Battlegroup Vega

by Anders Raynor

  The guard nodded. “Yes, we received a message from the president’s office. You’re authorized to visit the prisoner.”

  She felt as if the soles of her shoes were glued to the floor. Making a single step forward required considerable effort. When the guard opened a heavy door, she forced herself to follow him.

  The inmates started shouting even before they saw her. She made a list of all medications starting with M and stepped forward, trying to control the shaking of her hands.

  Two rows of cages bordered the corridor. Only a dozen inmates were detained there, but the noise gave Talia the impression of hundreds. They yelled, whistled, groaned, and struck the bars with whatever objects they had.

  “The president issued a general pardon to all inmates, except those who committed serious crimes against persons,” the guard said. “That’s why we don’t have many.”

  Talia saw a door at the end of the corridor, as intimidating as the first. The guard opened it with one hand, holding the other on his sidearm. The second guard waited in the corridor.

  Kwan Kor was sitting in a chair, handcuffed and wearing magnetic boots. His bald scalp reflected the ceiling lights.

  The guard brought another chair and set it about three meters from Kwan Kor. Talia sat and asked the guard to leave. She almost jumped as the heavy door closed with a clang, leaving her face-to-face with a mass murderer.

  He raised his narrow eyes to her, and his lips twisted in a sly smile. “I remember you, doctor. You saved some of my soldiers. I’m grateful to you. How can I help you?”

  “I see prison has humbled you, colonel,” Talia said. “You’re no longer giving orders. You lost your realm, as you called it. How does it make you feel?”

  The harsh lights accentuated the features of his dagger-shaped face, making it look even more cruel. “Are you here to psychoanalyze me, doctor?” he croaked. “Do you really want to get into my head? Share my nightmares?”

  Talia clenched her knees to prevent them from trembling.

  “I’m here because the Alliance needs you, colonel. However, before offering you a job, the president wants to make sure you’re ready for it.”

  Kwan Kor frowned. “The president? The president of the Alliance wants to offer me a job? What’s going on?”

  Talia realized the colonel had no clue as to what was going on outside his cell. “It’s a long story. The situation is dire. Alliance worlds have been invaded. The ASF is protecting the civilian ships that managed to escape. DeCourt is the new president.”

  Kwan Kor’s dark eyes stared into emptiness. “So it finally happened,” he drawled. “I knew peace talks would fail. So what does the president want with me?”

  “First of all, he wants you to talk to me,” Talia said to retake control of the conversation. “Please answer my questions. You held a lot of power when you commanded an armored brigade. How do you feel about losing that power?”

  His lips curled down in a bitter expression. “I feel…betrayed. I gave everything to the Alliance. I secured major victories, prevailed against vastly superior forces. I achieved what many believed impossible. How was I repaid for my service? They threw me in a cage like…a beast.”

  “Do you deny committing the acts you were accused of?”

  He shrugged. “Why would I deny it? I’ve done all those things, and I’ve done even worse. This is war. A bloody war of extermination. I did what was necessary to achieve victory.”

  “So you don’t deny that you ordered the execution of your own soldiers and officers who refused to obey you?”

  “I don’t deny it. They betrayed our cause. Their execution was necessary to maintain discipline.”

  “How do you feel about that, colonel? Do you regret what you’ve done?”

  “I regret I had to execute human beings, yes. But I will not apologize for performing my duty. I repeat, I did what was necessary. Now, please tell me what kind of job the president has in mind for me.”

  “That’s not up to me to say.” Talia stood up and pressed the button next to the door to let the guards know she was finished.

  “Get me out of here,” Kwan Kor growled. “I’m not a criminal. I would give my life for the Alliance in a heartbeat.”

  “I’ll see what I can do,” Talia said noncommittally, and walked out.

  Once she was out of the prison block, she called DeCourt. “Sir, you will have my psychiatric evaluation report within the hour, but I can already tell you my recommendation.”

  “Yes?”

