Platonia: The Twelfth Voyage

The ship approached them rapidly and in stealth. The Nole could pick up its trace but barely, the signal ebbed in and out as the oncoming vessel dodged and weaved as it neared the ship.

"They are deflecting our scans," remarked Moore. "That’s somewhat unusual. We are broadcasting our ship identifier, including our course and speed, yet from the odd maneuvers of their ship, they seem to be stalking us."

Weller tapped his fingers on his console, and seemed untroubled by the unknown ship. He turned to Belden.

"Do you sense anything amiss about our visitor?"

Belden shook his head. "No, its behavior is similar to a Transorian cruiser, except that its engines have been upgraded significantly in power. I don’t otherwise sense a threat. Perhaps they are trying to impress us."

"We’ll know that when they close in. No sense in being provocative. We’ll keep our shields down for now. Be ready though if I give the signal."

Soon the ship slowed, and materialized a few kilometers across the bow of the Nole. The view screen soon brightened to reveal the smiling face of a confident looking young captain, dressed in an outlandish leather jumpsuit festooned with epaulettes and medals.

"I am Captain Rocket of the Nazcar space cruiser Foyt. Pardon us for sneaking up on you as it were. You can never be too sure about intent. After all, you are the first visitor from the outworlds that we have had since our colony was founded. On behalf of the Nazcar colony, I welcome you to our world. You are obviously not a colony ship. How did you come this far?"

Forcing a smile, Weller stood and looked sternly at the Captain. "I am Jan Weller, Captain of the Foundation Cruiser Nole. We have perfected trans light speed, in a manner of speaking. It is our commission to visit the colony worlds, to see their progress, to provide contact again with the home world. We send you greetings from the Transorian Senate and the people of Transor."

Rocket smiled coyly. "Transor, eh? Now that presents an opportunity! We received your signals as you entered our solar system, and decided to meet you before you entered our orbit. I must confess though, the manner of my approach was a challenge that we couldn’t resist. As you doubtless know, our colony was established because of such things."

"Yes," said Weller. "We know your story, your exploits are legion. Transor at the time wasn’t much of a challenge for you. I hope that you have since found your ideal level of excitement."

"That and more Captain Weller," said Rocket almost gloatingly. "We have made a world a stimulating challenge, and we live as we choose on the cusp of danger. Perhaps you felt that feeling of exhilaration as you departed Transor for your adventure. I almost envy you."

"It wasn’t for the adventure that we have come." Said Weller testily. "We do not exist simply to throw ourselves pointlessly into peril, no matter how tantalizing. Believe it or not, we are actually here to see how you are faring. Transor is after all your home world."

"And a world that rejected us," snapped Rocket. "We left you because you could not grant us the freedom we deserved. I trust you have not come to reassert your rule."

"I assure you. We have no interest in that. If you will act as our kind escort to your home world, we can demonstrate our good intentions before your council."

"Then if so, please be our guest. My ship will lead the way. I will announce you to our ruling elite." Rocket grinned sarcastically. "And please don’t be concerned, you will be quite safe with us."

The screen darkened, and Weller sat on his command chair, his every muscle seemingly tensed.

Belden looked on bemused. "You looked a bit exasperated after talking with that character. He reminds me of a military hot shot from one of our B movies back on earth. I guess even Transor had its share of idiot sports jocks."

"It’s not the idiocy that bothers me," said Weller. "There’s no thrill in irresponsibility, and these people were dangerous not just to themselves, but to the people they sought to entertain and impress. Transor banned their extreme sports when they began to take too many chances. They were a danger not only to themselves but to our society."

"Bread and circuses!" exclaimed a grinning Belden. "In many cultures ancient to us nothing was worthwhile unless you could sniff a bit of danger about it. No doubt they felt that observing carnage steeled the soul. I’m sure it was quite popular for your world as well."

"Yes." Oddly, that’s how it was. "They would have us all fill stadiums and root for not just the victory, but the perverse thrill of the closeness of death. They felt that danger fortified the character, and in surviving made one relish life all the more. It certainly was a cure for the ennui our culture has for so long faced, but we had to resist it. We had no choice."

Belden looked impassively at the Nazcar ship. "Apparently, they see life as a high wire act, with contrived rather than natural peril. You Captain Weller prefer the latter and have for now attained it. I am concerned about what these people are contriving for us when we arrive."

