Bonz was baffled by all this, even though the odd remarks by both the SG sentry officer at the Pluto Cloud and the support troops on the culverin now made a little more sense. But it was not up to Bonz to solve the mystery. He was just a spy. His job was to deliver the information safely to someone who could figure out what it all meant. And that's what he was about to do.
The mission was only supposed to last for ninety hours. They finally reached that time mark. The clankers left the ship and began the retrieval of the spy array. Meanwhile, Bonz had begun preliminary procedures for takeoff. He was about to deactivate the Sweeper unit when suddenly, the array lit up like a small sun. Right before his eyes, it began picking up indications on all three sensors.
The sudden burst of activity was startling, to say the least. Bonz shut down the ship's flight systems and began studying the readouts. What he saw first was a huge spike in temperature coming from a point in space just about in the center of the No-Fly Zone. In fact, this spike registered nearly a billion degrees — but only for a fraction of a microsecond. Then came a deluge of subatomic activity. Quarks, quicks, quirks, and about a dozen others, all signatures associated with SG Star-crashers, as many as thirty or more. But these were not the ghostly songs of some phantom battle — they were too acute, too close for that. Nor were they from weapons discharges. The indications were coming from prop-core activity, and they were growing in volume and intensity by the second.
In other words, no less than an entire SG fleet was coming their way.
Not a minute later, thirty-six Solar Guards warships appeared in orbit above Doomsday 212. Ten seconds after that, two of them were hovering right over the crying butte. Bonz found himself staring up at the pair of flying monsters through the bubble-top canopy. They were Starcrashers, unmistakable in size and shape. And they were, no doubt, part of the SG's Rapid Engagement Fleet. Their hull numbers identified them as being attached to the special operations force which had been involved in the battle that never was.
But there was something very odd about these ships. Unlike most other SG war vessels, which were usually bright white, these ships were fiery red in color.
They were down to the surface before the clankers could completely disassemble the Sweeper, so the robots used then-heads and destroyed the spy array instead. But even before the resulting dust was blowing away, the SG ships were dispensing troops in armed shuttlecraft. These soldiers were wearing red uniforms as well… very peculiar. In seconds, a small army of SG troops was charging toward the butte and the small spy ship hidden beneath.
Bonz stayed cool. This was a problem, but not an unfamiliar situation for him. Deep down, even in the worst-case scenario, he knew it would be OK for one simple reason. He was a member of the Empire's military; these troops so madly rushing toward him were as well. In effect, they were his own. blood.
Brothers in arms. Rivals, yes. Antagonists, certainly.
But not deadly enemies.
Bonz came out of the control room, still in the greasiest, most worn, most disgusting uniform imaginable. The interior of the ship was just as shabby now, and smelled the same. The clankers hustled back to the engine room to begin their parody of trying to fix the ion drive. Smoke was filtered through the environmental systems, further stinking up the joint. By the time the SG soldiers began pounding on the main hatch, the ship looked like it had been banging around the Galaxy for a half-dozen centuries.
Bonz opened the hatch. A squad of Solar Guards stormed in. They were gigantic, much larger in height and girth than any SG trooper Bonz had come across. They were heavily armed and were wearing shiny combat uniforms and helmets with visors that covered their faces — and again, not the usual color of black, but bright red. A chill went through the hold.
"Who is in command here?" one of the soldiers barked. His voice sounded very strange, mechanical but also gurgling.
Bonz responded, "I am — and I want to thank you for rescuing us—"
The words were barely out of his mouth when one soldier grabbed him by the scruff of the neck and literally threw him out the open hatch. Bonz hit the ground hard, scraping his hands and face. He was instantly furious but remained calm. He tried to get to his feet only to have a boot land on his neck. He went down again, this time on his face. The ground felt like glass, cutting into his body right through his dirty uniform.
He heard four more bodies hit the ground with one massive clank. His robot crew had been forced facedown, just as he was.
It was time to start complaining.
"We are a salvage crew!" Bonz yelled through the gravel in his teeth. "We've been stuck here for six weeks! Why are our rescuers treating us like this? We are citizens of the Empire. We have our rights!"
There came no reply. Just the cry of wind screaming across the butte. Bonz could see more troops barging their way onto his ship. He prayed that the holo-disguises would hold. As before, he was certain the SG would not start probing too deeply. Everything within the ship had been made to look so gross, he couldn't imagine elite troops like the REF wanting to get their hands dirty for no good reason.
"You are in a forbidden zone," a voice above him suddenly growled. "The punishment for this be death."
"But we were stranded here," Bonz said again. "We didn't know anything about a forbidden zone."
"Words can only hurt you now!" the man with the boot on his back screamed at him. The voice was pure evil.
Bonz raised his intensity level. "Look at us!" he cried.
"What trouble could we cause you? We're just trying to squeeze a few coins out of the wreckage here. It is our honor to be rescued by the likes of you—"
Bonz thought he detected a whiff of relenting in the air.
"We just need a boost in our power pack," he went on. "Just a boost, and we will clear out of the Two Arm and never come back forever!"
Suddenly another voice was in his ear. "You are a grub crew?" This voice asked in a curious, angry whisper.
"Yes, true…" Bonz stuttered in reply.
"And you had no idea that you are within a forbidden zone?"
"No, none at all."
"And you swear you are not military — that you were not sent out here to spy on us?"
"I swear…"
Two strong hands jerked him to his feet. He was suddenly staring into the cold hard eyes of a REF
officer. This man looked slightly deranged to him. His red uniform was the color of blood.
"Then," the officer said to him, "how do you explain this?"
He was holding something up to Bonz's eyes. It took a moment for his vision to clear before he realized it was a small white device.
His family holo-cube…
Playing within was the preview image of his kids wearing their Space Forces uniforms with him, in his own medal-laden uniform, standing right beside them.
Bonz tried to say something but couldn't. At almost the same moment, other SG soldiers had found all the hidden switches in the control room and began activating them. The holographic blanket disappeared, and in seconds the small vessel reverted back to its real state, that of an unmistakable SF3 spy ship.
This was not good.
After a quick, hushed discussion among the SG soldiers, Bonz was marched in front of the rock wall next to the Zero Vox. He was ordered to remove his fake salva*r's flight suit, revealing his SF-issuefl bodx,ltK*jBgriyüraB$nz stood shivering in the early morning cold; already he was composing a message of protest he planned to send to SG headquarters as soon as he got out of this. There was much confusion around him now. The SG troops appeared very agitated, and their deep red uniforms seemed just too bizarre for words. Another officer appeared, and he began barking orders. A gaggle of SG soldiers standing twenty feet away from Bonz began spreading out in a ragged line. What were they doing? Forming an honor guard? Each man then raised his weapon toward him and twisted its power knob to on. That's when Bonz realized he was staring at a firing squad.