  “Leave Kwan Kor in jail and throw away the key. This individual is dangerous. He seems to be sane and can tell the difference between right and wrong, but he’s a zealot of the worst kind. There’s a lot of frustration in him, a lot of anger.”

  “Dr. Galen, I appreciate your advice, and I’ll read your report, but I’ve made my decision. Colonel Kor will be reinstated and will act as the Chief of Security of the civilian fleet, starting today. You will have weekly counseling sessions with him. I know you’re not a psychologist or psychoanalyst, but you do have some knowledge in those areas, and I need you to do that for me.”

  Talia felt the need to sit down.

  13

  A drop of darkness

  Two days later, Talia decided to call Adrian. She had the feeling he was avoiding her, and wondered why. She found a pretext related to their work and invited him for lunch.

  They met at a cafeteria on the Capitol. Talia wore a white sheath dress that advantageously exposed her shoulders and her slender arms, while Adrian turned up in a geeky T-shirt with some mathematical formula on it and baggy pants that didn’t suit him. His get-up was screaming, “I’m a nerd and proud of it.”

  Adrian offered such a stark contrast with Jon, as Talia remembered the latter. Jon had always been classy and elegant, with impeccable taste in everything, from his choice of suits to the drinks he ordered and the restaurants he frequented. She felt a pang of nostalgia when she remembered the times when Jon had taken her to dinner or to the opera. Even years later, she was still feeling the sting of his betrayal.

  Contrary to Jon, Adrian was average looking, of average height, with brown eyes and brown ruffled hair. Yet something in him set him apart. Perhaps the charm of a rebellious intellectual.

  “So, what can I do for you?” he asked with a smug smile. “It must be important, if you’re willing to risk being seen with the most hated man in the galaxy.”

  Talia pressed her lips together, stifling a smile. “I don’t care about what people think. I don’t hate you, and I would like to pick your brain, if you don’t mind. But first tell me what happened to you after I left for Vega.”

  Adrian was about to reply when they heard a scream coming from the crowd. He turned to see a tall, beefy male in a greasy jumpsuit, probably one of the mechanics on the Capitol, standing a few meters away from him pointing a blaster at his chest.

  More shouts burst out from the crowd as people were moving away from the armed man.

  “Darus!” he yelled. “How come you’re still alive? Billions died ‘cuz of you, and you’re walking free? Now you’re the president’s adviser?”

  Adrian looked at the man and froze for a second. “You want to shoot me? What would that accomplish? We’re all in the same boat here. I also lost people I cared about because of this damn war, and I did everything in my power to secure peace.”

  “I never asked to be turned into a human in the first place,” the man boomed. “I was perfectly happy to be Taar’kuun. Look at us—we live in filth, survive on military rations, and flee into uncharted space like fragging criminals. I didn’t choose this life!”

  “Then surrender to the Biozi and be re-assimilated,” Adrian retorted. “I never prevented anyone from making that choice. But first, ask yourself if you truly want to return to a society where there’s no room for debate, critical thinking, or personal initiative. Do you want to spend the rest of your existence obeying the dictate of the ruling caste? Blindly following the dogmas imposed b
y religious zealots, knowing that these dogmas are nothing but inventions and lies designed to keep the populace in check?”

  “Yeah, anything is better than living on this filthy ship,” the disgruntled man roared. “I want to return to the TGS, and I’m not returning empty handed. You’re coming with me.”

  Adrian shook his head, shoving his hands in his pockets. “How would you compel me to come with you?”

  The man glanced around him, still holding Adrian at gunpoint. “C’mon, people, you know I’m right,” he shouted. “Join me! Together we’ll take a ship and deliver this traitor to the TGS. Wake up—mankind is dead! Save yourselves while you still can—”

  A blaster boomed, and the man tumbled to the floor with a burning hole in his skull.

  Kwan Kor made his appearance, clad in a dark-gray uniform with a steel badge shaped like a shield on his chest. Talia read the inscription on the badge: “Fleet Security Officer. Protect and Serve.” He clenched a blaster.

  “Any other volunteers for re-assimilation?” he shouted, his gaze moving through the crowd. “Anyone else not happy to be human?”

