by Tobias Roote
“I am your man, Captain. Whilst I regret the necessity, your captain was a legitimate target of the Angel squad and his execution was required by your own, Mr Phang,” the SIC said. His face was full of serious bravado knowing full well what the outcome would likely be.
“I don’t believe so, I think you piece of cretinous shit thought you could get away with anything out here in the wilds of the Empire and didn’t bank on us being here in time to catch you running away from the scene,” the captain replied scathingly. “As such I find your murderous act a crime of piracy and as captain of this vessel pronounce immediate judgement.”
Dalt could only watch helplessly as the captain drew his side-arm and shot his son between the eyes, giving Dalt no time to step forward and repudiate his SIC’s statement. It probably wouldn’t have made any difference to the captain anyway. He bit back the almost impossible urge to retaliate, his arms twitching as the electric current scorched its way under the surface of his silvery skin. The loss of his son so soon after his brother, Olgar was unbearably painful. Now the loss of one of his eldest represented another simmering coil of hatred in his heart. There would be restitution, Dalt swore silently, as the enemy guards dragged the SIC’s corpse away towards the exit hatch ready to remove his body.
“Anyone want to dispute my right to dispense justice ? No ? There’s an end to that then.” The Captain turned back to Dalt and the remaining crew with a sneer. He looked at them for any sign of resistance, any excuse to promote his sadistic pleasure.
“Well, I never,” he announced as he peered more closely at Dalt and other members of the crew and realised they all had a strong resemblance to each other. “You’re all clones. Interesting ! Clones running assassinations for the Core navy’s clandestine operations. Well, we are honoured. I have instructions to interrogate you all and strip your ship of all materials that might compromise the Core navy. However, looking at you now I have decided to ignore those orders. I believe you know what the status of clones is within the corporation’s territories ?” He looked at each of them in turn hoping to see fear in their eyes. He must have believed that he’d seen what he wanted because his next words confirmed their fate.
“Exactly ! There will be no interrogation because I don’t believe any of you will provide anything worthwhile. Instead, we’re going to put you in chains and deliver you to the navy’s penal planet where I will get a good price for a strong team of unmarked clones. Your ship will fetch a pretty price too.” He looked back at the so far, unexamined ship.
He turned to the nearest guard bellowing out his orders so they all heard.
“Guards, put them in the livestock bay and make sure they are stripped of all identification. Chain them, tenderise them, but DON’T damage them. I want them fully operational when we stop off at Penal-IV.”
He turned to another guard with chevrons on his shoulder. “Strip out that ship. Leave no compartment unchecked. I want every tape, disc, written or verbal record they have and while you’re at it - check why these birds never show a transponder signal. I want every secret nook and cranny probed for contraband and weapons caches.”
Dalt thought of his men and smiled inwardly. All was proceeding exactly as they had anticipated. Operation Shadow was already under way and he waited patiently knowing that if it was going to happen then it would do so before those men stepped aboard his ship. His crew were already being lined up to be stripped of identification prior to leaving for their prison quarters. Some were bullied. He watched them as they kept their fists curled, hiding their pulsating bands of silver letting their anger grow. They were his men, they would handle this, like everything else, professionally. They were trained to keep their heads down, but if they were hurting they had all developed mechanisms to cope.
A flash caught his eye as it was meant to do.
He turned to the battleship captain and spoke up immediately. “Captain Perrinwold, sir - you might want to step away from this vessel ? Its IPS has been activated...”
The response was instantaneous. “What ! You put your ship on my landing bay with its Incursion Prevention system set ?”
“Guards, back off from that damned vessel until we can get the security teams in here to disable the bloody thing.” The captain was quickly moving away from the danger zone. It was evident from his body language that he suddenly had no desire to be there at all, but didn’t want to show cowardice in front of his men. He sought a distraction instead.
“You !...” He pointed at Dalt. “You will stay here and instruct my men on how to disarm it, or you will be welded to the outside and evacuated into space for target practice - do you hear ?”
Dalt wasn’t listening, his earpiece was activated and he was following a countdown that would be echoed in the ear of every member of his crew.
“4 -3 -2 - 1, GO !”
As one, Dalt and his crew all dropped to the deck of the landing bay while around them an instant strafing sent all of the navy guards into a barrage of electrical crossfire. Purely by accident the captain stood frozen and unharmed, but now one of Dalt’s crew stepped up and floored him with a hand on his shoulder, stunning the man with the discharge. He then followed him to the floor while the remaining guards were killed by the commandos and crew who were thrusting their arms in the direction of any hostile activity and neutralising it.
It was over in less than thirty seconds. His crew quickly took the arms from the guards, dragging the bodies into the shadows of the hangar, that area that always persists in space where artificial light never seems to reach. Shadows which had allowed the commandos to slip out from a hidden hatch at the rear of the vessel while all of the attention was on the front exit the crew had vacated from. When the guards had encircled the ship the commandos were already hidden in the bulkhead shadows and corners with their arms extended ready to take down the enemy. As professionals they waited until all were in position and had clear shots. It had hurt them deeply to watch their SIC shot in cold blood, but they stayed their hand so they could take out the enemy cleanly without risk to their own people.
