Mutant Hunter

by Tobias Roote

Shrilla responded moments later, the frustration evident in her voice. “Ario’s right, this is the same code that followed us out of Archon-5 and one of the ships that took on the battleship blockade.”

  “Which begs the question – ” Grady began to respond when Ario cut in.

  “Receiving an encrypted system-wide message addressed to you, Grady,” the AI announced.

  “Citrix, this is Dalt, Grady, please respond on this frequency. The CNS vessel Dramatus is under our control and capable of breaching the AWA blockade. Repeat, this is not a trap, we have taken over the Dramatus and can assist.”

  As it began to repeat Grady instructed Ario to cut the communication.

  “It could still be a trap, but I don’t think so. Dalt isn’t one for giving in under pressure. He would simply not make the broadcast,” he said answering Shrilla’s unspoken concerns.

  “Ario, give me comms control.” Grady keyed the transmission switch back and forth in a pre-coded sequence. The clicks could be heard on the speakers.

  A series of clicks came back, longer and faster. Grady simply smiled.

  “We have ourselves transport to Fording Station,” he said and began to manually set the engines and navigation to the battleship’s location.

  “I’m really looking forward to finding out how they got themselves a battleship,” he sighed.

  “What was all that about ?” Shrilla looked decidedly suspicious.

  “Oh, the clicking ? It’s an ancient means of communicating across space and as far as we know we’re the only ones who know it. We use it for verification checks and it is also useful for secret messages in groups,” Grady answered.

  “I take it the ‘we’ you’re referring to is the Dispersalists ?” Shrilla replied coldly.

  Grady nodded absently without realising his admission, he was busy plotting a course to meet up with Dalt’s new ship and didn’t want to get into any discussion right now. There was too much at stake and no time for detailed explanations. He realised belatedly that he’d as good as admitted he was a ‘Dissie’ and half expected the whine of a laser warming up behind him. The itch was back.

  “Ario, push engines to full speed, we meet with Dalt at this location.” Grady flicked his screen and the coordinates and course details immediately appeared on the main vidscreen. He listened absently as the engine sounds reflected the confirmation of his instruction, then went back to reading the reports from Kildark and Range while studiously ignoring the fact that Shrilla hadn’t said another word.

  ***

  Unusually, Shrilla was bemused by everything going on around her. Was she the only one that didn’t get the memo that the AWA were allied with the Dispersalista ? It seemed that data from ENCIO, which could only have come from the DIA, was being passed to the AWA. Grady was somehow involved and working with active members of the DIA and even the ENCIO report itself acknowledged the possible validity of their teachings. She had been brought up to denounce anyone with such leanings, yet here she was surrounded by a universal unofficial, untalked about, acceptance of their existence. She should shoot Grady right now, but she had the distinct impression that in doing so she might just end up on the wrong side in this war that was heating up even as they sat here.

  In an effort to give her subconscious an opportunity to decide on what her next action should be, she switched her thought process to something else that was bothering her. How had a small vessel the size of Dalt’s, with a crew of no more than twenty, taken over a battleship the size of that behemoth. She was sure they were going into a trap, but Grady seemed oblivious.

  Shrilla sighed, remembering Grady being captured by the Archon guards, and began preparing herself for a confrontation with a Core marine squad. Checking her weapons, she reviewed the import of the message from AW Command.

  The report from Kildark and Range indicated there were serious ramifications attached to their discovery on Archon-5, not least that of Grady’s involvement with the ‘Dissies’. If Kildark was aware of Grady’s affiliation with the banned cult, then was he also involved with them ?

  She looked at Grady while he scanned the reports. She realised that she felt attraction for him, but her ingrained prejudice was throwing her off balance causing her to doubt everything he said or did. He was right though, there was certainly ‘something’ about the people on Archon-5, they weren’t the typical clone or mutant that the AW generally discovered. Against her better judgement she was beginning to lean towards his theory, and if so, then they were definitely in need of protection. She was beginning to accept that the corporations might have no qualms about eliminating them entirely if it suited their commercial needs and the report did indicate there were strong reasons for them to do so.

