by Trevor Wyatt
I motion to Zhang, while smiling at my wittiness.
“That’s all?” the man asks, hope glinting off his eye.
I smile at him suggestively. Anything to get the fucker off us.
“Of course. I mean, it doesn’t always have to be him…”
The man draws up to his full length.
“I can invite more than one man to my bed, or choose another entirely,” I purr. I see his pants bulge at the thought.
Good. I want him to think about me like that. It keeps him from thinking about any potential inconsistencies.
“Whatever,” the team leader says with a growl, trying to suppress his desire. “We’re being summoned by the Tys. Meet me in the CNC. We’re using the war room.”
“Roger that, sir.” I wink.
The man leaves the room, throwing one last shady glance at Zhang’s way.
“That was intense.” Zhang says, once we’re all alone again.
I smile at him, remembering the kiss.
“Yeah, you can say that.”
I retrieve the cube from beneath the bed and return it to the bag, where it’s secure. No one should be able to break into my bag without my permission. Otherwise, it’ll self-destruct, consuming everything within in laser fire.
“Wait for me outside,” I tell him. “I want to get off of this outrageous outfit.”
Zhang leaves the room. I change into a black tight pants and a black vest. I grab my leather jacket and throw it over my body, zipping it up to my neck. The jacket hugs my body very well. Just the way I like it.
I grab my utility belt, holstering a laser blade on my left and a blaster on my right.
When I join Zhang outside, he whistles.
I laugh. “What?”
“Are you planning on killing anyone?”
“Not if they plan on killing me,” I reply.
We find the elevator that takes us straight into the CNC. When we get there, a Tyreesian pulls away from his station and leads us into a small corridor to the side, which deposits us in front of a small doorway.
“They’re in there, Terran schtika,” the Tyreesian says using a native slur and returns to the Control Center.
I look at Zhang. He shrugs.
We both enter the war room.
I’m taken by the magnitude of the place. It’s twice the size of a Terran CNC, with an elevated battle console that’s about ten yards across. The battle console projects up into the air, filling a large section of the room with a galactic map. It’s almost beautiful.
The team leader and the remaining nine of us are already in the war room. There are about five high-ranking Tyreesians in the room, including the commander. The commander is on the other side of the war room, talking on the phone with someone who’s on the Tyreesian home world, probably his admiral or some other superior officer, whatever the chain of command is in the Tyreesian Collective.
Zhang ambles to where the other nine were in a knot, while I march up to the team leader.
“Nice of you to join us,” he mumbles, keeping his gaze on the battle console. He and I are on the elevated platform, while Zhang and the rest are down behind us. On the other side, the commander takes his place on the platform, while two other Tyreesians join him.
“What’s the mission?” the team leader asks.
The commander converses with his two lieutenants for a while, before looking up to us.
“We have a new mission for you.”
Then he pauses.
No kidding, I thought. In these meetings, I prefer to allow the team leader to actually take the lead.
“Yes, that’s what you said,” the team leader says.
The Commander continues, “No doubt, you’ve heard of the Four Powers summit. If not, you soon will. What you don’t know is that the Terran Union is using that planet of that summit to develop FTL 6. Patreus II only supplied a portion of the data. They are doing the main research on this planet.”
My interest is automatically piqued. I got whiff of such research, but I never really did seek out more information. Not that I couldn’t. It’s just that I don’t bother myself with what the Armada Science is currently researching on. What I’m more interested in is what they’ve been able to create.
“As you may or may not know,” the lieutenant to the right of the commander speaks up. “All known races currently have the same capability when it comes to faster than light travel. Though we have different names for our drives, our speed capability ends at FTL 5. We believe that the Armada is very close to achieving FTL 6 and we believe that this research is being conducted on this planet we are sending you to.”
I’m about to ask a question when the other lieutenant, the one on the left of the commander, begins to speak.
“Since we couldn’t steal the data, then destroying this will be a great boost to us and to your Separatist movement. We will be providing the bomb that you will plant to stop the progress on the upgrades. This bomb is relatively minor and localized, but we need you to attach it to a power conduit in the Terran Union building that the summit is being held at because that’s where the researchers and main offices of FTL 6 development will be. Once tied to a power source, the bomb increases in power exponentially and will destroy the entire Terran Union building. Also, doing this at such a time when there is a summit being held will cause the talks between the Terran Union, the Kurta and The Human Confederation to fail. This will be greatly to your advantage.”
And to yours, I think. Such an action by the Separatists will not only disrupt the talks or the summit. It will lead to war if Earth sees the influence of the Outer Colonies. A direct attack on an Armada or Union installation is an act of war—the kind that can’t be overlooked.
It has become obvious to me now that the Tyreesians want war between the Outer Colonies and Earth, which I suppose will draw them more into the Tyreesian orbit. How ingenious! This summit would have been a veritable ground to establish a cooperative agreement. Instead, it may be a prelude to another war
Bastards, I mutter. Talk about corrupting good intentions.
