Martyn Vaughan - The Cave of Shadows

But should they do anything to prevent that plan…

Jon knew that there could be no safety until Korok was finally confronted.

And destroyed.

The main drive had been shut off leaving the starship to sweep through space in unpowered freefall and the consequent silence felt strange, eerie, as if something had gone terribly amiss. Ears used to a solid wall of thunderous sound found it hard to adjust to the relative quiet.

Only relative quiet, of course. The fabric of the ship had suffered greatly in the close passage and it was still groaning as the stresses and strains gradually worked their way out. Many bulkheads had failed and the travellers could see on their viewers that the entire vessel was swarming with over-worked arachnoids desperately trying to close tears and rips in the structure while being showered by fountains of sparks.

It was odd to be safe from imminent danger and actually to find themselves with very little to do. To conserve energy, the ship was now on a Hohmann transfer orbit out to the realm of the giant planets of the alien system; the course had been set and the ship’s control systems were perfectly adequate to maintain that course.

But Jon had something to show them. He called them over to the huge wall viewer and pointed to a dim star-like spark in the blackness. He placed a finger on it and the spark vanished temporarily.

‘That is the destination that the Protectorate set half a millennium ago. That is the terrestrial planet that we are meant to land on and subjugate.’

‘Subjugate?’ Jarm enquired, ‘Are there any signs of a civilisation on that body?’

‘None whatsoever,’ Jon replied, ‘The Protectorate may have been guilty of a little wishful thinking. But that was only the first plan: if the planet was found to be uninhabited then it was our job to engineer it so a second Protectorate could be established on it. Which would in time fight the first.’

‘How sweet,’ Shana36 commented, ‘so some of the tubes in the Regeneration Room must be intended for female resurrections. I doubt if we would be allowed to breed once our use was over.’

‘Of course. The resurrection process can be run any number of times with slight alterations each time to avoid inbreeding. And of course, there would be far more females than males.’

‘Probably the only males would be the High Officials themselves,’ Jorl grinned, ‘Boy, will they be busy!’

‘Yes,’ Jon replied, thinking it was time he let up on Jorl somewhat, ‘but someone will have to do it!’

The group broke up then but Jon took Shev aside and they went off together and started working on some project on the Command Computer.

They worked together for many hours. Shana12 observed them for afar with gradually narrowing eyes. She had enquired once as to whether she could help and Shev had simply replied with a brusque “No.” Shana had on one occasion almost shared her disquiet with Shana36 but at the last moment, she had thought that maybe that was a confidence too far to share with her double.

Eventually she heard Jon say ‘That’s it! It’s in place!’ with a clear note of triumph. Shev looked pleased too and the duo went their separate ways.

‘What was all that about?’ Shana asked, when she finally got Jon on his own.

He smiled and said: ‘Something very dear to your heart. But I’m not going to say anything out loud. We think that we’re alone in this room but we’re not. If I’m right we’ll all find out when the time comes.’

Days passed as the ship flew silently on through the indifferent darkness. The terrible heat drained away until the time came when with great satisfaction they were able to put their clothes back on – though only after both clothes and bodies had undergone an extremely thorough wash.

The scene on the great viewer did not change to any significant degree: they were still months away from their first encounter with a giant planet.

Then Jon called them all together.

To their surprise, he gave them all small writing pads made of paper.

He wrote something down on his pad and passed it to the nearest member of the group.

Each member in turn read the following message: ‘It is time to destroy the Regeneration Chamber.’

The others stared at him in surprise and not a little trepidation.

This was the long-expected move against Korok: this would be the final test that they would face. If they lost it would be all over for them.

How? Jarm wrote.

We need weapons , was Jon’s written reply.

The group sat silently for a while. Weapons? Where could they find weapons?

Then Jorl laughed and spent some time writing. He passed the result straight to Jon.

Jon are you sure you want to be our leader? We were meant to conquer a world. There must be weapons on the ship!

Jon gave a smile which was twisted with embarrassment. Of course ! he thought, I must be slipping .

He nodded to Shev and they both left the group but continued to communicate by writing on the pads.

We must locate them without alerting Korok, he wrote.

Yes , she wrote, we’ll have to search using machine code only.

And when we find them – we move fast.

Of course was the reply .

They returned to the group and Jon wrote a detailed description of what they would do when they had weapons. They nodded in silent acquiescence.

They stood up, burned all the papers.

And waited.

The location and password were displayed on Jon’s viewer. Instantly he memorised it and deleted it.

He stood up. What were the resources of the creature he was up against ? he asked himself for the thousandth time.

A biological brain was being emulated on superbly constructed software. Korok had been a soldier – could he see that the software of which he was himself a part was being used against him?

There was no point in speculating. They would find out soon enough.

Now they must move – and fast.

They formed into a tight group with Jon at their head and left the Control Room.

The interstellar ramjet hurtled onwards; oblivious of their departure, staying true to its preordained path.

Down they went; one level down; two levels down.

Then a great door made of case-hardened steel. And a pad by its side.

The pad was pressed.

The password was given.

The door opened.

Inside were row after row of automatic weapons, stretching deep into the interior of the ship. There were revolver types, rifle types, machine guns. In the dim distance could be seen wheeled and tracked vehicles. It was an arsenal of every type of projectile throwing armament known to the Protectorate!

The nearest rows held automatic rifles and magazine clips; devices of death that had been put there half a millennium earlier in the sure and certain hope that they would be used in anger!

And so they would.

They took them; they took grenades; they took plastic explosives.

They climbed back up the levels they had descended, up seemingly endless metal stairs. There were elevators but Jon did not want to find that a door which had closed behind him would no longer open. Even now Korok must be aware that something not in the plan was happening.

They found the High Official Generator Room and to Jon’s surprise he found that the password had not been changed. He had been prepared to blast his way in with explosive charges.

The outer door and the inner door opened before them.

It was as Jon and Shana remembered, row after row of transparent cylinders filled with a milky, slowly stirring liquid; tall tubes stretching into gloomy obscurity, with four standing out in a separate row.