by Shae Mills
The black lineation suddenly fanned out, swiftly circling the area just traversed and converging once again. The three central ships came to an abrupt halt, floating serenely in the murky sky as the remaining fighters scanned the ravaged area below them. "All sensors clear, Sire. Awaiting your orders."
Korba looked out over the expanse of rubble, his mind working methodically over the numerous dramas unfolding all over the bastardly planet. "I want F5 and F6 in a low orbit, and F7 through F10 back here with me."
"Affirmative," came the reply.
"Gainy!"
"Sire," acknowledged one of Korba's most trusted and battle-seasoned men.
"Take the rest of the contingent over to Sector 4. Aston reported heavy fighting there earlier, and since then they have broken off all communications. See if they need help. If not, give your men a break, and report back to me."
"Yes, my Lord."
At their Warlord's command, the swarm of temporarily motionless ships began to disperse. Two of the fighters tilted their noses skyward and hung suspended momentarily. With wings angled back seamlessly, and with antigravity mechanisms activated, powerful rockets engaged, catapulting them out of the planet's atmosphere in a matter of seconds. Four other fighters circled the area and nestled quietly behind their Commander. The remaining ships disappeared over the horizon, and silence fell upon the bleak landscape.
Korba remained very still in the cockpit of his heavily armed fighter, his body securely restrained in his seat. His ice-blue eyes continued to scrutinize the scene before him while he simultaneously analyzed the 3-D sensor data presented by the ship's systems. Then he carefully ascertained the odds of a safe landing.
The planet's surface was desolate, covered by millenniums of undisturbed rock and particulate matter. Trite was an ancient and dead planet, its volcanism long since extinguished. Its gigantic continental plates were now motionless, and its inner core and mantle, once its lifeblood, were now cold and clotted. It was totally bereft of any indigenous life, plant or animal.
The planet's atmosphere was also suffering a lingering death. Replenishing gases from the world's depths no longer resuscitated its aging and stale breath. Its grasp on its atmosphere was tentative at best, as acknowledged by the blackness of space that infringed upon the planet's horizons at a ruinously low altitude. Korba knew that what little atmosphere was still available was breathable, but barely. The readings on his sensors told him that even with his giant lungs and superb physical conditioning, he would not endure long periods of stress or work without oxygen supplementation.
He furrowed his brow as he scanned the hellish expanse before him one last time. Until his arrival several hours prior, this place had been one of ROPE's main breeding centers. Unlike many of the installations that his forces were encountering, this one was above ground, but shrewdly hidden from the watchful eyes of space. The infrastructure had been slightly sunken, blending with Trite's terrain and coexisting within it rather than on top of it. The builders had simply burrowed beneath the boulders and rocks using the waste material to fortify interior structures, thereby disturbing the world's landscape minimally. From the air, very little appeared amiss. Only through a fortuitous, low-altitude flyby had one of Korba's men noticed the small irregularities in some of the planet's geologic structures.
Korba had taken no chances with this one, choosing to lead its destruction himself. He knew all too well the implications of a surface breeding station that operated without life-support systems. And as it had been heavily armed, this had undoubtedly been an intensely important experimental facility.
The offspring of the men and women here were being raised and trained under extremely adverse conditions. Because of Trite's hostile environment and its low oxygen ratio, only the mutant strong would survive. They would become supreme power machines when engaged on planets where conditions surpassed their own minimal fuel requirements.
So far in the assault on the three planets, Korba had not taken the time to ascertain if any of the Empire's genetic strains were being employed, but he would check into that soon. His primary objective up until now had been to hit fast and to hit hard, minimizing his losses and maximizing theirs.
Regardless of whose genetics were at the core of these breeding colonies, he had been right about one thing. The resistance they had met was beyond formidable, and the Empire's losses were far from satisfactory. These colonies were well established and brutally fortified.
