by Mike Smith
Staring intently at Paul for a moment, his eyes flickered back to the Indomitable hanging motionless in space. He made a snap decision. They could no longer wait for the Commander, in his absence Paul would have to suffice.
“Paul, I’m reinstating you into the navy, as of now,” Sterling stated in a bleak tone of voice, which brooked no dissent. “Congratulations Captain Harrington. Your first order of business is to lead an armed boarding party onto the Indomitable. You are authorised to use whatever force you deem necessary to regain full control of that ship. Restrict the crew to quarters and arrest all the senior officers, pending a full investigation.”
Paul could only gape at him in astonishment, unable to believe what he was hearing.
“I’ll brief you on the way to the flight deck,” Sterling reassured him, recognising the stunned expression, before turning back to his Tactical Officer. “Tell Major Thompson that I want a company of marines, fully armed for boarding operations, on the flight deck and I want them there five minutes ago,” he snapped.
The Tactical Officer nodded his head in acknowledgement, hurrying to pass on the orders to the Commanding Officer of the marines stationed on board the warship.
“Paul, let’s go, time is of the essence,” Sterling insisted, motioning to Paul to follow him. “We need to get a grip on things before events really spiral out of control and then we will be totally screwed.”
“Frank, what the hell is going on?” Paul repeated in bewilderment as the two men stepped off the bridge in the direction of the flight deck.
*****
Jon could not see his hand in front of his face. The swirling maelstrom that was the dust storm blinded everything and everyone.
He knew for a fact it must be close to noon, as the sun was reaching its zenith in the sky. But on the ground the dust storm blocked out almost all of the sun’s rays, making it appear to be closer to dusk. He was unable to see, nor could he hear anything above the howling of the wind. It was almost as if the planet itself had been mortally wounded and was now crying out in fear and pain.
He ignored everything except putting one foot in front of the other, again and again. Even those simple actions used almost all of his concentration and balance. The ground was uneven, strewn with debris, an indication of the fury of the damage that lay ahead. The destruction must be enormous, as the resultant rubble had been thrown this far from the point of impact, still some kilometres distant.
Jon’s thoughts momentarily turned back to the occupants of the shuttle he had abandoned, several hundred meters behind him. Regrettably, he could not spare the time to check upon them, although they rested heavily on his conscience. Instead the same constantly repeating thoughts were driving him forward—family. Sofia and Marcus must be out there somewhere. He had promised his protection to both of them and sworn an oath to return to Sofia. A small part of his conscience recognised the folly of these actions and accepted neither of them would have or could have survived the devastating bombardment. But the rest of him pushed that thought aside. He would never give up, never accept defeat, as he pushed ever onwards into the heart of the storm.
Suddenly the way ahead was blocked by a pile of rubble, what was left of a wall, a house or an apartment block. Jon could no longer tell and it mattered not. Falling to his hands and knees, he slowly began to crawl, up and up, over the obstruction. When he finally reached the very top, he tried to look ahead, but it was impossible. The dust storm was impenetrable. He had to use one hand to shield his eyes, otherwise he would be blinded by the grit and small stones carried on the wailing storm. A sudden gust of wind caused him to lose his balance, and he rolled back down the hill of manmade debris, faster and faster until, with a jarring impact, he crashed onto the ground at the bottom. The side of his face was a wall of pain from scraping along the ground. Glancing at his hands, he observed they were now covered in dust, the scratches only visible beneath the grime by the bright red blood flowing from them.
Unsteadily he got to his feet, staggering forward, one hand tightly wrapped around his sword, which he had grabbed prior to departing the shuttle. Everything was covered by a thick layer of dust. The entire scene was like some sort of nightmarish winter wonderland, everything covered in white, while a heavy storm whirled around him. However, this was not snow and the scene was not one of beauty, but of horror. Death surrounded him, stalked him with every step that he took forward.
