Finally, he was shown into a conference room located in a central gravity wheel. Trenchard tried to relax and loose the zero-gee nausea he had been feeling as he looked around him. The room had a long oval table in the middle and several holographic projectors mounted onto the walls. One whole wall was taken up by a crudely spray-painted version of the pirate’s emblem; the skull helmet and crossed rifles. Trenchard’s escorts left the room and the hatch was then shut firmly behind them. Trenchard waited, the muffled sounds of talking and maintenance work coming through the bulkhead next to him from somewhere distant. He was wondering what the pirate Captain would demand. Would Trenchard even get off this ship alive? He had allowed himself to be taken, unarmed, deep into an enemy vessel. He knew that he was just buying time. Papaver’s people were supposed to be on their way and the Papaver Corporation built the best weapons in existence. Everybody knew that. They would hardly arrive unarmed, would they? But would they arrive in time to help?
Trenchard was disturbed from his pondering as the hatch swung slowly open and in walked a tall figure, fully space-suited and helmeted. The guards posted outside the hatch were holding rifles. Clearly, he was now a prisoner rather than a guest. The hatch swung shut with a resounding clang and the two Captains were left alone to stare each other out. Trenchard studied the pirate Captain. He, if it were a he, was tall and extremely broad shouldered; a titan of a man. His space-suit was sprayed matt black and his helmet had been painted to resemble the gaping maw of a sinister black Raven. Trenchard stared at the figure defiantly.
‘Nice helmet,’ he sneered. ‘Very… ornithological.’ The pirate remained silent and made no movement. After a moment Trenchard jeered, ‘Are we just going to stand here and stare at each other like a couple of twats?’
The pirate Captain remained steadfastly silent. He reached up and undid the clasps that held his helmet in place. With a twist, he pulled the helmet slowly off. The face underneath beamed a broad smile. It was a face that Trenchard knew well; one that he was absolutely certain he had seen killed by a bullet through his forehead in the control room of the Might of Fortitude.
‘Bird!’ spluttered Trenchard in shock.
‘Hello Trench,’ replied Bird. ‘Long time no see old fella.’
Trenchard couldn’t believe his eyes. He had quite definitely seen Bird killed by the pirates, shot through the head at point blank range by Captain Smiler.
‘How?’ he stammered, anger welling within him, his fists clenching tightly.
Bird smiled. Obviously, he was taking great pleasure in his old friend’s discomfort.
‘It was staged. Micro blood packs that were triggered by the blank firing pistol that Captain Smiler used. You had to believe that I was dead Trench old mate. Looks like it worked.’
Trenchard exploded. ‘You son of a bitch!’ he spat, taking a step forwards, enraged beyond the point of self-control.
Captain Bird brought a small pistol up from his side and waved it threateningly at Trenchard.
‘Ah, ah!’ he warned. ‘This one isn’t loaded with blanks.’
Trenchard backed down and as he fumed he growled, ‘Why?’
Bird shrugged and sat down wearily on one of the conference room chairs, swinging his heavy boots up onto the oval table with a clunk.
‘It was always my intention to defect. If High Command knew that I was still alive, then they’d throw everything they had at trying to track me down. I’m too much of a security risk. Shame we couldn’t steal the Might. We could use a ship like that.’
Trenchard leaned forwards over the table, his fists clenched in fury, his knuckles white.
‘You fucking traitor!’ he shouted. ‘I trusted you. You betrayed the whole crew.’ Then in a softer voice he said, ‘You betrayed me…’
Bird’s face became deadly serious. ‘You sound like my bloody ex-wife! I told you my reasons. Vice President Chang is bad for the United Worlds. He’s rotten to the core.’
‘How can you be so sure?’ Trenchard asked with genuine interest. ‘He’s just another power-hungry politician, isn’t he?’
Bird looked uncomfortable. ‘I did a little digging,’ he said. ‘After Mars, after Lorna…’
Trenchard blushed bright red and averted his eyes. There was an uncomfortable moment between the two old comrades.
