The Apex Warriors

by Marc Stevens

  “Klutch, take the lead. Let’s see if we can find a pressurized cabin or deck.”

  I heard Klutch mumble that engineers were incapable of finding their own anus unless a soldier pointed it out to them.

  “Keep the comms clear of chatter.” I curly reminded him.

  This garnered an audible snicker from Coonts. I saw Tria’s avatar turn on the overmuscled Grawl and poke a finger in his faceplate. It promptly stifled his mirth. You’d swear the two clowns were taking a walk in a park somewhere, and not on a combat mission. Klutch went to the junction of the passage and called an all-clear. We saw a large open galley to our right that was vacant. Lift tubes were at the end of the corridor to our left. I pointed in that direction and Klutch led the way. We stopped at the edge of the tube and Klutch looked down. The single tube was a dual purpose lift and it was empty. Prominently displayed on the back wall of the tube was a deck directory. There was a single chevron that pointed up and the Galatic standard on the wall said bridge deck. The other decks were numbered from six on down, with the last being the cargo hold. We had been screwing around for more than forty minutes. The longer it took to find the Scrun, the more likely the chance they would figure out the Tibor team was no longer part of their plans. Taking the lift tube would be taking a huge risk, but we needed to get on with it.

  “Klutch, let’s clear the bridge and make sure this thing can’t get underway.”

  “Roger Commander, going up.” He replied.

  The chevrons indicated the right side of the large tube was upstream and the other was down. We went up and found ourselves at the end of a large open corridor. It was maybe twenty feet long and ended at the bridge blast doors. They were closed and had no outside guards. It was sloppy security but they could be on the bridge for all we knew.

  I commed my team. “Let’s keep this quiet as possible. Klutch, make a hole on my command.”

  I held up my arm and tapped my spike launcher. I got three quick acknowledgments. “Do It Klutch.”

  We went in fast and low. There were three Murlaks and a Scrun on the bridge. They were all wearing armor and helmets. The Scrun was wearing one of their highly upgraded exoskeletons. They all had their backs turned to us. They were looking at displays that showed a view of the cargo hold and several areas surrounding the freighter. Klutch boosted directly at the Scrun. He plowed into him, violently smashing him into the monitors. The Murlaks were shocked stupid went the Scrun crashed into the viewscreens and then the deck. They went for their sidearms. We opened fire, killing them before they could even touch their weapons. The high-velocity spikes piercing their helmets and lodging in the viewscreens behind them.

  We had recovered several of the Scrun exoskeletons in a past engagement. Justice and our Grawl scientists gave us intimate knowledge of their design. We knew the systems well. Klutch was on the deck smashing and ripping at the comms transmitter mounted on the Scrun’s back, near the armor’s life support systems. It was hard to say if the soldier was conscious or even alive for that matter. Coonts kneeled at Klutch’s side and started stripping off the suit’s modular rocket launcher packs. When he was sure the Scrun was defenseless, he stood aside and let Klutch jerk him up to his feet. He looked into the Scrun’s transparent faceplate. The alien was bleeding from his single large eyeball and his big hair-lipped mouth. Just when I thought he might be dead, he gurgled up a mouthful of bloody spit and it drooled out of his mouth. The eyeball moved around trying to determine what happened. I put my helmet up to the gangly alien’s faceplate and uncloaked so he could see my war mask in close detail. He started thrashing around until Klutch shoved him to the deck and sat on him, pinning his arms and legs. Tria went to the bridge doors and took up a guard position. Coonts looked over the control panels and made sure we were not being monitored or overheard. He uncloaked and gave me a thumbs up.

  I looked down on the slaver piece of scat. “The hunters have become the hunted.” I mocked in the Scrun language.

  If the alien’s eye bugged out any further, it would free itself from its socket.

  “I am going to give you a choice. I will let you live if you answer my questions. If not, you will die an excruciating death. I am sure you know my reputation by now. I do not usually waste my time speaking with my enemies, I choose instead to kill them all because it takes all of the uncertainty out of what they might say to preserve their lives. In your case, I will make an exception.”

  The Scrun’s eye narrowed, and his mouth became a thin flat line. I knew defiance when I saw it. I put my boot on the Scrun’s hand and let him feel about half of my battle armor’s weight. The scream was high-pitched and surprisingly loud. Klutch put a halt to it with a single hard punch just below the Scrun’s faceplate. The blow freed bloody spittle from the slaver’s mouth and made a mess out of his faceplate. He was trying desperately to take in enough of the exotic atmosphere he breathed, to finish his scream. The attempt was a failure, and his face turned an interesting hue of green. I let up on his hand and gave him a minute to compose himself. He finally wheezed in enough breath, his color returned to normal.

