REDEMPTION TRAIL

The General and Chellaina were losing hope in the dingy prison that, as they believed, would soon become their grave. They had been talking of their glory of the past, the fruitful life they had lead, and the beautiful world that Theti once was. As the dark hours passed, the conversation turned to the larger subject of the human realm and what might have become of it.
The General sadly shook his head as his eyes gazed at nothing in particular, "What became of the realm I saved so long ago?"
"We don't know that the whole realm is gone." Chellaina tried to sound as convincing as possible.
"I know," The General admitted, "I hope not. Not for meI lived my lifebut for the young, spiky people, who haven't had a chance to make their marks in the realm yet. They're the ones who inherit the realm."
The General turned to his wife, "I can't save the realm again, Chelly. I'm too old. Hell, someone has to come and save us." He returned his gaze to the crumbling concrete wall, "Saving the realm is for the young and spikyit's their jobit's their realm. Old people like us, well, we aren't of much usewe just sit back and watch."
"Now, Fenny," Chellaina's voice was clearly scolding, "You remember what our friends at Elderly Support Services said about that kind of talk."
Before Fenton had a chance to reply, a third voice entered the conversation; it came from the receiver.
"This is Krey Altson, tail number RQ-733, responding to an automated emergency beacon. Is anyone down there? Over."
The General turned toward the emergency equipment, "Did he say `RQ-733'?"
Chellaina's voice was somewhat hesitant, "I think so."
The General shook his head in doubt, "Couldn't be."
"This is Krey Altson, tail number RQ-733 responding to your emergency signal. Is anyone still alive? Please respond."
Suddenly, The General realized the seriousness of the opportunity at hand. He struggled to gain his feet, then hurried to the emergency radio as fast as his aging body would allow.

Aboard the Star Saber, Krey keyed his microphone as he made one last attempt to contact survivors at the other end of the emergency beacon.
"This is Krey Altson, tail number RQ-733, responding to your emergency transmission. Is anyone there?"
He waited a moment or two for a reply, then shook his head.
"I don't think there's anyone left."
Cassie nodded in agreement, "Let's get out of here." She looked out the forward windows at the vast destruction surrounding Theti, "This place gives me the creeps."
Suddenly, an elderly man's voice came through an overhead speaker.
"This is General Fenton S. Raver of the United Nations Space Force..." There was a lengthy, awkward pause of nothing but dead carrier. "...What did you say your tail number was, Mister Altson?"
An uneasy look crept over Krey's face; he knew that RQ-733 had a bad reputation on Earth and its moon, but he hardly expected that reputation to be as far-reaching as Theti. The fact that the survivor claimed to be a representative of the United Nations was also somewhat unsettling; they were still in possession of a stolen UN service tug.
The sound of The General's voice brought a completely different mood to Cassie. She recognized the name and quickly associated it with the bold, gallant hero, who she had been reading about in the pilfered diary. A look of delight came over her when she realized that she might be able to meet this daring, valiant knight in his spotless, shining armor as he passed through on his way to yet another victory. In her mind's eye, she could already see The General righting the horrifying atrocity that loomed over Theti like a death shroud. The evil-doers would soon meet their match; The General would surly crush them at the point of his mighty lance.
"Are you there, Mister Altson?"
Krey looked to Cassie, "What do we do now? We got a UN representative on the radio and a stolen service tug in the drone bay." He shook his head emphatically; his voice approached alarm, "We're screwedyour stolen tug is going to cook our goose! Their going to haul us off and lock us away for"
"Don't get excited!" Cassie snapped. "You don't even know who you're talking tohe's not a UN representative."
"He is so!" Krey argued, "He's commander somebody-or-other of the United Nationshe said so!"
Cassie rolled her eyes and shook her head, "He said he was General Fenton S. Raver of the United Nations Space Force."
"Mister Altson!? Are you there RQ- 733?"
Krey folded his arms in an arrogant fashion, "Well, it certainly sounds UN-ish to me."
"It's an honorary title, you dip-shit! There's no such thing as a United Nations Space Force!"
Krey's look of arrogance quickly diminished, "Oh."
"He's a famous World War Five heroyou knowthe statue in the Common."
Krey made a futile attempt at recovering some dignity; he tried to sound nonchalant and educated, "Oh, him."
"Yes, him," Cassie retorted, "And, if I'm not mistaken, he was also the commander of this shipback during the war."
Krey shook his head in doubt, "Right. The only survivor on this planet just happens to be some old, dusty general who flew this ship."
Cassie let out a futile sigh of disgust, then shook her head.
"We are in need of assistance, RQ-733. For God's sake, please respond!"
Krey picked up the microphone, "My apologieswe had a minor problem to iron out here on the bridge. Ah... you say you require assistance?"
"Yes. We're trapped in a disaster shelter and need someone to get us out. Can you assist us?"
"Us?" Krey asked, "How many are with you?"
"Just my wife and I. Can you help?"
"Standby..."