‘…after we went our separate ways I tried to investigate what really went on. There wasn’t much to go on. It always bugged me where the R.D. insurgents got all their weapons and explosives from. I know the inquiry found that Papaver Corp exec guilty but I think he was just a scapegoat. I found a guy on Mars about a year ago who was ex R.D. He swore blind that Chang was supplying the weapons to the R.D. via an intermediary.’ Bird fixed Trenchard with a hard stare. ‘Care to guess who he said sold them the weapons on behalf of Chang?’
Trenchard shrugged. ‘Astound me.’
‘It was a young woman. Japanese. Long dark hair. She always carried specialist weapons including a sword. Sound familiar?’
Trenchard stared at Bird, dumbfounded. Bird nodded back.
‘Chang is devious. I think that he deliberately caused the uprising on Mars in order to gain power. He’s a fucking dictator and now he’s in charge of the whole game! Sure, he’s only “acting president” for now, but it’s only a matter of time before he takes absolute control. I would lay odds that he was behind the assassination of President Smith. There must be someone to stand up to his rule but we’re badly under resourced. If we’re to stand any chance then we need weapons, we need what Papaver is hiding on that space station.’
Trenchard’s face suddenly cleared, realisation dawning.
‘You already know what Papaver has stored over there, don’t you? But you didn’t know the location of the factory, did you? The Kuiper belt is vast. It would take you years to search it manually. So, you let us lead the way, straight to the station.’
Bird nodded. ‘It was fairly straight forward to arrange. We have sympathisers within the navy. They informed us of the destination of the Art of Devastation and that it was carrying the Might to a top-secret mission. Plus, I know that you’re Admiral Fife’s errand boy.’
Trenchard’s eyebrows shot up, affronted. He could feel stinging bile rising in his throat.
‘I knew Fife would send you after the Morgenstern, Trench old chum. You led us right to it. We were just about to board the station ourselves when you arrived.’
Trenchard was silent for a long time, then he straightened up and folded his arms across his chest. ‘No matter how bad you think Chang is Bird, this isn’t the way to do things. You’re a traitor to the United Worlds and your pirate friends tried to kill me in the asteroid belt. I should kill you right now with my bare hands but I expect that my life expectancy would be fairly fucking short thereafter?’
Bird nodded gravely.
‘…and I don’t suppose that you want to surrender and come back with me to face a court martial?’
Bird shook his head solemnly.
‘So, what’s the next move?’ Trenchard asked.
Bird’s face became even more serious.
‘Two choices mate. One, you surrender. We collect what we want and leave. I promise that your crew will come to no harm so long as the Might stays well out of missile range of my ship. We’ll leave quietly and everybody’s happy, except perhaps for Papaver and Chang.’
‘…and choice number two?’ snarled Trenchard.
‘We take the station by force. There’s a battle. Lots of people die needlessly. It’s your choice Trench.’
Trenchard’s answer was simple. It comprised of two short words, and the second one was “off!”
CHAPTER 19 “IT’S ALIVE”
A few minutes later, Trenchard was deposited, rather roughly, back in the airlock. He picked himself up off the floor, dusted his uniform down and turned around to face the departing pirates.
‘Thanks lads!’ he shouted angrily after them. ‘I hope you die a slow death from venereal disease!’
The bull helmeted pirate stopped and turned to face Trenchard. ‘You’ve got three minutes.’ he said coldly, before closing the hatch behind him.
‘What happened Sir?’ Lieutenant Chertok asked with worry written across his face.
Trenchard held his finger up to silence him and looked up at the hovering omni-bot. He brought his cuff-link communicator up and pressed the call button.
‘Trenchard to Noir. Are you reading me? Over.’
In the control room of the Might of Fortitude, Commander Noir had removed the V.R. Conn visor and was watching Trenchard on the hologram suspended in the air in front of her.
‘Here Sir,’ she replied.
The holographic Trenchard narrowed his eyes. ‘I want you to keep the Might out of range of the pirate vessel for the time being. She’s too big; you wouldn’t stand a chance against her. Remain at a safe distance until reinforcements arrive. We’ll hold off the pirate force in here.’
Noir’s cheeks burned with fury. ‘But Sir!’
‘No buts,’ snapped Trenchard. ‘Follow my orders. Trenchard out!’