Korba leaned back, wishing he could have simply diverted RIBUS 7 with her massive firepower and obliterated the three planets. The job would have been done easily, thoroughly, and with no loss of life to the Empire. But he also knew that the deployment of such a large vessel rarely went undetected, and her approach to these breeding colonies would have sent the seeds of hell scattering amongst the stars.
Korba took in a large, calming breath. He allowed his ship to feather to the surface, its antigravity field cushioning the massive fighter in its smooth and uninhibited descent. His two wingmen followed his path, and all three ships hovered within inches of the planet's rocky skin.
At Korba's unannounced decision to land, the other four accompanying fighters automatically took up a defensive position around his ship. All remained at different altitudes, all with primary sensors and weapons aimed in different directions.
With a verbal command, Korba extinguished the antigravity field within his cockpit, and the ship's protective hood automatically slid back, allowing him access to the bleak planet. He released his restraints and pulled himself out of the fighter. He dropped to the ground with leopard-like athleticism, landing in a defensive crouch. He surveyed his surroundings thoroughly before he stood.
He stepped away from the hovering ship and began removing his flight helmet, his lungs taking their first strained breath of rancid air. He replaced the shroud's hood over his head, protecting him from any excessive radiation bursts possibly missed by the ship's sensors. Carefully, he began picking his way through the peripheral rubble of the obliterated city. He approached a sizeable mound of rock, instinctively drawing a large lazgun off his shoulder and out from under his shroud.
"All appears quiet, my Lord," came Ilan's observation as he moved up beside Korba.
Korba simply nodded as his eyes panned the horizon. He then returned his attention to the rock before him. Approaching it circumspectly, he kicked away some debris, and the hidden entrance to the structure appeared. Korba squatted down near the edge of the doorway, allowing his eyes to adjust to the inky darkness within. He sniffed the surrounding air, thick with the smell of death. He listened for sound and then cautiously entered.
It was a large, multiroomed complex, and Korba saw immediately that there were no survivors. Those who had not been killed by direct blasts and falling debris had been eliminated by percussion drops.
He turned, noting Ilan's position at the door, and then proceeded inward. The structure seemed to be a simple home containing no evidence of a lab or experimental equipment. Korba went unemotionally from body to body, looking for signs of the Empire's genetic lines. He checked the children closely for the characteristic blue-black hair and azure eyes, but all seemed devoid of such traits.
Korba tensed, feeling a chill crawl up his spine in response to an additional presence entering the room, but then he relaxed, sensing it was Marri.
"Looks like a good job," she murmured, her icy eyes scanning the carnage.
Korba remained silent. He tilted his head, listening for any telltale signs of life beyond any of the seemingly solid walls. Satisfied that total eradication had been achieved, he turned toward Marri. He glanced at her and gave her a faint smile. "How are you?" he asked, nodding at the small wound on her shoulder.
"Fine," she replied. "Just a little tired." She looked up into his luminous blue eyes as he passed by her.
"I know the feeling," he empathized, and he exited the house.
"Do you wish to do a ground search of the area, Commander?" queried Ila
n.
"No. I am confident that all is secure. I'll send a small force back later just to make sure. But all transportation routes are definitely out of commission, so if there is anyone left, they will not get far."
Ilan nodded and returned to his fighter to monitor the sensor data and communications sent down by the orbiting fighters. Korba started toward his ship. Then, choosing a suitable boulder, he sat down for a brief moment of rest and a chance to think.
Marri returned to him carrying two containers of liquid nutrients. Korba thanked her as she slumped to the base of the rock. Resting her head back, she closed her eyes and relaxed totally. Korba laid his gun down and began sipping the drink. He regarded Marri briefly, noting her incautious pose. He smiled to himself, knowing full well that she was taking advantage of his presence. But she deserved the rest, and he did not mind. She was serving him well, and it was the least he could do in return.
Korba continued to watch over the area, and eventually Marri's soft voice broke the silence. "It's always so quiet and so peaceful after it's all over," she uttered almost dreamily.
