Tarboc and Shirar

MOONGAZER
Call of the Blue Stone
Page 89 & 90

   After finally catching the three Kai Kai, the mounts of the Zumork, Tarboc eventually persuaded Owain and Slade it was to their advantage for them and him if they rode these animals. Not only would be quicker, it would be better than travelling on foot. Timidly they mounted these unfamiliar beasts and rode on ahead like a pair of perched springs strapped to the saddles, simultaneously bobbing up and down rigidly. Masters at flying Dragon Fighters, yet it was clear to Tarboc`s mechanical eyes that these two young men were novices when it came to Kai Kai.
   Following the battle `droid directions, the two young inexperience jockeys rode to the end of the stepped wall of the plateau, then turned right and started to ascend an almost broken path. Tarboc told them to go on ahead so he could cover their tracks and leave a trail so confusing that even the skilful hunters; the Zumork would find disconcerting.

   The Kai Kai broad back felt like a Dragon fighter’s engine under Owain Moongazer as he and Slade jogged down the bank toward a narrow stream with the third Kai Kai following them on a lead rein. Why they had brought this third animal Slade could not make out, only that Tarboc insisted that they take it with them. Owain made uses of it by strapping the survival container from his ejector pod to the saddle. The processed food and two containers of water wasn’t going to last them long they would have too consider maybe catching, or fining something eatable, and also try to locate some drinking water. With Tarboc along he surmised that, that task wasn’t going to be too difficult he would have unlimited knowledge of this region.
   In the stream they let the Kai Kai wade in and stop halfway across so they could drink. Long flesh coloured tongues lapped up the clear water noisily through thick rubbery lips. Owain sat back in the saddle, a cold breeze pulled at his flight jacket, his back and shoulders ached, he would not be sorry when he could leave these animals behind.
   Slade jumped down from his Kai Kai into the stream, he crouched and scooped up two hands full of the cold water and threw it over his face and neck. The water was surely refreshing unlike a day that was far from that.
   A head of him Owain studied the scarce beginning of a forest, immature trees sprouting up here and there in long brown sun soaked grass. He looked beyond them to where the trees grew bigger, their trunks thicker, and their canopy of lust leaves spread wider. The setting sun kiss their tops sending thin rays of light gold light through their branches giving the forest a warm and inviting aura. Something indefinable seemed to call out to him across atop the trees, feeling of destiny pointing a way of previous travelled, or more a perception of homecoming. He grabbed at the pouch around his neck and felt reinsured by the stone within. He shook his head and sighed where was all this taking him, and why did he have the feeling they were going the right way.     
   Then it was gone the moment broken by the unmistakable flap of the Sallam`s leathery wings. The great vermilion lizard landed with ease on the grassy bank, Owain and Slade looked up expectedly.
   “We’ll camp in the cover of the forest for the night.” Tarboc instructed with an out stretched arm pointing towards the wall of trees. “We should make it before dark, come lets move.” He urged the Sallam down the slope into the water as Slade mounted his Kai Kai, they left the stream and made their way towards the forest.
   Owain urged his beast on contemplating want awaited within, or beyond a forest that was now welcoming the night of Reon. Whatever lay ahead he had a strange sensation that this battle `droid that now travelled with them knew who he was. It bothered him, but for now he would say nothing. This machine had save their lives and it was apparent that he wanted to help them. Perhaps he was searching for something that wasn’t really there, it may just be that they were from the United Planets and this old battle `droid’s programming still carried the threat of the Royalist Empire.
   Owain mused; everything seemed to be so muddled.   

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Tarboc

MOONGAZER
Call of the Blue Stone 
Page 88

 
 
