Traitors of Sol: Part One of the Sol Sequence

by J Porteous

  'Selengra station,' Carl muttered to himself.

  'Yeah,' Hawke said after a deep breath. He peered through the view-port. The station was quickly getting closer. 'Keep her steady, Rookie.'

  Selengra station loomed out of the endless darkness of space. The outpost was a patchwork of designs, with both humans and Harathdans ever expanding their respective zones. The rough, bolted on human compartments were in an ugly marriage with the almost flawless joins of the Harathdan extensions, their polished finishes gleaming brilliantly in the lights of passing trader ships. Much like themselves, the humans could never be as graceful or artful as the Harathdans, as much as they tried.

  The station looked busy, a lot busier than the last time Hawke was here. A steady but constant flow of merchant vessels ebbed around the station, idling around each other until landing clearance was granted. For somewhere this far away from the main galactic neighbourhoods, it was an odd sight.

  'As you can see, Captain, the repairs are almost finished.'

  The sensation of someone standing behind Hawke had been with him for a short while. He shot a glance over his shoulder to see the Harathdan lurking in the corridor behind him. 'Repairs?' he snorted. He looked back at Selengra through the view-port of the War Goddess. 'You mean extensions, don't you? Your sections are almost twice the size they were the last time I was here.'

  She bypassed his comment entirely. 'Not long now,' she said to herself. She stepped forward and stood beside him, her eyes staring towards the station with a barely contained excitement. 'The Grand Researcher is not going to believe what I found on Beledar Four.'

  Hawke's hair stood on end. He had never been this close to a Harathdan before. They were not the kind of race that relied on mercenary contracts, preferring diplomacy over violence. He had seen them at a distance on a many stations, Selengra being one of them, but never close enough to converse with. It was their structure that unnerved him. At a distance they were not too different, other than colouring and height, from the build of a human. Up close, however, the differences were easier to see. The skin that showed from under her crimson expedition robes looked like a milky jelly, as if he could push his finger through her body with little resistance.

  'Is there something I can help you with, Captain?' she asked, not turning her gaze from the rapidly approaching outpost.

  Hawke tore his eyes away from her, letting his gaze follow the routes of the numerous trade ships as they docked with Selengra. 'Just with getting us paid when we land.'

  She looked to him and smiled. It was not a sincere one. 'Do not worry, Captain,' she said. 'You will get your money. Are you afraid that we do not have the credits after having to repair the damage you caused?'

  Hawke grunted a response, but did not turn to face her.

  Carl swivelled in his seat to face the pair of them. 'What were you doing on Beledar Four?' he asked the Harathdan. 'It's only been a life supporting planet for the last one hundred years.'

  'You are correct, it has only been life sustaining for a century,' she said, the smile dropping from her face. 'However, the human population was not my primary concern. Have you heard of the Balanthur Prophecy?'

  Hawke rolled his eyes, not making any attempt to cover the accompanying groan. Don't go filling the kid's head with shit. Carl was a young man, still bright with the endless enthusiasm of youth. Easy prey for the Harathdan and her doctrine.

  'Only rumours,' Carl replied.

  'As all humans have,' she said. 'It is not something your race tend to trouble themselves with. Your systems of belief are outlawed, are they not?'

  'They are,' Hawke said abruptly. 'Anyone who wishes to be a citizen must denounce all religious doctrine. Anyone who wishes to practice any religion is banished to the outer systems, and their rights of protection from the human military are removed. You should know that.' He glanced over to Carl. 'Don't make me put you on the next ship to the outer systems, Rookie.'

  'History speaks of the religion ban coming into place as a way to prevent violence amongst your kin,' the Harathdan said. A wry smile wrapped her lips. 'Yet you still wage war against your brethren. You are of an inherently violent race, Captain Sparov. Nothing will ever change that, it is deeply engrained in your nature. Ultimately, you cannot prosper from destruction.' She gazed towards Hawke coldly. 'You could not possibly comprehend our ways, even if you wanted to.' She flashed Carl a small smile. 'At least some of you are more open-minded than others.'

