by Mark Iles
Selena didn’t like the look of either man. Bred-An was thickset and moved with an animal grace, much like Za’an, although his face had a complexion pockmarked with acne scars. The other fellow was exactly the opposite, he was pale and so thin that he resembled a walking skeleton; one that had insanely intense blue eyes.
“Oh, there’s something else,” Za’an confessed , furtively watching as the men approached.
“Like what?” Singh queried. “Go on, enlighten us.”
“Bred-An thinks it was me who turned him in. Now, I ask you, why would I do something like that?”
“Perhaps he was in your way,” Selena replied, eyeing him.
Za’an returned her look silently for a moment or two, and then shrugged. “Well, he was.”
Before anyone else could comment, the two men had reached their table. Bred-An stared down at Za’an, who looked back at him nonchalantly.
“Well, what have we here? See, Rick, good things do come to those who wait. Hello, Ziggy, how’s things? You and I have things to discuss.”
“The name’s Za’an. I’ve told you that before.”
The skeleton tittered and began to speak in a high-pitched effeminate voice but Za’an skewered him with a look and barked, “Shut your face. I was talking to the sewer, not the shit that flows through it.”
Selena thought the skeleton’s eyes were going to fall out.
“You haven’t changed much, Bred-An. Gained a bit of weight here and there of course, and the zits have gotten worse. Oh, and you’re still as stupid as fuck.”
“Always the joker, eh, Ziggy? Oh, sorry, I haven’t introduced you to my friend here, have I? This is Rick Mercier.”
“Mercier?” Selena queried, looking at him as Kes laid a warning hand on her elbow, “The pirate?”
“The same,” Rick replied, leaning towards her. “Is it me, or do I know your face?”
“You should do. It’s hunted you and – if I recall correctly – I was responsible for the demise of many of your pirate friends, and for personally putting you out of business. Something I’m quite proud of, to tell the truth. I remember you well, Mercier, although we’ve never met. You’re the sick bastard who used to space the men of captured vessels and sell the woman and children onto the slave and prostitution markets.”
“It was a living.” Mercier smirked, with a shrug. But his smirk soon faded and he stood staring at Selena with a dour expression.
“One I put you out of,” Selena retorted. “You’re also personally responsible for the death of a friend of mine.”
“Well, isn’t this a happy little scene?” Kes interjected. “Why don’t we all have a drink and talk about the good times?”
“You’ll be Dillon, then,” Mercier said at last, watching Selena and ignoring Kes. “I sent you a condolences card, and some flowers – which I believe you’re referring to, when you just missed capturing me. If I recall correctly you left someone behind planet-side when you left, one Sharon Potts. I’m told the men enjoyed her and she squealed like a baby when they cut her into little pieces while she was still alive and they’d all taken their turn. Shame our paths didn’t cross sooner, Dillon, I could get a pretty price for you and big tits over there.” His eyes roamed over them and Samantha stiffened, then he changed gear and paid more attention to Za’an, saying: “Hey, how about bringing these two girlies back to mine so we can all try them out? I’ll give you a decent price for them, if they’re worth it.” Then he looked them over once more. “Not that I’m really that fond of sloppy seconds.”
The establishment had gone deathly quiet and was beginning to empty. Those remaining were looking anywhere but at them, and a steel shutter was noisily sliding over the bar.
“Listen, fuck face,” Selena snarled, “why don’t you either die or sod off to a zoo? They’re bound to have a rodent that might fancy you.”
The music had died down and Selena’s comment carried clearly. People chuckled and there was even a smattering of laughter. Money began to change hands between those few remaining in the club. The two security men had appeared at the top of the stairs, but took one look and quickly disappeared again.
With a snarl Mercier pulled out a broad-bladed knife and lunged at Selena.
Before anyone else could move, Arthur appeared as if out of nowhere and kicked Mercier in the left knee, shattering it; simultaneously, he slammed his open right hand into the arm bearing the knife, sending the weapon flying. Arthur instantly turned the blade of the same hand and struck with it again, chopping at Mercier’s throat, smashing the man’s larynx and cutting off his scream of agony.