_________________________

It was three o’clock in the morning according Transorian standard time. Lieutenant Valery Rills looked about the bridge, bathed now in a dim red light. It was a mock sunset that would linger throughout a virtual night. Bridge duty was a boring annoyance for him and his skeleton crew, but all junior command officers had to pull it. Nominally, he was in control of the ship, yet he merely commanded a crew of sleeping men. He looked at the Nazcar cruiser, a black shadow glanced by moonlight, and he thought about the Captain, now meeting with the Nazcar consul at their noonday hour on the planet below. He unconsciously longed for the sound that would call the ship to action, a calling for his command. Then suddenly, rousing him from his reverie, there was a noise and a light.

In an instant, the Nole’s bridge consoles blazed in multicolored lights, and a claxon sounded throughout the ship. Something was sensed, and the ship reacted faster than even his own reflexes. He turned to the command screen, and saw the wing turrets of the Nazcar ship swell bright red. Rills ran to the command chair, but there was no time.

Several balls of light burst from the turrets, and hurtled to the Nole in a horrifying instant. The Nole convulsed and spun backwards at the blow. Rills was violently thrown to the floor. All decks began to signal the bridge in a cacophony of explosions and screams.

"Engineering, what happened to us?"

"Our thrusters are badly damaged. We can barely move. And they destroyed our shield generators. They can destroy us now at their leisure. For God’s sake, why are they shooting at us?"

"Casualty reports?"

"Three dead in engineering, and there are numerous injuries among our crew."

"Bastards! Are our guns on line?"

"We can blow them apart with one shot, but their shields are too strong for that. Here, we’re getting a signal from them."

"On screen!"

"Bridge officer! This is Captain Rocket. My apologies for our forcefulness, but it was necessary. We can’t allow you to leave this place, and we are explaining this to your captain now. No need for future concern however. We will tow you in to our spaceport, and from there you will be our guests, permanently."

The screen darkened, and Rills frantically tried to signal his captain. He signals jammed, he heard nothing but static. The bridge was in disarray, the ship was crippled, helpless, and now in tow. He despaired as he recognized there was nothing he could do. He was in command of a derelict ship waiting now for an uncertain end. He thought again and again in a despairing frenzy, what would the Captain have done?

_________________________

The shuttle had landed on what appeared to be the service bay on the edge of a highway. Weller looked in amazement at the blur of the traffic, traveling at extraordinary speeds. The cars seemed to recklessly dart and weave between each other, and only split second timing prevented them from colliding.

"Odd. Transor auto cars can go as fast, but they’re automated, orderly. This is a free-for-all, its almost as if everybody on this road is..."

"Racing?" said Belden. "I’ve seen this before, it’s a sporting event. Those cars, the jaunting for position, the tailgating; this is not a roadway, it’s a raceway!

"Why would they put us in the middle of some racing contest?"

"I don’t think this is a race course," said Weller. "You can see, this highway winds toward the city. It can't be built for competition."

"Then you don’t know much about highway driving!" Belden laughed.

"Nothing seems to be going slow here. But it’s not the speed, and the danger is not an afterthought. I believe they planned this."

"Correct you are!" sounded the voice.

Startled, the pair turned to see almost astride them a tall blond man in a leather uniform. "I am Consul Rogerz Ramjet, a champion of Nazcar. I welcome you to our world."

"And a jolting surprise I may add." Said Weller.

"Hah! Much preferable to the bland and predictable salutations you’ve come to expect. There will be much for you to learn here."

"Such as learning to drive?"

"In a manner of speaking; there’s more talent required in that than you may expect. Don’t worry though. We’ll take my car, and I promise you that I’ll drive slow."

In a few seconds, the party arrived at the consul’s headquarters, a gleaming tower of glass and steel. Despite the consul’s promise, the car careened from one point to the next as if piloted by a blind man. If was only too soon that it stopped, and as Weller and Belden staggered from the car, the world seemed to drunkenly revolve around their heads.

"Well, I hope you found our little tour pleasant," said Burghard. "Follow me into our headquarters. We’ll take the elevator. Actually I prefer ascending through the shaft. It’s longer, but more exciting. Dodging elevator cars can be very exciting."

The three men entered a sparely furnished room on the top floor. It suggested to Belden the appearance of a large jail cell.

"So are we to meet someone here?" asked Weller.

