by A P Heath
“I promise you, once this is done you will get to see your family again.”
He realised she hadn’t missed the longing he had failed to hide.
“If that is all, I must make preparations to reach the Miranda in time for departure.” He said, rising to go.
“Arto,” The Ambassador said his name as he placed a hand on the door. He turned to face her.
“Be careful,” She said kindly. “I want you back on Luna with your family alive and well.” He nodded.
“Thank you Your,” He hesitated, still trying to break a habit
worn so deep.
“Thank you Arleese.” He turned away.
“And Arto?” He looked back again, his fingers on the handle of the office door.
“No one can know of this.”
Arto Dilempian closed the door behind him as he stepped into the main office of the Ambassador’s suite. He had come here expecting to leave in disgrace; headed back to Luna with no job and his prospects in tatters, but at least he would be returning to his family.
Now he was being dispatched on a secret mission to one of the most dangerous places in the solar system. It was not a role he considered himself fit for, but the Ambassador, Arleese, believed he was the right man.
If he’d been told a week, a day, even an hour before, that he would play a crucial role in preventing war between the Deorum and the Ministry, he’d have laughed whoever told him out of the room and raised a toast to their imagination. He could do with having a drink now, truth be told. He checked his watch. Two hours would be a push, but he could make it if he didn’t waste too much time packing.
Dilempian nodded to himself, content with his decision. He was leaving Jupiter’s Halo for the uncertain perils of Ceres. First though, he was going to have a really strong drink.
TWENTY-TWO
“Take them to pieces or they’ll get back up!”
Iasa Finsa’s voice echoed about the station bridge level. You need to destroy them.” Her voice cracked and Hornwood could hear the strain. He’d tried to reply but her comm link was dead and the station’s comm system was blocked by his commander. While she continued to broadcast he was unable to reach her through it.
“Their weapons are…wait, wait…”
“Commander!” Hornwood tried again, hoping she’d released the comm panel she was using as she paused. His words still didn’t reach her.
“Someone aboard let them…”
Her voice was cut short by a noise that shook the bridge level and forced Hornwood to throw his hands over his ears.
It sounded like the sharp bang of air friction when something passed the speed of sound. He glanced at Green. She was holding her ears too, her body bent protectively over her desk and tears rolling down her cheeks.
He wanted her to be alright, wanted to make sure she was not hurt, but there were more pressing matters to attend to first.
He depressed the comm panel to broadcast throughout the station. Iasa’s comm link sign had ceased to flash on Greens monitor some minutes before she’d began speaking through the station’s system and he couldn’t be sure where she would have been.
Her voice had been breathy, strained and weak. Hornwood guessed she was injured, but that didn’t mean her movements would be slow.
Iasa Finsa was LSS and no one made it into that elite and secretive band without showing serious skill, determination and the ability to persevere when all others faltered.
She’d made mention of the fourth level and their fallen comrades too; Trishan, Janner and Ipsis were gone. For all he knew right now Iasa might be out of action as well.
The noise hadn’t sounded like a weapon, at least not any that
he was familiar with. It could have been the comm panel blowing out under the stress of use. It was an old system and Hornwood had no idea of how long it had been left unused and without maintenance.
Even now Iasa could be making her way to another panel.
Either way Hornwood had to act as if she were no longer alive. It was critical their mission objective, on any mission they undertook, always remained the priority and that meant the protocols were simple and strict; if the active status of any unit member is under question the worst case scenario must be assumed and the responsibilities or requirements of that unit member be adopted by others in line with the pre-determined unit hierarchy and skills matrix.
The command structure put Hornwood below Iasa then Trishan, but as one was confirmed KIA and the other now considered inactive, the mission command fell to him.
His objectives were clear; should the station come under attack or suffer a critical failure of any kind, the substation must be detached and set to return to Luna. Secondarily, the science and research staff must be evacuated.
The comms officers were considered expendable and should circumstances prevent the completion of objectives one and two, the station was to be destroyed.
The last option was not one Hornwood wanted to consider. If he had to give the order to set the station on self-destruct he and his unit would still be aboard when it blew.
He could live with that, metaphorically speaking, but the thought of seeing Officer Green burn in his last moments put a knot in his stomach. It was a queer sensation.
Hornwood was unused to personal relationships that included actual emotions. He’d had his fair share of encounters over the years, but the demands of the LSS and the life he’d led prior hammered those sorts of feelings out of his mind.
Here on this empty station, hanging motionless in the void over a dead planet they’d started to rise back to the surface.
He’d given it little thought, but in the peace of his rest cycles there was little more to do than sleep, eat, train and think, so on occasions he’d been forced to give the prospect at least a
little of his time.
Now he pushed those thoughts aside again. Emotions would cloud his mind and hamper his ability to make the right decisions.
His steps now were clear; the station had been boarded by an unknown force and his unit had suffered significant losses. The substation must be separated and the science staff evacuated.