Tarboc regarded Pulido with a twitch of his head, the hewed mask expressionless, unlike the action.  “That was my role once, but the war is a long way from here….Once my programming was to fight Royalist’s, however these days I’m a knight-errant,” he acknowledged proudly. Tarboc was a relic from the past; he was the last of his kind and he knew it all too well. “Too many damp nights out in these open lands have made my movements a bit rusty,” he said moving his motorise joints human-like. His programming had been edged for hand to hand combat with an array of weapons, yet there still was that tell-tail mechanical movement his programmers could not iron out. Firing hand weapons was a different story though; an optic-targeting computer placed at the back of his skull made it almost certain, if it was in rage he could hit it. “I could do with a good lubrication bath though,” the thought of that lovely warm lubrication fluid made him wish he did not have to spend another damp night out here. The thought soon went when he knew he would if these two young men were going to see tomorrow’s sunrise.
   This `droid aroused Slade’s curiosity to the point he had to ask, “I thought you guys only carried serial numbers as a call sign?” he inquired, then added the question. “Tarboc, that’s an unusual name for a battle `droid?”   
   “There are a lot of unusual thing in this galaxy, I’m one of them,” Tarboc replied casually, the tone was one who was not going to elaborate.
   “Well I’ll be damned,” muttered Slade with a keen smiling interest in the working of this towering machine before him. “You are unusual and the quickest battle `droid I’ve never seen move. Not like I’ve seen many… especially with a sword…. You make them look like… well what they are…. Obsolete.”
   Tarboc glance up the grassy hill. “We’ll all be obsolete, or damned if we don’t move. There’s only a few more hours of light, and the Zumork will be wondering where their hunting party have got too,” the Sallam hissed in agreement. “With that smoke from your fighter I wouldn’t be surprised if they aren’t on their way here now.”
   “You asked why we were here.” Owain felt a confidence at letting this `droid know the place he was looking for. Because any options they had where surely running out if the Zumork found their trail. He was about to continue but was stopped from doing so by a wave of a large metal gauntlet.
   “No time to talk.” Tarboc made it clear coaxing his mount to rise. “I don’t fancy standing around here listening to the finer points of your journey with the Zumork undoubtedly coming this way. Not only hungry, they’ll also be rather peeved when they fined their dead companions. I think it’s best all round if we move, now.”
 

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Tarboc and Shirar

MOONGAZER 
Call of the Blue Stone  
Page 87

   “What’re Dragon pilots from the United Planets doing on Reon?” the voice was deep and questionable, but not threatening. “Let alone being on Zumork land?”
   “Zumork?” Slade asked, relaxing his finger on the trigger, if this warrior had meant them harm, they would have been dead by now.
   Gesturing to the corpse Slade earlier downed he picked up Owain discarded flight-suit and wiped the blood from his blade before sheathing it, an action neither of the pilots were going to question. “This is their land, they’re suspicious of everyone, especially strangers from the sky.” He dipped his metal head to look at the two young men, partially at Owain who looked back at him wearily. “They fight first and asked questions later. You’re lucky; this lot is just a hunting party. They’re out looking for food, and you were almost it.”
   They both gulped hard and glanced at each other with the same thought of being invited to dinner and them being on the menu. Deep down they both thanked their lucky stars that this silver knight had been around to help them.
   “Well, I would like to thank you for your help, er…?” Owain encouraged the knight for his name with a wave of his hand, which he dually gave him.
   “Tarboc,” the knight bowed his head. “My name is Tarboc, and that is Shirar,” the great lizard hissed a greeting at the same time flicking out she tongue. 
   Owain eyed the metal warrior with interest. “Tarboc,” he repeated, then added. “Well Tarboc, I am Owain Moongazer,” he said as he holstered his pistol. The metal head of the warrior twitched with recognition at that name. “This is Slade Pulido.”
   Slade nodded, with a curious look at this suit of armour; there was something about the way he moved something from his past life. “It seems we’re in your debt.”
   The knight walked over to where the Sallam squatted. “A debt is something owed to another,” he told them catching hold of the reins and stroking the scaly horned head of his mount, she hissed approvingly. “You owe me nothing Slade Pulido, myself and the Zumork have no love lost. If they could, they would have my head on a stake and dance around victory fires at my passing,” he patted the Sallam`s flared nostrils. “Good fortune is our, isn’t it old girl,” she hissed as if agreeing with him.
   Then Slade just had to ask. “You’re a Throne `droid aren’t you?” he said knowingly, he surmised this soon as this towering piece of metal approach them.