Now he could see the occasional body lying motionless on the ground and covered by a heavy layer of powder. But Jon did not stop, did not spare them even a glance. His gaze was fixed firmly forward, to the distant horizon where occasionally, when the storm slackened for a moment, he could see the distant, broken outline of the Senate building.
Taking another step forward, he tripped and landed face-first on the ground. Pain washed over him, as if he had suddenly jumped into a lake of freezing cold water. He had to take a moment to blink away the sudden darkness encroaching on his vision. Jon realised he could hardly breathe as the dust was all encompassing, choking his eyes, nose and mouth. Suddenly something drew his attention, a noise above the roar of the wind. A flapping sound, as if a great condor was about to take flight. The noise was very close, so Jon crawled on hands and knees in the direction it was coming from.
When he eventually reached the sound, he discovered it was just some dark cloth flapping in the wind. The cloth had become wrapped around some bent and broken metal girders, which had stopped it blowing away in the wind. Disappointed by the find, but realising it was better than nothing and something he could use to protect his mouth from the dust, Jon stretched out a trembling hand and caught hold of the edge of the fabric, pulling it closer to him.
As he pulled, he realised that the dark cloth was much larger than he had initially thought, as most of it had become wrapped around the obstruction, giving a false impression of its size. As it finally came away and he held it up in his hands, he realised it was a large cloak, made from the deepest darkest, black. Even in the dim twilight, the cloak seemed to absorb all the light around it, a pool of darkness lying in his hands. Struggling on his hands and knees, he unfolded the cloak, wrapping it around him. He was delighted to find that the cloak had a deep hood and he quickly pulled this up, covering his head. The cloak blocked out the noise of the screaming wind and Jon found that by angling his head it also shielded his face from the vicious dust and rock particles. He was amazed to find that the cloak was exactly the right size, as if it had been personally fitted for him by the finest tailors in all the Confederation.
Now that the wail of the wind was somewhat muted, Jon thought he heard other sounds. The piercing call of a baby screaming, frightened cries of pain, fear and anguish. The voices seemed to carry in the wind, but when he looked around, he could still not see anything, as the area appeared to show no signs of life. Unsure if the voices were real, or just his imagination, he stumbled to his feet and grasped the hilt of his sword. Wrapping the cloak tightly around himself, he headed onwards, quickly disappearing into the storm, with the noise swirling around him, a shadow vanishing into the twilight.
*****
“Admiral.” The voice of his Communications Officer carried across the bridge to Admiral Sterling on his return after briefing Paul on the rapidly unfolding situation. “I have managed to contact a Marine Sergeant Patrick Reynolds on the planet, who claims to know where the Commander is,” the officer explained.
Sterling nodded, recognising the name, and motioned with his hand for the Communications Officer to open a channel. “Gunny,” he demanded. “Where is the Commander?”
There was no reply for a while and all that could be heard over the channel was heavy static, interference caused by the storm. “We’re all fine Admiral, thanks for asking.” Even with the interference, the bridge crew could hear the sarcasm dripping from the marine. “You know, after falling several hundred meters, while travelling at several times the speed of sound. How are you all doing up there, by the way?”
The Admiral had known Gunny for many years. Like Paul, they had first met while serving in the Imperial Navy, hence he recognised Gunny’s frustration. Gunny was as hard as they came, tough as nails and hard as leather. The man was a legend in the Marine Corps. Sterling often wondered what it was about Commander Radec that seemed to draw people such as Paul and Gunny to him. “Gunny, I need to speak to the Commander. Immediately. Can you put him on?” he asked, deliberately ignoring the earlier sarcastic quip.
“Uh, the Commander isn’t exactly here right now,” Gunny hedged.
“What,” Sterling shouted. “Where the hell is he?”
“It would seem that the Commander has decided to proceed on ahead. On foot.”
