by Mark Walden
‘Is there something wrong, Mr Malpense?’ Nero asked.
‘Well, we’ve just landed,’ Otto said with a frown, ‘but traditionally aircraft have to descend before they can land.’
‘That is quite true,’ Nero said with a smile, making his way to the rear of the compartment. There may have been no windows in this part of the Shroud but it was perfectly clear to his students that something strange was going on. Nero hit the switch on the bulkhead and the cargo ramp lowered with a mechanical whine. Waiting at the bottom with a broad smile on his face was Diabolus Darkdoom. He wore an immaculate dark red suit and a black shirt and had the unmistakable aura of power that accompanied all great men and women.
‘Good afternoon, Doctor Nero,’ Darkdoom said, shaking Nero’s hand. ‘It’s good to see you in the flesh again.’ Raven walked down the ramp behind Nero and nodded to Darkdoom. ‘Natalya, a pleasure as always.’ Darkdoom peered past them into the Shroud. ‘And I see you’ve even brought some of my favourite H.I.V.E. students with you. Hello, Nigel, it’s nice to see you and your friends again.’
‘Hello, Father,’ Nigel said, looking a bit embarrassed.
‘I’m afraid that they cannot stay for long. They’re in transit to a training exercise,’ Nero said.
‘Surely they could be allowed a quick tour of G.L.O.V.E.’s new base of operations,’ Darkdoom said. ‘After all, they are the future of our organisation and they should see for themselves what we’re capable of.’
Nero knew that it was pointless to argue. Like many of the great villains throughout history, Darkdoom could not resist the temptation to show others the extent of his power. It was a weakness that Nero had always resisted; too many of his peers had seen their plans derailed by this tendency to brag. ‘I suppose a short tour can do no harm,’ he said with a sigh.
‘Excellent.’ Darkdoom smiled and he walked away from the Shroud, gesturing for them all to follow him.
‘Welcome to the Dreadnought, ladies and gentlemen, the world’s first permanently airborne defence platform. We are currently cruising at an altitude of thirty thousand feet,’ Darkdoom informed the group as they made their way across the hangar, where several other Shroud dropships were parked, ready for deployment. ‘The Dreadnought is designed to stay airborne indefinitely and provide G.L.O.V.E. with a permanent command post that is both safe and discreet. She is equipped with thermoptic camouflage systems just like the Shroud dropships but she also has other less conventional methods to disguise our location.’
Darkdoom led them out of the hangar and down a corridor that was lined on one side with large windows of thick toughened glass. Outside they could see the distant inner wall of the storm that surrounded the Dreadnought.
‘As you can see we have perfected a technology that allows us to harness local weather systems, which in turn enables us to entirely conceal our presence from the eyes of the world. At the other end of the hull is a device known as the Zeus Sphere: it allows us to directly manipulate the climate immediately surrounding the Dreadnought and cloak us in a storm that is fully under our control. Needless to say, this is just the first generation of this technology; in future we will be able to exert ever greater control over the climate. Entire continents will be at our mercy; the power afforded to those who govern both the drought and the flood will be immeasurable. But that is for tomorrow. For today we have a natural barrier that acts as a near impenetrable deterrent to airborne attack.’
Darkdoom continued to lead them through a maze of cramped corridors, occasionally pointing out some technological feature or area of interest while the H.I.V.E. students asked numerous questions. Otto could not help but be impressed as he was shown around the massive ship; it was a staggering feat of engineering. Eventually they arrived on the bridge. There was a central command seat surrounded by consoles where uniformed technicians sat controlling the vital systems of the massive airborne battleship and monitoring the nearby airspace. All around the outside of the bridge were large panoramic windows that offered stunning views of the dark vortex of clouds surrounding them.
‘Too long has G.L.O.V.E. been forced to scurry from one hidden bolt-hole to another. The Dreadnought will be a permanent base of operations, somewhere that can give us an unparalleled strategic advantage anywhere in the world.’ Darkdoom smiled at the faces of the H.I.V.E. students; it was clear from their expressions that they were impressed by this new weapon in G.L.O.V.E.’s arsenal. ‘Any more questions?’