Trenchard released his communicator button and the signal went quiet. Noir could still see Trenchard on the hologram from the perspective of the omni-bot, ordering the troops into defensive positions. She fumed for a moment before turning towards the front of the bridge. ‘Helm. Thrusters at station keeping.’
‘Aye, aye Sir!’
Then Noir disengaged herself from the Conn’s leg brace and walked casually over to the scanner control station where Kittinger was sitting. She leaned over his shoulder, trying to remain nonchalant and whispered into Kittinger’s ear so that the rest of the crew couldn’t hear her.
‘Can you scan anything from here?’
‘Not much Sir,’ Kittinger whispered, playing along with Noir. ‘They have their electronic counter measure screens up. The E.C.M. is blocking everything; I can only perform visual scanning of the outside of their hull.’
Noir nodded. ‘I want you to scour the surface of that ship for any weaknesses. Concentrate on the welds and seams. These pirate hulks are badly maintained and they’re usually stitched together from old salvaged vessels that were scrapped for dangerous structural defects. There are bound to be some physical weaknesses.’
‘Aye Sir.’
Then Noir turned to Cochran.
‘Cochran, I want you to keep target lock on that vessel. Pay particular attention to anything that Kittinger finds. If that ship so much as twitches, I want to be able to cripple her, or at the very least even the odds.’
‘Aye, aye Sir!’ Cochran replied with a broad smile on her face.
Three minutes passed; then five, then ten.
‘What the hell are they playing at?’ Trenchard said to himself.
‘Perhaps they’re having lunch?’ Chertok joked. He was kneeling behind an upturned table next to Trenchard, idly polishing his rifle.
‘They’re up to something,’ Trenchard scowled, bringing his communicator up towards his mouth. ‘Trenchard to Pugh. See anything?’
Pugh’s voice came back, echoing and distant. ‘Not yet Sir… wait.’
There was an agonisingly long pause.
‘Pugh here. There’s noise on the outside of the hull. I think they’re walking across the hull in pressure suits. Over.’
Damn, thought Trenchard. He had expected them to attack in force through the hatch in front of him. It would be easier for the pirates to attack directly from their own ship. Some would die, but they had the advantage of numbers. Bird must have known that; he knew how Trenchard thought. He’d sent the pirates in the hard way, marching across the outer hull of the station in space suits with magnetic boots. What other tricks did Bird have up his sleeve? He was teaching these pirates military tactics. Or did he simply already know the location of the Morgenstern in the storage bay where Pugh was located?
‘Chertok, I’m taking half of the squad with me to Pugh’s location. You stay here and keep an eye on that hatch.’
‘Yes Sir. We won’t let any of those buggers through!’
In the storage area, Pugh and his squad of twenty-five troopers were hidden behind packing crates and boxes. Across the room, they could hear the air in the entrance airlock cycling through. The light above the hatch turned from red to green.
‘This is it!’ Pugh shouted. ‘Get ready.’
Pugh stared pointedly at McGagh. McGagh nodded in recognition, his expression deadly serious. He’d been in combat many times before; he knew what to expect. Unfortunately, McGagh was probably Pugh’s best trooper, his best chance of surviving this battle. He might be undisciplined and unpredictable, but right now Pugh wouldn’t trade him for the world.
The hatch swung open. Nothing moved in the darkness beyond. Then a small metal cylinder arced through the air. It landed with a “dink, dink, dink” sound and then rolled across the floor, spraying a thick yellow smoke as it went.
‘Suck rubber!’ shouted Pugh.
Each trooper reached behind their neck and pulled a thin breathing mask up over their face beneath their chin guard. The masks were attached to the neck of each uniform and then tightened quickly by Velcro straps. Several space-suited pirates began to file through the hatch, rifles raised and ready, partially obscured by the acrid smoke.
‘Fire at will,’ Pugh yelled, his voice slightly muffled by the mask.
Red hot metal seared through the smoky air from each trooper’s rifle. Dark shadows danced over the walls from the bright muzzle flashes. Several pirates fell screaming to the floor but many more flooded the airlock area and managed to find cover behind storage crates and heavy machinery. Several more grenades were thrown, this time stun charges. They exploded with enormous force and the troopers nearby were thrown off their feet by the pressure blast. The air became thick with bullets, smoke and screams.