  She thought seriously about her upbringing and the Empire and corporation’s war against the Dissies. If they were wrong and there were ‘seeded’ planets out there... Well, that would really be something, and if Archon-5 turned out to be identified as the first, it would totally upend the stability of the Empire|Core pact.

  Shrilla came back to her previous conclusion, that she really had no choice but to trust Grady and this Dalt, but she was going in with her finger on the trigger and ready to kill something. Nobody that she knew had the ability to take a small ship with a small team, under fire, and take over a Core battleship. She decided that she needed to meet this Dalt who was such a good friend and ally to Grady and who appeared to be a superman.

  As the Citrix approached the Dramatus and she got a good look at the huge battleship from the cockpit, her impression was one of amazement. This was a cutting-edge warship and the lasers and cannon were massive. It was a dangerous opponent in a battle, she cussed admiringly “How in Grell did this friend of yours take over this... this beast !” she exclaimed, no longer able to hide her awe of such a feat.

  “I’m sure we will find out, but it’s not a new ship design, the drive is new and much of the armament has been upgraded, but it’s still an AF-59 series. If I remember rightly, Dalt and his team have dealt with them before during the Mutant Wars,” Grady replied distractedly as they approached the massive ship.

  “Ario, do we have landing instructions ?” he asked the AI as their ship began traversing the hull towards the rear sections.

  “We’re being guided in remotely by the Dramatus. The hangar should be coming up on visual in ten seconds,” the AI advised.

  Citrix, stand ready to disembark. The natives are friendly, repeat the natives are FRIENDS, came a voice over the comms unit.

  Grady looked at Shrilla who was a little contemptuous of the message and was cross-shouldering her PRX plasma pistol straps. Obviously there was more going on here than either of them understood. Shrilla’s puzzled look deepened into a full frown and Grady wondered what she was thinking right now. He caught himself as his eyes travelled over her tunic which, with her tailored body armour, made her look highly sensual in a scary sort of way. He reluctantly dragged his eyes back to the cockpit screen before she noticed just as the ship’s nose turned to facing the oncoming hangar that had come into view as they swung around a bulge housing the port side missile battery.

  There was a glare where the black background of space merged with the dark side of the hull illuminating their arrival area with flashing lights to indicate the direction through the hangar doors to their landing position. Grady left it to Ario to do the piloting and instead observed as much as he could of their approach. There were no suited-up crew in evidence. He also noted there was no reception committee.

  As they slid into the hangar his sight adjusted to the interior and his pilot’s mind registered lines of Beta4 fighter aircraft, the new model with twin thruster engines and central twin-lasers, slightly angled to travel separately but deliver a combined force that would disintegrate a target on impact. Nice toys !

  Arcturus-4, Encio Home World

  Dyle Phang grunted painfully as he lowered himself into the private air-car that was awaiting him on arrival at ENCIO’s
‘Zone’, the landing platform of their Company’s private planet. As per Empire regulations for all planets whether private or public-owned, the Zone was open to all, but commercially it was subject to ENCIO’s extortionate landing fees and regulations. As a result, few craft ever came uninvited and there was little to no commerce conducted in the free trade area, which suited its owners just fine.

  As soon as he was seated it took off on its programmed flight. Anywhere else and Phang would have panicked at the automated carrier, but here, he knew everything and what he didn’t know, he controlled. The transport system was under the direct control of one of his personal team – he felt safe.

  A grizzly old man, Phang had rejuvenation therapy once, but didn’t like going under the surgeon’s knife and losing control. As a result his cloned organs were now ageing and his features, once smooth, were now gnarled and wrinkled. He preferred the look, it gave him a scary countenance which often helped in bringing clandestine ops to a successful conclusion. He wasn’t afraid of dying ; in fact he looked forward to facing it down. His attitude was more a ‘this life sucks, death might be a better option’ which is why he visited it on so many of his enemies. He considered that sending them to a better place was doing them a favour and getting them out of his hair was just a bonus. He expected to join them within a few years.