Mercier grabbed at his throat and fell to his knees with a strangled gasp, even as Arthur kicked him savagely in the back of the neck and the man ploughed face-first onto the floor.
The instant Mercier had begun his move, and grabbed everyone’s attention, Bred-An had drawn a small axe and brought it slashing towards Za’an’s head.
Sam then played her trump card: scooping up the cat she swung it straight into Bred-An’s face as hard as she could. The creature screeched and dug its claws in while Bred-An screeched, even as the axe swung down. But Za’an was well versed in his old friend’s tactics and had anticipated the move. He brought his left arm up and guided the axe down, past his face and the table. Adding more force to its downward momentum, he guided the weapon directly into Bred-An’s groin. As the man uttered a gargling roar, and the cat jumped free, Za’an slammed two fingers into Bred-An’s eyes. Bred-An sank to his knees, bellowing and clutching at his face and groin. Then Selena punched him squarely in the side of the head, watching with great satisfaction as his skull indented and the man hit the floor with a crash and remained still.
“You know,” Selena said to her team, as she sat and took a sip of her drink, sparing only a glance at the prone men. “Singh’s right, those Rogets certainly do pack a wallop.”
* * * *
The Commodore was in a foul mood. He glowered at them from behind his desk as they stood at attention in a single line. He threw his pen onto his desk and mashed the stump of his cigar into an ashtray, before bellowing: “What the hell did you think you were doing? Two well known local business men have been killed. This is supposed to be a secret mission, the last thing we needed was media attention and now they’re going to be all over it. Dillon, speak to me!”
“No one was arrested, Sir,” interject Singh. “What makes you so sure that it was us?”
“If I need to get evidence there’s the clubs surveillance equipment, you clown. I thought you were cleverer than that!”
Selena thought the Commodore was going to explode. He glared at them, one by one, jaw set, a small white bead of spit collecting on the right side of his mouth. Fists clenching and unclenching, he tried to find the right words and control his temper.
“Lacey, I know you’re a fool but don’t keep proving it — or taking me for one. Don’t you lot get it? This mission is the most important one in mankind’s entire history, we simply have to succeed or there won’t be any of us left to write about. You may not be aware of it but I’ve had you all monitored, day and night. I know what you eat, drink, shit and dream — and also exactly what happened — even without the surveillance cameras, Singh! You’re going to complete this mission, even if I have to kick the shit out of the lot of you and dump you onto that ship myself, and I’m not going to risk the mission because of negative publicity. Do you all understand me?”
“Yes, sir!” they chorused.
“Good. The Magellan leaves at 06:00. You’re to return to the ship and remain onboard until she departs. You will not leave under any circumstances. Now, get the hell out of my sight! Dillon, you remain behind. I want a word with you.”
Commodore Van Pluy waited until the door had closed behind the last of them and eyed Selena speculatively. Finally he said calmly, “I think that went rather well, don’t you?”
“Yes, Sir. Jolly good acting, if I may say so. You had me quaking in my boots.”
His eyes twinkled. “I’ve a feeling it would take a bit more than that. Bred-An Shaw and Mercier were proving tedious, to say the least; and it finally gave you the opportunity to get rid of that pirate. As a team-building exercise I’d say it was a success, so well done. Now, you’d better return to the Magellan and get some sleep. Good luck, Dillon.”
“Thank you, Sir. We won’t let you down.”
“You better not; this is a one shot deal. It’s either us or the Manta now. Let’s just hope it’s them.”
Chapter Twelve
The Magellan took off on time, the commandos were jubilant and spirits were high. She was a small, fast craft and they’d left the system before they knew it. Their cabins were small and sparse but luckily they didn’t have much in the way of belongings.
As the weeks passed they honed their combat skills and knowledge of the systems on the craft they were to fly into combat.