‘The power requirements to keep this thing in the air must be enormous,’ Otto said, looking at the consoles and displays that surrounded them. ‘How are you keeping the lights on?’
‘As ever, Mr Malpense, straight to the heart of the matter,’ Darkdoom said with a smile. ‘The Dreadnought is powered by the world’s first functioning fusion reactor. Something of a technological marvel in itself. In essence, we have harnessed the power of a star and as such there is never any need to refuel.’
‘Isn’t that dangerous?’ Laura asked. ‘Surely if the core were to overload . . .’
‘We have taken every precaution, Miss Brand. This technology, while new, is quite reliable, I assure you,’ Darkdoom replied. He glanced at Nero, who discreetly tapped the face of his wristwatch. ‘I’m sure you have many other questions, but I fear Doctor Nero is eager for you to continue your journey and he and I have much to discuss. Perhaps you might serve aboard this ship yourselves in a few years’ time when you have completed your studies at H.I.V.E., but for now, I’m afraid, I must return you to Raven’s capable hands and wish you a safe journey onwards.’
Nero watched as Raven and the students filed off the bridge, heading back to the hangar bay.
‘They are an impressive group, Max. They do you and your school great credit,’ Darkdoom said as he watched them leave.
‘They are some of our more . . . capable students, certainly,’ Nero replied, secretly glad that their tour of the Dreadnought had been completed without incident.
‘I’m glad to see that Nigel is well too,’ Darkdoom said, ‘and that he has friends.’
‘Indeed,’ Nero said with a wry smile.
‘So what do you think of the Dreadnought then?’ Darkdoom gestured at the walls around them.
‘Most impressive,’ Nero replied, ‘though it does highlight the fact that it will be almost impossible to build something like this in the future without Drake Industries providing the resources.’
‘You worry too much, Max,’ Darkdoom said. ‘There are plenty of other arms manufacturers in the world and I don’t expect it will be too hard to find one whose interests are served by becoming part of our organisation.’
‘I suppose so,’ Nero replied quietly. ‘But imagine if this thing or something like it was placed in the hands of our enemies. Drake is too dangerous to just let him act as a free agent. We have to take action. An example has to be made.’
‘I’m well aware of that,’ Darkdoom said, ‘and on that note I wondered if you might let me borrow Raven for a couple of days when she is finished with this exercise. Rumours are reaching me of Drake’s location and I think it would be a good idea if she were to pay him a visit as we discussed.’
‘Of course, she is yours to command,’ Nero replied quietly. It appeared that Jason Drake was going to find out the hard way just what it cost to betray G.L.O.V.E.
High above the artificial storm cell, a giant hatch opened in the tail of the cloaked aircraft that had been shadowing the Dreadnought for nearly an hour. Jason Drake watched as the men that Furan had recruited for him filed towards the opening, each wearing a full bodysuit, helmet and a large, solid-looking black backpack.
‘Any sign that they’ve seen us?’ Drake asked one of the men sitting inside the cramped control room at the front of the plane.
‘No, sir,’ the man responded. ‘Radar is still in passive acquisition mode and weapons systems are in standby configuration. If they have seen us they’re doing an excellent job of pretending they haven’t. Looks like our cloaki
ng systems are functioning perfectly.’
‘Give the assault team the go,’ Drake ordered and turned back to the view screen. He hit a switch and the view changed to a schematic diagram of the Dreadnought, with several points on the external superstructure clearly highlighted. It had not been difficult to work out the best method for attacking the huge vessel; after all, he had had a hand in designing many of its critical systems.
Drake knew that this was the point of no return. He was taking the final irrevocable step across the line that would mean an outright declaration of war. That was why he intended to strike at Darkdoom directly. The only way to slay such a vicious beast was to lop off its head and Drake was a firm believer in decisive action.
