Traitors of Sol: Part One of the Sol Sequence

by J Porteous

  'When was the last time I listened to orders?' he said with a smile. He rushed over and looked at the panel. 'Tell me what I need to do.'

  'What?'

  'Tell me what I need to do. You're needed on the War Goddess.'

  She stood and faced him. 'You need to get the survivors off the other ship and get them out of here.'

  'If there were survivors,' he shrugged. 'They're long dead by now. An explosion ripped the ship apart.'

  Arrathnar looked stunned. 'No. No, that cannot happen.'

  'Saw it with my own eyes,' Hawke said. 'They aren't the first to die today and won't be the last either.'

  'I know, I know,' she said. She sucked in a hard breath. 'The Grand Researcher wanted to be here to protect the bomb carrier. I told him not to come...'

  Hawke grabbed her shoulders firmly. 'Then don't let him die for nothing.' He pushed his rifle into Arrathnar's hands. 'They will need you back on the other side.' He turned from her and pulled the panel free from the core, exposing a console. 'Now, tell me what to do.'

  She sucked her lips and stared back at him. 'Fine.' Her slender finger worked the the console. 'There,' she said. 'The fail safe is deactivated.' She moved around the core to show Hawke a single bright red tube that ran through its centre. 'Once this is pulled out, the whole thing will go up.'

  'I know how a bomb works.'

  She paused for a moment. 'You know this is a one way trip, right?'

  'The Space Bastards always has been,' he said grimly. He gripped Arrathnar's arm. 'I need you to do something in return.' He locked eyes with her as she nodded. 'My daughter, Elpis. She's in the Dentriga system, under the ownership of the Oligarch of Lanak. Go find her. Find her and break her free.'

  'Hawke, I-'

  'Just tell me you'll do it,' Hawke said. 'Promise me. I've already got one promise to keep here, and I don't think I'm going to get a chance to fulfill any more.' He held her black eyes in his gaze. 'Promise me, Arrathnar.'

  'I promise.'

  'Then go. I've got some payback to deliver.'

  Arrathnar hesitated for a moment then retreated from him. 'This act will not be forgotten.'

  He grinned maniacally. 'Good. Now get out of here. I've got a universe to save, if you haven't noticed.'

  A grim smile spread over her lips. She turned her back and left.

  Hawke turned back to the core and ran his hand over the body of it, looking for any purchase his hands could get. His communication unit burst into life.

  'Arrathnar is on board,' Carl said. 'She says...she says that you are staying?'

  He found a good grip. 'She's correct, Goban.'

  'But what about Justi-'

  'Don't tell her until you are back through that white-hole,' Hawke said. 'She'll understand. Once she's calmed down.'

  There was a moment of silence. 'Sure thing, Hawke. By the way, you've got company.'

  I knew they would come for me. 'Thanks for the heads up, Goban,' Hawke said. 'You look after that ship of mine.'

  'I will, Captain, I will.'

  Bet these bastards want one last fight. I'll make sure I give them one. Hawke crouched down beside the console, waiting for something to come bursting through the doorway. Somewhere, outside of the Harathdan vessel, the distinctive rattle of the War Goddess taking flight could be heard. Keep her safe for me, he thought. The sound of the thrusters slowly became quieter, until Hawke could no longer hear it.

  A large shape moved down the corridor towards the doorway. 'Come on you bastard,' he growled. The shape moved closer and closer, until it stood in the doorway. 'Just you and me now.'

  'Come on, Hawke, haven't we got a bomb to set off?'

  Hawke stood up as the shape emerged into the light, the sound of clinking shell casings announcing the new arrival. 'Bjarke? Why aren't you on the ship?'

  Bjarke grimaced. 'They've taken my ship and they've taken my crew. I figured it's time they can try to take me,' he said, spreading his arms as wide as his grin. 'Beside, the Faceless Man passed my sentence to me. He understood we were tricked into coming after you, spared me death. Gave me exile instead.'

  A sad smile spread over Hawke's lips. 'Come to join the club then?'

  Bjarke laughed and leaned against the door frame. 'Saw some of those ugly bastards go into the other Harathdan ship and start to pull the crew out-'

  'The Grand Researcher?' Hawke stopped fiddling with the core and looked up at Bjarke. 'He's alive?'