It was during the sixth week, when Bryn and Za’an had just begun a game of pool in the ship’s lounge, when suddenly there was a violent lurch and the gravity system switched off. Unfortunately, this came just as Bryn hit the ball with his cue, resulting in the ball shooting off the table just prior to the backups kicking in. The ball smashed into the drinks cabinet behind the wardroom bar, breaking several antique bottles. Luckily nothing else was damaged and the other balls had only floated a little way off the table, and so landed safely with a loud clatter and scattered about as gravity was restored.
“So much for that game,” Bryn muttered. “Typical, I was winning, too.”
Angrily, Captain Kotes blamed Arthur, insisting that nothing of the kind had happened before; but Arthur was found asleep in his cot and when awoken swore that he had nothing to do with it. The Captain refused to believe him and from that day on he viewed the whole group with deep suspicion, as if convinced that Arthur was indeed to blame, or that his treasured antique bottles had been smashed by tomfoolery.
On the fortieth day they were awoken by a shrill whistling scream. The walls and ceiling were flashing red and a loud voice came over the communications system: “Hands to action stations! Two unidentified vessels closing fast. Estimated time of intercept eight minutes and closing. The ship will be sealed in three minutes. I repeat...”
Selena and Bryn had become closer and were having an early morning coffee in the canteen when the alarm went off. Dumping their cups into the bins, they ran into the corridors, only to find themselves in a mass of scurrying black uniforms. Several of the crew had been granted shore leave to make way for Selena’s team, and so they had to replace the missing crewmen in their action stations. Bryn and Kes hurried to man a close-in defence turret, while Selena teamed up with Singh to man another. As they sat checking and powering up the triple guns, the pressure doors closed throughout the ship with a slight ping!
“Vessels identified as an enemy assault ship and a destroyer escort.”
“The Captain’s an idiot,” Singh raged. “He’s putting our mission at risk, he shouldn’t be doing this!”
“I know,” Selena growled, keying her comms station. “Captain Kotes, this is Commander Dillon. What the hell are you doing?”
“Not now, Dillon. We can chat later; right now I have a situation to deal with.” The Captain cut her off without further ado, just as the ship dropped out of hyperspace.
Although officially classed as a frigate, the Magellan was primarily designed as a high speed reconnaissance vessel. The aim had been to keep it as small as possible and to this end it was only lightly armed with only point defence guns, two missile launchers and two Sun Beams.
As the ship hit normal space, Selena and Singh strapped themselves in and found they were looking out into space from the weapon pod’s clear bubble, at a stunning vista of galaxies and stars playing hide and seek within multi-coloured nebulae. The enemy ships were clearly visible as the Magellan closed. Their canopy darkened suddenly, as the Magellan fired her twin Sun Beam guns and one double salvo of missiles, then immediately a second, at the alien vessels. The first salvo of missiles and Sun Beams flared against the enemy shields and they dropped for just a moment, which was all that was needed to allow the second set of missiles to slam home. To her surprise Selena saw pieces fly away from the assault ship’s bridge. The Sun Beams flashed again and raked the now vulnerable craft from stem to stern. There was a sudden blinding flash and the assault ship blew up. The destroyer was now turning towards them, even as the Magellan fired her armament a third time and the weapons splashed harmlessly against the destroyer’s far superior shields.
“Get us the hell out of here,” Captain Kotes ordered over the intercom, obviously not wishing to remain and trade blows with the destroyer.
While their jump engines kicked in and the Magellan leapt back into hyperspace, their vessel shuddered, as a torpedo from the destroyer exploded against their shields.
“All stations stand down from action stations,” came a mechanical command and with another ping the pressure doors opened again.
“Thank heavens,” Singh muttered. “That was a bit too close for comfort.”
“Indeed it was,” Selena replied, her eyes flashing dangerously and lips pressed together into a thin line. “I need to speak to Captain Kotes. I’ll see you later.”
Singh watched as she marched away, back ramrod straight, and despite himself he felt somewhat sorry for the ship’s commanding officer.
