Traitors of Sol: Part One of the Sol Sequence

by J Porteous

  'Silence,' the Faceless Man said, waving his hands high above the crowd. 'Standard procedure will apply. All of us here will hear out the evidence for the sake of transparency, but only the council will decide.' He turned to Hawke. 'You have the stand, Captain.'

  The room was silent as Hawke pulled himself up from his chair with great effort. He winced as he flexed his jaw, pulling the already tight skin even tighter over his bruised face. He forced himself to stand tall as the deathly silence of the hall greeted him. He cleared his throat and took a moment to look over the disdainful faces that surrounded him.

  'I know what most of you are thinking. Captain Hawke Sparov, the Traitor of Sol,' he said. 'And, if I'm being honest, I couldn't give a fuck.'

  Some of the crowd hissed. Carl shifted uncomfortably, suddenly very aware of the nearby eyes that probed at him. Not a great way to start off, Hawke, he thought.

  A knowing smile tugged at Hawke's lip, the crowd had reacted entirely as he had expected. 'We're not here for me today. We are here for everyone.' He paused, studying the mass of faces in front of him. 'And I don't mean everyone in this hall, this ship, or even this system. I mean everyone in the known universe.' A chill silence fell over the crowd. 'There is something out there that threatens our very way of life. It threatens to come out of the darkness to kill us, every man, woman and child. I'm not about to let that happen.'

  Carl watched the reactions of the gathered Council, all stony faced, apart from one. One in particular showed his disdain for Hawke, sneering at each word that left his mouth.

  'Your evidence, Captain,' the Faceless Man said, before waving Hawke to continue.

  Hawke nodded back and turned to face the crowd again. 'Myself.' He located Carl and Justinia in the crowd and gestured to them. 'My crew. We've had first hand experience with them. They tore through my ship, they killed members of my crew in the blink of an eye. They gave me this,' he said, pointing an accusing finger at the scar that ran across his face.

  'Bullshit,' the one council member said, much to the amusement of the crowd. 'We're looking for evidence, not anecdotes, traitor.'

  Hawke did not even turn to face his accuser, and simply carried on. 'Whatever this threat is, it comes from the Balanthur prophecy. We have retrieved the Sender stones, as mentioned on the etchings located in this very ship. These stones weren't unguarded, not unwanted, and fought over by more than one party. We believe they will open a white-hole, and whatever comes through it is going to slaughter us, unless we strike first.'

  Some sections of the crowd laughed and jeered, others looked bemused. The man behind Hawke spoke up again. 'Hawke Sparov, seeking forgiveness for your treachery in the hands of the religious? I never though I would see the day,' he said with a laugh.

  Hawke spun to face the man. 'Fuck off, Pront, before I rip your jaw clean off.'

  Pront looked up at him, a twist of a grin on his face. 'You can hardly stand, Hawke,' he said. 'Let alone try to rip anyone's jaw off.'

  'Enough,' the Faceless Man said, placing a hand between them. 'Continue, Hawke, or lose your chance to address the hall.'

  Carl had not seen Hawke like this before, besieged from all sides when all he spoke was the truth. He felt truly sorry for the man.

  Hawke turned back to the audience. 'I have my evidence. I call forward Bjarke of the Sons of Odin.'

  A grave silence fell over the crowd as the large man trudged across the stage. He placed a hand on Hawke's shoulder and the two of them spoke quietly. Bjarke grinned and turned to the hall.

  'What Hawke speaks of is true,' Bjarke said. 'As some of you know, there has been rivalry between the Sons of Odin and the Space Bastards in the past. Hawke is a traitor to his race, and I don't have time for traitors.' Hawke winced at that. 'What I am telling you today is that I stand by this man and his crew. I have lost my ship, my entire crew, everything that I have built up was ripped apart in mere minutes.' He placed a steadying hand on Hawke's shoulder. 'I wouldn't be here today if not for the Space Bastards. He may be a traitor to humanity as a whole, but he's not a traitor to us.' He turned to the Faceless Man. 'As some of you well know.'

  Carl looked around at the faces that surrounded him, which had been smiling nastily, to see almost frightened expressions taking their place. A smug smile tugged at his own cheeks. Now you are listening.