He couldn’t help but wonder how things might have turned out differently. When he had first conceived the Dreadnought it had been his dream to present it to Number One as a gift that would secure him a place at his former master’s right hand. But then Nero and Darkdoom had struck against Number One and carried out their treacherous coup. He had listened patiently as they had spun their ridiculous story about the Overlord AI secretly being in control of Number One and had recognised it immediately as the cover story for the blatant power grab that it was. Drake had watched in silent fury as Darkdoom had taken over the organisation almost completely unopposed by the ruling council. They could not see how unsuitable he was, how he lacked the ruthlessness and cunning that had made Number One their leader for so long and with such success.
It had been even more galling then when Darkdoom had learnt of the Dreadnought project and declared that he would take control of the vessel and use it as his own personal flagship. Drake had no choice but to allow Darkdoom to take the ship; he had not been in a position at that point to openly defy him and the council, but that was all about to change. He had new backers now. A new organisation that was even more powerful than G.L.O.V.E. and one that was going to restore the correct balance of power to the world and nothing, not even Darkdoom, was going to stop them. The Disciples’ time had come and the world would be changed for ever.
‘Assault team away,’ a voice reported.
‘I’ve got something strange here, sir,’ one of the Dreadnought’s bridge crew reported.
‘What is it?’ Darkdoom asked, walking over to the man’s station with Nero close behind.
‘A large number of radar contacts directly above us, but they’re tiny,’ the man replied.
‘It couldn’t be a flock of birds, not at this altitude,’ Darkdoom said as he studied the curious radar signature on the display. ‘Some kind of weapons system?’
‘It doesn’t match any existing profile,’ the crew member replied, ‘but at their current rate of descent they will reach our altitude in forty-five seconds.’
Darkdoom frowned.
‘Give me visual,’ he ordered, turning towards a large display on the wall of the bridge. The screen lit up, relaying an image from one of the powerful high-definition cameras that were mounted on the Dreadnought’s superstructure. At first it was almost impossible to see anything against the dark storm clouds, but then the camera zoomed in and Darkdoom could just make out a swarm of tiny black shapes.
‘Whatever they are I don’t like the look of them. Activate defensive-weapon systems,’ Darkdoom ordered.
‘Yes, sir,’ another man responded from a nearby console. ‘All defensive systems online. Trying to lock on to targets . . .’
‘Report!’ Darkdoom snapped after a few seconds had passed.
‘Anti-missile batteries are online,’ the man replied. ‘Targets in range in three . . . two . . .’
Darkdoom watched in horror as suddenly each of the black blobs seemed to sprout a pair of wings and jet away in numerous different directions. Through the hull he could hear the distinctive buzzing sound of the heavy machine guns that formed the last line of anti-missile defence starting to open fire.
A thousand feet above the Dreadnought the mercenary felt the air bladders in the G-suit he was wearing inflating, forcing the blood to his brain and ensuring that he would not pass out during any of the high-G manoeuvres that the flight pack strapped to his back was performing. He had no control over his own spiralling flight path; the systems in the pack were automatically steering him towards his designated target point on the Dreadnought while making sure that he was an almost impossible target for the huge vessel’s defensive-weapon systems. He had to admit that he had felt a twinge of fear as they had plummeted in free fall towards the Dreadnought, but the flight pack had performed exactly as it had done during training. They had been preparing for this mission for weeks and at first it had taken some getting used to that sickening wrench as the winglets deployed and the jets fired, sending him spearing off on his own unique designated flight path, but he had to admit that he had grown to like the adrenalin rush. The flight pack banked hard to the left and dived, just as the air a few metres away was torn apart by bright white flashes of tracer-machine-gun fire. The mercenary breathed a sigh of relief. Furan had been honest with them: only about ninety per cent of them would make it to the Dreadnought, and that had been too close for comfort.
‘ETA on target . . . ten seconds,’ a soft synthetic voice said in his ear as the hull of the Dreadnought filled the view through his helmet visor. The jets fired again and he felt himself start to slow as he passed over the guard rail on the gantry running along the upper deck of the superstructure and landed gently on his feet just a couple of metres from a hatch that led inside. The winglets retracted and he quickly removed the bulky unit from his back. He hit a switch on the side of the smooth black pack and the cover retracted, revealing an assault rifle and an equipment harness filled with spare ammunition clips and grenades. Behind him, another two of Furan’s men landed on the gantry and began to remove their packs as he moved to the doorway and held a small silver box up to the locking mechanism. There was a short pause and then the door slid open with a hiss. The first mercenary looked over his shoulder and checked that his two companions were armed and ready. Seeing that they were, he went inside.