As the men stepped forward out of the shadows that had hidden them, Dalt signalled his approval, they had done well. The next stage would not be so easy, but their plan had unfolded so quickly that surprise was still very much on their side.
He waved them forward. “Lead your team to the armoury and set your charges there. We will create the necessary diversion and await your signal,” Dalt ordered.
“As you command, leader,” replied the soldier called Frenga, who was what, his forty-fifth son ? Dalt idly wondered.
“Bring that sack of ‘Core shit’ with you,” Dalt ordered two of his men who were already pulling the dishevelled captain up from the ground where he had remained while the shooting had continued. Now he was trying to recover his poise, but Dalt’s men soon put a stop to that as they deliberately rubbed blood from the dead SIC over the man’s face. It was their way. There would be a reckoning paid in blood and judging by the man’s reaction, the captain understood the message clearly.
They moved off quickly, the commandos might be Dalt’s elite force, but they weren’t the only ones trained to penetrate an enemy ship. He led the remaining men in a fast-paced ‘shoot and move’ run that took them deep into the ship’s belly where the main shaft to the control room would give them a quick elevator ride. They would be expected, of course, but it was only a diversion. The main mission was to prepare the enemy’s armoury for destruction. That would take out the central core of the battleship and leave it hanging and venting air into space. Whatever they achieved, Dalt’s group was just a side show, but one that Dalt intended to have a lasting impact on the Core navy.
He intended to leave a very clear message for Phang. That treacherous bastard would have until Dalt and his team caught up with him. They would avenge the lost Angels. He already sensed the loss and knew that his brother’s death would hit him deeper in the future when he realised he was no longer there
to turn to.
It took a further ten minutes and Dalt lost two of his men when they got caught in an unexpected crossfire between two open doorways, but all in all, twenty-three enemy guards died, all with scorched bodies where the electrical discharge from his men had scored direct hits. Then they were in the lift shaft heading towards the control room.
The captain, now a quivering wreck and looking decidedly worse-for-wear was up front covering Dalt’s team. His key card and code had enabled the lift and if the control room guards were on the ball he might not get shot as soon as the doors opened. Dalt didn’t think they were that well trained. His men had practised this many times and were positioned where they were least likely to be shot. Only four of them had come with him, the rest were using the stairs offering further distraction to the external security. He intended to leave this ship a total wreck as a warning to other ships who might take on the Dispersalistas.
For Dalt it had suddenly become an all out war, but he suspected that for the Core navy, it had already been so for a while.
Surprise turnabout
As the door opened onto the bridge, Dalt’s team were prepared and as laser fire erupted around them, the captain put up his hands defensively as if to ward them off, luckily they didn’t hit anything other than the door and the back wall of the elevator.
“Don’t shoot me, you idiots !” he cried. His voice had the immediate effect as they recognised their captain.
The bridge security team, consisting of three nervous-looking guards, who looked around for additional guidance from the other bridge crew were relieved when a tall, well-dressed officer pushed forward.
Moving one of them aside the officer faced the open elevator door without apparent fear. He was looking past the captain, who was in a sorry state with blood caked over his face and chest, his eyes sought out the men he had watched through the vidscreens as they killed the guards using some kind of weapon in their bare hands. Quickly assessing the situation in front of him he addressed himself directly to Dalt.
“What are your intentions ?” he asked Dalt with the authority of one used to command and who expects a response.
“We’re here to destroy your ship. It’s up to you and your fellow officers as to whether that includes your crew, or not,” Dalt responded, recognising the patch on the arm as that of first officer. He knew full well that at this moment the man was in command of the vessel while the captain was detained under duress. What happened next would depend on his reaction to the invasion of DIA agents.
The officer shook his head defiantly. “We will not simply abandon this ship. You arrive on this bridge with no weapons and tell us you are about to destroy a Core navy vessel.” He shrugged dramatically. “You are surrounded by a fleet of Core ships armed to the teeth. What in Grell’s realm do you hope to gain ?”
Dalt took the man’s measure. He was cool under stress and not belligerent, but also not prepared to cave in either. A stand-off, perhaps ? He scanned the others on the bridge. All of them seemed more confident than the security guards who still had their laser rifles trained on Dalt’s team who were still partially protected by the body of the Dramatus’ captain and the elevator walls.
None of Dalt’s men showed their silver bands, but were ready to respond to further fire from the guards.
“I think that will be none of your concern shortly,” Dalt answered, looking around to get a feel for the bridge layout. He was familiar with the ship-type’s design, but there were too many crew here even for a battleship. There was something different about the layout as well.
The officer wasn’t daunted. “The Core council say you’re Dispersal terrorists, is that true ?” he enquired.
Dalt smiled. “What your council says is of no import to us, we were attacked by yourselves and my brother is dead from your weapons. That makes you the terrorists here,” he accused, but Dalt was wondering why the officer was trying to engage him in conversation. Was it a distraction while something was happening elsewhere. He tapped his earpiece and received an acknowledging tap from the armoury team. They were still operational, then.