  'I have seen what these Kalindros can do,' Bjarke continued. 'The Sons of Odin were recruited for their strength, their fighting skill. They didn't last more than thirty seconds.' He pointed out to individuals in the crowd. 'I've worked and fought alongside a lot of you. The Iron Angels, Skullsmashers, the Gods of Death, among others. If you don't want to believe Hawke, then I'm asking you to believe me.'

  Hawke placed a firm hand on Bjarke's shoulder, more to steady himself than out of camaraderie. 'I have more too,' Hawke said. 'High Researcher Arrathnar filled me in on the arrival the Winter Dawn received while I retrieved the last Sender stone. Some of you have seen the ship that arrived and the creature that came with it.'

  Arrathnar appeared on stage, to much grumbling from the mercenary audience. She presented the evidence that herself and Carl had managed to prise from the dying creature, as well as the Researchers own analysis of the decrepit ship that had arrived with him. Carl watched the crowd and their changing expressions. Faces quickly changed from ones of fright and confusion, to fury and intent. This is what we need, we need to fire the hate and anger in them, he thought. We need a weapon to unleash through that white-hole. Carl smiled wryly to himself, noticing that Arrathnar had thought she had needed to dumb down some of the details for her audience. Judging from some of the knuckleheads in the hall, it may have been a good call. Arrathnar finished and thanked the audience before retiring from the council area.

  The Faceless Man stood and stepped in front of Hawke. 'You have heard the evidence, you have heard the reasoning. You have heard that a threat wishes to wipe our existence from the universe.' He turned back to the council. 'Now you must decide.'

  The council muttered among themselves, shaking or nodding their heads, muttering and bickering with each other, flashes of anger and annoyance lighting up their faces.

  The Faceless Man took his seat again, motioning Hawke to take his as well. He looked about the council members. 'Have we decided?' Nods of agreement returned to him.

  A strange atmosphere fell over the Grand Hall. A knowledge to all that the decision that was made, here and now, could change everything. A decision that could mean life or death, based on something that, until recently, would have dismissed as the kind of tales you tell to scare children. Carl swallowed hard, the anticipation drying his throat.

  The Faceless Man addressed the audience. 'Do we act out against an unknown aggressor? Do we possibly doom ourselves if we ignore it? As we all know, the decision must be unanimous.' He looked to the first seat on the council. 'Daven?'

  The man looked deep in thought, then turned his gaze to the crowd. 'We act.'

  'Skee?'

  'We act.'

  'Hawke?'

  Hawke nodded. 'You know my answer. We act.'

  'Arona?'

  'We act,' the woman said unflinchingly.

  'Pront?'

  Pront watched the crowd, licking his lips in anticipation. He turned to look Hawke straight in the eye. 'I will not entertain such nonsense. No action.'

  'What?' Despair rose within Carl. It can't end like this. The crowd muttered to themselves, looks of concern etching their features. Carl turned to Justinia. Whatever emotion was splashed across her face was hard to read.

  'We thought this might happen,' she said to Carl, staring forward unblinkingly.

  'Well, what happens now? We can't possible stand against them alone.' His heart sank.

  She nodded in agreement and looked back to the council. 'Wait and see.'

  Hawke slammed his fist into the arm of his chair. 'If the evidence doesn't make you see sense, then maybe I can beat some into you,' he said. He stood and limped his way to th
e front of the crowd. 'I demand a trial of decision.'

  The crowd roared. Pront winced at the sudden backlash. He shook it off quickly. 'I've already told you, Hawke, I will not fight a man who can hardly stand.'

  Hawke managed to return a grim smile. 'It's the Space Bastards who challenge you, Pront, not just me.'

  The despair within Carl boiled into anger. I will not wait around for the Kalindros to take this universe. 'I will fight!' Carl heard himself yell above the crowd. Faces turned to look at him. Some sized him up for the fight as if about to place bets, others cheered and reached for him to pull him to the front of the crowd.

  Justinia grabbed his hand. 'What are you doing?' she hissed. 'Bjarke was going to fight this.'

  'Bjarke's not a true Bastard,' Carl said. 'If we don't go after the Kalindros, I will at least know that I have done something. I owe it to Watts, to Sherlock.' He chewed his bottom lip. 'To my parents and Rix.'

