Project Starfighter

by Stephen J Sweeney

  “None,” XS-0041233 replied.

  “Others?”

  “One hundred and forty-seven bodies have so far been identified. The number is likely to increase as the clearance work continues. We estimate that there could be another two hundred bodies or more to come, for a total of over three hundred and fifty.”

  Kethlan nodded. Damn those mercenaries. “How many of the attacking mercenary ships were destroyed during the assault on the tower?” he asked the drone.

  “None.”

  “At all?” Kethlan asked, incredulously.

  “No.”

  Kethlan nodded. It really was as he had already heard. There had never been any need for him to come here, but he wanted to check this for himself. “Carry on,” he told the machine.

  “Commander.”

  Kethlan turned as he heard the voice behind him, seeing Erik Overlook striding towards him from the Fer-de-Lance. “Sir?”

  Overlook glanced about for a time, taking in the scene around him. “Quite a mess they made of the Spire,” he said. He reached into his pocket and extracted a cigarette, lighting it. “Have you found any of them to talk to, yet?”

  “No,” Kethlan replied. He glanced in the direction of the drone. “I have just been informed that not a single one of those that attacked the tower was shot down in the assault.”

  Overlook tapped ash from his cigarette. “We need to find out what prompted them to attack us so suddenly,” he said. “The special relationship was faultless.”

  “I’m willing to bet that they somehow found out about Mission 3412 and moved to counter it immediately,” Kethlan said. “Based on the battle footage that I reviewed, this was less of a planned, coordinated attack and more like something driven out of rage and anger. The vessels involved in the operation were a mixed bag, and not something that I would task for an operation such as this.”

  “They succeeded, though,” Overlook said, puffing out smoke. “I don’t want you wasting any more time here on the ground, Commander. The last forty-eight hours have witnessed the most successful attack against the Corporation in quite some time. The Resistance may have failed, but we’ve been handed a reminder that the mercenaries represent a far bigger problem. They are everywhere, and unlike an underground movement the mercenary groups are battle-hardened and can be a lot more cunning.”

  “My apologies, sir,” Kethlan said. “I got sidetracked.”

  Overlook fixed him with a hard stare for a time, continuing to take a drag on his cigarette. “Sometimes I fear that you are too human, Kline,” the man said. “It can be a weakness, you know. A man such as yourself, with the talents you possess, should give that more consideration.”

  “It has its benefits,” Kethlan said.

  “That it does,” Overlook said. “But the negatives vastly outweigh the positives. I would once again advise that you look into virtualization. Avatars and simulants can be used for the rare cases where a physical presence is required or ... desirable.” He indicated himself as he spoke.

  “Yes, sir,” Kethlan said. “I will look into it once this mission is over.”

  “See that you do. I checked your records and noticed that you’ve not even made a mind state backup for close to two years.” A long blow of smoke from Overlook. He looked upon the cigarette for a time, watching as it burned slowly down. “Returning to your mission – the CEO is very concerned. We may have taken down their primary base of operations, but the mercenaries are numerous and have ports and stations in every major star system throughout the known galaxy. The Upper Circle believe that it is perfectly possible that the so-called Heads of the Family would have fled the Alpaca Group well before its destruction, most likely at the first appearance of the Grand Vizier.

  “And even if they didn’t, we know for certain that Mal was nowhere near that base. The man is powerful, and once we rid ourselves of the mercenaries, that man could pose our next biggest problem. His cult is growing daily. We’re discovering and eliminating recruiters far more frequently now than ever before. Even people like Krass Tyler are scared of him.”

  “I was just on my way to survey the remains of the asteroid group,” Kethlan said, turning his back on the drones and bots that were sifting through the remains of the tower, and sorting materials. “I will report in as soon as I find anything of significant interest.”

  “I look forward to it,” Overlook said, tapping more ash from his cigarette. He then turned and started back towards the Fer-de-Lance, his body shimmering before it faded out and vanished completely.

  Kethlan boarded his fighter once more and headed skyward.