  He still had regular injections to keep his stem cells reproducing those aspects of his body that wanted to break, but externally he was happy with his aged looks.

  He was known as ‘Mr Nasty’ because if you failed him, he made sure you paid in no uncertain terms, usually with some particularly heinous accident. So his reputation preceded him and he usually got what he wanted from people who had no means to defend themselves against his personal malevolence and his equally sadistic black ‘hit’ teams.

  Phang was DCOD for a reason, he got things done and didn’t talk. It also meant those who knew him kept themselves out of his reach. He was capable of looking after himself too, he had previously been a black ops agent and had more kills to his name than all of his team put together. All in all, Phang was a very dangerous man to be around.

  He was also a specialist. He excelled in creating accidents, you would never know that he’d killed a person. In space, accidents are easy to arrange. With multiple worlds in the Alliance it was also easy to hide, lose your pursuers or vanish entirely. Phang had aliases on many worlds. Although wanted in connection with many murders, deaths and unexplained missing people, Phang could still walk through any security base-station and be offered kaiko by their operatives.

  He had multiple contacts in all the main organisations. If one wanted to turn on him, they would be ‘spiked’ by another. His ‘eyes’ in their business meant he pretty much did what he wanted and profited from the intelligence.

  Currently, Phang was taking advantage of the ‘insider’ in Alliance of Worlds to pull the teeth of that organisation once and for all. The ‘puppet’ thought he was the ‘puppet master’ when in fact it was really Phang pulling the strings. His ambition was to be the CEO of ENCIO and then press the corporations into waging a final war on the Empire. The AW was a thorn in the corporation's side and Phang had decided to use his puppet inside the organisation to finish it off and get a clear run at the planets under its dominion. That alone would launch him into the CEO position over the existing head.

  Callebran, the incumbent CEO, was a middle-ager, a turn of the century rejuve who used clones as servitors to dominate his own political agendas. Callebran had no stomach for a fight, he was a peaceful coexistence sort of leader and whilst this provided the partners with a peaceful climate for business, it gave no opportunity for big profits. Phang knew that profit was what corporations were all about ; and war provided very high profits.

  The air-car strained its engines as it sought to reach the penthouse suite of the building that Phang called his office. At two-thousand feet, it was the highest building in the city. Today the clouds encompassed the tower’s landing pad and Phang smiled. Good ! the cool air would ease his breathing. Bad ! the damp would get into his joints. All that was okay, Dyle Phang needed to feel alive and pain did that for him.

  He felt the slight shudder as the runners touched down. Landing blind in a cloud wasn’t dangerous, but the finesse of the system was put out by the lack of laser locks on the landing bay.

  The door swung open indicating it was safe to decamp to the reception and Phang dragged his ageing carcass out of the flyer and walked the few steps into the illuminated hallway where the blonde short-haired man waited with a hand-reader.

  “Good Morning Mr Phang,” he said jovially as Phang put out his hand for the reader.

  Grabbing it he smiled, “Yes it is, it’s one of the best yet,” he replied cryptically.

  He put his hand onto the screen, then as soon as the light turned green, he removed it. A picture of a lens appeared and he placed it against his right eye, the reader beeped. It had read his voice, hand and retina along with pulse and biorhythms. It knew him and confirmed his identity. Another beep and a small needle ejected from the side of the tablet and pressed into his hand delivering a tiny injection of nanites. They were his security key and uniquely configured as a single-use pass into the building. His access would be controlled by the nanites which for him, would mean totally unrestricted.

  If anyone else injected themselves with these, the nanites would de-construct the person’s brain stem within minutes leaving them a vegetable. He handed it back to the other man who took it from him and checked the readout.

