Life on other planets -- Fiction; Science fiction; Solar Queen (Imaginary space vehicle) -- Fiction; Space ships -- Fiction
"Surrender! This is the Patrol. Surrender or take the consequences!" And
that faint sighing which signaled their open contact with the outer world
was cut off. The Com-tech turned away from the control board, a sneering
half smile on his face.
"They've reached the circuit and cut you off. You're done!"
Dane stared into the cage where the now almost invisible thing sat humped
together. He had done his best--they had all done their best. He felt
nothing but a vast fatigue, an overwhelming weariness, not so much of
body, but of nerve and spirit too.
Rip broke the silence with a question aimed at the tech. "Can you signal
below?"
"Going to give up?" The fellow brightened. "Yes, there's an inter-com I
can cut in."
Rip stood up. He unbuckled the belt about his waist and laid it on the
table--disarming himself. Without words Ali and Dane followed his
example. They had played their hand--to prolong the struggle would mean
nothing. The acting Captain of the Queen gave a last order:
"Tell them we are coming down unarmed--to surrender." He paused in front
of Hovan. "You'd better stay here. If there's any trouble--no reason for
you to be caught in the middle."
Hovan nodded as the three left the room. Dane, remembering the trick he
had pulled with the riser, made a comment:
"We may be marooned here--"
Ali shrugged. "Then we can just wait and let them collect us." He yawned,
his dark eyes set in smudges. "I don't care if they'll just let us sleep
the clock around afterwards. D'you really think," he addressed Rip, "that
we've done ourselves any good?"
Rip neither denied nor confirmed. "We took our only chance. Now it's up
to them--" He pointed to the wall and the teeming world which lay beyond
it.
Ali grinned wryly. "I note you left the what-you-call-it with Hovan."
"He wanted one to experiment with," Dane replied. "I thought he'd earned
it."
"And now here comes what we've earned--" Rip cut in as the hum of the
riser came to their ears.
"Should we take to cover?" Ali's mobile eyebrows underlined his demand.
"The forces of law and order may erupt with blasters blazing."
But Rip did not move. He faced the riser door squarely and, drawn by
something in that stance of his, the other two stepped in on either side
so that they fronted the dubious future as a united group. Whatever came
now, the Queen's men would meet it together.
In a way Ali was right. The four men who emerged all had their blasters
or riot stun-rifles at ready, and the sights of those weapons were
trained at the middles of the Free Traders. As Dane's empty hands, palm
out, went up on a line with his shoulders, he estimated the opposition.
Two were in the silver and black of the Patrol, two wore the forest green
of the Terrapolice. But they all looked like men with whom it was better
not to play games.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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