"Oh, you will meet them, but perhaps not here. This is just a starting point, or a starting block if you will. You see, gentlemen, we gamble on everything, all we know and value is denominated by risk. Our wits and intellects are sharpened, and if our life spans are shortened by a few years, so be it. And this we believe is infinitely preferable to the life we had on Transor. The predictable pleasures of Transor were something we could not bear. When my ancestors left the place, they swore that they would never deal with Transor again. Not because you are evil mind you, it's just that you became so damn boring." Ramjet put his finger to his mouth, as if forgetting something. "You know, I must confess that we are not entirely happy to see you here. Nothing personal, its just…." Reaching into his pocket, Ramjet pointed a phase pistol at them. "Please place down your communicators."

"What?"

"Put them down, now, doing otherwise is a chance even I wouldn't take."

Belden and Weller took the communicators off their belts, and threw them on the floor. Weller glanced at Ramjet in shock. "Why are you doing this? We came here in good faith."

"I'm sorry, but we don’t trust the Foundation, never have. We don’t know if you have come as a precursor to an invasion, an attempt to reestablish our control, or just to bore us again with your interminable playacting. It’s in our upbringing to be skeptical and wary, so I hope you understand that this is something we’re almost bred to do."

"You know Transor will try to find us. There will be other ships."

"Perhaps so, perhaps not. We are prepared to take that chance. Anyways, you are our guests, and I think that after a short stay here you will change your minds about us."

"And our ship."

"We are taking care of that as we speak. You will stay here, for now. We will have an escort come for you shortly. I wouldn't try to escape if I were you. Much too risky you know, and rather unpalatable to your emotional tastes I may add?"

Ramjet smiled and saluted, and walked away.

Weller observed Ramjet as he left the room. "The door's ajar. I think he's being a bit obvious, don't you?"

"As in a taunt for us to make a run for it? What's the purpose? They can apprehend us any time they'd like. We don't have the run of this place, and we're prisoners whether we like it or not."

"You don't see it do you? They want us to try to escape, but he won't make it easy on himself. It's not enough of a challenge."

"But not enough of a challenge to make the odds great that he will fail. Remember, he controls this game, and the odds are doubtlessly strong in his favor."

"Except for one thing. He hasn't factored in the odds for a fellow like you. You're memory is perfect, although you don't give it a thought. You can guide us out of here and back to the Nole, and all under the nose of Ramjet and his little posse of thrill seekers."

"Hmm. Perhaps so, but it isn't me. Your cartoon world is not particularly complex or challenging, despite what this Ramjet character has to say. And I still can predict what he will do. He's probably waiting to chase us if we make a break for it. He doesn’t know that I am a computer; nonetheless he’s right to surmise that I can’t fly. We can’t escape him by using our wits. Indeed, he’s counting on that."

Weller walked to glass window and peered down at the streets below. "Perhaps the answer is not using them. These people live for the thrill of danger, of the chase, and no doubt they expect us to give them a run for their money. They know we are clever, and expect a clever escape plan that they can foil in the nick of time. That's why we're being left alone, and that's why that door is ajar. Well, I won't give them that satisfaction, and that Mr. Belden is how we will escape this place."

"What? You don't intend to just walk out?"

"Yes, and we'll do so through the slowest and most comfortable route. We will take the elevator down, walk to the curb, hop on our shuttle that you will conveniently signal, and then leave. They can't set us up for a replay if we don't play with them this time."

"So we just saunter out as if finishing a day at the office."

"In a manner of speaking, yes."

Belden shrugged. "Well, here goes." He closed his eyes for a second. "There, the shuttle is on its way. Just a simple thought is all that’s necessary. It’s like a silent whistle for my dog. It should be here in a minute or so. Shall we call it a day?"

The hallway outside the door was empty and eerily quiet. By the elevator was an access door, and down the hall what appeared to be a circuit box and an emergency exit. Its door was again conveniently left ajar.

"So Belden, how shall we leave? Shall it be through the window, the laundry chute, or the elevator shaft? Or shall we make it interesting by cutting the power and crawling out on our knees?"

"I’m sure they’re ready for any of that."

Weller walked to the elevator and pressed the button. "Precisely, they are alert for every exciting possibility except for the boring one, such as standing here and waiting for the elevator."

The elevator opened, and without incident the pair descended down to the lobby and walked out the door of the building to the curb. As before, cars recklessly whizzed by. Belden heard a muffled sound in the back, growing louder.

"Those are our pursuers!" said Belden. "A bit taken aback that we would be so unadventurous in our solution. They won't repeat that again."