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Tarboc

 

   Four hound-beasts down, four still coming on hungry for the throats of their pray. Owain and Slade stood adamant with pistols out stretched firing. Then from behind a crack of high intense energy, a beam of red light shot over their heads hitting one of the beasts, then another one fell yelping. The two Dragon pilots turned to focus their attention on those new bolts of energy.
   Like an air-borne animal from some prehistoric pasted, the great beast swooped in low and fast, the wings flapping steadily, it gain speed, atop its back a silver rider glistering in the sun aim a long rifle. The Sallam swooped overhead as the two remaining hound-beasts were hit by two more blasts they crashed dead next to the cockpit pod.  Owain and Slade looked at each other with dumbfounded expressions at this knight in shining armour atop a larger flying beast. 
   The last mounted creature came galloping down it was about to loose an explosive tip arrow at this new aggressor. Evan before he had time to aim he was hit in the chest, the whole torso erupted sending chuck of flesh, bone and clothing in all directions.
   The Sallam was commanded to land, which it did with the grace unexpected of an animal of its size. The four, three toed feet touch the grass; the muscular legs crouched, sitting its underbelly flat on the ground. The knight holstered his rifle then dismounted, the wings spread and the beast was in the air again, turning sharply she flew to where Owain and Slade stood somewhat perplexed. Landing the Sallam looked them up and down with a suspicious eye, then flicked a purple tongue at them to taste their scent.
   The two remaining beast handlers stopped crouch and grunted and snarled abuse; there was recognition in their yellow eyes. They snarled, showing large stained canine teeth, by their dispersion they were angered by this metal figure involvement, and the death of their beloved hounds. Slowly deliberately they unsheathed their short bladed swords.
   The huge broadsword whisper from its sheath, the metal warrior took a sideward’s stance, the gleaming blade battle-ready. A strong determination and ferocity seemed to ooze from this towering creation from feudal times. He out stretched a metal arm and raised his index finger and waved it back and fore in an attempt to stop anymore blood-shed, but the beast hangers did not heed his warning they rushed him.
   Owain and Slade looked on in awe as they saw the warrior strike down a thrusting sword, avoid the whip of another blade with an elegant sideward’s leap which brought him within an arm length of one of the handler. Before the creature could counter, the broadsword flailed down and split him from neck to mid-breast bone. The remaining creature did not hesitate he arc his short sword to strike, but the move was checked in mid-air as the knight fingers locked like a vice on the disconcerting arm, he abandon his broadsword and closed the now free hand around the creature’s neck. Instantly he was swept him off his feet, a bone snapped loudly, and the two young men saw the creature falter, then finally go limp with death. As the corpse hit the ground the knight wrenched his sword free from the other lifeless body. Turning, he walked calmly over to where the two Dragon pilots stood, gaping at what they had just witness.

   
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   High above on the plateau out of view of all the commotion going on below a pair of wavebinoculars was firmly fixed on the turbulence that was erupting since the two new arrival’s from who knows where touch down. After a few moments the wavebinoculars lowered from an impenetrable shinny metal head pitted with dirt.
   The silver plated metal figure stood an impressive two meters tall. Slim arms and legs were of smooth armour design; the chest-plate was engraved with fine decorative patterns. The great helm had a magnificent plum of synthetic hair that cascaded from the top of the helmet down the back, once a bright blood red it now was faded and dirty. The front of the headgear was hewn with several holes around the mouth area, the eye slits were clearly photoreceptors that glow purple the only decoration on the front of the helm was a sword. A thick studded black belt held a large broadsword sheathed in a back studded scabbard on the left side, to the right side was strapped a big menacing pistol. The hold appearance carried with it, of a warrior well travelled and at ease with any trouble that should come his way.
   Clipping the wavebinoculars to the belt, he considered the situation of what was going on below him while thoughtfully fondling the hilt of the well kept and much cherish broadsword. After making a decision, he turned and scrambled down a break in the ridge, by the quickness of his movement it was obvious he had used this advantage point as a lookout many times before.
   The giant scaly reptile raised its long horned lizard head at the approach of its owner. Hissing eagerly the bulky vermilion dragon-like beast swished her long slender scaly tail. A pair of yellow wings, yellow-like that of liquid gold flecked with anticipation. The majestic yellow horn head turned, the emerald eyes blinked as she hissed again when the towering metal figure came near.
   With a single stride he mounted the crouching beast, with a kick to the flanks from spurs and an order consisting of a consonant made her rise into the air. With a flap of her large wings she rose hissing as her anxious master urged her up and up into the clear blue skies that held the hint of the two Reon moons. The Sallam rose higher and higher with each flap of her leathery wings, her tail swirling eagerly while attached to the bulky saddle a big rifle that rattled harmoniously with the hisses of the beast.   