Pugh aimed a volley at a pirate that tried to charge his barricade. The case-less rounds hit the pirate at waist level and cut the man in half. He grasped at his guts as they spilled out onto the ground before crumpling into a twitching heap on the floor.
Next to Pugh, McGagh was rushed by another pirate and the two rolled onto the floor. McGagh rose up through the smoke and clubbed the pirate in the face with the butt of his rifle until it broke through his visor. After a few more blows, the pirate ceased moving.
Silently in the corner, the coffin shaped case of the Morgenstern lay forgotten and alone in the maelstrom next to the puddle of slime that had once been its comrade. The soft red glow from the heart of the creature within, penetrated gently through the frosted plexi-glass cover and cast sickly red shadows through the swirling smoke of battle. From out of the smoke, the black gloved hand of a trooper reached up carefully. The hand inserted itself snugly into the palm control device on the front of the case and deftly operated the controls, unnoticed by anyone else in the chaotic room. Then the hand withdrew and disappeared into the smoke from which it came.
The mind awoke, screaming…
The screaming was unceasing and became thought. It had no concept of time elapsed or of flesh. It knew only pain, searing and unrelenting. The brain of the thing had no flesh to touch or feel. It could neither hold nor comfort. It had neither eyes to see nor a mouth to speak and yet it screamed. The scream became thought and the thought was “kill!” Neurons connected, circuits surged with power and the thing became aware; not in a conscious way, but somehow it could sense the soft flesh that was nearby. It longed for the warmth of flesh, it became jealous of the flesh and the jealousy became rage. Hate upon hate, wrath upon wrath. The creature awoke with but one thought… KILL!
A huge black fist punched through the plexi-glass front of the coffin-shaped container and it shattered into a thousand spinning shards. Steam poured forth from the metal casket as the frozen interior bit at the warm air outside like a shark. The fist clenched. The forearm, as thick as a tree trunk, flexed and became a mass of lethal silver spikes. The Morgenstern stepped sluggishly out from its sarcophagus like B
oris Karloff’s creature rising from his creator’s slab. It was roughly humanoid in shape but grotesquely muscular. The face bore no features other than dark semi-circular receptors where eyes should be. It seemed to be made from flexible black rubber that creaked and groaned as the creature moved. A soft red glow emanated from the chest, illuminating the area in front of the creature like a crimson searchlight. The top of the skull was transparent and pulsing within was the unmistakable shape of a human brain, severed and kept alive in a tank of nutrients. Truly the Morgenstern resembled the dark creation of a cackling mad scientist.
The creature relaxed as its covering warmed up and then it flexed its body. The muscles swelled and the whole surface of its upper torso and arms became covered by hundreds of vicious metal spikes that pushed up through the rubber skin like grotesque body piercings. The thing walked heavily forwards, its feet thudding on the metal floor like gold bars dropped from a height. One of the pirates saw the thing moving through the smoke and aimed a volley of fire straight at the creature’s chest. The bullets sank into the rubber-like flesh and then slowly popped harmlessly back out again, the flesh re-sealing like putty and leaving no trace. The pirate stared at the thing in front of him, too terrified to move, like a rabbit caught in head-lights. The Morgenstern turned slowly to face the petrified pirate and then in a lightening movement, it swung its club-like forearm straight at the man’s chest. The pirate was at the same time both crushed by the blow and skewered by several of the vicious spikes. His shredded and battered corpse dropped to the floor in a pool of blood, twitched for a moment and then became still. Trenchard skidded into the room just in time to see the Morgenstern rise through the steam like a mighty titan and slay the unwitting pirate.
‘Back! Back! FALL BACK!’ he shouted over the rattling noise of the rifle fire.
The United Worlds troopers began to retreat backwards, giving covering fire to their comrades as they went. This left the Morgenstern surrounded by an ever-growing horde of space-suited pirates, filing determinedly through the airlock.
The Space Navy Series Books One & Two: Including the Kindle novellas Josiah Trenchard and the Might of Fortitude & Josiah Trenchard and the Morgenstern Page 17