach the survivors." After all, he thought, I've not got many rockets left to throw. "That was the last of the Pelicans, Captain Scott," Peterson replied over the radio. "And that means we've got no stun weaponry. You understand we can't leave this base now - we have to destroy it." "I understand, Jeff. You tried your best." "Survivors scooped, Captain," reported Jenny. "The Autodoc is checking them over." Another ship - this one Scarrid - became a rapidly erupting fireball. Ships from both sides launched and dodged weapons fire. A missile rushed towards them, then banked to one side as a flare distracted it. So many dead. "King Saucer destroyed," the crewman reported. Young Scott nodded. "Good work, turret gunners." "We're under fire," reported another. "Turrets tracking it." Scott thought about ordering evasive action, but this ship turned like it bathed in treacle. He wondered if he should have put together a lighter, faster vessel. Hopefully the shields and armour could take the punishment. "We're on it, sir," radioed a fighter, and three tiny ships circled round with guns blazing. Another blip vanished off the radar. Three? Scott winced. One of his nameless crew was already dead, then. Another voice came on the radio - his alter ego. "Thanks for your help, Scott, but I think you wasted a trip. Our stun weaponry was all on those Pelicans - we've got no way to disable the base. There's no way to save Mike." Scott smiled. "Lucky for you I made a stop along the way," he said. "I've got an E-3 Stun Torpedo strapped to this ship that'll take it out in one hit." "Peterson! Did you hear that?" Peterson's voice joined the conversation. "Those are special issue! How in the hell did you get one?" He paused. "What am I saying? You pop in here from another dimension and I'm asking where you shop??" Scott laughed. "Clear a path for me, everyone. I'll knock out the base." With that, he gave out his orders, and the big ship slowly rotated towards the Scarrid base. "Guide him in," the older Scott commanded. "Clear a path. Keep those fighters away and try to distract the base's turrets." Six ships took up formation around the Battlestation - survivors of both Peterson's fleet and the Battlestation's fighter escort. Battered, several only part functioning, their task now was to deliver one last payload, one final attempt at rescue. "It's away!" said Parkes, as a bright flare of light left the bow of the Battlestation and flew slowly, slowly towards the asteroid. Scarrid fighters broke off their attack and swooped in to shoot it down, only to be sliced up by concentrated weapons fire. The base itself launched frantic counter-measures against a missile that was unguided, utterly brainless; thus it could not be fooled. Slowly, so very slowly, the heavy torpedo sailed on, a flight that seemed to last forever - yet, twelve seconds after launch, it struck the side of the station and detonated. There was no big explosion, no dramatic effect. The turrets of the station abruptly died, and occasional sparks flickered across the surface. The station was disabled. The bridge erupted in cheers. "Okay, Jeff. We're ready to board her if you are." "My party was all made up, but some of us didn't make it," replied Peterson. "I've got three places open if you have any volunteers." "I'm going," said Scott. "This is personal. Jenny, you come with me. Parkes, I need you to watch the ship for me." "Yes sir," said Parkes, but his disappointment was obvious. The radio beeped again. "Hey! I'm coming too!" said the younger Scott. "Hey, you're just a kid," argued Peterson. "The base is out of action, but the greenies won't be." "He may be a kid," Captain Scott replied, "but he's a kid that just knocked out a Scarrid base and two King Saucers with hardly a scratch." "Fine. You've probably got hand weapons there that could vapourise a mountain, anyway." "Er..." said young Scott. He hadn't thought about personal guns, and doubted the Flatspace game had any way to purchase them. "I don't have anything special," he said in the end, "but I'll see what I can find." In the end, a low-level laser blaster was all he could find, on loan from one of his security crew (a mere three guards, just to make up the numbers). Scott was relieved to learn it had a stun setting, not keen on killing anyone else. It was bad enough when they were just spacecraft on the viewscreens - up close, he wasn't sure he could do it. The weapon was simple enough. A few switches for intensity and beam width, a safety catch and the main trigger. It had taken all of twenty seconds for Security Officer Blunt to show him. Blunt's description of the Scarrid was far more worrying. "You see this?" Blunt had said, pointing to a vicious looking scar. "This was a Scarrid warrior's claw. Took out my eye." Scott doubted this at first as the officer had two perfectly normal eyes, but a later look in the medical bay had convinced him that new eyes were easy to come by. "They're about seven feet tall, heavy build, green skin - reptiles, of course - with a set of teeth like a row of needles. The warriors - the males - grow their claws long. You have to watch those. The females tend to do the actual work, the engineering and stuff, so they're less dangerous. Unless they're ready to lay eggs, and then they're most vicious." "What do I do if I see one?" Scott had asked. "Shoot it. Fast." "I don't want to hurt them." "The stun blast won't hurt them much. It'll knock 'em out for a bit, unless they're really riled. Don't try to talk to them. Don't try to reason with them. They won't understand you." "They're telepaths. I know. But can't they read my thoughts?" Blunt had muttered something Scott didn't catch. "Don't you know anything? Scarrid can only telecommunicate with each other." "Hey, Scott? You ready?" Scott blinked, his mind returning to the present as the boarding shuttle clamped onto the docking port and the laser cutters carved their way in. "I'm ready," he said. The lasers stopped, and a perfectly circular doorway fell inside the station. Cautiously, watching out for an ambush, they stepped into the docking port and into the unknown.