IRON SPEAR

by Anthony Thackston

  Irons and Durham stood at the very back where there was plenty of room to breathe, and more importantly, to keep the cool air from the air conditioning vents on them. They both watched the giant hologram of Benjamin’s head and shoulders floating just behind the man himself.

  “I hope you’ve all enjoyed the refreshments and the wonderful atmosphere Wartech has provided this morning. I know it’s a little early for some of the more exotic beverages making their way around so hopefully you’ve all exercised some moderation,” Benjamin went on.

  The crowd laughed courteously at what was an amusing quip at best but hardly funny. Wartech’s CEO may have received in A in business sense but his comedic skills were severely lacking. Then again, it was possible he wasn’t making a joke at all but voicing an actual concern that the rest of the room mistook as an attempt at humor. Either way it had the desired effect on certain attendees, the bulk of whom laughed while Irons and Durham stood staunch still.

  “You’ve all been invited this morning to witness Wartech’s newest line of military and consumer defense weapons systems.” Benjamin waved his arms as if presenting the various guns and armors on the pedestals behind the crowd. “From the tiniest of neurotoxin applicators to the biggest of rifles, Wartech has always prided itself on…”

  Benjamin went on regaling the crowd with the company’s mission statement, a statement so many had heard before. Irons locked eyes with the Admiral who sat on the stage next to the podium. There was something scheming in the way she was looking at him. And since he was still fond of her, the Captain was hoping it was something personal even though he knew her too well for that.

  “Those are some holes you’re burning there, Boss. Thinking about taking up your vows again?” Durham teased.

  “Mind your business, Durham. There’s something more going on here.”

  “What makes you say that?”

  “Why this conference? She could have turned down Stevens’s request to get me here. But she didn’t. I wanna know why.”

  “I think you’re reading too much into nothing.”

  “Trust me. I lived with her long enough to know something’s up.”

  “…and now if you’ll all turn your attention to this lovely lady.” Benjamin turned to an empty space on the stage. A door slid open on the stage floor and a pedestal rose. On top of it was a thin rifle with a long scope on its top. “The TRX 001 or, as we like to call it, the Super Sniper Rifle.”

  The crowd laughed again. Durham raised one eyebrow at the sight of the gun.

  “Now that is interesting.”

  “What, you tired of mining?”

  “Just thinking about my future, Boss.”

  Benjamin stepped behind the gun, the big hologram head following him. “This one of a kind, bleeding edge marvel is the most accurate rifle…”

  Irons noticed a strange thing about his ex-wife on that stage. She kept her eyes on Irons and nodded toward the gun. It was a movement and a glance that only he would understand, almost as if she wanted to see a certain display.

  “Too bad we don’t have a target to practice on,” Benjamin said.

  Almost as if on cue a sudden snarling came from behind the group. Durham and Irons spun around to see a well armed Ka’traxis Brood soldier rushing up behind them.

  Three

  That Old Feeling

  Screaming and shouting, people rushed into each other going this way and that, all trying to avoid being shot by the Ka’traxis Brood warrior. Even Durham tensed up, though slightly less fearful than the others in the crowd. Slacker or no, military training and a few battles will have that affect. Irons tensed, too, but more in preparation for the coming fight. His tactical mind burst into activity, running through various offensive and defensive scenarios.

  “Captain!” Mona yelled from the stage.

  Irons glanced back to see her throw the TRX 001 Super Sniper Rifle over the crowd. Of all the scenarios that played in his head, his ex-wife throwing him a weapon wasn’t one of them. The gesture gave him some hope that perhaps the two could rekindle that old flame. That same hope took his mind off of the task just long enough for the Ka’traxis Brood soldier to fire off a shot, hitting the floor at Irons’s feet. Instead of catching the weapon, he spun back toward the attacker and pushed off toward it.

  Durham caught the flying Super Sniper Rifle and instinctively understood how it worked. Despite his slacker attitude, Durham was extremely proficient with firearms. It was a natural ability that had saved him and others on more than one occasion. He checked the magazine then brought the scope to his eye, scanning for a clear shot.

