A look of surprise was etched onto Knole’s dead face.
Featherstone looked up to the surveillance node just over Knole’s dead body. It did not appear to be damaged.
“What happened here?” Featherstone asked.
“He was suffocated,” Cronin said. “There are no puncture wounds, no pulse round wounds. The bruising around his face and neck suggests he was choked.”
Dorik pointed at Knole’s bootheels and then the floor. “Scuff marks on the heel shows he was fighting. There are the scuff marks his boots made on the deck. Whoever killed him did it right here.”
Dorik stood. He crossed his arms over his chest and shook his head. “Knole has been a member of this crew for as long as I have. We’ve all been together for such a long time. We are like family. Who could have done this?” He looked at Featherstone. “I’ll find them, Major. I’ll find whoever did this. No one gets away with murder on a Blue Star ship.”
Featherstone laid a hand on Dorik’s shoulder. “We’ll find out who did it, Sergeant.”
“There is some bruising on his elbows,” Cronin said. He stood up and faced the major. “Knole fought his attacker. The scuff marks on the floor shows he was trying to push back into his attacker. The bruising on the elbows shows me how he hit backward with his elbows into whoever was behind him. The attacker came from behind. Whoever they are, they are going to have some pretty heavy bruising on their abdomen. May I demonstrate, sir?” Cronin said.
Turning his back to the major, Cronin demonstrated Knole’s last moments. He reached behind him and took Featherstone’s wrist and placed it over his shoulder and around his throat.
“The attacker had Knole in this manner. One hand over his face and another, probably a forearm, across his throat.”
“Like this?” Featherstone brought his left arm around and across Cronin’s throat.
Dorik stepped to the side and watched, nodding in agreement. “Doc, you are a few centimeters shorter than Knole. If Knole was being pulled backward enough for his heels to drag on the deck then that would have put the murderer right here.” Dorik pointed at the deck.
Cronin and Featherstone adjusted their positions, and then Cronin slowly demonstrated hitting back with his elbow. The elbow made light contact with Featherstone’s gut.
Featherstone released Cronin. “Knole was fit and strong. It would have taken someone a long time to crush the life out of him. The killer took him by surprise and held onto him until the job was done.”
From where he was standing, Featherstone looked for the nearest surveillance node. It was directly overhead.
“Whoever did it made sure the surveillance system was not working. Someone really strong and with a good technical knowledge of the Resolute.”
“This is a Blue Star crew,” Dorik said. “Every one of us is trained in this kind of fighting and has the technical skills necessary to circumvent the security systems. Let’s face it, Major. It could be any one of us.”
“Quite so, Sergeant. But why?” Featherstone paced the corridor, looking at the site of the murder. It was so open; anyone could have come by. If it was premeditated, surely the killer would have picked somewhere more private where they wouldn’t be disturbed. Then, for that matter, why kill with bare hands at all? That didn’t suggest premeditation either.
The site and manner of the killing suggested an impulsive act. It was a fact that the entire ship’s company were trained killers, any one physically capable of this, but they were disciplined and elite. No Blue Star Marine had ever been convicted of such an offense.
Kneeling next to Knole, Cronin closed the body bag. “I’ll do a full autopsy. Maybe I’ll find some forensic evidence. There may be some skin or blood cells under his fingernails if he managed to claw at his attacker. Maybe some DNA evidence… But if the attacker had the presence of mind to disable the security systems, I expect they would have ensured not to leave any forensic evidence.”
Featherstone nodded. “Do what you can, Doc. I’m going to see if I can find out what he was doing before he was killed. Sergeant Dorik, you’re with me.”
Featherstone turned and walked away, filled with questions about why and who, and what he would do when he found the killer. He had no doubt that he would find the killer. The Resolute was a small ship, and whoever had committed the murder was still on board.
Stepping onto the command deck, Featherstone went over to the communications console—Yanic Knole’s station.