  Carl glanced away awkwardly, turning back to the approaching space station.

  Hawke frowned at their exchange. 'Take a seat in the drop bay,' he said to the Harathdan, throwing a thumb back towards the entrance to the cockpit. 'We'll be there soon.'

  'As you wish, Captain.' The Harathdan silently glided past him and disappeared down the corridor.

  Carl quickly turned and allowed his eyes to follow her out of view. 'She...she looked at me,' he stuttered. 'As if she knew me.'

  Hawke laughed to himself. 'Never been up close with a Harathdan before, Rookie? I've managed to avoid it myself, until now.' He glanced down the hallway to make sure she had disappeared. 'It's the pheromones they give off. Does strange things to human physiology.'

  Carl turned red and looked away, concentrating a bit too hard on the space station in front of him. 'We're almost there. Should I patch a comms through?'

  Hawke shook his head. 'No. Let's see if they really do remember us.'

  Four shapes left the space station and adjusted their trajectories to intercept the War Goddess. They sped towards the ship, their thrusters surrounding them with a deep blue glow. Hawke recognised them as they got closer. Their angular and hard shapes, brilliant white hulls, and the insignia of the Original Eight of Sol emblazoned on their sides gave them away.

  Human military. They must have expanded operations. Hawke screwed up his nose at the sight of them. The last time he had flown through this star cluster, the human military were rarely seen, mainly sticking to the human dominant centre systems. Selengra had been a relatively new outpost for humans back then, but the new appearance of the military signalled its growing importance. 'You know anything about this, Rookie?'

  Carl shook his head then looked back at Hawke. 'No, nothing.'

  The small red light of the communication unit flashed as the ships grew closer. Hawke nodded a command. As Carl flipped the communication switch, Hawke picked up the headset.

  'War Goddess, this is the Human Interstellar Protection Force. Cease your current trajectory and leave this sector immediately.'

  Hawke glanced at Carl, a smile curling one side of his mouth. 'Looks like they do remember us after all.' He pulled the headset on firmly and took up the microphone from the communications console. 'This is Captain Hawke Sparov of the War Goddess. We are here with an official contract, drop off point is Selengra station.'

  'War Goddess, following previous events your mercenary group is banned from Selengra station. Turn around now, or we will take you into custody.'

  'You weren't even here for the last time,' Hawke grumbled to himself. He cleared his throat. 'I will say again. I have an official contract. Mercenary code five two seven states that an official contract overrides any sanctions, except in exceptional circumstances.'

  'War Goddess, your previous visit to Selengra caused sixteen million in damages. We will see that this does not happen again. Mercenary code five two seven does stand, however as a previous felon your request has been overridden by military protocol, which now stands in this star cluster.'

  Hawke tore the headset off and threw it against the communications console, hissing through his teeth. In all of the supposed endlessness of the universe, is there really no corner where a man can escape his past? He could see Carl watching him, waiting for his response as he stared out through the view-port. The military ships were close enough that Hawke could see the other pilots through their own view-ports, their eyes meeting his harsh glare.

  'Perhaps I could be of help?'

&nb
sp; Hawke begrudgingly pulled his gaze away from the smug face of the pilot in the ship opposite. The Harathdan Researcher had returned, standing behind him in the doorway. 'You got an ace up your sleeve?' Hawke said, a humourless laugh trailing his words. She returned a silent nod to him. Hawke sighed and conceded to her, holding the headset out towards her. 'Well, we aren't going anywhere otherwise.'

  She took the headset and delicately placed it on her head as she wandered up to the view-port, letting her deep gaze meet with the pilot opposite her. 'This is High Researcher Arrathnar, returning from Beledar Four,' she said softly. 'My ship failed and the Space Bastards answered my distress call. If it was not for them I would not be here now. It is under my orders that they return here.'

  'High Researcher?' The voice quickly changed tone. 'Our apologies, High Researcher. Please proceed to docking bay 23.'

  A High Researcher? Hawke eyed the Harathdan warily as she passed the headset back to him. 'I knew we should have charged more.'