  Irons’s fist cracked across the attacker’s whiskered face. The slit-like pupils and fur covered bodies of the Ka’traxis Brood were nearly identical to Earth’s domestic house cat, though the Ka’traxis Brood shared no genetic relation. The most telling difference between the two was their size and how they moved. The bipedal Ka’traxis Brood had opposable thumbs and were large and intimidating at an average height of seven feet. And they could speak, and not just in a hissing sound as Earth cats. They had their own language and had even adopted the languages of other worlds.

  The Ka’traxis Brood warrior rolled with the punch and came back with its rifle raised, striking Irons across the face. Irons also rolled with the hit then grabbed the gun and jerked it away from the furry hands. Irons let the gun hit the floor and raised his fists, ready for a hand to hand fight with the warrior.

  “I never got payment for this.” Irons pointed at his eye patch. “I’ll take it out on you.”

  “Ssshe comes,” the cat-like alien hissed.

  “Quit your yappin’.” Irons threw another punch.

  The alien blocked it and swiped at Irons with its sharp talons. The one inch long claws ripped through Iron’s shirt, tearing four holes in it. Much too close for comfort.

  Irons thrust his leg out, kicking the alien backwards to make some distance between him and it. “Thought we got rid of you Catters last time.”

  Catters was military slang for the Ka’traxis Brood.

  “Ssshe comesss for revenge,” the Catter said.

  “Boss, get down!” Durham yelled.

  Irons didn’t even look back for an explanation. He just dropped to the floor.

  Durham pulled the trigger of the Super Sniper Rifle. Most guns fire their projectiles in a fast, straight line but the TRX 001 was not most guns. The bullet shot out at an approximate speed of twenty miles an hour and moved fast enough to see. Confused, Durham lowered the gun and saw the bullet dive for the ground, nearly hitting Irons in the leg.

  “What kind of gun is this?” Durham yelled.

  Even the Catter was confused by the technology.

  Benjamin poked his head up from behind the podium. “It’s a radio control system. Once the bullet ejects, the user can control its trajectory by—”

  “Just make it shoot straight!” Irons yelled.

  Durham brought the rifle to bear and fired again. This time he kept the Catter in the scope.

  Catters were fast. No human could ever outrun them in a long distance foot race. For a few seconds, the Catter actually managed to stay ahead of the bullet as it ran from the projectile. The fleeing alien made a few curves, trying to avoid being shot but Durham used the TRX 001 to keep the bullet on course right behind its target.

  Irons watched the Catter get closer to the entrance of the conference hall. An escape would give it another chance to attack later.

  To his relief, the bullet finally hit its mark as Durham raised the gun just enough for a quick headshot.

  The Catter dropped to the floor and slid just inside the doorway of the hall entrance.

  Durham lowered the gun and looked down at it, grinning from ear to ear. “I think I’m in love.”

  Irons rose to his feet and spun around, shooting daggers at the Admiral who still stood on the stage.

  Mona made tiny claps with her hands, congratulating Irons for the little victory. To anyone else, it co
uld have been taken as a condescending gesture. But Irons knew better. She just didn’t want anyone else to notice.

  “Ok. It’s ok, everyone,” Benjamin Stevens said from the podium. “I guess we missed one in the war.” He chuckled, trying to ease the tension. “I think it’s safe the say that the war is now, officially, over. You’re all safe thanks to Captain James Irons and Private Durham. And how about that display of Wartech weaponry? Now if everyone would calmly exit the hall, those interested in a deal may speak with Wartech representatives back in the ballroom. We also have some amazing incentive packages as well.”

  The crowd murmured and some even cheered at the victory that happened before their very eyes.

  “We also have medics on staff in case anyone was hurt. Thank you all so much for coming,” Benjamin continued.