The Tyreesians are not Sonali. If they come to the defense of the Outer Colonies, this could be a much bigger blood bath.
“As long as the Terran Union suffers from this, we’ll plant the bomb,” the team leader says. “What is that planet again? I’ve never heard of this summit.”
The commander taps a button on the ledge of the battle console and the projection of the galaxy in the air zooms into a portion of the border between the Terran Union and The Human Confederation.
As soon as I see the small farming planet, my heart skips a beat. I need to pretend this is new info despite everything I know.
“The planet is Perseus,” the commander says. “Also, you must know that at this summit that representatives from the Tyreesian Collective and the Kurta Colonies are going to be present.”
“Wait, what?” the team leader says. “You want us to bomb your own people, too?”
The commander says, “Will that be a problem for you?”
He shrugs. “If that’s what you want, no problem.”
I want to turn to Zhang to see what he’s thinking. I hold myself in.
“One more thing,” the commander says. “Our intelligence service has received information that one of the Tyreesian delegates intends to defect to the Terran Union. We don’t know who. But we know that Terran Armada Intelligence is going to try to help them. Watch out for this defector and take him or her out.”
As soon as he’s done talking, I feel a cold terror slide down my throat. If these guys know of the defector, then our intelligence instrument is compromised. There’s a spy in the Armada Intelligence.
The commander dismisses us. The team leader and I hang back to discuss the finer details of the mission. Even though I’m following the planning of the mission, in the darker part of my mind, I conclude that my actual mission is three-fold.
One, to obtain the teleporter and the defector.
Two
, to plant the bomb.
Three, to find that fucking mole and take him out.
No One
The next day, the warship drops out of FTL space about half a day outside of Perseus. While the warship has been sent by the Tyreesian government as part of the diplomatic convoy along with half a dozen other ships and soldiers carrying the Tyreesian flag, the captain doesn’t want to risk the chance of the Terran Armada discovering our true mission. He tells us that, according to Tyreesian delegates already on ground in Perseus, the entire place is crawling with Marines and Armada officials.
There’s a hovering spaceport around the planet, where all vessels must present themselves for checking before being allowed to land in the main ports on the ground.
“That’s a lot of security for some blasted summit involving aliens on a fucking farming world,” the team leader said afterwards, when we were going through the final details of our plan.
I reply to him. “Don’t forget, this planet isn’t just a farming colony. It’s actually the base of a high-level Armada research facility. And if they’re researching about FTL 6, then you better be sure that there will be serious security there, both on land and in space.”
“How can you be certain?” he asks.
“Because I’ve worked for the Armada before,” I reply. “I know how they work. I know how they function. I don’t think they’ve changed much since I abandoned them.”
He then sighs.
“So, we're basically going against a fortress?”
I don’t answer that question.
Now, I’m in the shuttle deck, where another small corvette is waiting for us. I’m the first to arrive, while a few of the men arrive later. They are dressed to the teeth with all sorts of weapons. Zhang comes in next, after which the team leader. They are all equipped and ready.
The team leader points to Zhang. “You.”
Zhang looks up and stiffens.
“You will be piloting the ship.”
“Ok, sir,” Zhang replies.
The team leader addresses us.
“This mission is going to be very dangerous. Stay sharp and shoot straight.”
He pauses. “Let’s go do this.”
Zhang leads the way into the corvette. It’s the same corvette we used at Patreus III, only the Tyreesians have changed almost everything. The color, the signal sign, the model number and everything that can electronically tie us to what people are calling the massacre of Patreus III. Yes, we have become the most wanted galactic terrorists in the entire Terran Union.
Zhang, the team leader, and I take up positions in the cockpit, with Zhang taking the pilot seat. The rest of the team strap in, in the small den outside the cockpit.
I lean forward and say, “Boss, I have a bad feeling about this mission.”
“Why?” he replies. “You helped plan it.”
“Yeah, but I didn’t plan on using the same ship that’s tied to our work in Patreus III,” I say.
Zhang fires up the engines, and the vessel trembles alive. He begins his preflight check, communicating with the warship’s communications and navigations officer and downloading required data for the trip.
“They cleaned up the ship,” he replies, “at least that’s what they say. Zhang, can you confirm that this is in fact a different ship from what we used the last time…electronically?”
Zhang mutes the comm and says, “It’s different.”
Then he returns to the comms.
The team leader looks at me.
“I know it’s different,” I say, “but it’s the same frame of vessel. It’s the same class of vehicle. Those security officers will definitely take a liking to us because they know that everything we’ve done to this vessel can be done. They may not want to discount the possibility, considering the fact that this is an inter-species summit.”
“We have no other choice,” he says. “It’s either this or we don’t go at all. We didn’t have time to refit the matter transport platform onto another vessel.”
I shrug.
“I just don’t like it.”
“You don’t have to like it,” the team leader replies with a finality in his voice. “You just have to get it done.”