“Blist, Elba, report.” He issued through his comm link.
“We’ve reached the exit of the link stair to level four,” Came Blist’s response.
“There’s no signs of movement.” He paused briefly, Hornwood guessed to survey the bending corridor before him.
“The commander…is she…?” The question was unfinished but clear all the same.
“Commander Finsa is inactive on comms.” Hornwood replied without hesitation.
“Consider her KIA and revert to unit formation Gamma.”
“Understood. Orders?”
Blist’s response was automatic. Irrespective of his respect for his commanding officer, the mission parameters were clear. Hornwood was now in command and Blist knew the mission objectives as well as he did.
“Main objectives only,” Hornwood replied, “Separation and evacuation. I will handle the first and meet you on the link stair. Maintain position until I arrive.”
Hornwood looked at Officer Green again, her bright eyes were shining with the sheen of tears. She couldn’t hear the exchange, but the events of the last few minutes had clearly shaken her. “And Blist,”
“Yes sir?” Blist returned.
“If you see any of those bastards heading for the link stair I want them taken to pieces!”
Hornwood doubted it needed saying, but he felt better for voicing his anger. ‘Take them to pieces or they’ll get back up’ Iasa had said. It was a confusing statement, but the order was clear.
These boarders were armoured in some way that meant they needed to be destroyed utterly. Hornwood relished the opportunity to do just that. He knew the rest of the unit would feel the same.
“Yes sir!”
With a thought he redirected his comm link to the remainder of their unit; Diagno, Bonner and Cross.
“Confirm sublevels ar
e clear.” He ordered. Cross was the first to respond.
“All substation levels clear of enemy and friendlies.” He returned.
“Diagno picked up the med-tech on level ten, but otherwise there’s nothing down here but us.”
“Good.” Hornwood glanced at the display of their comm link beacons. All three were in the second link stair that ran between levels fourteen and nine.
“Bring the med-tech to the primary loading bay and prepare the Peregrine for evacuation under fire.”
“Officer Green,” He said out loud.
The delicate comms officer turned her watery eyes on him. “How long does the separation process take?”
She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand, trying to gather herself again.
“Once the databanks are downloaded the separation is immediate.” She replied tremulously.
“And how long to download the databanks?”
Hornwood prompted. Green blinked her eyes, her flawless brow creasing.
“Er…it takes…”
Hornwood raised his eyebrows high, his face showing his impatience. Green was young and clearly out of her depth in a real situation of crisis, but she got the message.
“It will take approximately thirty seconds once initiated.”
She said more confidently. Hornwood nodded.
“Get to it.”
Hornwood stepped back to give her room as she crossed to the databanks. There were five of them, thin black stacks in shiny
metal frames that stood seven feet high. Each one was capable of holding millions of data packets and for a moment he thought she meant to try to download it all in one go.
He switched back to internal comms.
“Cross, in thirty seconds the substation is going to separate and that link stair will be a vacuum. Get moving.”
His comm link registered Cross’ confirmation and on the display he saw the flashing lights signifying Cross, Diagno and Bonner start to move through the link stair. He turned his attention back to Officer Green, over at the databanks.
Her fingers blurred with speed as she tapped furiously at the first control panel and within seconds she was moving onto the next. Hornwood watched in growing admiration as she made her way along the row. At the last databank she hesitated.
“Something wrong?” He questioned as her hands hovered over the lit panel.
Green turned her head to look over her shoulder, her hands hovering over the commands.
“We’re going to be alright aren’t we?” She asked, her voice quiet and fragile.
Hornwood didn’t know whether he should give her the odds of success or simply lie. Those green eyes of hers were fixed on him, pleading for reassurance when he had none to give her.
The enemy, whoever they were, had taken his unit down to sixty percent before they’d even known for sure they were under attack. An enemy who could do that to LSS operatives was a truly terrifying prospect.
He was about to reply, to tell her he’d protect her, he’d keep her close and safe when the doors to the bridge exploded inwards.
The shock threw Green from her feet.
She fell hard against the instrument panels to her right, her body crumpling to the floor.
Hornwood kept his feet, but dust filled his eyes, blurring his vision. His instincts and training kicked in and he dived to his left, taking him behind another terminal and out of view of the
ruined doorway.
He came up kneeling, his left hand drawing his pistol from its holster while his right clamped around the bladeless grip attached to his belt.
The sword was one of the many marvels of the technology the LSS had access to.
Inactive it was simply comprised of grip and pommel. The blade was nano-filament, a collection of millions of microscopic elements that could be formed into multiple shapes through the commands of his comm link.
Hornwood favoured the long curving edge of a katana and with a thought the blade issued out before him. It built itself from nothing, each section forming in a rapid rippling wave of energised particles that built to the pointed tip a metre from his fingers.
‘Take them to pieces Iasa had said. Hornwood intended to do exactly that.
