by Ian Woodhead
“You saw that?” Todd's temperature had steadied but he was still freezing.
“Of course we did,” replied Villas. He crouched over Todd. “Shit. Is he like this because we hit him.”
“What do you think?” snapped Ryan. “Of course it is.”
“No way,” replied Barnaby. “I didn't hit him that hard. It was only a tap.”
Todd's body temperature remained the same but some movement had returned to his limbs. He slowly sat up, it looked like he didn't know we he was. All that changed when Barnaby came into view. Todd screamed and launched himself at the astonished man, slamming his body into him. The pair of them fell back while both Villas and Ryan struggled to pull Todd off Barnaby. The man fought like a hellcat, shrugging away both his and Villas's attempt to remove him with ease.
Thick blood spread out from under Barnaby causing Todd to redouble his efforts to pull Todd away. He heard somebody cry out. It sounded like Villas but how could that be? Somebody dragged Ryan off them and he saw a large red figure physically lift the frantic collection of teeth, feet and fists off the now unmoving Barnaby.
The pilot and Vel-Dragil has returned. The Danu held him back while his companion carried on hold Ryan's homicidal friend in the air while the pilot passed the Velicion another capsule from his medi pack.
“Villas, go see if the other human continues to breathe,” barked Vel-Dragil. The Velicion laid Todd on the floor when whatever they had given him started to take effect. “Does the human live?”
“What did that monster do to him?” Villas trembled violently. “I've never seen anything like that before!” he spun around, his face a picture of shock and fear. “He is some kind of monster!”
“Does the human still live, Villas. Answer me?”
He nodded while shivering. “He's bleeding everywhere and I think a couple of his bones are broken but yeah, he's not dead.” Villas ripped off some of his top and started to wipe off some of the blood.
Ryan shrugged off the Danu. When he tried to grab him again, Ryan jumped out of his grasp. “Don't you touch me, you left us to die.” He spun around before the pilot could answer and hurried over to the injured man. Ryan kneeled beside Villas, took the other piece of cloth and helped to clean Barnaby up. From the corner of his eyes, he saw Vel-Dragil and the pilot hunched over Todd. It looked like the pair of them were massaging his arms. “I've fallen into a nightmare,” he muttered. Ryan then gasped out when he saw Villas using something which looked very similar to what the Danu used on Todd. “Don't give that to him!”
“Relax, man. It'll help to stitch him up.” Villas paused. He looked across at Todd, stared at the Danu then slowly turned to face Ryan, the blood had drained from his face. “No, don't tell me they used one of their indigenous med kits on Todd!”
“We had no other choice.”
Villas abruptly stood up and ran over to the other three, leaving him alone with Barnaby. He watched the other human exchange words with both the Velicion and the pilot. He thought Villas was going to try to kill them until Villas stood up, hung his head and spoke again. Ryan frowned, he was sure he just apologised to them.
Barnaby's eyes flickered open. He looked at Ryan then sought out the others. The man shuddered when his eyes fell upon Todd. “Did that just happen?” He took a deep breath and grabbed Ryan's hand. “I didn't dream that attack?”
He shook his head. It's all Ryan could do. This man was so close to death a few minutes ago and apart from his ripped up clothing and the drying blood covering most of his skin, Ryan could see nothing wrong. Even the bones had knitted together.
“That was so intense. I thought a Velicion warrior had attacked me.” Barnaby managed to sit up unaided. “Ryan, that is your name, right?”
He nodded.
“I'm so sorry about what happened earlier, I mean with running off and hitting Todd. It's nothing you or Todd did, honest. It's just that...” Barnaby abruptly shut up when the other four walked back over.
“Todd, what happened to you?” Ryan got between him and Barnaby, just in case he attacked him again. “You scared the crap out of me.”
“It will not happen again,” said Vel-Dragil. It was just an unexpected side effect. Fear not, all of you humans. We have ensured that it will not happen again.” The Velicion pulled out an assortment of weapons from his pack. “We did not leave you to die, Todd and Ryan.”
He passed Ryan a weapon similar to the one he discarded.
“There are not many of them left now. It will not be too difficult to seek , locate, and destroy the few who remain. Thanks to our combined efforts, for the first time in history, we have defeated their initial assault force without suffering any fatalities. We should make our way back to the command deck and inform the others that it is safe to return.” He laughed. “This is a great victory, my friends. You should all rejoice!”
Ryan had never felt so alone in his life. He had fallen into the mouth of madness, surrounded by strange non-human beings who he believed to be working to some hidden agenda and three like him who were yet just as alien as the others. He followed the others along the corridor, stepping over the fallen dead while idly running his fingers up and down the weapon stock. Just like before, it was another Danu weapon. It took a great deal of effort to stop himself from using this to kill them all before he escaped this asylum and returned home, where he belonged.
The ghostly image of Bernadette appeared in the middle of the corridor. The others walked straight through her and when he reached the woman, the image flickered out of existence.
Don't be afraid, Ryan. I'm here for you. I'll always be here.
Ryan whimpered.