With a low whir, their shuttle appeared and settled down at the curb. Weller toggled a switch on the communications console, and looked at Belden with terrible resignation. "I hear nothing. We will escape into their hands. They will catch us return us to this place. But we must leave anyways, we must leave."

With its engines on maximum, the shuttle shot into the sky.

_________________________

Rills looked at the Nazcar cruiser in the distance. He wanted one more rematch, just one more, whatever the odds. And it wasn’t for the pleasure of competition, but revenge. If only he could somehow challenge them again. He turned his head to his communications officer who was suddenly beckoning.

"Lt. Rills, we're getting a coded message from Nazcar. It’s on a low frequency communications channel."

"On my personal display!"

Rills read the message, and after a moment, his eyes lit up. "Of course! The game’s afoot; we have only a few minutes to act. Clear the bridge, and get me their Captain on screen."

In a second, Rogerz appeared on the screen. Rills smiled placidly. "Captain Rogerz," he said gently. "Although I find it difficult to say, I must grudgingly admit the value of your position. Our crew did after all volunteer to go on this dangerous mission, so our motives are not different from yours. Pity though that our superlative craft must go untested. You have of course tested your ship?"

"Rogerz's eyes widened. Now that you say so, we really have not. Unlike our planetary vehicles, space travel is still expensive. We only have two of these ships, and a lot of space to patrol. Unfortunately, a joust between us is too expensive for the thrill."

"But what of our joust? You shot us without warning. There is no sport in that. I think that was a rather craven thing to do. It was painful, not thrilling, and hardly becoming for your reputation. Indeed, I think that our crew will have a thing or too so say about this to your comrades."

Rogerz's looked on sullenly. "What do you suggest?"

Rills smiled coyly. "It' s a tiny compensation really. It’s a thrill for us, and for you an added justification. But I assure you, we'll make the odds certain, but to your compatriots it would be seen as a risk they would have envied."

"And your proposal?"

"A good natured draw, like in the duels of old. Each of our ships will have one shot. Of course, we will both aim wide; there will be little risk except for the risk in trusting. In fact, I will do you one better. I will take ten steps behind my targeting console. You may remain at yours. If I beat you to the console, I will shoot past you and win the joust. If you respond faster, you will win. Both ships remain unharmed, and you regain your reputation. Of course, to make this fair, and a real challenge, you will have to lower your shields."

"With my assurance being merely your word? I don't…"

Rills raised his hands, and laughing, walked ten paces backwards. "Look! I am here. The bridge is empty. You can easily raise your shields if you can't fire first. But of course you can fire first can you not? You are no doubt where you are because you can risk, or am I wrong?"

Rogerz glowered in rage. "I'm lowering shields. Now I'll…."

In a nanosecond, the Nole slightly recoiled, and in that vanishing moment, the Foyt became a ball of white light, and disappeared into a cloud of a million pieces of pulverized metal.

"I guess I lose," said Rills matter of factly. "Communications officer, signal the Captain. Tell him that our Nazcar friends had to literally take a powder."

Within a few minutes, Weller entered the bridge. Rill's saluted, and relinquished the command chair.

"Captain, I received your signal. I am surprised you escaped. I trust you didn’t take any unnecessary chances?"

"Ironically, no. But what happened to their ship? No, what happened to ours?"

Rills pursed his lips. "Well, we took our chances, and they took theirs, in a manner of speaking. But they were up to the challenge I must say. They should have thought I would have plotted the computer to fire on them the moment they dropped their shields. I guess they were looking for something, well, more thrilling."

"Hmm. I guess we both think alike."

Rills smiled. "And I accept your complement, captain to captain!"

"Yes, I suppose. But I've lost here. I should have protected my ship. I swear this will never happen again! Can we get out of here?"

"Now that Belden is back, and now that you are back, of course. The engines can be repaired after we jump, and jumping is an afterthought really. They could never have damaged those engines. After all, their ‘brains’ are in Belden’s head."

"Then we go, and to hell with this place."

"Captain. We’re being signaled again by their planet, do you want…"

"No! Let them think about it, uncertainty is after all what they want. I will not disappoint them anymore."

In a second, the Nole passed through hyperspace into an empty quadrant in space. Weller looked at the pinprick of light that was Nazcar’s sun. He passively thought about their next mission, and about new risks that he never entertained. Somehow that realization made him depressed, but that was ultimately due to his decision to lead this mission, a chance he had to take.

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