  'Not without half of his head he isn't,' Bjarke said. 'I think that is the least of our worries right now.' He pointed to the central core. 'Did you really think you could pull that out all on your own?'

  Hawke laughed, a bittersweet tint to the sound. 'All we've got left to give is ourselves.' His head throbbed, the splitting pain returning.

  The voice returned too. You can still have it, Hawke. Daria. Elpis. Kill him, stop the bomb from detonating. We can still bestow our gift upon you. It is not too late.

  'No,' he muttered to himself through gritted teeth. 'No, this is my decision. You don't control me, you never could.'

  Bjarke crouched beside Hawke. 'It's them, isn't it?'

  Hawke looked up and saw another shape in the doorway where Bjarke had stood. It stepped into the light, its reptilian features glistening, its muscles bulging underneath thick scales. 'We've got company.'

  Bjarke stood to his full height, flexing his shoulders. 'You've come for me at last, I see?' He took steady strides towards the creature, its mouth opening to reveal dozens of razor-like teeth. 'You took my ship. You took me crew. By the way I see it, you owe me blood, and I've come to collect.'

  The Kalindros charged towards Bjarke, the large man bellowing in response. They crashed into each other, a thundering of violence and blood. Hawke grasped at the central core as they tussled, struggling to move the weight of it. The smell of charred skin filled his nostrils. He glanced back to see the Kalindros pressing its hand to Bjarke's face, branding him with the same mark, before swiftly slamming his head into the floor, crushing his skull.

  The Kalindros looked down at Bjarke's still body for a moment, then looked towards Hawke. You will not change anything. Do you think your universe, any universe, will be safe? We can make you a hero. We can make you a God.

  Hawke forced himself to stand straight, his brain vibrating in his skull. 'You can make me a hero? A God?' he said, the pain in his head staining his words. 'I'm already something. I'm a Space Bastard.'

  Hawke lunged at the central core, gripping the handle on the red detonation tube, and pulled with all of his might. He wriggled it. It loosened slightly. Heavy footsteps grew closer to him. 'Come on! Come on!' He brought a foot up and pressed it firmly against the core, trying to use his weight to rip the tube free. It moved again. 'Come on, you bastard!'

  The footsteps were directly behind him. He heaved hard, with all his might. A powerful hand landed on his shoulder. It gripped him hard and started to crush him. A strange feeling flowed through him. The only way he could describe it was that it felt as if his soul had become detached from his body. 'Come on!' he bellowed, his veins pumping with adrenaline and fear. Pain rippled through him as the claw that wrapped around his shoulder grasped him harder. He heard his bones crack, but was now so detached he could not feel any pain.

  He found that he was looking down on himself. He willed his body to pull the core again. The central core clicked and shifted. He pulled it one last time, as hard as he could force his body to do so. He watched his body pull it out and fire fill the room. He fell into darkness.

  I did it, Elpis, he thought to himself in disbelief. I did it.

  Chapter Twenty One

  Carl

  A month had passed since what was left of the mercenary fleet had managed to make their way back through the white-hole before it had shut, trapping the Kalindros in their universe. Out of the three hundred and seventeen mercenary ships that had set out, only a paltry forty seven had returned. The Harathdan fleet had been devastated, turning the Winter
Dawn from a Chapter House to a ghost vessel. Carl stood on the balcony high over the now seemingly empty docking bay of the Winter Dawn. Two ships powered up and limped towards the darkness of space.

  'The Death Finders and Abyssal Dragoons. I told them to wait, but they insisted on leaving,' Arrathnar said, perching herself next to him on the balcony.

  Carl turned his eyes from Arrathnar to the two ships. Their thrusters glowed inconsistently as they fired and then subsequently misfired. 'They'll be lucky to make it half way to the next system.'

  'That is what I told them.' She let out a quiet sigh. 'You would think that after what happened they would be happy to wait around for a while.'

  Carl watched the two ships fade into the dark ahead of them. 'After so much death and destruction, maybe they don't want to stay any longer. I can understand that. Maybe they don't believe it's over.' His heart leapt at the thought.