  It did not take long for the War Goddess to nestle amongst the numerous docking bays of Selengra station. The drop bay door opened and the noise and smells of the space port poured in. The air was thick with the sounds of crews shouting and cargo Synths trudging their way through the docking bay. The hydraulic hiss of the cargo conveyor belts pierced the air, bringing in crates of all weights and sizes, and the smell of grease was thick in the air.

  Crew members of other ships shielded their eyes from the bright lights that lit the docking bay, waiting for their assigned cargo to appear on the conveyor belts, promptly dragging their goods back to their ships. Those who could afford such luxury sent the cargo Synths to retrieve their goods for them.

  The High Researcher was the first out, the flashing orange lights of a passing cargo Synth making her glow. She signalled two of the brightly painted service Synths which stood waiting patiently, who in turn whirred into action. They stomped haphazardly up the drop ramp of the War Goddess and began the process of retrieving the boxes which had returned from Beledar Four. She watched them intently, then winced at the sharp sound of the warning siren; a shrill noise which signalled the arrival of another ship in the already crowded docking bay.

  Hawke quickly followed the Harathdan down the ramp, not wanting to let his payment out of sight. He called back to Justinia, signalling her to follow. He glanced back up the ramp of the War Goddess and caught Carl talking with Watts and Sherlock. His face was still a faded pink and his combat armour still splattered with dry blood.

  Hawke paced up the ramp and grabbed his shoulder. 'Go get yourself cleaned up,' he said. 'And get that armour seen to as well, Rookie.' He nodded to Sherlock and Watts. 'These two will keep an eye on the Goddess. They've got some repairs they need to do, so you should have time to get any adjustments needed to your combat gear.'

  'Yes, Captain,' Carl stuttered. 'Of course.' He said a quick goodbye to Watts and Sherlock, then weaved his way through the busy docking bay.

  Hawke watched Carl as he passed through the gathered crews. The occasional trade ship member grabbed his colleague's attention, making hushed comments as Carl's blood stained armour caught their eye. If there was one thing that Hawke was sure of, it was that the black and yellow of the Space Bastards' armour certainly garnered attention, even if it that attention was sometimes questionable.

  Justinia stood beside Hawke, her eyes following Carl as he meandered through the crowds. 'You think he's going to be alright?'

  Hawke nodded. 'Yeah. He shouldn't run into too much trouble, even with the military here.'

  High Researcher Arrathnar stood waiting for them impatiently. 'I trust you will be wanting your payment now, Captain?'

  'You've read my mind,' Hawke said, a grin returning to his face.

  High Researcher Arrathnar led them through the busy corridors of Selengra. The same eyes that had followed Carl now tracked Hawke and Justinia, with more than a few fingers pointing to the insignia on their combat vests.

  His reputation, though undeserved, always preceded him. At first, he had felt bitter at the thought of people judging him. They thought they knew the truth of what happened, but all they knew was the truth spouted from the galactic news network. The infamous Hawke Sparov, murderer of the Sol System Planetary Council. The title hung over him like a poisoned cloud.

  These days, Hawke could not help but smile bitterly about the life he had left on Callisto, about Zura's betrayal, and the harsh contrast between that old life and the new. There was nothing he could do now. Nothing he could ever do. He had resigned himself to that hard truth. Just embrace it, like you always have, he told himself. This isn't about you. This is for Daria, to keep her safe, whether she knows it or not.

  The cramped, busy corridors of the outpost eventually gave way to a larger hall. The Research Chapter House lay ahead of them, the entrance dominating the entire opposite wall. Without any doubt, it was the most well maintained part of the station, even with the scattering of repair scaffolds that scarred parts of the entrance.

  The Harathdan Researchers themselves worked tirelessly, keeping all of the mechanics in working order and any rust at bay. The entrance gleamed a bright copper against the strip lighting of the hall. This area was one of the quietest on the ship, the busy crowds of the trading halls and docking bays having long since drifted away. Not many humans ventured to the Chapter House, not because they were not allowed or because it was a special honour, but simply because they were not interested.