“Then you ARE Dispersalistas ?” the officer continued to press. “If that is so, then something has happened to draw you out into the open and it must be a big event for the Core council to issue instructions for us to ‘kill on sight’. Am I correct ?”
Something in the way the officer was speaking to Dalt, trying to draw him out, sent alarm bells ringing. Dalt took a closer look at him. He was mid-thirties and well built, but his features had a certain look about them. He didn’t look your typical Core Navy type. More like someone who was wearing the uniform, but who had his own mind.
Dalt had a hunch, just a tickle of an idea, but to play it he needed to disarm the situation for a few minutes.
“My men are unarmed, tell your guards to give up their weapons,” he ordered the Officer looking at him firmly, confidently, but without any aggression or threat in his voice.
The officer looked relieved and pointed at Dalt’s hands. “I wouldn’t say your men are unarmed,” he indicated, “but I’m prepared to accept that we probably have no choice, except to die where we stand.”
He nodded to his men. “Do as he says.” and placed his hand gently on the shoulder of the nearest guard to reinforce his control on the situation.
The men still looked across at the captain for additional reassurance and Dalt saw the back of the captain’s head nod almost imperceptibly. The men slowly put their weapons on the deck.
Dalt now moved into the room while his men spread out around him. Once they were properly onto the bridge they could relax somewhat while several took up stances that indicated they would respond to any sudden moves by the crew. Dalt pushed the captain forward and one of the crew took him and sat him down, taking out a box of medical supplies to treat his wounds.
“That murdering bastard isn’t hurt, that blood is my son’s and he will pay for spilling it,” Dalt rounded on them venomously making the would-be medic shrink away from the captain and Dalt who was now looming above him, but Dalt had already turned away and was face-to-face with the First Officer.
“You come with me,” he poked him in the chest and moved towards a door which he knew would be a conference room used by the captain and officers. The officer followed close behind showing no sign of fear at all, almost a sense of keenness.
The door closed behind them and the silence of the room implied its soundproofing from the rest of the ship. Dalt took in a long table, big enough to seat ten people and a comms unit at the end. He was running short on time before one of the other ships realised something was amiss. He needed answers quickly.
He turned on the Core officer and pinned him to the bulkhead with an incredibly strong handhold. The other hand was suspended in front of the officers’ face, the silver streak pulsing dangerously. Dalt watched as sweat formed on the man’s brow. Finally ! Dalt thought, some fear showing.
“Tell me why I shouldn’t kill you and the rest of your crew right now ?” he demanded.
The officer looked back at him and nervously put his hand on Dalt’s shoulder. He tapped out a long sequence with his index finger while Dalt, caught completely by surprise at the move, stood stock still. When the sequence finished, Dalt unbelieving, but fully aware of what was happening stood back in surprise releasing the Core officer from the stranglehold he’d held him in.
The officer bent over as the pressure disappeared from his throat, taking a moment to recover his breath and poise. Then looked up at Dalt with relief, then surprisingly, smiled at the DIA leader.
Chapter Twenty-Five
A New Direction
Dalt’s response was of surprised pleasure. “You’re one of us ? What’s your name ?”
“I’m Charon of the Bacrat. I’ve been in place fourteen years and eight months. I was commanded to infiltrate the Core command structure and report back to my superiors anything of interest. I had a standing instruction to interve
ne in the case of a major event.”
Dalt understood. There were many Dispersalist agents onboard ships in the Core navy. He guessed there was more than just one, he imagined there would be a backup team aboard a vessel like this in case there was an opportunity to take over and bring down a Core asset.
“You need to get the crew off this ship before the armoury goes up,” Dalt warned him.
Charon looked shocked. “No !” he said the alarm in his voice evident.
“I mean, you do not need to destroy the ship,” he tried to explain.
“What do you mean ?” Dalt replied. “We don’t have the manpower to fly and defend it from the other battleship and the cruisers patrolling nearby.”
Charon shook his head adamantly, his hands grabbed Dalt by the shoulders as if it would emphasise his statement.
“This is the latest battleship of the Core navy, they control virtually everything from the bridge.”
“You mean that crew out there is all there is ?” Dalt replied confused and more than a little alarmed at the familiarity of Charon’s hands on him.
“Well, not entirely, there are flight support teams for the fighters you’ve already seen as well as security personnel, most of whom you have killed already. There are maintenance and medical teams etc., but as far as engineering, weaponry and battle-mode is concerned, it’s all controlled from in there.” He pointed back out on the bridge.
“Everything is automated with individual AIs controlling the main areas overseen by the bridge crew.”
Dalt was amazed. It had been so easy to penetrate the ship he hadn’t considered that it was because there was only a skeleton crew onboard. No wonder the captain had come down personally.
“Is this the normal crew number or are you on ‘shake-down’ ?” Dalt asked. He was getting the germ of another idea, but he needed more data from this new ally.
Charon was quick to respond. “Core is suffering badly on the manpower front. They have had problems with clones, there’s a virus apparently sweeping through them and it is decimating the reserves of the trained personnel. They had no choice, but to turn to semi-automation for the new ships. They are sourcing their technology from Exodus,” he added with a smirk.