Korba glanced down at her. "Once achieved, death is always quiet."
"I suppose," she replied. "But it's a different sort of a quiet, different from any other."
Korba continued to look at her, waiting for her to elaborate. She tilted her head up and smiled at him. "I guess you could call it... a deathly quiet."
Korba groaned at her shallow and elementary observation. Then, planting his boot behind her back, he gave her a not-so-subtle shove.
Marri lurched forward, struggling not to spill her drink and laughing with him as she regained her balance. "Well!" she shouted. "How would you describe it?"
Still smiling, Korba leaned back on his elbows. "I guess the silence demanded by death depends on whose death it is," he began. "If it your own people's death, it's an uneasy silence, a solemn silence. If it is the death of your enemies, it's a satisfying silence, I suppose..." He grinned to himself, feeling Marri's eyes upon him. "A true..." He hesitated just as Marri leaned forward in anticipation. "A true... deadly silence," he blurted.
And with that, Korba dove off the rock and rolled behind it just as Marri's expected retaliation came swiftly. The small rock she had forcefully launched at him narrowly missed his ear. Korba laughed as she approached him.
"Well! Aren't you original!" she shouted, stifling her laughter. She kicked the bottom of his boot.
"Well, who really cares?" he chuckled. "Death is final, it is absolute, it is not an abstract concept."
Marri covered her mouth and swallowed her laughter as she looked down at him in his befuddled pose. She slumped beside him and returned the drink to him that he had so aptly managed to leave unspilled on the rock as he had vaulted off. "I guess you are right," she sighed. "Yet again," she mumbled, looking to him.
Korba sat upright and placed his arm over her shoulder. "As always," he chided, instantly receiving a well-placed blow from her fist into his stomach.
Both of them reclined against the rock, feeling marginally more relaxed from their brief outburst of merriment, their light sparring releasing the pent-up tension from their depleted bodies. They were silent for a time as Marri continued to lean into the comforting side of the man she loved so much. Finally, she spoke. "How much longer are we going to be on this hellhole of a planet?"
"Until we are done," came his monotone reply. "Probably about another five to six weeks, as long as we don't encounter any more nasty surprises or lose too many more ships."
Marri straightened from him and took the last of her drink. Suddenly, Korba jumped to his feet, looking toward Ilan's ship.
"High-speed approach by one of ours, my Lord," shouted Ilan.
Korba grabbed his weapon as Marri rose beside him. Both of them watched as the sleek, ebony fighter came to an abrupt halt about twenty meters from where they stood.
The pilot shouted at them. "Word from Sector 4, my Lord. All our communications are still down, so I came here personally. Gainy has taken most of the men to Sector 11, as the Sector 4 area is now clear. There are eleven of us still on site, and we've discovered a large underground network of tunnels. Judging by our initial sensor indications, we suspect that at least twenty breeders have escaped into them. We could use some help from your men if you permit, Sire, as it would take too long to recall Gainy."
Korba did not hesitate. "We'll all go," he said, turning toward his ship.
"My Lord!" shouted the pilot. "With all due respect, Sire, it's close quarters, and they'll have to be flushed out by hand. I cannot assure your safety, and would prefer not to be responsible for your possible injury."
Korba turned to the pilot and nodded. The Warlord did not recognize the man but knew that he was one of Dar's. "What's your name, Lieutenant?"
"Sirus, my Lord."
"You are on record as having sufficiently warned your Commander as to the dangerous conditions and of possible harm to life and limb. You are hereby absolved of all responsibility for me. Now lead the way, and that's an order."
"Yes, my Lord," came the pilot's relieved reply.
But Ilan was far from relieved. He had fought many battles by the side of the Warlord, and he had never seen Korba take so many unnecessary chances. Korba was deliberately and constantly putting himself in jeopardy, and for no apparent reason.