  'Researchers,' Hawke muttered as he viewed the dazzling entrance. 'Fancy name for a maintenance crew by the looks of things.

  He noticed Justinia smirk from the corner of his eye, followed by her glancing at Arrathnar to watch for her reaction. Arrathnar either had not heard his snide comment or she did not want to give Hawke the satisfaction of her annoyance. Harathdan Researchers scrabbled out of the way as Arrathnar approached, their looks of respect turning to disgust as they noticed who accompanied her.

  'This is why we never go anywhere nice,' Justinia said, staring back at the Harathdans until they could not bear to hold her fierce gaze any more.

  The oversized doors of the Chapter House effortlessly slid open. The three of them stepped inside abreast of each other, but the doorway could have easily accommodated a full platoon. Upon entering the Chapter House they were dwarfed by the size of it; the interior hall was at least twice the size of the many trade halls which littered the station.

  The footsteps of the Space Bastards echoed throughout the chamber as Arrathnar glided ahead of them, as silent as a spectre. The quiet of the hall was unsettling compared to the noise of the rest of the space station. The only sounds to be heard were the quiet mumblings of groups of Harathdan Researchers as they went about their studies, and the occasional dull thud of replacement panels being secured into position on the walls. Hawke shook his head. Quiet was not a good thing, it allowed him to hear his memories calling to him all too clearly.

  A tall Harathdan stood at the end of the hall, expecting them. His long flowing robes, which matched the copper of the hall, trailed over the polished floor as he stepped forward to greet them.

  Hawke watched as the Harathdan approached them. 'Why do they always have to wear the most impractical clothes possible?'

  This time Arrathnar did hear, and Hawke's voice echoed around the hall for all the hear. She paused, snapping her head back to look at him before walking on.

  'You've done it now,' Justinia grinned.

  For once, Hawke did not respond.

  'Grand Researcher,' Arrathnar said, approaching the robed figure with a low bow.

  The Grand Researcher held his arms wide, his face lighting up as he greeted Arrathnar. He was old, even for a Harathdan, the usual soft-looking skin of their race appearing firmer, and more grey than white. He beamed a smile, his eyes falling onto her. 'It is so good to see you alive, High Researcher, and in one piece no less.'

  Arrathnar bowed graciously again. 'I am glad to be back,' she said. 'Forgive me, I
did not foresee the humans on Beledar Four to be so problematic.'

  The Grand Researcher nodded. 'At least you are here,' he said. His gaze turned to Hawke and Justinia, his expression souring. 'And I see you have brought...friends.'

  Hawke stared back, not saying a word. His steely gaze and heavily scarred face tended to fill any silences for him.

  The Grand Researcher's face broke into a smile. 'Of course,' he continued, after a short pause. 'Without your assistance, High Research Arrathnar would still be stuck on Beledar Four, or, indeed, worse.' He bowed his head towards them both. 'What you have done for us is a great deed.'

  'Great deeds demand great payment,' Hawke responded, returning the Grand Researcher's smile as best as he could.

  'Indeed, Captain,' the Grand Researcher said. The smile fell from his face. His black eyes narrowed. 'Great deeds do demand great payment. Crashing a trading vessel into this Research Chapter House was a great deed, a greatly destructive deed.' He paused for a moment, letting the words sink in. He motioned a stiff arm towards Arrathnar. 'And you have counteracted this deed with a great payment.'

  Hawke stayed silent, swallowing the harsh words that fought so hard to escape him.

  Arrathnar shuffled impatiently. The Grand Researcher turned to her and nodded an acknowledgement. 'We have recovered seventeen boxes from Beledar Four, Grand Researcher,' she said. 'The intelligence we were given was good. Sender stones were buried beneath the surface.'

  'This is good, very good,' the Grand Researcher said. 'We will find a way to seal them and-'

  Hawke knew enough about the Sender stones from tales as a child to know what they meant. More prophecy bullshit. He cleared his throat loudly.