‘Team Six, infiltration complete, proceeding with assault,’ the mercenary said to the microphone inside his helmet.
‘Roger that, Team Six,’ a calm voice replied in his ear. ‘Proceed on target. All targets beside primaries are expendable; repeat, expendable.’
‘Understood,’ the mercenary replied, raising his assault rifle and moving inside.
‘What’s going on?’ Otto asked Raven, as she followed him up the ramp into the Shroud. They could hear the sound of the Dreadnought’s guns firing but they had no idea what they were firing at.
‘Wait here,’ Raven said to Otto and the others as she went back down the ramp and ran across the bay to where one of the ground crew was speaking frantically into his hand-held communicator. She spoke briefly to the man before hurrying back.
‘Stay on board the Shroud. Lock the hatch and don’t let anyone in but me, understood?’ Raven said.
‘What’s happening?’ Shelby asked quickly. ‘Something’s wrong, isn’t it?’
‘We’re under attack,’ Raven said matter of factly, pulling two long scabbards from among the equipment stowed on board. ‘I’m going after Nero and Darkdoom.’
‘Hostile forces on multiple decks,’ one of the Dreadnought’s bridge crew reported.
‘Where are the security teams?’ Nero asked Darkdoom.
‘There are none,’ he replied, looking angry. ‘They were due to come aboard tomorrow once the final technical checks were complete. We’ve been running with a skeleton crew to minimise the risks if anything should go wrong and I can only assume that whoever is responsible for this knew that.’
‘We need to get you out of here,’ Nero said calmly. ‘We’re outnumbered and out-gunned.’
‘No, you have to go. Whoever has launched this attack cannot possibly know that you’re here. Get my son out of here, Max. I will stay and fight.’
Nero looked like he might argue for a moment,
but then he thought about his students who were now caught unexpectedly in the middle of this.
‘Very well,’ Nero said, ‘but rest assured I will find whoever is responsible for this.’ He place a hand on Darkdoom’s shoulder.
‘Of course you will,’ Darkdoom replied with a grim smile, ‘and I pity them when you do.’
With a nod Nero turned and hurried off the bridge. Darkdoom headed over to the security station, watching as the invading forces moved unmolested through the corridors of his ship.
‘Incoming transmission, sir,’ one of Darkdoom’s crew reported. ‘It’s using a G.L.O.V.E. transmission protocol.’
‘On screen,’ Darkdoom replied quickly. The screen lit up, displaying the smiling face of Jason Drake.
‘Drake, I should have known that I couldn’t rely on you to crawl under a rock and die quietly somewhere,’ Darkdoom said angrily.
‘A pleasure to see you too, Diabolus,’ Drake replied calmly. ‘I believe it’s time to discuss the terms of your surrender.’
‘Now why would I do that?’ Darkdoom snapped.
‘Because I already have over a dozen strike teams on board your vessel whose standing orders are to execute anyone they encounter. The only way for you to prevent the bloodbath that is about to ensue is to surrender now. I’m only going to make this offer once. You will be captured or killed either way – it makes little difference to me.’
‘Why, Drake? What makes you want to destroy everything we’ve spent so long building? G.L.O.V.E. was founded on the basis that individually we were weak but united we are strong . . .’
‘United!’ Drake spat angrily. ‘Once we were united, but now things have changed. G.L.O.V.E. is no longer the organisation it was. People no longer fear us as they once did and that which people do not fear, they do not respect. Number One understood the importance of fear, the importance of rule through strength, and since we lost that leadership, we have lost our way. I will not sit idly by and watch as you lead this organisation down a road of compromise and weakness. I’m going to remind the world what it is to feel fear again and through that fear we will remain strong.’