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   The two pilot’s initial perception that these being maybe carrying primitive weapons were now well and truly gone. They both had heard of this type of bow that could fire explosive arrows over a long distance, yet they had never expected to see one, much less be under attack from one. What they now faced was not a bow and arrow from a culture from a distant past, this was a highly developed weapon. Its range, accuracy and destructive power was only as good as the archer, who always carried several different types of arrows, anything from armour piecing to explosive tips, which had been demonstrated with precision to the two men scrambling along the ground.
   Hugging the ejector pod like they were a part of it Slade drew his weapon. Their plight seemed hopeless; it was as though fate would have them dead before this first day was over on this planet in some far corner of space.
   “Ever had the feeling someone didn’t like you.” Slade protested more at Owain than to him. “Is it always this quiet around you Moongazer?”
   Owain gave him a sarcastic grin. “Primitive weapons? Yeah!” ” Moongazer pointed out drawing his pistol. “Now what do we do?”
   “I was just going to ask you that.” he replied shaking bits of debris out of his hair.
   The heavy thud of hove feet thundered over the grass covered ground, signalling the time for the two Dragon pilots to throw caution to the wind and show they were prepared to defend themselves. Simultaneity they jump up, aiming their weapons at the two riders bearing down on then swinging what look like motorised bolas above their heads. Firing one, they both glimpsed a coloured flash of light streaked over head as their breams of energy shot wildly passed the incoming riders.
   They both knew it was an arrow, in that instant of recognition they looked at each other then dropped, cowering into a protected ball. An explosion, some distances away sprayed mud and grass around them. Gathering their wits, they sprang up to met the two rides that were almost on them. Even before they could aim and fire their pistols the riders let loose their bolus’s that home in and whipped the weapons out of their stunned wanting hands.
   One of the riders hurled his spear at Slade, who possessed the gift of speed and side stepped the projectile that passed within millimetres across his chest and stuck in the ground next to him. In one motion he crabbed the spear, span around and caught the attacker squarely across the chest breaking the spear in half and knocking the rider into a somersault off the back of his mount, which carried on running.
   In the time it takes to draw breath, Slade glared wildly about for his companion expecting to see him impaled with a spear. Instead, the second rider flew into a dive off his mount with a vicious knife and crashed down on Owain. They went to the ground together, rolling over and over. The attacker was bigger and heavier and like a wild beast, his body firm and tight, his muscles hard as stone. They both rolled about wildly on the ground, each other trying to gain the upped hand.
   The fallen rider Slade had dismounted sprang wildly up. Unsheathing a short sharp-edged blade that glinted in the sunlight, he rushed sword raised, and yelling in an unknown tongue. Backing off, Slade avoided the sword-thrust that licked at his throat; he had scarce time to raise the broken spear shaft to parry a vicious swipe aim at his head. He staggered at the impact of the power of the creatures’ blow and fell to his knees.
   The creature rise the short sword for another head blow while the Dragon pilot was still on his knees, Slade feinted quickly and lashed out with an almighty swipe of the broken spear, too fast for his adversary to see. His legs were taken from under him, as he cartwheel Slade arc down with the broken shafted across the creature’s neck, braking it and the remaining shaft, he was dead before he hit the ground.
   Owain struggled to maintain his hold on the wild creature’s wrist and bring a blow of his fist. So fast and incensed was the struggle that each attempt to hit him was blocked. The creature was wresting madly to free his knife hand and to stop Owain from hitting him. Then he attempted to change his knife to his free hand, in that mistake Owain, with great effort got up on to one knee, cracked the side of his head with a desperate blow from a fist, then another, an another, the creature head spat back unconscious.
   “Look!” Slade shouted at Owain, franticly wrenching one of the weapons free from the coils of the metal bolas. He threw it to Moongazer, then picked up the other pistol and pulled eagerly to free that as well.
   The hound-like beasts had been let loose and were gathering speed down the hill with their handlers in pursuit. Through saliva filled jowls they cry out with blood-curling howls that was almost unreal. a nightmare from some primeval mythology past brought back to haunt the humans who now stood before them.
   The beasts that move faster and faster towards the young men lent their stride to a supernatural quality induced by the eyes intense reddish colour and a ferocity that was totally fiendish. Their frighting cries bayed for the taste of new blood.
   Nervously Owain and Slade aimed their weapons at the growling brutes. Owain felt the hair rise on the nape of his neck as an icy chill ran down his spine. Slade fired first, his marksmanship not true; he had to check himself. The adrenaline pumping, his heart beat like a fist against his chest. He couldn’t believe what was happening, they only just touch down on this out of the way planet and already someone wanted to kill them. He wouldn’t have minded but he was fighting creatures he hadn’t lay eyes on until a few moments ago, it felt like a bad horrible nightmare.
   The first beam of intense energy flew harmlessly by, the second hit, slamming into the right shoulder, the beast went yelping down headfirst then somersaulted over dead. Slade and Owain open up again and again, with a merciless hail of deadly bolts of light. Still the black carnivorous beasts came on with lolling tongues from salivating purple jowls.
 