Korba and Marri returned to their ships quickly, and the four hovering guards converged around them. Within seconds, the entire group sped away toward the horizon.
Korba followed Sirus's lead as they did a swift cautionary flyby of the area in which they were to land. Korba made a mental note of the positions of the ten fighters below them and then issued the order to descend. Two ships remained airborne as sentries, while the rest nestled gently to the ground.
Korba met Sirus as the warrior jumped from his ship. "Where to?" Korba asked briskly.
"This way, my Lord," and he led the five men and Marri to an underground entrance guarded by two of Dar's men. "They are down there, Sire. The passage splits in two distinct segments approximately one hundred and forty meters along, one tunnel leading easterly, the other northerly. Surveillance of the area indicates that they are strictly for storage with no other exits or entrances, but we can't be sure."
"Storage of what?" asked Korba.
"Well, the preliminary reports by the men down there indicate storage of just about everything, as the tunnels are vast in some areas. But we have not penetrated too deeply. The men have encountered mostly food and medical supplies but also some munitions. They recommend the use of knives and darts to prevent the whole place from going up."
Korba nodded and glanced at those around him, making sure that they understood.
"Who do you think is down there?" queried Ilan.
"No idea, sir. This part of the compound was a medical center, so they could be simple breeders. But the area was also heavily guarded, so they could be military personnel. Sensors only caught the life forms briefly. Now they are too deep for sensors to follow. In fact, we were lucky to have picked them up at all."
"Where are your men?" asked Korba.
"Five are down the right tunnel, three down the left, and they have been gone for quite some time now. But you'll have to watch for them. The tunnels are too contorted for personal sensors to be of much use. We'll have to take care not to hit our own."
Korba nodded. He knew that he did not have to tell any of his men or Marri what precautions to take. They would already know. He paused momentarily as he thought through his plan. "Sirus, I want you and your men to penetrate the right corridor where the majority of your men are. The guards in the ships will secure this area and cover the entrance. The rest of us will take the left. I want you to report back here in one hour regardless of the situation. We may need more help if they're warriors, as they're fighting on familiar ground."
"Yes, my Lord." Sirus nodded to his men, and they promptly receded into the darkness.
Korba turned to hi
s group. "Any questions?"
But there were none. With no words spoken, the group began a slow and cautious descent along the main tunnel. At the split, Korba stood still momentarily, listening to the echoes of the corridors. Then, carefully, they advanced again, each person simultaneously selecting a knife from his or her sheath.
Their steps were slow and silent, their progression almost arthritic. Then suddenly, Korba stopped. His steely eyes met Ilan's as both men smelled the blood at the same instant. Korba signaled to Ilan to accompany him while Marri and his other men stood in silent watch.
Korba slowly rounded the corner of the darkened tunnel, his catlike visual acuity straining for purchase. He winced at the fallen figure on the floor draped in black. Ilan stood guard over Korba as the Warlord carefully checked the body. Korba looked into the tranquil face of the Imperial Iceanean warrior, and the Commander's blood ran bitterly cold.
Korba stood, pausing momentarily. He then signaled in silent battle language to the entire group. There would still be two of their men ahead, and they would have to be vigilant.
They took the next section of tunnel at an even slower pace, silently searching storage containers; everyone's nerves were hair-trigger sensitive. Soon, they encountered the unexpected: another branch in the dark and damp dungeon of hell.
Korba sorted through his options. Then he signaled Marri and the three men into the right arm, indicating that if any three of them met their end, the lone survivor was to head for the surface. They were to remain there for a period of one hour and await orders from either him or Ilan or Sirus. If no response was forthcoming, they were to acquire reinforcements from Gainy immediately.
Marri nodded obediently and led the assault down the right tunnel. Korba glanced at Ilan, and the warrior nodded his readiness. Together, the two men began their portion of the operation.
The tunnel was narrow and empty for a long time. Eventually it widened out into a vast cavern dimly lit by small floating lanterns.