  His question was met with silence. People stared at the colonel eyes wide with fear.

  “Yes, this is our destiny, people,” he continued. “Dirt, hunger, hardship—this is our destiny. Maybe you want to return to soft Taar’kuun cocoons, to this safe and comfortable life of slavery, but here’s the truth—you cannot!”

  Kwan Kor holstered his handgun and kicked the corpse with his boot. “Get rid of this piece of trash before it starts to stink,” he growled to the police officers who accompanied him.

  “You didn’t have to kill him,” Talia told the colonel with a tremor in her voice. “You could’ve stunned him and let him go.”

  “What? Let him go?” Kwan Kor snapped. “So he can spill his guts to the cockroaches about the location and the strength of our fleet? You’re damn good at your job, doctor, but you know nothing about security, so let me do my job.”

  Adrian remained silent during the exchange. When the colonel and his subordinates were gone, he mumbled an apology and started to the nearest autopod.

  “Adrian?” Talia said to his back. He stopped and turned, avoiding eye contact. “Come to my office. Please. I’m here for you. As a counselor and…” She hesitated. “I just wanted to say that my door is open to you. Always.”

  He nodded and walked to the autopod, hands still in his pockets. Talia knew they were shaking, but he was too proud to show how traumatized he was. She couldn’t blame him; she understood what he was going through. She felt the same.

  * * *

  Talia bought a sandwich and returned to her assigned office near sickbay. She put it in the fridge as she had no appetite. She couldn’t get rid of the stench of burned flesh, as if it were pursuing her everywhere. She wanted to take a shower, but she had pressing matters to attend to.

  She went to the sickbay to visit the Taar’kuun prisoner being treated there. He was kept in a room isolated from the rest of the sickbay by a forcefield. She asked the ASF marine guarding the room to let her through.

  The prisoner raised his eyes at her as she entered. Despite his transformation, she still recognized Jon’s features on his face.

  “Why?” she asked. “Why did you betray your own kind?”

  “I am sorry, Talia,” he replied in a deep voice, surprisingly soft for a Taar’kuun. “I didn’t want to hurt you. I spared you and your sister because I cared about you. Please understand—I did not betray anyone. I am God’s servant, and everything I did was in His name.”

  Talia rolled her eyes. “Great. A religious zealot. You don’t believe you’re human.”

  “I am not.” His tone was calm, but firm.

  “But you are human, I can prove it to you. I can show you the results of genetic tests proving beyond any doubt that you carry human genes.”

  “I don’t need proof. My faith is all I need. You may present whatever evidence you want; it will not change my beliefs. I am Taar’kuun, and no matter what Darus’s virus did to me, I know who I am and why I was created. Taan’khoor’shaal teaches that God created us in His own image. The Taar’kuun form is perfection, the only form fitted to contain consciousness. Any deviation from this form has to be corrected.”

  “If you’re not willing to consider scientific evidence, at least listen to the voice of reason,” Talia insisted. “Tell me this: if the Taar’kuun form is the only form fitted to contain consciousness, why did God create humanity?”

  “God gave the Chosen Race a mission—seek out all sentient life in the universe and bestow upon it the gift of the Taar’kuun form. Only through this endeavor, this struggle to fulfill our sacred mission, can we purify our soul and reach immortal life.”

  Talia sighed and shook her head. “Why do I even bother? You’ve been brainwashed, indoctrinated. Maybe I should just release you to the ASF interrogators.”

  “Why don’t you? Why are you protecting me?”

  She didn’t reply. Instead, she turned around and asked the guard to lower the forcefield.

  At that moment, Kwan Kor marched into the sickbay, followed by two of his officers. “Dr. Galen, I’m here to take custody of the Biozi prisoner.”

  “You don’t have the authority,” Talia objected. “This prisoner is still suffering from the side effects of the drugs I administered to him. As the CMO, I’ve the right to keep any patient under observation for as long as I deem necessary.”