                                                     
 

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   Owain was pulling himself out of the cockpit pod as Slade Pulido’s Dragon roar in the sky above. It came in and landed not far from Owain, who was removing his helmet, he tossed it back into the pod. He released the neck and unzipping the top half of his flight-suit, he breathed hard, if nothing else it was good to take in fresh air again.
   The Dragon fighter engines died and all was quiet, the stillness had an ethereal grace that the raising of Slade’s canopy was a starting disturbance.
   Gradual sloping grass cover hills dominated one side. Owain turned and the grassland stretch out before him, dotted here and there were tall thinly trunk trees with a light-weight circular covering of luscious leaves. To the left the land marched on to a crop of blue-hue mountains laden with fluffily white clouds that lay dormant on the pineal. To the right of him a mass of rock grew step like out of the ground, forming a large plateau.
   Slipping out of his fight-suit he studied the grasslands in front of him as Slade jumped down from the fighter. He could make out a few grazing animals in the distance, what they were he could only guess. There was a mixture of tall, short, stocky and slim, two legged and four legged, some took flight as others wandered to close.
   “What do you reckon then?” was Slade’s question while he striped out of his flight-suit and propped it over the pod.
   Owain turned to look at Slade removing the flight helmet to reveal his short fair hair. No not at him, but over his shoulder up toward the grass cover hills. “I reckon we’ve got company, look,” he indicated behind with a jerk of his head.
   On the brow of the hill stood ten figures, their full attention on the two Dragon pilots below. Eight of the ten were hound-like creatures, their bodies thick and muscular and covered with short black fur. From their short pointed ears to the moderate tails a line of teeth like spines ran down their back. Red eyes peered out though furrowed brows, and long muzzles reveal a fierce array of teeth and dripping saliva, they were held at bay by thick leads of braided twine.
   Their bipedal masters were giant muscle-like statues of warriors hewn from gleaming bronze skin-like dasipodidae. Their appearance was almost identical; they were naked except for a leathery loincloth and a few colour beads and bangles that ran up each of their arms. A head-dress of aigrettes swayed above their heads. Intelligent yellow eyes looked out from ferocious, ugly long wedge-shaped heads with strong level jaws that protruded two large brown stained tusks.
   “They look friendly,” said Slade with the define manner of one who meant the opposite.
   “Yeah, like a Dragon fighter at a Royalist’s convention.” Owain’s flippant reply did not quell the brooding cold menace that sounded a warning within.
   “Well if they want to stir it up,” Slade’s easy going complacency melted into something grimmer. “I’ve got my own utensil here,” he touched his holstered pistol for reinsurance.
   The reality of that statement was lost as the crest of the hill presented three mounted figures resembling the two already there, but their attire was of helmet and mail. Three-carried small round metal shields and long wooden shaft spears, the fourth carried a short well-balanced bow. The quadrupeds they rode were spirited and needed reining in. Of mammal descendent, the ruminant-like bodies was cover with reddish fur, the neck was short; four curved horns set on a straight black head bearing small ears pulled from side to side as the reins tugged on the bit.
   “Well if you look at it from our point of view,” Slade said trying to boast his conference in this situation they now found themselves in. “ We should be able to hold them back with our pistols quite easily from here. They don’t look that well armed,” he scoffed unimpressed. “A bit primitive if you ask me.”
   “Primitive or not we don’t know how many more may be around here, do we?” Owain’s voice tightened with anxiousness as he scanned the horizon. “I think it’s best if you jump back into your Dragon fighter.”
   “What about you?” An uneasy Slade wanted to know, at the same time studying the creatures on the hill that seem contented for now, to watch them.
   “If they’re hostile.” Owain picked up Slade’s flight-suit off the pod and handed it to him. “With you and the Dragon in the air, it’ll give them something to think about, won’t it.”
   Pulido’s reply was indifferent. “That’s all well and good, but that still leave you on the ground.” The Dragon fighter had scant room for the pilot, let alone a passenger.
   “Look!” Owain called Slade’s attention to the hill.
   The rider with the bow in a single motion drew and loosed an arrow. Not at the two Dragon pilots, the course of the painted barbed missile was the fighter. With a blink of an eye the shaft hit the centre of the three engines and explored on impacted. The whole back of the Dragon jump in the air as the fuel ignited in a dull awful roar, the fighter billow with dark crimson flame and sooty black smoke.
   Owain and Slade hit the dirt with pieces of fighter falling around them, thankfully there distant from the craft was enough for the explosion not to harm them. Now it was clear that the desire of those creatures on the hill was one of harm.