“Knole was at his station when I was on the operation at the Skarak location. I spoke to him myself. You were in command of the Resolute at that time, Sergeant. You had the deck. Tell me, what was Knole doing?”
Coming up next to Featherstone, Dorik touched the console. “He showed me something.” He sounded as if he was only half-remembering. “What was he showing me?” Dorik said to himself as his eyes drifted across the command deck and then back to the console. “He was showing me Curveball tactical plays,” Dorik said, suddenly sure of himself. “Something about running old tactical plays with data from current squads. He really did live for his sports.”
Featherstone ran his hands over the communication console that Knole had operated so well for so long. He shook his head. “He was working on something. I remember that I detected a hint of something in his voice, something had his attention. There was something he wanted to tell me.”
“Probably the results of his Curveball experiments,” Dorik said. “He couldn’t stop talking about it.” Dorik tapped a few controls and brought up the data from Knole’s experiment. “It’s all here. Look.”
A message appeared on the communication console, and its sudden appearance startled Featherstone. Dorik stepped up and sent the coded transmission to the main holo-stage.
“It’s Colonel Lawrence calling from Blue Star Command on Terra,” Dorik said.
Featherstone stepped around the console and stood in front of the main holo-stage. “Put the colonel on now, Sergeant.”
The image of Colonel Lawrence appeared.
“Major Featherstone, I’m redeploying the Resolute. Are you fit for action?”
“Yes, sir. The Resolute is standing by for orders.”
“We have a scattered reading and indistinct message from a cruiser in the belt. A company of regulars are in action at an uncharted mining facility in the belt in response to a Skarak signal. It was assumed there would be some Faction activity at the location. Before we lost contact, there were reports of Faction elements and then a report of a Skarak attack. We lost all contact with the cruiser and her commanding officer a few hours ago.”
“The Resolute is in great shape. We are ready and waiting for duty, sir.”
“We are stretched thin, Major. The fleet is investigating every Skarak location on that network you discovered.”
Featherstone thought again of Sergeant Will Boyd. He had discovered the network while investigating a Skarak wreck. It was a set of data linking all the hidden Skarak locations across the system. So far, every one of those locations had contained a laboratory filled with human experimental subjects. A horror show, a torture chamber. But where was Boyd now? Had he gone rogue, or was he still undercover—deep, deep undercover?
The colonel was distracted for a moment as someone handed him a holo-pad. He quickly checked a file before landing the pad back. “Tactical intelligence is struggling to get on top of the Skarak situation. They are dug in and hiding throughout the system. We keep turning up new locations every few hours. But mostly, the Skarak are staying quiet until we get on top of them. However, the Skarak activity at this uncharted mining facility appears to be a deliberate and unprovoked attack. We are sending in a swarm of surveillance drones to gather information. You are to go in and recover any and all Union personnel and equipment. We are after information on this one, Major. Get in and get out. Send me a report as soon as possible. Lawrence out.”
Featherstone looked over to Dorik. “Find me a replacement operator for the communications console, Serg
eant. And then assemble an assault team.”
Featherstone stepped up to the command chair just as the coded coordinates were arriving on his armrest holo-stage.
“All hands, this is the major. Action stations. We are heading directly for a Skarak ship, and that is all we know for sure. All weapons crews prepare and activate all systems. Defensive systems standby. All power to the drive.”
Featherstone looked at the map of the Scorpio System on the holo-stage. The route was marked with a bright green line. At maximum speed, the Resolute would be on location in under an hour. Calmly and methodically, Featherstone made his preparations. The Blue Stars were heading into battle.
12
Boyd leaned into the barricade and steadied his pulse rifle. The horde of Skarak-controlled corpses came into view. The tunnel was dark and the mass of bodies pouring forward were lit from behind by the flashes from the mouth of the tunnel where sporadic firefights were still going on in the main chamber.