  “This cockroach isn’t sick,” the colonel snapped. “You don’t have the right to interfere with my investigation. The safety of the fleet is at stake. The president authorized me to interrogate this bug, and the ASF also has questions for him. We know the Biozi are detaining high-profile human prisoners in a secret facility, and this bug will tell us its location.”

  “No, he won’t. He’s a religious zealot. You can cut him into pieces, but he won’t talk.” She stepped closer to Kwan Kor and added in low voice, “Maybe I can turn him. Let me try at least.”

  Kwan Kor smirked. “You wanna play good cop? Knock yourself out. You’ve got forty-eight hours. After that, if you still come up dry, we’re taking him.”

  “Get out of my sickbay,” Talia snapped. “And don’t come back, unless you need medical attention.”

  “I’ll be back for this prisoner in forty-eight hours.” The colonel gave her a salute and marched out of the sickbay.

  * * *

  During the next twenty-four hours, Talia tried to establish a rapport with Jon using all the methods she could think of. She was convinced she was making progress, but every time she tried to approach the subject that interested her most—the location of the human prisoners—Jon retreated into his mental shell.

  Adrian’s daughter could be among those prisoners. If we manage to find and free Ophelia, that would give the fleet the morale boost we need. A small, but significant victory, as DeCourt said.

  When came the time of her counseling appointment with Kwan Kor, she bravely went into her office and prepared for the ordeal.

  The colonel was right on time. He sat in the visitor’s chair, chin up, spine straight as a laser beam. It was the attitude of an officer, not a person in need of psychological help.

  “I would like to start by saying that I’ll do everything I can to help you,” Talia said. “As you know, I’m not a professional counselor. All I can promise is to do my best. Let’s lay out the ground rules. First, when you enter my office, you leave all the grievances you have against me at the door, and I’ll do the same for you. Second, everything you tell me in this room will be covered by doctor-patient privilege. So please tell me all the truth, and hold nothing back.”

  Kwan Kor jerked a nod. “Understood. I’ll be honest with you, and I’ll start by telling you what I think of these sessions. You don’t have my best interests at heart. You were told to shrink me ‘cuz your bosses want to know what’s in my head, and what I’m up to. They want their attack dog on a leash.”

 
“Fine, then I’ll be honest with you too. I advised the president to leave you in jail and throw away the key. Because you’re not fit to be a policeman, and you’re not fit to be an officer. You proved me right by killing a man before a crowd of scared, desperate people. Don’t you think they’ve been through enough? The only reason I’m talking to you is because I know you’re the first victim of your own anger. So don’t accuse me of being a hypocrite. You don’t want to open up to me? Fine. Show yourself out.”

  Yet Kwan Kor remained in his seat, staring at Talia. “You can’t help me, even if you wanted to, ‘cuz you’re scared. In truth, you’re not scared of me; you’re scared of yourself.”

  Talia was so dismayed by this argument she didn’t know how to react, so she let the colonel continue.

  “We’re part of a whole, you and me, like yin and yang. You’re Compassion; I’m Hate. But we’re both equally human. There is darkness in you, Dr. Galen, hidden deep inside your soul. Just a drop maybe, but it’s there.” He pointed a finger at Talia’s chest. “You’ll discover it sooner than you think, this inner darkness. Only then will you be ready to be my confidant.”

  He stood up and left the office without another word.

  14

  Hippocratic Oath

  The forty-eight hours Kwan Kor had given Talia to convince Jon to switch sides were almost over, and she still hadn’t managed to extract any useful intel from the prisoner. She decided to give it one last try. As she entered his cell, he was sitting on the bunk and staring at the floor. His cranial scales glinted with reflections.

  “You haven’t told me what you were doing on that destroyer, why it was following my ship, and how Captain Hunt knew you were on board,” Talia said.

  “Someone set me up.” His tone was calm, almost casual, as if betrayal was just another professional hazard. “I tailed your ship, hoping it would lead me to the human fleet. Someone in my organization tipped the humans off, and they ambushed me.”

  “Why would any Biozi betray one of their agents?”