  Justinia held him firmly in place. 'Fine,' she said eventually, before thumping a firm fist into his shoulder. 'You make sure to give that jumped up prick hell.'

  Carl grinned back and nodded. The crowd roared as he made his way to the front. He looked up from the faces that surrounded him to see Hawke staring down at him, a grin spread over his battered lips. He reached down and grasped Carl's hand, hauling him up on to the platform.

  'Spoken like a true Space Bastard,' Hawke said with a grin. 'You give him the beating that I want to give him, you got me? You win this and we overrule that prick's decision.'

  Carl nodded. 'Got it.' His heart thundered in his chest as the reality of the situation crushed him.

  The Faceless Man stood again and approached the crowd. 'The Space Bastards make a challenge for the decision made by Pront of the Long Blades. The fight is until one opponent concedes.' He turned to Pront. 'Have you decided who fights for the Long Blades?'

  A sick smile spread over Pront's gaunt face. 'Yes,' he said. 'I nominate Valshaar.'

  The crowd sucked in a collective breath, and a silence fell over the Grand Hall. Carl could not help but pay attention to it. His heart threatened to burst through his rib cage. What have I got myself into?

  A Byracinth pushed his way through the crowd, knocking back anyone who failed to see him approaching. He pulled himself up onto the stage and sauntered across it, towering above Carl. He turned to the audience and held his hands in the air, as if expecting some kind of fanfare. A modest cheer could be heard.

  Carl looked out into the crowd and saw only worried expressions. People chattered away to each other, sizing the two opponents up. The money was obviously not on him. He glanced towards the back of the hall and saw a familiar face, one that was full of worry. Arrathnar. He managed a determined smile, although it was more of a grimace than anything. She mouthed something at him. Hacker? Lacquer? He could not make it out.

  'Are we ready?'

  Carl brought himself back to the stage. The Faceless Man now stood in front of him, with the Byracinth looming behind. He managed a nod, rather than any actual words.

  'Good,' the Faceless Man said. He leaned in closer to Carl. 'If you have the will, the need, to win, you will.' He threw his arms back and faced the crowd. 'Commence.'

  Valshaar lunged straight for Carl, his fist swinging just shy of Carl's head. He threw another fist out, slightly clipping Carl's shoulder. 'Come on, little man,' he hissed. 'We don't have all day.'

  Carl fought against instinctively lowering his guard to grab his throbbing shoulder. He looked up to meet the eyes of the Byracinth, two small black balls burning out from his shell. This close, he could see Valshaar's shell was as dented and chipped as the most hard worn of armour. How am I meant to do this? He dodged another ponderous fist and threw his own into the side of Valshaar, his hand bouncing painfully off of his shell. He threw himself forward, barreling into the Byracinth, knocking Valshaar back slightly.

  Valshaar laughed hard. 'There's only one way this is going, little man.'

  Carl ducked another fist but was not quick enough for the follow up. A heavy, balled fist smashed into his side, sending him sprawling across the floor. He quickly picked himself up, forcing his lungs to take in air. Just keep breathing and keep moving. He launched another flurry of punches, each one hitting their target and each one only bruising his own knuckles more. Fuck.

  Valshaar let out a roar and charged, attempting to knock Carl over, but instead it sent them both crashing onto the floor.

  Carl found his feet quicker than Valshaar's huge frame could manage. The Byracinth seemed to be holding something and hissing painfully. Arrathnar's words suddenly hit him. Tracker. Carl thought back to a conversation he had with Sherlock. You can't pull it out, but maybe you can push it in? He launched himself towards Valshaar, stamping out with his foot. He firmly connected with the tracker wedged in his shoulder.

  Valshaar's arm dropped out from underneath him, harshly felling him to the floor as he let out another hiss of pain. He held his arms up in an attempt to shield himself from Carl's onslaught.

  Carl stamped down again. The armour of the Byracinth cracked around the tracker, as the shell it was firmly bolted to started to give way. An arm swung out and knocked Carl from his feet. He found himself dazed and, somehow, admiring the high and elaborate ceiling of the Grand Hall.

  A chunky hand wrapped around his foot and dragged him across the stage. He came to his senses and looked down to see Valshaar kneeling in pain, but still managing to reel him in. Carl swung his free leg up with as much force as possible. It worked. The shell around the tracker cracked, causing the surrounding carapace to cave in.