The dingy disaster shelter was deathly quiet as Fenton and Chellaina waited for a reply. The General wore an anxious smile as he thought about the ship that once took him to victory. He turned his excited smile to Chellaina.
"I remember what my ship looked like when it went to salvage," he shook his head, "It wasn't spaceworthy. I bet the UN finally took my advice and refurbished her."
Chellaina skeptically lowered her brow, "Then, why didn't we hear about it?"
"Probably one of those top secret projectsyou know."
A look of serious contemplation came over Chellaina as she slowly nodded to the possibility. "Maybe. I saw it when they towed it off. No offense, Fenny, but it was junk; it was full of holes, smoking, warped"
"That's what I mean," The General interrupted, "They had to refurbish her!" His glowing eyes turned toward the emergency receiver as visions of sparkling Star Sabers danced in his head.
"She's up there, Chelly. During our time of need, she's up theresparkling like a newborn star. The Sikorsky Star Saber is the most formidable war machine ever built, yet she was best suited for mercy missions. We saved the refugees on Menti, now, a hundred years later, she's here to save the refugees of Theti." His aged, reverent eyes lifted toward the ceiling, as if he could see the mighty Star Saber right through the concrete and dirt that covered their heads. "There's twelve hundred young, spiky warriors up therethe best the United Nations has to offer. The realm is in good hands, Chelly."
He turned to look at his wife, "Thank God the UN saw fit to refurbish her."
"Are you there, General?"
The General frantically grabbed for the microphone, then took a moment to acquire a more authoritative, professional manner of speech.
"Yes, Mister Altson." It was apparent by his assertive tone of voice that he was proud to be speaking to the new commander of RQ-733.
"We're going to send a service tug to pick you and your wife up. Ah... Did you say you were trapped in a disaster shelter?"
"Yes. The latch on the door is fused; it's nuclear-hardened steel, similar to the steel on your hull. Do you have anything that can cut it?"
There was a noticeable delay before Krey replied.
"Yes I do. Ah... How do you know what kind of steel our hull is made of?"
A bold smile came to The General's face as he proudly replied, "I was the commander of RQ-733 during World War Five." He nodded in an assured fashion, "She's a hell of a ship!"
There was a hint of a chuckle preceding Krey's reply, "It's a small realm."
Both Fenton and Chellaina could clearly hear a woman's voice in the background, "Told ya! He's a heroa certified hero!"
Chellaina smiled and laid a proud hand on The General's shoulder as Krey continued with his transmission.
"Keep this channel open, General. We expect to be at your location within the hourwe'll let you know when we have a positive ETA. Krey Altson, RQ-733, over and out."

Within the span of fifteen or twenty minutes, Krey had carried a rather formidable cutting torch, along with a small collection of tools, to the hatch that led to the leaky service compartment and the stolen UN tug. After a lengthy discussion, the crew agreed that Krey would go down to the planet to free the survivors, while Cassie stayed behind to operate the computers and manage the automated aspects of the flight. Cassie was not the least bit pleased with the prospect of staying behind in a ship with a man-eating robot at large, but she had little choice; Krey's expertise was working with steel, hers was working with computers.
Krey turned his attention to a small control panel, where he pressed several keys on a small keypad. Within seconds, the leaky service compartment began to creek and moan as air hissed in to replace the pressure that had escaped into space through the pesky, persistent leak. A moment or two later, the creaking, grinding bulkheads stopped complaining, then Krey opened the hatch and gathered his equipment.
As Krey pulled his equipment into the service compartment, he could hear the subtle hiss of air as it escaped through the relentless leak. He chuckled at the thought of how it had frightened Cassie when she first came on board; he could only imagine what kind of impression it made. Once he had his equipment inside the service bay, he closed the inward hatch, then turned his attention to the hatch that led to the service tug. The sound of hissing air persisted.
The aged Star Saber had a rather large repertoire of peculiar sounds, all of which Krey was thoroughly familiar with. He had long since become used to the creaking of the hull, the vibrations of the engines, and the hissing of air as it escaped into space; there were few sounds in the Star Saber that worried himwith the exception of one.
Shortly after Krey opened the hatch to the service tug, he distinctly heard the metallic, needle-like clamor of tiny robotic feet as they scurried down an overhead pipe. He had only heard that sound once before; in the bridge when he and Cassie spotted the carnivorous robotic insect. He stopped what he was doing, then his uneasy eyes looked up at the pipe as the scurrying menace hurried off to God-knows-where.
Krey furrowed his brow in confusion; in all the years that he had been in possession of the Star Saber he never heard nor seen any sign of the miniature World War Five weapon. He wondered why it had suddenly become active after such a long period of dormancy, as well as why it was showing up with alarming frequency. Those thoughts continued to haunt him as he resumed the task of loading his equipment into the stolen service tug.