I lean back into my seat.
Zhang says, “We’ve gotten permission to take off.”
At that moment, two things happen. The door of the shuttle bay begins to open and the vessel lifts off into the air. There is a containment shield at the exit way into space that prevents the vacuum from sucking out all the air in the shuttle bay.
Zhang guided the corvette out. The moment we go outside, he engages the FTL drive and we vanish into space. We spend the most part of the twelve hours we have poring over our plans. We weren’t able to get a detailed floor plan of the facility in the planet, so we were basically planning for eventualities rather than working on a particular plan.
The Tyreesians had provided us with the bomb. It’s shaped like a cylinder and is roughly two feet from end to end.
It’s small, but they still maintain that if attached to the power generator for the building, it will bring down the entire superstructure of the Terran Union building where the summit is being held, and it's one massive building. I doubt that such a device can actually destroy anything much larger than a single building. This one probably does it by burning through the power conduits. Simple and effective with localized destruction.
Just like the Tyreesian way.
“So, get ready folks,” the team leader says at the end of our final planning session. “We are going to arrive in about an hour. It’s going to be the early afternoon. People will be alert, so we have to be hyper alert.”
“Roger that,” I say amidst other similar replies.
I return to the cockpit with Zhang. We don’t talk to each other, even though we are alone. Thirty minutes later, the team leader comes into the cockpit and takes his seat in the copilot’s chair.
I am lost in my thoughts in the silence of the cockpit. I think about the mission and what I must do. I don’t like killing innocent people. More so, I hate killing Armada operatives. The guys I killed on Patreus III were just security guards, who were working for Star Tech.
But now, it’s different. Now I’m going up against an Armada base. These guys are officers of the Armada. They are my comrades in arms.
For a moment, I struggle with myself.
“We are coming out of FTL space,” Zhang says. “Now.”
On the view screen, we sort of appear in a star system, with a small planet ahead of us. There are about seven star ships orbiting the planet at different angles. There is a small ring—the spaceport, I realize, that maintains a very wide angle around the planet. In fact, I suspect that the angle is so wide that the ring isn’t affected by the gravity and has to use its thrusters to orbit.
Zhang maintains his bearing, which brings us into orbit in three minutes.
“Unidentified corvette,” says a bold voice in the comms. Zhang has it on speaker so we can hear. “This is Captain Bran of the TUS Twilight. Identify yourself and your purpose on Perseus?”
Zhang clears his throat silently.
“Hi,” he says in a youthful, nonchalant voice, “Hey, so me and my friends are tourists. Our friends back at New Washington suggested this pastoral world as a great tourist destination and we came to give it a look.”
“All eleven of you?” asks the Captain with a hint of incredulity.
“Yes, sir,” Zhang replies with an ebullient zing. “All eleven of us. You know what they say, the more the merrier.”
After a thoughtful pause, he adds, “Say, what’s with all the Armada ships? Is something going on?”
No response.
“Please proceed to the orbiting space port,” the captain says. “Officers of Armada Security from the planet will come and inspect your ship. If your story checks out, then you can go down to the planet. Enjoy your stay. Captain Bran out.”
The line goes dead.
In silenc
e, Zhang guides us to the orbiting space port. The port is a small one and has only six ports, three on both sides. Each ports are connected by a transparent tube that serves as a passageway between ships. One ship docks in one side, while another ship, usually a security pod, docks on the other side and then security officers pass through the tube to your ship to inspect.
It was designed for small vessels, especially when no one is expecting you.
Zhang docks perfectly. Ten minutes later, a security pod from the planet docks in the opposite pod.
“The pod has weapons,” Zhang announces.
“All security pods have weapons,” I reply. “We just have to convince them we aren’t trouble.”
“And how do we do that?” the team leader asks.
There is a sharp hiss as the tube harmonizes our atmosphere with the atmosphere of the pod.
“We take them out,” I say, then tap for Zhang to follow me.
In the den, where the men are on alert with their weapons outstretched, I say, “Remain here. Zhang and I will take care of this.”
Zhang follows me to the hatch. I pull out my blaster and set it to kill.
Zhang gives me a bad eye.
“What?” I whisper.
“Is that really necessary?”
I roll my eyes and set the gun to stun, and hide it behind myself.
The hatch opens up. Four officers step into the corvette, three of which are armed with rifles, while the fourth is carrying a tablet.
“Where are your occupants?” the leader asks.
Zhang motions in the direction of the den.
“Right this way, please.”
He leads, while they follow. I bring up the rear. I shoot the guy in my front, and then the next. They crumple to the ground. Zhang leaps backward into the lead, knocking him out. The remaining soldier is about to take a shot, but I leap onto him and tightly grip his neck. He slowly falls into unconsciousness.
“See?” Zhang says, looking up at me from the four knocked out officers. “We didn’t have to spill blood.”
“The pods are aiming at us!” the team leader asks.