Boyd could hear the oncoming crowd. He could hear their rasping breath. He could hear the feet scraping over the rock of the tunnel floor. He could hear their deep, guttural moaning.
The shadows of the horde danced on the wall. In a moment, they would come around the bend and come into range of the small defensive line. Pulse rifles all along the barricade were steadied and readied and aimed. Faction troopers alongside Union Marines. Boyd never thought he would see it, but here they were. And they were taking orders from him.
Thresh inched closer to Boyd. He felt her arm touching his. She was focused, staring down the sights of her rifle toward the bend in the tunnel, but she was reaching out to him. He didn’t want to be anywhere near her. He felt betrayed. He felt sick in his stomach that the one person he had grown closest to was a murderer.
“You’ll never be able to fire straight if you squash up against me like that, Thresh,” Boyd said, taking his target from the shadow on the wall. Any second now, the body casting the shadow would come into view. Boyd was ready to stop it the instant it came into his sights. He nudged Thresh and shoved her aside.
“I can still shoot straight.” Thresh stood from the barricade and moved down the line, dropping back into position between two Faction fighters.
Boyd turned to look at where Thresh was positioning herself, and then he berated himself for showing any kind of concern. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the first of the mindless horde rush into view.
“Take them down.” Boyd squeezed his trigger.
On his word of command, a barrage of pulse rounds lit up the caravan. The rushing bodies came with their arms reaching out, nails clawing at the air toward eyes and flesh. The front of the horde fell under the stream of pulse rounds. They stumbled and fell, trampled and thrown aside by those who came behind—unconcerned for the plight of their fellows, unconcerned they faced a deadly barrage. They ran on and fell under the constant stream of rifle fire.
Boyd fired and his round struck a man in the chest. The force of it stopped him in his tracks, but before Boyd could put him down for good, the wounded corpse was knocked over by those who came from behind, trampled to a pulp under the hundred feet that came behind.
Beyond the wave of mindless flesh drones, Boyd could see the Skarak. The insect-like creatures with their long crackle beam weapons walked slowly behind the mass of captured humans. They used the bodies under their control as a shield, a flesh wall, protecting them from the rifle fire. Boyd saw the Skarak stop walking and raise their weapons. The wall of civilians was thinning and nearly spent when Boyd saw the danger that was still to come.
“The Skarak,” Boyd said, “Marines, target the Skarak. The rest of you finish off these poor bastards.”
Boyd stepped away from the barricade and walked along the line checking where the fire was being concentrated. The Marines were picking their shots in between the horde and firing at the Skarak, but the horde appeared to move in front of the rounds, protecting the Skarak, who were firing their crackle beams. The beams flickered toward the defensive barricade, not traveling in a straight line like a blast from a high-powered laser, but erratically. The crackling beams seemed to dance around the remains of the horde and struck the barricade with explosive force.
The center of the barricade erupted, and the defenders were flung back along the tunnel. Residual energy lines from the crackle beams flickered along the floor and up the walls. Boyd saw one Union Marine fully caught by the blue energy. It flickered all over his body momentarily before dissipating, leaving the Marine shivering until he fell to the floor in a lifeless heap. A moment later, the Marine stood again, his rifle forgotten, and turned to the nearest defender. He reached out to claw at the man’s face. Boyd saw the wild, lifeless expression in the Marine’s eyes—a sight he’d seen before but never quite so close.
Another beam slammed into the barricade as the last of the horde came forward. The Faction civilians who had taken up arms were beginning to fall back, firing as they went at first, but now turning and running. The troopers held their formation but were backing away. The Marines held their ground, but one looked to Boyd for an order.
“Fall back,” Boyd shouted while aiming at a Skarak soldier at the far end of the tunnel just before the bend. With the horde down to only a dozen remaining, there was nothing left for the Skarak to hide behind and Boyd’s round slammed into the Skarak’s ugly, oval, insectoid head. The round knocked it off its feet.