  A few people rushed toward the exit door, some eager to just get out after the harrowing experience. Others were eager to secure contracts for weapons like the TRX 001. And still there were those who took their time, not wanting to rush into anyone else. Irons watched the rotund man as his Nordic escorts did their best to console him. He winced at the weird baby talk the three of them were using.

  “Hey, Boss,” Durham said. “I think the Admiral wants a word.”

  Irons looked back up at the stage to see Mona and Benjamin both standing with hands behind their backs and looking dead at him.

  “Great.”

  * * *

  “Well done, Captain,” Benjamin said, clapping for anyone to hear though no one else was in the conference hall. Only the four of them remained. “I was hoping to see you with the gun but Private Durham’s use of it was almost as good, I imagine.”

  “You imagine wrong. Durham’s a better shot that I am. The right man got the gun.”

  “Aw, thanks, Boss,” Durham said, genuinely grateful.

  “Shut up.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Regardless, you both proved yourselves,” Mona said. “That’s enough for me.”

  “I agree. And my guess is that you’ll do the same if this is going to work,” Benjamin said as he reached for the TRX 001.

  Irons held his arm in front of Durham, stopping him from handing the weapon back to its owner. “What was this, Mona?”

  “Get used to addressing me as Admiral, again, Captain.”

  “I’m not in the service anymore.”

  “Not yet. As for this…call it a test. That Catter is the reason you were invited, this morning.”

  “You knew that thing was here?” Irons accused.

  “Who do you think gave it the gun?” Benjamin smiled. “It’s last year’s flagship machine gun. We figured it would be relatively safe in the larger hands of the Catter. It had more trouble firing it than we thought it would. Which turned out for the best.”

  “You planned this and let one of those loose on a crowd?” Durham asked.

  “Everything was well in control, Private,” Mona said.

  “Everyone was in good hands. After all, the Iron Albatross was here,” Benjamin said, still smiling from the excitement of watching his hero in action.

  “Where did that thing come from?” Irons asked.

  “We targeted a scout ship about a week ago. I sent out some troops to find it. That Catter is what they brought back. It told us ‘she comes’. That seemed to be all it could say.”

  “I take full responsibility for today, Captain,” Benjamin said. “The Admiral had her doubts about your efficacy in a combat situation. I never lost faith. I told her ‘Captain James Irons is too much of a battle hardened bad-ass to lose capability’. I’m glad to see I was right.”

  Irons ignored the CEO’s fawning. “It said the same thing to me. Twice. What did it mean?”

  “Go back to your ship and get your crew,” Mona said. “Bring them back to my boat. I’ll tell you what you need to know.”

  “You’ll tell me more than that,” Irons shot back.

  Four

  Meet The Gang

  Irons was the first to step off the gangplank of Admiral Collins’s flagship battle cruiser, the SS Star Predator. This ship was one of several new, high tech, advanced Wartech designed behemoths made for advanced space warfare.

  “If we had even half of this boat’s armaments, we could mine through meteors in a fraction of the time,” Syracuse Hill said.

  Irons’s former XO, Syracuse Hill, was a tall man, bald with white hair on the sides and back of his head. Hill didn’t have quite the physique of Irons. His clothes were a little snugger than they used to be and he fatigued faster than he did in his active duty days, but everyone knew better than to bet against him. Syracuse Hill was the only man who could come close to beating Irons in a fight. He was also the only one who could reason with Irons when things got too heated. Between the two, Hill was the voice of reason.

  “You think the Admiral wants to give us a new ship?” Former Private Lindsay Brooks said.

  “The Lucky Liberty can run circles around this thing,” Irons said.

  “I’d say that’s more than debatable,” Durham whispered to Lindsay.

  Annoyed, Lindsay increased her pace to get ahead of Durham.

  “Am I wrong?” Durham asked.

  Lindsay Brooks was known as a ‘good soldier’. She was a distractingly attractive woman who could have easily forgone a life of training drills and combat for one of luxury, fame and fortune. But she was also a woman who had military in her veins. Her family history with the armed services went as far back as the days when the Earth saw tanks and propeller driven airplanes fighting across large swaths of countryside. She was trained for this before her grandparents even met.