  “You’re cleared, sir.” The receptionist smiled as the glass barrier that had invisibly blocked access to the building proper slid away and Phang walked through. The almost silent ‘swoosh’ of the glass behind reassured him that the entrance was sealed again. It wasn’t just a security feature, it also locked in the ‘clean’ atmosphere of the building’s climate control which ensured they couldn’t be affected by anything outside. He had installed it last year when an attack on a fellow corporate HQ resulted in them all being gassed by a mutant conversion virus which turned the breathable air into something that killed them in seconds. When the security services finally entered the building, the bodies were already in an advanced state of decomposition, but there was no trace of the virus that caused it. The word in the ether was that it was another corporate that wanted to muscle in.

  ENCIO was a prime target for attack, so Phang had instigated positive pressure zones within the building and then set about making it airtight. A risk if there was ever a breakdown of the climate control system, but unlikely considering the reliability of ENCIO’s design and manufacturing arm.

  His destination appeared ahead of him ; the large doors a throwback to earlier times. There was simply no need of such ostentation these days, but still - it always made for grand entrances and Phang had learned early on that he could instil fear just by throwing these doors open.

  He took hold of the handles and pushed hard. The gimbals they sat on were perfectly balanced and the weight of the metal panels appeared as nothing. They swung open swiftly, at the last second braking before crashing into the walls. They cracked the walls every time he did it, so they had put in these little pressure breaks that banged loudly and sounded much like when the door fully met the wall, but importantly did no damage.

  The hubbub of conversation died on the lips of the men and women in the conference room. All thirty-two of them turned their attention to the arrival of the DCOD ; the one man above all others that they feared. On the wall a display of ten screens divided the area up and he could see fleet ships and world view in all of them.

  “STATUS ?” he commanded, expecting an immediate response from whomever they had decided to be spokesperson for this meeting. They took it turns drawing the short straw. More than a few had delivered bad news and been despatched with a cold precision that left them in fear of their lives whenever Phang was around.

  “We.. we understand from the Alpha fleet
that AW Command is in lock down and the only option is to put a gunship with missiles and fire them directly down the throat of the access tunnel. We’re trying to get the space-port locked down so the news crews can be evicted from their viewing lounge. We don’t want any more of this getting out onto the public networks than already has.” The voice cracked as the person’s trepidation affected their ability to salivate. Phang knew there was more.

  “AND ?” he pointed at the old man who had risen to deliver the news.

  “We have word on the new battleships. The Carristo is no more and the Dramatus is missing, presumed destroyed also.” The man sat down and tried to blend with the people on either side of him.

  “WHAT ?” he shouted, then licked his lips. This was unprecedented. Had there been a problem with the new drive system, or was there something else going on ? He glared around the room and caught the eye of every one of them before they dropped their gaze. Not one of them would out stare him. It was his little game, but he was angry and somebody needed to clarify that last statement.

  “How did this happen ?” Phang at last sat and resumed a normal voice. The news had shaken him ; their latest battleships gone.

  A new voice spoke up. “They were part of the blockade around Archon. They came into contact with two Angel ships. Perrinwold engaged them. Shortly afterwards we lost contact with the Dramatus and then the Carristo stopped transmitting. Their support ships were also destroyed. The other ships in the sector arrived on the scene and the debris was so great that they found nothing substantial of any of the ships. There were radiation traces matching our own anti-matter torpedoes — “

  “SABOTAGE ?”

  “Sir, we’re not sure, we believe there was an exchange of fire between the two battleships. Sensor logs from the other ships in the sector indicate missile fire along with plasma and laser exchanges. They’re not sure if it was related to the two Angel ships, one of which was definitely destroyed at the outset.” This from a younger man who had a live screen in his hand and obviously downloading information as he spoke. He looked up and pointed at the screen, “I’m getting reports from the SAR crews that there are zero survivors and none of the skeleton crew’s bodies have turned up.”