Chapter Eleven
The Coming of the Final Storm
Di-Malok had not raged when he opened the message package and watched as the vis-data showed him that the battle for the base had gone catastrophically wrong. His flesh chair still remained as he last used it. He had not summoned his Bayan slave to vent out his frustration nor had he screamed and cursed. Di-Malok had simply turned off the vis-display, disconnected the soundstress field and wandered over to the command and conquer board to compare what his network had shown him compared to what the official reports, due for transfer back home, showed.
As he had already predicted, the official report showed a different report. The images from the base were expertly cut and spliced in such a way to appear that the failure to take the base rested solely at his ineffectual command decisions. Di-Malok was seriously impressed with the work. It displayed all the hallmarks of a professional artist.
Perhaps he should rage, just to give the impression to whoever was watching and recording, that these unknown operators were getting to him? The official package began its hyperlight journey once he signed it off. Although it painted him to be just as incompetent as the previous Marshall Governor, he could not delay the package, nor could he falsify the log. The multiple anti-tamper devices embedded in the message core saw to that. This did upset him. Not the contents but somebody hidden within the shadows had the capability to accomplish what he could not. At least not yet.
It did not matter what they thought of him back home at this moment. Due to events in the royal court, this package and the next few ones would only reinforce his father's opinion that sending Di-Malok here could only be seen as a wise move. As for the others, he doubted many of the others would even care about his series of poor judgement calls.
This situation would change for the better. Right now, he could see the other minor players were showing him their hidden moves. Their motives were still not clear but they would be unveiled in short time. As for the major players, his so called operators, he would need to push them in an unexpected direction in order for him to understand their motives. That would be his next task.
Sometimes the layers took a little encouragement before he could see what they hid from him. The more determined those layers were to stay together, the more determined he was to expose them.
After such
a humiliating defeat, it would be proper to analyse all the facts and determine what went wrong and how to rectify the problem so the next mission would be successful. Simple and logical and from watching the previous video packages, this is exactly how the previous Marshall Governor operated after each failed mission.
From his observations, he believed that the failure stemmed from Di-Timok from viewing altered video packages. His operators had already laid the groundwork for him to follow in the same clawsteps. He gazed at the flesh chair. “I know that I am correct. It is such a shame that they snipped your vocal organs when they repurposed you. As I believe that only you would be able to appreciate what I intend to do next.”
He sat down and gently ran his claws along the surface while he formulated his response, knowing that if there was to be any repercussions, this would be the crux moment and repercussions could mean the next Marshall Governor sitting in him.
“Open an internal Comms package to the Supplies Tertiary Overseer.” An image bubble grew in front of his face and for a few segment cycles, he caught a glimpse of Traskers and Bayans, working alongside low caste Dionion's inspecting and doing light repairs to a number of Imperial vessels. Di-Malok frowned at the state of some of those ships. Some of them looked to be ancient with only their shoddy looking repair jobs holding them together. After coming from the Imperial homeworld where it was required for everything to look immaculate, seeing such decrepit heaps of junk still in use made him both furious and upset.
Did they honestly expect his troops to go into battle inside such dangerous antiques? The regular troops did not concern him as most of them were just repurposed criminals, whose bio-metric fluid were just poured into the armoured containers. The commanders were different. If they died then all those many time segments worth of valuable training were wasted. Seeing the state of those things made him wonder how the rest of his soldier's equipment were faring.
This was his fault. Di-Malok should have known that when his orienteering officer first showed him around the complex, that any visible inconsistency would have been hidden behind closed doors. He remembered meeting the Supplies Tertiary Overseer, standing next to a couple of new looking assault carriers and he stuck Di-Malok as someone who cared about his work, despite the orienteering Officer advising him to keep a close eye on that one. He pulled his file later and the personnel report read very much like the previous Marshal Governor, making him believe that he was another one who had insulted an officer in his past and was shipped here as a punishment posting. Di-Malok would soon find out.
The Supplies Tertiary Overseer's large head filled the image bubble. “What to you want?” replied a gruff, impatient sounding voice. “Can't you see that I'm...”
It amused Di-Malok to see the change in his attitude when it occurred to him that it was not some minor officer calling him.
“My apologies,” he said, looking down at his feet. “I meant not offence, I thought it was... I'm sorry.”
“Tell me your name.”
“Di-Galid, sir.”
“Well then, Di-Galid. Come to my quarters at once.” He terminated the connection. The Overseer would probably be running through the deck, while calling to his mate and telling her how much he cared for her, no doubt believing that his end had come. The belief in his own demise could not be helped. The conversation which he need to have with Di-Galid could not be witnessed by anyone else.
He activated his soundstress field as soon as his Bayan slave showed his guest in. He gestured the Overseer to approach and once he was in range, Di-Malok offered the Overseer a glass of Trasker blood. The look of utter terror showing on his face almost caused his to laugh out loud.
“Are you going to refuse my hospitality, Di-Galid?”
The Overseer carefully took the offered glass, he took a single sip before placing it on the floor next to his knees, in all that time, the Overseer's eyes did not leave Di-Malok. “I am your servant.”