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    The barbarous shape of the Antagonist ploughed through the blackness of space. Onboard the large bridge technicians scurried around from control monitor to control monitor. Officers check read-outs and disused matter of the daily running of this gigantic space Dreadnought. Amongst all this routine chatter, Admiral Tylard Cutter stood compose and confidence in front of the large observation window staring out at space with its blanket of stars.
   Tylard Cutter was not a man easily defeated and took every challenge with the cool and calculated moves to prove to those who doubted him in the king’s court that he was still a man to be reckon with. He was a skilful thinker, not like the massive figure that stood beside him, his twist mind was for ultimate power with destruction.
   “This is impossible,” Menihad Bore growled in dispute, he was bored of this running around already. “Do you really believe we’re going to find that Pommel Stone out there,” he gestured to the large window and the space beyond. “Countless worlds and moons, that boy, Moongazer could be anywhere! This is just pointless,” he shook his twisted head.
   A little wisp of a half smile passed over Tylard`s thin lips before he answers calmly. “It’s only a matter of time Mr Bore, he is out there and we will find him, and then the Pommel Stone will be ours.” He studied the array of stars with faith in his ability, and took pleasure from the Warlord’s lack of confidence in his way of thinking.
   “Time we don’t have,” Bore spat, his distaste for bidding time was well known throughout the ranks of the military and to Cutter. “The King grows restless with this situation,” the malice in his voice spilled over the Admiral as he also grew restless.
   “Mr Bore,” Cutter signed his name pitifully, regardless of the menacing bulk along side, or the king that was easily displeased. “What would you have me do? Touch down on every life-sustaining planet and personally check every human there?” he peered narrowly at the Warlord. “No, you underestimate this Moongazer. We know he has not returned to the United Planets our long range scanners would have pick up any Dragon breaching our blockages.” He turned away from the Warlord and gazed back out into space. “He is out there and through his own carelessness, or our persistence, he’ll make a mistake and give himself away,” he paused, then added confidently. “I assure you Mr Bore…. when he does, we’ll be waiting.” 
   “Let me interrogate General Thawbran again,” the Warlord insisted with a hiss of foreboding. “Or that lack-less Millinus who the King insisted I bring with me,” he considered Samuel, and mused over his stay of execution then his thoughts turn back to interrogation. “I’ll extract the information we all desire!” he clenched an indignant metal fist. “They will submit.”
   “All you’ll extract from the General Thawbran his last breath. His loyalty to that young man and the Crydaw knights will not yield any information, and as for Millinus he has the touch of the odium,” the Admiral argued knowing all too well the men they held in the bowels of their ship. “Menihad as we speak I’ve ordered our elite Legionnaires on a searching sweep in all the systems the Empire rules by occupation.”
   “And those which are not?” the Warlord inquired.
   “Hound `droids have been despatched to all other systems to track for any sign of Dragon fighters or the young man himself. Your computerised description you so kindly gave us was programmed into them.” The Admiral said with satisfaction at always being one step ahead of the Warlord. “I will find him.”
 