Sterling could only pummel his fist into the armrest of his seat in frustration. “Gunny we have to find the Commander, he is possibly the only one left alive that can stop this madness, before things get out of hand.” During the past half hour a plan had slowly started to form in his head. It was crazy, more probably insane, but it was all that he could think of. But first they had to find the Commander. That was going to be the easy bit; the hardest part was having to convince him to go along with the plan. Sterling was certain that was going to take more than a little fast talking.
“I have injured marines down here Admiral, who are not fit to travel,” Gunny replied after a long pause.
“Understood Gunny. I am dispatching a search and rescue shuttle to your location now; they will be with you shortly. But Gunny, I need you to take whoever you can and find the Commander. Now.” The silence between the replies convinced the Admiral that Gunny was reluctant to leave injured men behind. After all, there was a reason why this man was a living legend in the Corps. “Gunny, I wouldn’t order this if it was not important. I cannot say more over this channel, but believe me when I say that unless we can find the Commander and bring him back to the fleet, then many more are going to die.”
“Understood Admiral, we will locate the Commander. I have a good idea of his intended destination.”
“Thank you Gunny. Signal us when you have located him and we will send an assault shuttle to retrieve you and your team.”
“Understood Admiral.”
Pleased that at least this plan seemed to be progressing, Sterling dispatched a search and rescue shuttle to Gunny’s current location and then went back to monitoring the Indomitable. Captain Harrington and the marines should be there shortly. Sterling wondered what sort of reception they would receive upon their arrival.
*****
Paul stepped cautiously off the assault shuttle that had landed on the flight deck of the Indomitable. There was little risk however, as three companies of angry, heavily armed marines had already disembarked and secured the few shocked crew that had been present. If the crew had not been frightened enough by the marines, the three assault shuttles still hovering in the background, guns and missiles extended, glistening in the lights above the flight deck, ensured no resistance. Major Thompson was taking no chances after Paul had briefed him on the short flight over from the Protector.
Paul was less worried about facing stiff resistance securing the ship than he was with the conduct of the marines. Many of them were young kids, barely out of their teens. They had family on Eden Prime and Paul could see the shock, fear and anger in their faces after they had been briefed on recent events. Paul was certain that the majority of the crew were not implicated in the attack. He had been involved in enough covert operations to know that the more people who knew about it the greater the chance of it failing. In any case, only the senior officers had the necessary fire-control codes to be able to unleash the awesome weaponry of the ship. The crew would not have been briefed, as was obvious from the terrified expressions on their faces, as they lay restrained on the flight deck.
It was only going to take one crew member to panic, one marine to be a little too quick on the trigger and this operation was going to turn into a bloodbath. Too many people had already died today and Paul was determined there would be no further deaths on his watch. He didn’t even want to think about who might already have died on Eden Prime. Jon, Sofia and Gunny were his closest friends and they were practically family. He knew that nothing had been heard of their whereabouts since he had departed from the Protector. Meanwhile he was determined to remain focused on the task at hand, as there was nothing that he could do for them at the moment.
“Listen up, marines,” Paul called out at the top of his voice to get their attention. “Admiral Sterling has tasked us with securing this ship. You have all been briefed on recent events and know the necessity of doing this quickly, as we have no idea if the ship is preparing to fire once again.” Paul let the words trail off, easily conveying the urgency of their operation. “However, the crew of this ship are not our enemy. They are our brothers and sisters, just like us they have family down on Eden Prime. It is obvious that whoever is behind this horrific attack expects us to turn on each other and we will not allow that to happen. Our job is to secure the ship and find the perpetrators, not to exact revenge on the crew. So stay focused, keep in close contact with your platoon sergeants and move out.”