  'Those rumours have quietened,' she offered quietly. 'Of course no one would see the bomb go off, we were all too busy fleeing for our lives to be looking back.'

  'Sure,' Carl said. 'I just don't like to think that he sacrificed himself for nothing.' He could feel Arrathnar's eyes burning into the back of his head, but he did not turn to meet her. A soft hand touched his shoulder. He sucked in a painful breath and winced.

  'Oh, I'm sorry,' Arrathnar said, as he turned to greet her gaze. 'You look so much better, I forget.'

  Carl flexed his shoulder, a dull pain throbbing through him. As the War Goddess had ascended from the planet, a round had pierced the hull, tearing through his shoulder. He had sealed the cockpit from the rest of the ship and pulled on his combat helmet to keep a steady oxygen supply. 'It's better,' he said. 'A lot better actually.'

  She smiled at his words. 'Thank you,' she said. A silence fell over them as the weight of the words crushed them both. 'If it was not for you-'

  'It wasn't just me,' Carl said, looking out into the emptiness of space where the ring of Sender stones had been. 'Plenty of others did their part. Plenty of others didn't make it back.'

  'Well,' she said. She moved closer to him and gently took his hand. 'I am glad you did make it back.'

  Carl tore his gaze away from where the white-hole had torn through space and managed a small smile for her. The door behind them shot open and Arrathnar pulled herself away sheepishly.

  'Not interrupting, am I?' Justinia said, as she walked onto the balcony. The limp she had was barely noticeable now that she was without a leg brace. That was not what concerned Carl.

  She was deathly pale, her Carcino Relic syndrome worsened by the stress of battle. Carl was forced to perform some tight maneuvers to get the War Goddess through the white-hole in one piece, and, unfortunately, Justinia had not strapped herself into her seat in time. She turned to Carl. 'The Goddess is coming along nicely. We should meet later and talk over things.'

  'Over what?'

  Justinia snorted. 'Over what happens next, of course. Where are we off to? What are we doing? You know, standard merc stuff. The kind of stuff I'd be happy to get back to.'

  'Are you sure?' Carl asked hesitantly. 'Your Carcino Relic syn-'

  'My Carcino Relic syndrome is fine,' she snapped. 'I'm going to drop dead at some point. I'd just rather do it doing what I'm good at, not sat around here waiting to snuff it.' She ran her hand over her scalp, her surefire expression sinking slightly as her eyes dropped from Carl's. 'I was thinking we could have a moment of remembrance later as well.'

  Carl nodded in agreement. 'It's only fitting.' He threw a hand out over the docking bay. 'Most of the crews are still here as well.'

  'Not for much longer,' Justinia said. 'Most of their repairs are complete. Almost all of them are looking to leave in the next twelve hours.' Her eyes fell over Arrathnar. 'I'll leave you to it.'

  Carl sucked his teeth, desperately thinking of something to say as he watched Justinia leave. He stayed silent as the door slid shut behind her.

  'Even after everything we have been through, she still does not trust me,' Arrathnar said shaking her head.

  Carl pulled his eyes away from the doorway. 'Don't take it personally. I think it's just hard on her, with Hawke not here anymore...'

  'We've all lost people,' Arrathnar said. 'One person should not be able to make it their excuse.'

  She's right. Carl rubbed his fingers under his eyes. The relationship between Hawke and Justinia had always been a hazy one, but it was evident that they were close. Had been close. Hawke had not even had the chance to say goodbye to her, but Carl understood that reasoning now. Justinia was headstrong, and would have only demanded to stay with him and the bomb. The more he thought over it, the more he realised that Hawke's death had knocked him too. He glanced down to the War Goddess, sat as silent and still as the grave. The Space Bastards without Captain Hawke Sparov? It did not feel right. 'I suppose he's just one of those people you don't expect to die.'

  'He did not just die,' Arrathnar said. 'He took his life on his own terms. He forged his fate before the Kalindros could take it from him. They may have forced his hand, but his final act was one of defiance. Maybe you should remind her of that.'

  Carl gave a solemn nod. A small smile tugged the corner of his mouth. Going out with a bang, just how he would have wanted it. 'I will.' He flexed his shoulder, the stiffness of the still repairing muscle aching again. He looked back up to meet Arrathnar's stare. 'What about you?'