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    The two Dragon fighters sped on into the Reon system. Arcing simultaneously they steered towards a small blue-green and sand-coloured planet with its twins moons and a spectacle purple and light blue nebula in the distant background giving the whole setting a sense of beauty. The fighters closed on the moons when Owain attention was motion to a small red flickering, buzzing light on his instrument panel. He press two near by buttons and checked his three fuel gauges, they were all showing only a narrow line above the empty notch. He instinctually tapped the computerised gauges with the knuckle of his index finger before trying the buttons again. 
   “Slade,” he called checking his computer for a full dialogistic of his fuel system. “I’m losing fuel,” the computer checks now revealed three small leaks from each of the engines fuel lines. “It’s underneath me.”  
   Pulido glanced over at Owain’s Dragon, “I’ll take a look underneath.”  He slowed his fighter and dropped back under Moongazer’s right wing to view the three engines. He spotted the leaks straight away, a steady stream of fuel trickled from a peppering of holes. Here and there were small pieces of jagged metal protruded from the backend. “It looked like one of those Arrowhead interceptors got you after all,” he was saying as he came along side again. “You’ve got a backside full of shrapnel.” he turned his attention out of his cockpit window at the approaching planet. “Well you not going to be able to take that baby down there, the burn up in the atmosphere will blow you apart.
   “Tell me something I don’t know,” was Owain’s answer at the same time cursing his luck. He sat up in his seat, leaning forward against his shoulder straps to take in the small planet just beneath him. “I’ve got enough fuel to make it to Reon. Then I’m going to have to eject, preferably somewhere quiet. I don’t what to go in near any settlements, we don’t know what our reception going to be like down there.”
   “I’m not picking up any cities, or any major technology for that matter.” Slade reported his finding from the computer monitor screen that he was checking. “Plenty of life-form reading to the west. The east not so many though…. It’s a good place as any to put down, what do you think?” this was Owain’s call, whatever he decided he would go along with it.
   Owain also checked his monitor to confirm what Pulido was saying. “Okay, let’s do it,” he began to feel nervous; he would have preferred to have taken the Dragon down. That option was not open to him now, nether was any escape from danger when he ejects into the atmosphere, he would have to depend on Slade coming in behind him.
   Bringing the Dragon fighter in as close as he dared to Reon, Owain reached up over his head, caught hold of the handle of the ejector mechanism and hauled. Six latches securing the cockpit to the craft sprang open. He leaned forward to reach the second firing mechanism under his seat between his feet. He looked at Reon with scepticism, what lay ahead for him now he had know idea, all he knew that his means of escape was disappearing by the second as he gripped the handle, he wrenched. The charges exploded beneath his cockpit and hurl the pod unceremoniously toward the planet surface.
   Slade fixed Owain’s ejector pod into his tracking system and waited for it to disappear into Reon`s atmosphere, them fired on the carcass of the Dragon, he did not want to leave a calling card for any Royalist surveillance ship’s who might just pass this way. Slade gunned his fighter to follow in Owain’s direction, leaving only a small explosion that died in space.
 

 
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All material is owned by the Author and can not be used, or copied without permission.