“You are that,” he replied. “I have some questions I want you to answer and then I have a little task set aside for someone of your considerable talent.” He leaned back and took a small sip from his own glass. The taste was becoming more pleasing. “You should drink, Di-Galid. Do not allow it to start coagulating.” It then occurred to him that this lowly engineer had probably never tasted anything as exotic as prepared Trasker blood before. “Tell me something. Would you consider yourself to be a competent engineer?”
He nodded. “Yes, I do. I am the best there is in this complex.”
That pleased Di-Malok. This Dionion took pride in his work. Now it was time to see just how much pride. “So you say, and yet the evidence that I just saw state otherwise I have not ever witnessed such disregard shown to vehicles belonging to our beloved Emperor. What do you think would happen to you if word got out that a certain Supplies Tertiary Overseer believed he could get away with such inferior and shoddy repair work on such esteemed equipment?”
“None of that is my fault!”
“So you say.”
“Please, sir. Just look at the pile of request forms that I have sent back home, asking, begging, pleading for extra supplies. Every lunar Segment, I am the first one waiting at the docking port, waiting for that shuttle and hoping that perhaps that, this time, home has sent me something a little more useful than a box of suction sockets or one coil of induction rope. Do you know that in the twelve full Segments of being here, I have not received a single replacement assault carrier?”
“I saw two when I arrived. They looked new to me.”
“They were your military escort, sir. They left when your Imperial shuttle left. Sir. I know those ships on our deck are not pretty but they do fly. I have busted my bones to ensure that each invasion force, the old Marshall Governor asked to assemble was in good shape.”
“Indeed.” Di-Malik drained his glass. “Now, tell me about your old Marshal Governor. Do not be concerned about any repercussions. I need to hear the truth. Do not worry, there is a soundstress field active.”
“He didn't deserve whatever fate the cardinals inflicted on him. I heard stories from the conscripts about his military service before arriving at this forgotten place. He was a good soldier and a good commander. He treated his officers and us grunts well. He even had a small degree of respect for those poor repurposed bastards that the troops use as fodder.”
“I cannot get you the supplies which you need to keep your ships up and working, Di-Galid because the same claws which tied the claws of your old Marshal Governor have tied mine up as well. That does not mean I cannot find another solution.” He leaned forward. “Do you, by any chance have in your inventory, a remote auto rig, some particle streamers and two translocater beds?”
“Mining? You're thinking of extracting what we need from one of the local moons!” His face drooped. “We are not allowed. It is forbidden. Everyone knows that.”
Di-Malik shrugged. “So, you do have the equipment? That is excellent news. Now, finish your drink as it is time for you to return to your deck. You are about to become very busy.” He stood up. “How many stealthships are left?”
“There are seven in good order and another eight that are space worthy but cannot be pressurised.”
“That does not concern me. You are to find as many probe walkers as possible, set them all to assault mode, fill every working stealthship then launch every single ship at that fourth planet. Is that understood.”
The Supplies Tertiary Overseer drunk the blood, wiped his mouth and grinned. “Oh yes, I understand that!”
“Good. Find that other equipment before you start. Now I think you had better leave. You have a huge amount of work ahead of you.”
His Bayan slave led the engineer out of his quarters, leaving him alone with his flesh chair. “The wheels are now in motion. Once the news gets out, I think I shall soon discover who the operators are.” He called for more Trasker blood.
If he had any hope of living through this posting, in his present form then unveil
ing these operators, and then nullifying them was his only option. They were bound to be furious when his plan to pacify the enemy base become known, despite his actions being the only logical choice left to make after so many failed invasions.
Logic also told Di-Malok that it is likely that this decision to use all the stealthships should do the trick. Logic also hinted that they were not amateur players, meaning their attack could happen at any time and from anywhere, and possibly sooner than later. They would not have expected him to react in such outlandish manner. This would be of concern if Di-Malok intended to stay here, in their lair.
Di-Malok reactivated his soundstress field and contacted his own ship. His Bayan slave answered immediately. “Is the Overseer back on the deck?”
“Yes, sir, and already making preparations.”
“Good, speaking of preparations, I want the ship ready for lift off within the next few micro segments. Initiate a complete surveillance scan, re-screen the new crew members then check all the type four nodules we installed in the Comms packages linking the ship to the base. If any exhibit tampering then scrap them all and insert type three nodules instead. Is that clear?”
The Bayan nodded. “Yes, sir.”
Spending most of his life at court had prepared him well for this kind of duplicity. Di-Malok almost pitied his unknown adversaries. They really had no clue who they were dealing with. He was no minor military officer. If fact, Di-Malok had doubts that the old Marshal Governor was even aware that powers above his pay-grade were using him like some disposable game-board piece. Di-Malok would not allow them to repurpose his body into furniture.
He called up the images of those ancient ships he saw on the deck. The sight of that junk called up an emotion which he had not felt for many years. They made him nostalgic over a forever closed off avenue of his life. Until Di-Malok decided to pursue the sweet coated spikes that is court life, he had already started on his career to become an Imperial starship officer. As of many privileged young Dionions of royal descent, he found the hard training, the absolute discipline and the total lack of respect for his high position, utterly disgusting. How dare these low-born officers treat him like some common slave! He resigned his commission and opted for, what he believed to be, the easier path choice, to join his father at the royal court.