  She looked puzzled. 'What about me?'

  'What are you going to do now? Now that the threat is gone?'

  She let her face fall blank, her expression unreadable. She turned to look out over the docking bay again. 'I do not know, if I am honest,' she said, watching a team of Researchers working on repairing another mercenary ship. 'With the threat gone, is there any need for us? There are already murmurs of us being disbanded.'

  'You've done your duty, you've kept your watch among the stars,' Carl said. He reached his good arm up and placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. 'Just because one duty is complete, it doesn't mean there isn't another cause that you could take up in its place.'

  She turned her head and smiled at him. 'You are too kind, Carl.' The smile faded from her lips slowly. 'We shall see what happens, see what is to become of us. Maybe then I will make my decision.'

  An image of Carl's parents flashed across his mind. 'If you wait too long, you may find yourself losing more than you imagined.'

  The smile returned to her lips. 'I suppose when your lifespan averages one hundred and thirty years you must see the urgency in decisions,' she said. 'Those of us with millenia tend to over think things, to ponder over the smallest of details. We might have longevity on our side, but it is always the shortest sparks that burn brightest in the darkness.' She reached an arm out to him, taking his hand in hers. 'Thank you, again.' She made towards the door of the balcony. 'I trust you will be at the memorial later?'

  Carl nodded, smiling back. 'Wouldn't miss it for anything.'

  The emptiness of the grand hall spoke more than any words ever could. The place that had brimmed with assorted mercenary crews and Harathdans, atmosphere electric with talk, excitement, and fear, now lay almost empty in comparison. Most of the crews that had returned were already gathered in the centre of the room, although a few still trickled in, dwarfed by the wide and high doorways that led into the hall.

  The hubbub of conversation, shouts of defiance, and cheers, had been replaced with quiet whispering and hushed greetings. The usual bright lighting of the room had been dimmed by the Harathdan crew, causing long shadows to reach out from each corner, to threaten and grasp at those who dared to enter the Grand Hall.

  Carl watched as the last few survivors arrived through the doorway, and took their place at the edge of the crowd. No one tried to muscle through this time, trying to glimpse at the now depleted council. The lack of bodies in the room meant all could have a good view.

  The remnants of the mercenary council made their way to the seats laid out in front of th
em. This time there were no cheers, no fists in the air, only a stoic silence. Two lonely figures emerged from the darkness to take their seats. Daven Farman and the Faceless Man. Both approached the seats slowly, as if the weight of what had happened was a physical entity.

  Daven still limped heavily, leaning heavily on his crutches as support. There had been some talk that the man would have to lose the limb if it did not heal any further. He fell heavily into his seat, his pain easy for all to see. The Faceless Man took his seat calmly, as he always did, his mask staring out and surveying what was left of the mercenary guild. Who knew what expression he hid under his mask? He turned to his side, conferring something with Daven, who nodded in return. The room became still, awaiting their words.

  The Faceless Man rose from his seat and walked towards the edge of the crowd. When Daven attempted to stand, he turned and signaled him to stay seated. He turned back to the crowd, watching in silence.

  Carl received a firm nudge in his ribs, and turned to see Justinia stood beside him.

  'Haven't missed anything, have I?' she whispered.

  Carl shook his head. 'No, nothing yet.' He gave her a warm smile, and she returned it.

  'Guild men and women, mercenaries from all corners of the galaxies,' the Faceless Man's voice boomed. It filled the empty silence of the hall and echoed back towards him in response. 'I see what is left of you stood before what is left of us,' he said, motioning back to the four empty seats behind him. 'We come here tonight to remember those of us who made the ultimate sacrifice. Those who went into the unknown unfaltering, to never return. We may run separate companies, sometimes even rival ones, but tonight we remember our bond and our loyalty.' He raised a clenched fist high in the air, shaking with exertion. 'Loyalty, not only to the guild, but to each other. The bond of our guild has always been strong, but what we encountered through the white-hole, that has not broken us. It has bound us stronger. Bonded us with their blood as well as our own. Tonight we will not mourn our dead, we will celebrate the victory they gave us.'