* * * *
She was almost to the bridge when Selena was piped to the Captain’s cabin, which she’d just passed. Without a thought she turned around and strode to his door, knocking loudly.
“Come in, Commander,” the Captain said from behind his closed door.
Selena bit back her anger, slid back the door and marched in. “With due respect, Sir, what the hell are you playing at? The Commodore gave explicit instructions that you were to take us directly to the Dutch Lady, not to engage the enemy and risk our mission. It’s absolutely critical tha—”
“Yes, yes I know all that,” the Captain replied irritably, waving her to silence. He stood and produced a crystal decanter and two glasses. “Would you take a drink with me, Dillon? It’s real Scottish Whiskey, you know, single malt from Old Earth. I have a relative in the Highlands there, you see. No? Oh, well... Now, let me explain.” He dropped ice into one of the glasses and filled it with two fingers of amber liquid, then sat and eyed her warily.
“Twice I’ve had to walk away from those who really needed me, Dillon. I was in the flotilla sent to Olympus. When Admiral Black realised we had no chance of winning the battle, he ordered me to return the Magellan home with the news about the Manta attack, ordering the other ships to remain behind and protect us as we ran. They died, all of them, and I never forgave myself for it. Billions of people were lost on Olympus, not to mention the other ships and colonies in the system. We might have made a difference, had we stayed and fought beside them. I know the Admiral was right to order us away, as our message had to get through, but it doesn’t make it any easier – for me or my crew.
“Those ships we just encountered were on their way to Bernard’s Star, and I’m not sure if you’re aware of it or not but that place has been absolute hell for the past few weeks. I expect that most — if not all — of their defences have probably already fallen and that assault ship might have been the straw that broke the camel’s back. Those people are fighting for their lives right now. They’re dying even as we speak, and we may have brought them a tiny bit of time and perhaps a chance. Let’s face it, Commander; they’ll need all the help they can get.”
“I understand your sentiments, Captain. But you still had no right to risk our mission. You’ve compromised your orders and endangered much more than you know. You will take us directly to the Dutch Lady immediately, Sir. No stops and no distractions. Do I make myself clear?”
“Commander, I’m in charge of this ship, not you. I decide where and when we go. Unfortunately, that enemy missile damaged us slightly and we need to
set down for repairs. Obviously Bernard’s is out of the question, so we’re heading for Loreen.”
“You can’t!” she snapped, eyes flashing dangerously.
“Unfortunately, we’ve no choice.” He leaned back in his chair and took a slow sip of his malt, the ice clinking against the crystal glass. “We’ll be there in two days; repairs will take another five or so, if we’re lucky.”
“Oh, great; just what we need. At least a week lost! You do realise that I’ll be sending a report to the Commodore? Nothing personal, Sir.”
“There’s no offense taken, Commander. Do what you have to, and think of me what you will, I would not turn my back on Bernard’s Star and the people there. If it means my command, then so be it. The Dutch Lady won’t be ready for a little while yet; and, let’s face it, she can’t exactly sail without you, can she.”
“You’re a fool, Kotes. You’re not fully aware of what’s going on and the risks involved, simply because you don’t need to know. It’s not just Bernard’s Star that’s at risk here but all of humanity. You may be personally responsible for mankind’s extinction. Think on that when you drink your whiskey.” She stormed out.
Chapter Thirteen
Loreen proved to be a small, picturesque world, with vivid green seas and skies of the deepest blue. It comprised only one long, slender continent surrounded by a smattering of islands; the rest of the planet was ocean. The continent was heavily forested with hills and deep, largely unexplored valleys, whispering promises of adventure into innocent young ears. There was little indigenous land-based life and none of it had ever proven dangerous. There were, however, a great many predators in the deep oceans, from small singular creatures that would take a chunk out of you before swimming away, or swarms of them that shredded you in instants, with others the size of starships — almost all of which were inclined to try and eat anything that moved. Consequently any beaches that were used had strong protective filters and nets, plus well-armed robotic buoys, protecting them.