As the marines saluted and filed out from the flight deck, Paul was relieved to see some of the fire had left their eyes. Hopefully they would now demonstrate some restraint while securing the ship. Turning to Major Thompson who, via their tactical communications network, was monitoring the progress of the marines spreading throughout the ship, Paul ordered, “We will proceed directly to the bridge.” Withdrawing his sidearm, Paul made sure there was already a round in the chamber and the safety catch was firmly on. While Paul was confident the crew were not involved, he was worried about the position of the Captain and senior officers. Somebody had ordered those weapons to be targeted and fired and when he found out who…
Paul tightened his grip on the pistol.
*****
Not unexpectedly, the entrance to the bridge was guarded by two of the ship’s marines who raised their rifles on seeing Paul and his men. With Paul and the Major’s own marines responding in a similar manner, it quickly became a very tense standoff. Remembering his earlier promise to himself, Paul motioned for his men to lower their weapons, which they did reluctantly.
“I am Captain Harrington and I am ordering you to lower your weapons,” Paul called out to the two marines guarding the entrance to the bridge.
“I do not know you, sir, and I do not recognise your chain of command. Only the Captain or my Commanding Officer can order us to step aside,” came back the discouraging response.
Major Thompson took a step forward, so he was clearly visible to the two marines. “You might not know the Captain, but you know who I am. I am ordering you to stand down, marines,” he shouted down the corridor.
At the sight of the Major, the two marines looked at each other nervously, but remained steadfast, their rifles still firmly pointed at the two officers.
“I do not recognise your chain of command Major,” the marine replied hesitantly, as it was obvious that he knew the Major.
Recognising the impasse and their need for urgency, Paul took a step forward with his hands firmly in the air, to show that he was not reaching for a weapon. He was confident that by doing this, and with the Major at his side, they would not shoot him on sight. “I recognise your reluctance soldier,” Paul called out in a reassuring tone of voice, taking another step closer. “So how about we all go and talk to the Captain in person? I am sure that he can clear up this misunderstanding.”
The two marines looked unsure for a moment, before the lead marine lowered his weapon slightly and beckoned for Paul and the Major to approach.
As they got to the door Paul motioned towards the control and said, “Why don’t you call the bridge and announce our arrival. I am sure that Captain Harrison will explain everything.”
The lead marine, relieved he would soon be rid of this problem, twisted around to reach for the door control and just for a moment his ri
fle was no longer pointed in their direction. Catching hold of the barrel of the rifle to keep it pointed away from him, Paul caught the marine across the back of his head with a stunning blow that slammed him face first into the corridor bulkhead. Out of the corner of his eye, Paul observed the Major similarly disarming the other marine.
Once the two marines were disarmed and bound, Paul drew the pistol at his waist, motioning to the other marines to get ready. With a deep breath Paul activated the door control, charging onto the bridge with the Major and the remaining marines close behind.
It only took Paul three long strides to get behind the Captain, who was seated in his chair. Resting the muzzle of the pistol against the back of the Captain’s head he ordered in a firm tone of voice, “Not a move Captain, otherwise I will gladly put a bullet through your head.” Out of the corner of his eye, Paul observed the marines similarly immobilising the rest of the senior officers. Only once he was sure nobody was going to move a muscle did he slowly inch around the seat, his pistol not wavering in the slightest, until he stood face-to-face with the Captain. Paul’s eyes went wide with surprise, when for the first time he could put a name to the face.
He knew this man.
“I’ve seen you before,” Paul uttered in a surprised voice. “Several months ago. When Jon and I were on the Sunfire, you were on the bridge of the Protector, standing behind the Admiral.”
Harrison nodded, or tried to, before he remembered the pistol resting firmly against his forehead. “Captain Morden had taken ill. The Admiral ordered me to take temporary command of the Protector.”
Meanwhile Paul lowered his pistol slightly, his thoughts racing on ahead. What the hell was going on? The Admiral would never have offered this man command of his flagship if he did not trust him, implicitly. It was obvious that the Admiral and Captain knew each other well, very well. “How long have you known the Admiral?”
Eyes flicking to the pistol in the man’s hand, Harrison answered truthfully. “Ten years.”