  ~

  Kethlan steered his Fer-de-Lance carefully through the sea of tumbling rocks that was the Alpaca Group. He had studied the history of the group before he had arrived, finding it now a little different. There were fewer large rocks, the most obvious omission being the asteroid that had been home to New Chile. With it gone, there were many smaller rocks and larger quantities of dust, the result of the asteroids having smashed into one another when the nuclear missiles had gone off and flung everything aside.

  Kethlan glanced at his radar, seeing the Talons that continued to act as his escort keeping up with him. Other craft could be seen sifting through the debris, shuttling the remains of the Grand Vizier and re-usable parts of the mercenaries’ former stronghold back to a freighter. A corvette held position nearby, as did a mixed squadron of other WEAPCO craft.

  Kethlan spied a body being scooped up by an astral drone, the machine taking it in its arms and transporting it back to the freighter. The body was that of a small girl. She would have somehow survived the nuclear attack on the asteroid, only to have been spaced as the asteroid had come apart. He felt no pity.

  “Commander Kethlan,” a mechanical voice came over his comms. His computer system identified it as belonging to a drone by the name of XS-0067132, the clean-up coordinator.

  “Go ahead,” Kethlan answered it.

  “We have found a survivor.”

  A survivor? Kethlan was a little surprised. “Give me more details.”

  “A Wolf Pack mercenary, wearing a space suit. Male. He possibly ejected from his spacecraft.”

  “You are certain that he is alive?” Kethlan asked.

  “The subject is breathing but is currently unconscious. Minor cranial trauma. His spacesuit appears to have allowed for up to twenty-four hours’ worth of oxygen.”

  “Good. Take him to the Reliant,” Kethlan said. “I will talk to him myself.” He swung his fighter around and started out of the asteroid field, the Talons clinging close to his flight path as always. As he exited the cluster of rocks, he tapped away at his fighter’s computer console, opening a communication channel to Overlook.

  “I have located a mercenary survivor,” he told the man. “I will be interrogating him aboard the Reliant shortly.”

  “Good work, Commander,” Overlook returned. “I will join you.”

  ~

  The medical bots had stripped the man almost naked. Much of his body, including his face, was covered in tattoos. The inks were black and red in colour, not unlike the rest of his body now, Kethlan mused. After proving that the injury to the man’s head was not life-threatening, and any other wounds he had sustained had been patched up, the WEAPCO commander had ordered the machines to torture him.

  Ironic, perhaps, but there was a methodology to torture, one that involved inflicting as much pain and discomfort as one could, without threatening the subject’s life. The man – locked in a chair, his hands restrained up by his head, his legs and feet fixed in place – was remarkably resilient. Kethlan was impressed. Most that were subjected to the commander’s preferred method of information extraction caved within minutes. If this kept up, they would need to hook the mercenary up to the mind scanners and extract the details that way, instead.

  But that took time, led to wildly varying results (such as intentional misinformation and even blocking in strong-willed individuals – Ursula Lexx was on
e, for sure), and could even reduce the subject to a vegetative state. No, Kethlan would prefer the man to turn over the details willingly.

  Overlook was smoking another cigarette. “It doesn’t have to be this way, you know,” he said to the mercenary. “If you’ve had enough, just let us know. We’ll stop, you can tell us what we want to know, and then you can leave.”

  “Go to hell,” the man said, before spitting a great globule of saliva in the direction of the two men, which splattered to the ground at Kethlan’s feet. Kethlan gave Overlook a look that suggested they leave the mercenary to the bots for another ten minutes. Overlook ignored him for now. He clearly didn’t want to do that just yet.

  “I have only a handful of simple questions for you,” Overlook said. “Answer them, and the pain will end.”

  The mercenary simply spat again, this time more forcefully, Kethlan had to lean out of the way of the spittle. The mercenary grinned. “So, at least one of you is real,” he said. “I thought I was seeing things when that one materialized in the room, like some sort of goddamn magician.” He nodded at Overlook.

  Kethlan was growing bored. “Talk!” he commanded.