  Valshaar grasped at his tracker and bellowed with pain. Thick, gelatinous fluid seeped through his fingers as he desperately fumbled with his shell in an attempt to stop any further rupture. 'I concede,' he hissed. 'I concede.'

  Carl let out an exasperated breath. I did it, he thought, I actually did it. He tried to stand but ended up clutching his ribs in pain. An arm wrapped around him and lifted him up.

  'Now that was a fight!' Bjarke bellowed, as he lifted Carl to his feet. 'If you can't fight hard, you've got to fight smart.'

  Carl could not wipe the grin from his face, even though the pain tried its hardest to overcome him. The Faceless Man approached him and nodded a congratulations as he made his way to the front of the crowd. Valshaar was dragged back into the crowd by his crew, disappearing into the throng of bodies.

  'It is agreed,' the Faceless Man said to the enraptured crowd. 'We go to war. We strike them first.'

  A roar filled the hall, echoing from every corner. Fists pumped into the air and battle cries were sounded. Carl managed a smile and a small wave at the cheering crowd as he was carried away by Bjarke. He turned from the crowd to see Hawke and Justinia making their way to him. 'What happens now?' he asked, once they reached him. Both of them grinned wildly.

  'We make preparations and we hunt them down,' Hawke said. 'But tonight, at least, I think we can celebrate our first major victory.'

  Carl grinned back. 'Where's Arrathnar?' he said. 'I need to thank her.'

  Hawke nodded. 'I'll tell her you asked for her,' he said. 'First of all, you need to get cleaned up and rest before this evening'

  Carl nodded back, the pain starting to overcome the adrenaline. He tried to turn his mind from the fight ahead. Just enjoy this victory, he told himself. Think about the rest tomorrow.

  The rest of the day passed in a blur. People gave Carl congratulations and firm handshakes as they met him, mock fighting between friends and cheering him. As much as he tried, and as glad as he was for the kind words and support he received, he could not take his mind from the monumental task that now surrounded all of them like a suffocating mist.

  Evening came quicker than he would have liked. He was clean now, all traces of blood removed, but the pain would not budge. He winced as he drew in a breath, his ribs feeling as if they were about to crack under the weight of the air. A knock sounded at his door. 'Come in,' he grunted.r />
  The door slid open to reveal Arrathnar. 'That was a brave thing you did earlier,' she said with a smile. 'If it was not for your challenge, we would be sitting back and waiting for death to roll over us.'

  Carl pulled on his combat jacket, trying to be gentle with his tender spots. 'Brave? It feels more like stupidity now the adrenaline has worn off.' He struggled to pull one arm through the jacket sleeve.

  'Come here.' She softly eased him into his jacket, changing her approach each time he winced or hissed. 'There,' she said, straightening the jacket and buckling it up. 'Looking every bit the Space Bastard.'

  Carl snorted a laugh. 'Thanks.'

  'Best not keep them waiting,' she said. 'Time is not on our side if we are to celebrate our minor victory. I managed to make a room on the Winter Dawn free. I'm sure you will be seeing more than enough of the War Goddess tomorrow.'

  Carl nodded a thanks. 'You go ahead, I'll be along in minute.'

  Arrathnar eyed him for a moment. 'Of course. I will meet you there. Here are the room details.' She paused for a moment, then planted a soft kiss on his cheek. 'Thank you.'

  Carl became wordless. 'I...thanks.'

  She smiled sheepishly at him. 'I will see you there.'

  Carl waited until Arrathnar left the room then sank back into his chair. He ran his hands over his face, breathing a deep breath. He never thought he would find a place for himself outside of the military, and yet here he was, among something that felt like more than your standard academy camaraderie. It felt good. It felt like family. The door opened behind him. 'I said I would be along in a minute,' he muttered from behind both hands.

  'Ex-serviceman Goban, I have heard that you have been trying to locate me?'

  Carl froze. His blood ran cold. 'Yeah.' He somehow managed to force the word out of his nerve strangled throat. He turned his chair to see Nelson stood just inside of the door, the cold light of its eyes hanging over him. 'What are you doing here, Nelson?'