    “Again General…. Where is Moongazer?” The metallic voice thundered around the small dark cell. Menihad Bore stood to one side his grotesque face streaked by the linear lights lining the deadly dim walls. “You’re the only one who knows where he is! And we know he has the Pommel Stone.”
   Slowly, deliberately Joel shook his head. The side of his face smarting with pain. He wiped his hand across his mouth, feeling something warm and wet, he looked down at the back of his hand and it was smeared red with blood, his blood. Raising his head, his eyes fixed on the Warlord standing directly behind the guard who had just cause the cut inside his mouth. Joel had never doubted that they would meet again.
   “It apparent Menihad, that you still are incapable of comprehension.” Joel wiped his mouth again, he knew when it came to interrogation, the Warlord did not believe in studious methods only brutality. “Menihad, your rise in the Empire must be down solely to your over-bearing intimidation antics, because it sure isn’t down to your intelligence.”
   “Damn you!” the Warlord roared pushing the guard sidewards so he could get at the seated General. “I’ll get the answer to my questions one way or the other,” he grabbed Thawbran by the front of his uniform and pulled him within centimetres of his twisted face. “If I had my why you’d be dead like the rest of your crew…. But you’re not…. I need answers!” he came even closer his hot breath filling Joel’s nose with distaste. “I always get them…. Even from tougher people then you! Do you understand me?”
   The door to the cold cell slid noisily aside, the guard behind Menihad quickly snapped to attention. Admiral Cutter entered; the Warlord dramatically let the General go, he slowly turned his bulky body simultaneously flicking his mane of blue-black hair, his fiery eyes met Tylard`s who’s dispersion clearly frowned upon these processing. He was always at odds with the techniques so enjoy by the Warlord.
   “I`ll take over now Mr Bore,” the authoritative voice of Tylard echoed around the cell.
   “I thought the matter of interrogation was in my hands,” the Warlord counter, his stance of one upset by Cutter’s presence. He like his work as interrogator and to be disturbed was so annoying that Menihad showed it.  
   “Not any more,” Cutter replied walking up to the irritated mass of flesh and metal. “You may go sir,” he stare blankly, not intimidated in any way by the Warlord.
   Menihad Bore rumbled softly with the desired to carry on. His objections finally dying, this was no time for confrontation with the Admiral, his eyes narrowed, one day soon he thought. He cursed and brush passed Tylard as he exited the cell closed followed by the guard who was told to leave with a nod of the Admiral’s head.
   Cutter regarded the General for a moment, this great warrior, and a man he had face in battle many times. Now to be sat somewhat pitifully here in a small cold cell in the bowls of a Royalist Dreadnought he mused slightly; he hoped his fate would never end like this, his plans were greater in this new order that was sweeping thought the galaxy. 
   “General if you persist in this illusion of yours about not knowing were the Pommel Stone is. It will eventually lead you back into the hands of Menihad Bore,” he sniffed at the thought of that abomination. “I may not wholly agree with his crude if not archaic methods, but General you’re no longer a young man. Your will no matter how strong will break,” he reflected on the Warlord’s proceeding so far before he delved into his breast pocket. “Unfortunately for you Manihad enjoys what he does.”  Tylard thoughtfully hand Thawbran a handkerchief as he reflected on past advent where interrogation and Menihad were concerned. Joel considered the gesture, then took it and wiped his mouth. “I’m not here to promise you any compromised, you know your situation General. It would be easier all-round if you gave the young man’s location we know he has the Pommel Stone and without doubt knowledge of the Crydaw knights.”
   With heedless attention Joel looked at the blooded cloth. “I don’t know what you’re on about Admiral,” he declared turning his ignorant eyes upon Cutter. “The Penrazor was in the Mire system dispatching supplies to our troops there I….”
   “Do you really regard a hand full of Crydaw knights; can stop the supremacy over the galaxy by the Royalist Empire.” Tylard cut him off inquisitive of Joel’s fate if he persisted along these lines. “I must admit that your delusions are honourable if not a bit ridiculous,” he smirked as if to mock the General. “They tried to stop us once before, what make’s you think a few can do what their army’s couldn’t.”
   Thawbran looked at him with scorn. “The Empire and your King will fall, because of hope…. Where there’s hope, there will always be a will to defeat tyranny, For all it’s might the Royalist Empire can not stop the volition for freedom. Your King is a fool if he thinks he can rule the galaxy by the barrel of a gun.”
   Tylard some how gave a doleful smile, if inwardly wearisome by Joel Thawbran allusions. “Very philosophically General….” He sighed at this legend of a foe, “If not foolish. Besides that, however,” he continued with sneered tones. “That doesn’t answer my question.”
   “Questions, questions,” Joel throw the handkerchief with contempt to the floor. “I’m General Joel Thawbran military adviser to the United Pla….”
   “Then you leave me with know alternative General,” Cutter raised his voice over Joel’s as he continued to recite his position in the United Planets. “Words are lost on you. Let’s see how the hand of Menihad Bore can bring forth the whereabouts of the Pommel Stone. You know, as I, that he enjoys the old way of  Interrogation. You’re truly misguided General Thawbran, I will have pleasure in seeing you, and your precious United Planets fall under the hand of the Royalist Empire.” 
   Cutter turned and walked over to the door. “Soon General…. soon. You’ll witness your vain attempts to stop the Empire crushed! And those pitiful Crydaw knights will have nowhere to hide…. Their souls are damn…! The Chill will have them!”
   With that he left the cell with Joel contemplating if Owain was safe. 

All Material is Registered with The Writers Guild of America, west, Inc.
All material is owned by the Author and can not be used, or copied without permission.