  “No.”

  “I said start talking!”

  The mercenary simply smirked his response, and Kethlan appealed again to Overlook to allow him to go to the next level. Overlook gave him the nod he wanted.

  “Cut off his left toes,” Kethlan instructed the bots. “One at a time.”

  The machines did as ordered, using saws and hammer-like implements, rather than laser cutting tools. A laser would end the process far sooner than was desired. The mercenary cried out as each of his toes were systemically crushed and removed, the wounds being cauterized soon after. To his credit, the mercenary did not lose consciousness, only breathing hard, sweat appearing on his brow, and running down his face.

  “This fun for you?” the mercenary asked, once the bots had completed their task.

  “I will ask you one question,” Kethlan said. “If you answer it truthfully, we will take some of the pain away. If you lie, we will do the same to your right foot. Understand?”

  The mercenary gave a short, detectable nod of understanding.

  “Good. What is your name?” Kethlan asked.

  “Jerri Tapper,” the man said.

  Kethlan motioned to one of the bots hovering close to the mercenary. The machine administered the man with a mild sedative, and his tense facial expression immediately began to relax. The pain had lifted a little. It would still be there, as a dull ache, but not nearly as full on as before.

  “See? That wasn’t so hard, was it, Jerri?” Kethlan said. “Now, who do you work for?”

  “The Wolf Pack,” Jerri said.

  “Specifically,” Kethlan emphasised. “What is the name of your boss?”

  Jerri remained mute.

  “It’s no skin off my nose,” Kethlan said. “Could be plenty off yours, though. And more besides.” The WEAPCO commander repeated the question, despite actually already knowing the answer, and still the man refused to indulge them. Kethlan looked again at Overlook, who, after a pause, gave him the nod. Not going soft on me, are you, Erik?

  “Cut off his right toes,” Kethlan instructed the bots. “Skill level one,” he added.

  “Krass Tyler! Krass Tyler!” Jerri screamed halfway through the procedure. The bots had been rougher with their work this time, spilling a great deal more blood and intentionally making a botch job of removing the toes. They stopped as soon as they were told, leaving the mercenary with just his little toe and the one next to it.

  “Good. Where is he?” Kethlan asked.

  “I don’t know,” the mercenary shook his head. His hands were shaking a little in their restraints.

  “Cut—” Kethlan began.

  “Wait,” Overlook interrupted. He looked back at the mercenary. “Why won’t you tell us where he is?”

  “Because I don’t know,” Jerri said, sweat continuing to bead on his forehead. “And that’s the honest-to-God truth. Last time I saw him was when I was fighting the Grand Vizier, to defend New Chile. I ejected when the damn thing took aim at me. I never saw the Pack after the battle. I think they abandoned me, even though I radioed to them for help.”

  Overlook and Kethlan exchanged looks. The explanation was fair. No other mercenaries had been sighted around Ceradse since their base had gone up. They had clearly fled the system.

  “Where might he have gone?” Kethlan asked. “Hail? Hinstag? Joldar? Moebo? Another system altogether? Eyananth?” he added, as the man said nothing. “If you are worried about what Tyler might do to you if you betray him, I can promise you that it is nothing compared to what will happen here if you don’t cooperate.”

  No more words from Jerri, and so the bots finished off the last of his toes.

  “You’ve lost your toes,” Overlook said. “If you want to keep your fingers, your ears, your nose, and your eyes, you will answer the rest of our questions. We are looking for three people in particular – Chris Bainfield, Sid Wilson, and Phoebe Lexx. We know that you were harbouring Bainfield and Wilson for a number of weeks, and that they played a part in the attack on the Spire, and the destruction of the Grand Vizier. Where did they go?”

  “I told you,” Jerri said, sweat rolling down his face, forming drops on his chin. “I don’t know. I was unconscious! Where everyone went, I have no idea. They could have flown down to hell itself, for all I know.” The man was quivering a little from the pain.