  Her jumpsuit was always ironed and cleaned, treated as though it were her fleet uniform. Her hair was short and what many would call ‘cute’ without looking too boyish. Despite no longer being a soldier, she continued to conduct herself in the same manner.

  “Captain, what is this about?”

  “If I knew that, you wouldn’t be here, Brooks,” Irons told her flatly.

  “Yes, sir.” She saluted.

  Irons rolled his eyes. There was no doubt that he appreciated her ability to follow orders but there were times when he wished she would drop the ‘good soldier’ routine. They were space miners now. All the saluting and parade resting only served to remind him of better days. More dangerous but still better days.

  Following well behind the rest of the team as they made their way through the upper deck, was Tech Specialist Hannah Xuyen. Hannah was the only member of the Lucky Liberty that retained her title after the ship was decommissioned. Unlike Durham, Brooks and Hill who had soldier ranks, Hannah’s duties stayed the same and so she kept her title. She was a technological genius. Even as a child, doctors were calling her a prodigy of mathematics. Through the years her interest in the sciences only grew. Give her a gadget or a piece of technology and it was taken apart, analyzed and put back together in mere hours. It was a skill that had once saved an entire colony from being scattered across the cosmos. If there was technology involved, Hannah was the best bet for deciphering it. The technology aboard the SS Star Predator was like candy to her.

  “Xuyen! Keep up!” Syracuse called back to her.

  Hannah rushed to catch up but kept her eyes on all of the high tech components she passed by.

  * * *

  Irons and his crew faced Admiral Collins and Benjamin Stevens across a table. The war room was a sparse gray room large enough to hold around fifteen people and one oblong table that had a clear surface.

  “Thank you for coming, Captain,” Benjamin said. “And to the rest of you. I’m actually really excited and terrified about why you’re here. But it’s probably best I let the Admiral fill you in.”

  “Just the facts, Mona,” Irons said.

  “Agreed.” Mona swiped her hand over the table and a projection appeared just above it. She lifted one of her arms and the image above the table grew larger. The sight of a Catter staring at them was a shock, espec
ially to those who hadn’t been in the conference room during the attack.

  “I recognize her,” Hannah said. “That’s the Ka’traxis Brood Queen.”

  “Very good,” Mona complimented. “This is Ju’ T-Leen. I’m sure I’m butchering that pronunciation so we just call her J. She is the Catter Queen. The very one who said they would return.”

  “I can guess where this is going,” Durham said.

  “We received this transmission before my team found that scout ship.”

  “This is why I said I was terrified,” Benjamin said.

  “Well, don’t keep me waiting,” Irons told Mona as though seeing the Catter Queen on the display was a minor annoyance.

  “Very well.” Mona tapped the table top and the image came to life.

  “I told you we would return,” J said. Two fangs were bared as she spoke. “There is nowhere for you to run. Your off world battle ships have been rendered inert. Their life support systems taken down. Your soldiers are no longer useful to you. Take heart that they suffered very little. Those left on your pathetic planet will suffer greatly at the destructive power of my forces. And you will feel—”

  Irons tapped the surface, freezing the image. “You found the scout a week ago and this showed up before that?”

  “Right. The problem is, we don’t know how close the Catter Armada was before their Queen sent that transmission,” Benjamin said.

  “But you know how close they are now?” Lindsay asked.

  Mona and Benjamin shared a look suggesting more information was known.

  Irons recognized the glance and slammed his fist down on the table. “I said the facts. You know full well what I’m gonna ask so just come out with it.”

  “Sorry.” Benjamin swiped at the display and a new image appeared.

  The three dimensional map showed Earth, the few ships orbiting it and a large cluster of Catter ships. Far more than Earth’s.

  “The cluster is so tight, it’s hard to know just how many there are. We estimate at twenty tanks and one hundred LAV’s,” Benjamin said.