The dust from the exploding doors was still thick in the air. There was no noise from the intruders but that of footfalls on the metal flooring.
They weren’t speaking, no orders were issued. He guessed they would be signing; a warfare tactic as old as warfare itself.
It was hard to make out their placement within the small room, but Hornwood knew the measurements of the space around him precisely from any position on the bridge.
From where he crouched he was one-point-eight metres from the doors, an easy distance to bridge in seconds to bring his foe into reach of the energised edge of his sword.
He estimated they would be stepping into the open space at the entrance to the trans-shaft.
How they’d breached it to reach this level he had no idea, but that was a question to answer once the immediate danger was dealt with.
Their vision would be obscured by the clouds of dust their arrival had created and their attention likely fixated on the prone form of Officer Green.
That meant they were likely facing away from him at ninety
degrees. Hornwood surmised this all in seconds. His thoughts following the familiar routes of tactical and situational analysis that the LSS had drummed into him so thoroughly.
He braced himself against the floor, flexed his fingers around the grip of his sword and leapt.
He came over the terminal in a blur, the dusty air swirling around his moving form.
There were three shapes moving from the doorway, their blocky guns pointed across the bridge just as he had suspected.
He cleared the terminal and its seating, his left foot hitting the deck with barely a sound. His right foot came down ahead of it, his adrenaline pumping.
The nearest intruder was turning, slowly, far too slowly, raising the wide barrel of his weapon.
Hornwood’s momentum and speed carried his in close, his right arm slashing down. The blade hissed through the upper arm, separating it just below the shoulder.
There was no scream or cry of pain. Hornwood fired his pistol at the second attacker as he turned his first cut into an upward sweep, drawing the shining blade back through the neck of the closest body and watching the head tip back as it separated.
His bullet hit home, impacting in the chest of the second intruder, staggering him with its force. He too was turning to face Hornwood, levelling his strange looking weapon.
Hornwood was already moving past the line of its fire though. His steps took him behind the falling body of his first foe, quicker even than its collapse to the cold floor.
He didn’t stop, didn’t hesitate. Another shot fired from the barrel of his pistol, taking the second attacker in the neck.
A third was directed at the remaining foe. Hornwood aimed for the wrist, hoping to separate it from the hand bringing yet another gaping maw to bear on him.
It was high, exploding against the flesh of the forearm instead, but Hornwood didn’t let the miss slow his attack. His foes were not as quick to respond to him as he had been to them and that would be the cause of their downfall.
His sword swept down on the second man, passing through the material at his shoulder, then the flesh beneath, the bone and sinew, all with the ease of parting the air around them.
He let his movement pull the blade from the mass of the crumpling body and placed another shot into the lolling head at point blank range.
The first return fire sounded, deafening in the close confines of the bridge level. It was wide, but Hornwood felt the pressure of the air wave as it passed him, pulling at his sword arm and unbalancing his stride.
He stumbled, but reflexes honed over countless hours of training let him turn the faltering steps into a forward roll.
He bounced up directly in front of the third attacker, bringing his swo
rd and pistol with him. The pistol bucked in his hand as he pumped rounds into the dark figure. His sword arm continued its upwards arc. Entering between the legs and slicing through groin, abdomen and torso.
Hornwood stopped, standing face to face with the last of his enemies, looking directly into the man’s eyes. There was no motion there. They were black of pupil and iris, just pools within the white of the eyeball. They looked dead to Hornwood and not just because of the brutal damage he’d inflicted. They looked as if they’d always been this way.
Hornwood pulled his blade and let the body crash to the floor. From the moment the bridge doors had buckled to this one had taken a matter of seconds.
He breathed deeply, allowing his body to settle and the adrenaline to drain from his system. His hands shook slightly.
He surveyed his fallen foes. The looked odd, wrong somehow.
When he dispatched each one they had fallen like dolls. Simply crumpling at the joints and collapsing to the deck. That wasn’t how people dropped when you killed them.
There was no sound either. Hornwood considered himself amongst the toughest the Deorum had to offer, but he’d taken enough injuries to know that no amount of bravery or strength could keep a man from crying out or at the very least grunting with pain, when his body was all but cut in half.
Then the strangeness of the view hit him like a rogue asteroid; there was no blood. He’d taken off limbs, a head and damn near opened the last man from groin to neck and yet not one of them was bleeding. Nothing he knew of could explain that peculiarity.
“Take them to pieces.” He chuckled quietly to himself, nodding.
“Consider it done commander.”
He turned to find Officer Green. She was still lying where she’d fallen. He couldn’t see any visible injuries, but she’d landed hard and her eyes were closed.
He stepped over and knelt to lift her head gently. She was unconscious but breathing. Hornwood let out a small sigh of relief.
He hadn’t realised how much concern he’d felt for her until he knew for sure she was still alive. He opened his comm link to all LSS operatives aboard.
“The bridge has come under attack,” He sent, standing and turning on the spot to take in the full situation.