  It seemed to Overlook that Jerri truly did have nothing more to tell them. Kethlan, however, wasn’t satisfied. He ordered the bots to continue their work, removing Jerri’s fingers, his ears, and finally his nose. Overlook did not stop him, although the man was clearly struggling with his desire to. Jerri lost consciousness at one point. The bots brought him back around, and continued. Finally finished, Overlook had the man cast out into space, to finish what Kethlan had started.

  ~

  Before he died, Jerri revealed a few snatches of useful information. Bainfield had been piloting the Firefly, the fighter stolen from WEAPCO. He had apparently requested its recovery specifically. Wilson had hacked the missing drone, XS-0017811, which was how the mercenaries had learned about Mission 3412. The leads were small, but it was good enough for Overlook.

  “It is possible that Bainfield and Wilson have taken refuge around Hail,” Overlook opined. “Apparently they were both keen to know what has become of their precious little Resistance, and we know that there was activity around that planet that can be traced back to the beginnings of the uprising. You are to look for the two men there, Commander.

  “When you find them, you are to show them no mercy. Tyler, neither. They are a threat to our continued existence and must be eliminated as soon as possible.”

  “Yes, sir,” Kethlan said. “I will investigate Hail immediately. If they are not there, I will extend the search to Eyananth. If Bainfield is keen to reinvigorate the Resistance and start another uprising, I may be able to set a trap for him.”

  “Just make sure both of them are killed. A man capable of taking down a squadron of Talons and a Star Killer-class frigate should not be underestimated,” Overlook said. “I will report back to the CEO. Contact me again when you know more.”

  Overlook’s image flickered out of existence, leaving Kethlan alone with the bots. He started back to his Fer-de-Lance, certain that at some point he would have to kill Chris Bainfield. But not immediately. Something about the man intrigued him. While Kethlan had enjoyed his time playing with Jerri and finding out just how hard he could push him, destroying his body as well as his mind, he did not quite see himself doing the same to Bainfield. He would seek the young pilot out first, test him, and find out what made him tick.

  For Kline Kethlan, worthy opponents were rare, hard to find. Human ones even less so.

  Chapter 15

  “Chris, you might want to see this,” Sid called.

  “What is it?” Chris asked, enter
ing the bridge. “Trouble?” It had taken the Dodger four hours to complete the jump from Spirit to Eyananth. They had been in Eyananth for barely twenty minutes now. Chris couldn’t believe that WEAPCO had come after them so soon. The freighter wasn’t even a quarter of the way done with its covert transformation process, either.

  “Not trouble, no,” Sid said, without looking up from the console he was hunched over. “A distress call.”

  “Was it directed at us?”

  “No, it’s being broadcast globally. It’s coming from a woman called Phoebe Lexx, who is claiming to be being pursued by WEAPCO fighters. She’s calling for someone to help her.” Sid looked up at Chris, appearing somewhat unconvinced. Clearly, he was thinking the same thing as Chris – this was a trap.

  Chris folded his arms. Lexx. Why did that name sound familiar? Had he heard it mentioned somewhere before? Whatever it was, WEAPCO would be after him and Sid, that was for sure. They had stolen a starfighter and freighter, and had also assisted a band of mercenaries in taking down one of the Corporation’s most prized warships. He would bet anyone a beer that his name would be near the top of their Most Wanted list. Actually, two beers. He was likely Public Enemy Number One by now.

  “What are we looking at?” Chris asked. “What kind of fighters?”

  “The always-popular Talon,” Sid said. “Lexx herself is piloting a Valkyrie.”

  “How far away is she?” Chris asked.

  “The signal’s coming from Nerod, one of the inner system planets. We would need to make an inner system jump to reach her before she’s caught.”

  “If she’s really there,” Chris commented. “How long would the jump take?”

  “Computer, from here, how long would it take us to reach Nerod?” Sid asked.

  “Eight minutes and thirty-eight seconds,” the freighter replied.

  “Enough time to get down to the cargo hold and suit up,” Chris said. “Computer, have the bots finished their work on the Firefly’s upgrades?”