Boyd stepped back, staying in line with the retreating Marines; they were all firing in a controlled manner as they walked slowly backward. Boyd saw arms and legs under the rubble that was left of barricade—the broken bodies of fallen defenders. The surviving fighters were all firing up their bayonets and getting ready for close-quarters combat, ugly and bloody work. Then Boyd noticed one of those buried in the rubble was Thresh. He recognized her ankle. He recognized her boot. He felt his heart jump, threatening to leap clear of his chest.
“Marines, to me!” Boyd stepped forward and grabbed Thresh’s ankle. The Marines held their ground, giving him covering fire, but none helped as he clawed at the rubble.
Finally, Boyd pulled her from under the rubble. She was lucky not to be buried more deeply. She was covered in dust and blood, her clothes tattered and torn. She let out a moan of pain, too badly injured to cry out with any great strength.
“Someone help,” Boyd said. He lifted Thresh to her feet and flung her arm over his shoulder and started dragging her back along the tunnel. One Marine shouldered his rifle and grabbed Thresh’s other arm, looping it over his shoulder. The pair dragged Thresh along and struggled to keep up with the retreat. Boyd pulled his pistol off his hip holster and fired blindly back in the general direction of the Skarak soldiers as he walked and dragged Thresh deeper into the tunnel.
Boyd rounded a bend and tossed a grenade over his shoulder.
“Let’s go, Marines!” he shouted and found an extra burst of speed from deep in his fatigued muscles.
Boyd saw two more Marines pull grenades and toss them back along the corridor before they came to Boyd and helped him drag Thresh further around the bend. The grenades detonated a moment later, filling the tunnel with dust and debris.
“You came back for me,” Thresh said groggily. Dust in her hair, blood on her cheek.
“I need every able-bodied fighter if we have a hope of beating these bastards.” Boyd said, looking ahead to avoiding looking into Thresh’s eyes.
“I’ll always come for you,” Thresh said. She was gaining some strength and taking more of her own weight. She took her arm from around the Marine’s neck and then also off Boyd’s neck, staggering forward unaided. Boyd saw she was struggling, but he left her to struggle. She would have to try harder. Boyd had done enough. He didn’t know why he had even gone to the effort of saving her. He wouldn’t do it again. He couldn’t do it again. He owed it to his brother. For years, he’d been an honorable Blue Star Marine driven to do his duty to capture and kill Faction pirates hoping that one day he would fin
d Kitzov, the person who he had thought had killed his brother. But now he knew it was Thresh all along and there was no way he was going to save her again. He felt betrayed for all the time they had spent together, all the times they’d laughed and loved. Boyd walked ahead of the group of Marines and heard a young corporal behind them.
“You only just made it out there, Miss. Do you need help? Let me help you.”
Boyd heard Thresh thank the young corporal but insisted on carrying her own weight.
“This is not my first action,” Thresh said proudly, then she added with a tone of arrogance and irritation that Boyd knew was meant for him, “I can take care of myself, soldier boy.”
A crackle from his holo-stage was a sound familiar to Boyd. He listened up to the faint message as it came in. It was a Marine in another one of the tunnels with access to a sensor array. He sent a message to all Union Marines in the settlement.
“Ship coming in. It’s Union, a Blue Star Marine frigate. The Resolute.”
Boyd looked at the Marine next to him. They all seemed more confident knowing that more Union troops were on their way, and Blue Star Marines at that.
The corporal looked at Boyd. “Blue Star Marines. That’s your lot. Do you know anyone on the Resolute?”
“Yes,” Boyd said, his heart sinking slightly. “I know the Resolute company. I know them very well.” The last time Boyd had seen his old ship, he was running after he had freed Faction prisoners, Thresh principally among them, and betrayed his own commanding officer. Even now, Boyd wasn’t sure if he was truly deep, deep undercover or if he had just lost all discipline and gone rogue.
The Marine beamed at him. “It will be nice for you to see some old friends.”
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