The robotic insect continued down the pipe at an alarming rate; its tiny legs raced along so smoothly and effortlessly that its miniature body almost seemed to float down the 3-inch metal tubing. As it descended deep into the core of the Star Saber, its microscopic cameras scrutinized the walls of the little tunnel in search of any changes that might represent a threat by the opposition. It was cleverly designed and as skilled at defending itself as it was at consuming human life.
Within a matter of seconds, the killer robot reached a junction in the plumbing, where another robotic insect was patiently waiting for its arrival.
The two robotic insects cautiously approached each other as each set of microscopic cameras scrutinized the other. Satisfied that the other appeared to be genuine, they carefully positioned themselves, then established communications over a thin, hair-like laser beam. Once the formality of checking each other's security codes was out of the way, they began to transfer reconnaissance data.
One of the robotic insects reported the time and location where it had seen the male crew member entering the service compartment; the other reported the location and activities of the female crew member. It was the general consensus among the robotic insect population that the female who spent most of her time in the copilot's seat would be an easy and appropriate target; she spent most of her time in the same place, and she seemed to perform most of the mission-essential computer work.
RQ-733 was filled with a vast labyrinth consisting of miles of ductwork, conduits, and tubingall of which formed an ideal habitat for the tiny artificial creatures. The vicious little robots had the maze of plumbing thoroughly mapped out nearly a century ago and, after emerging from their long period of dormancy, only needed to check for any changes that might have occurred due to age, modification, or battle damage. They had been working tenaciously since they received their electronic wake-up call and most of the preliminary reconnaissance work had already been completed. They had finished the first phase of their operationand were ready to move on to the next phase.
After a scant three seconds of communications, the insect's lasers went dark, then the tiny robots parted company and proceed on their way. One of them withdrew to the core of the Star Saber, the other started toward the bridge with clearance for a kill.

Krey wore a proud smile as he strapped himself into the pilot's seat of the service tug. The service tug had a more advanced set of controls than his Star Saber, and all of them happened to be in perfect working order; a stark contrast to the controls aboard RQ-733. Since their encounter with the time wake, he had not had the chance to pilot a craft; his duties aboard the Star Saber had become limited to monitoring instruments and sealing leaks. Considering Krey's sense of adventure and interest in space vehicles, it was not surprising that he was anxiously looking forward to the short flight to the planet's surface.
Once Krey had strapped himself in, he donned a pair of headsets, then pressed a button on the control stick to key the transmitter.
"Hello. You there Cassie?"
His reply came over the speaker in his headset.
"This is Cassella Hempton, tail number RQ- 733. Damnit, Krey, use proper protocol."
Krey's expression became somewhat indignant, "What for? There's no one out here except for you and me. Besides, I'm not about to transmit this tail numbereven if I could remember what it was."
"It's ST-1136."
"Fine," Krey snapped, "Why don't you tell everyone that it's stolen as well! Look, I'm in positionwould it be too much trouble to release me?"
His reply came in the form of a heavy metallic click as the Star Saber released the service tug from the docking port.
Krey's voice carried a noticeable degree of irritation, "Thank You!"
"Your ETA is nineteen minutes. Ah, be careful down there, Krey. It could be dangerous, so, no heroics, huh?"
Krey voice became a little more civilized, "Yeah. Krey Altson, ST-1136, over and out."
He shook his head in disbelief, then muttered to himself, "Crazy woman."
Krey flipped several switches on the instrument panel; the attitude engines hissed for a moment or two, then the service tug began to descend from the Star Saber.
He continued to mutter to himself as the service tug dropped away from the Star Saber, "First she gives me a hard time, then she tells me to be careful. What the hell does she want anyway?"
Once the service tug was clear of the Star Saber, Krey grabbed the control stick, then flipped a switch on the instrument panel. His body hit the back of the seat with a thud as the main engines roared to life. He shook his head in disgust, "Women!"

Cassie watched the computer screen for a moment or two to make sure that the tug was on course and that everything was going according to plan. Once she was satisfied that everything was alright, she reached for The General's diary, then shook her head.
"I don't get it," she muttered as she opened the antique, "Try to help him out, show him I care, and he gets bent out of shape."
She let out a sigh of disgust, "Men!"