  “You have changed nothing, you will never leave this outpost alive!” He spat out in contempt.

  10

  When it came to getting answers from scum like the slaver, I had no problem doing whatever was necessary. Stretching the truth was the most innocuous tool at my disposal and a starting point. I already knew the Scrun had troops that called themselves the Legion of the Chosen. They were trained or possibly brainwashed into thinking they were something special. Their sole purpose in life was to kill me and my crew. It was a good place to start my fabrications.

  “That’s what your fellow Legion of the Chosen members thought as well. Now they are dead and there is only you. Since it sounds to me like you prefer to be slowly dissected rather than answer my questions, so be it.”

  Coonts made a show of ripping out a conduit from the wall and extracting a thick cable from it. He held it up to me. “His hands or his feet, Commander?” He asked with an ominous tone to his voice.

  The expression on the Scrun’s face went from defiance to fear. Cowards who regularly subjected their victims to torture, lose their nerve when it might happen to them. The Scrun’s eye grew wide and he turned his focus on me.

  “Let's start with his feet and work our way up,” I replied.

  Coonts stepped on the Scrun’s leg and he screamed out in pain.

  I pointed into The Scrun Commander’s faceplate. “Remember, this is what you wanted.”

  Coonts savagely twisted the cable around Scrun’s ankle and he started screaming again. Klutch cut it short with another punch. It was not as brutal as the first one but did manage to stop the slaver from screaming.

  Coonts extended his fighting hook. “Commander, his upgraded armor requires several blows to penetrate.”

  I added my own theatrics. “Make sure the tourniquet is tight. I do not want his suit to depressurize or have him bleed out.”

  Coonts gave the cable another savage twist. The Scrun started bucking and thrashing again, but there was little he could do with Klutch pinning him down.

  The Troop Master added his own commentary. “It only took me four strikes to sever limbs from the others. I doubt that you can do better.”

  Coonts raised his fighting hook high over his head. “I wager ten credits that I can.”

  The Scrun had heard enough. “What do you want to know.” He yelled.

  I held my hand up to Coonts and he froze. “Where can I find the Grawl named Nassar? I wish to speak to him about the Omega Syndicate.”

  The Scrun was so shocked, I thought for a moment he might faint. He stammered. “How is it possible you know of Nasser?” He asked.

  “Members of Troop Master Skully’s strike team did not like seeing him butchered. They gave up information on Nassar, you, and your legion members.”

  I have never seen someone vomit in their pressure suit. From my first moments of wearing one, I was caution
ed never to do it. The Scrun must have recently eaten because he was a veritable puke fountain.

  I gave him a moment to finish blowing chunks. “My patience is at an end. Answer my question or you will suffer the same fate as Skully!”

  “I swear to you,” He pleaded. “All I know is that he met us at our base of operations on Outpost 3142. I was told he came from a place called Frontier. He is in charge of a security team that assesses threats against the leadership of the Omega Syndicate and high-ranking members of other groups associated with them.”

  “If you think you can give us a small amount of information without proof to back it up, you would be wrong.”

  I dropped my hand and Coonts came down with his hook on the Scrun’s ankle. I could tell it was not his best effort and only intended to loosen the slaver’s tongue. It did not pierce the Scrun’s armor but had to hurt like hell.

  The Scrun screamed out in pain and said he had more information. I held my hand up to Coonts again. He stopped but added more merciless commentary. “If we cut off his feet he will be more informative.”

  I glanced at the overmuscled Grawl, wondering just how much of his pomposity was an act.

  “I can tell you many things,” The Scrun implored.

  “Speak quickly, because your time is running out.”

  “We have many security agents on Outpost 3142. They are trained in surveillance and well hidden. One such agent was covertly observing the freight docks when the anti-matter weapon was delivered to us. He overheard the freighter Captain who was overseeing the unloading, say they had to get underway and return to Carsoon shipping hub eight, to pick up another shipment.”

  That was good intel. We had no idea there were any more anti-matter weapons. It was probably foolish on my part to assume that Skully’s team was the only ones equipped with them. Theirs were backpack-sized bombs that could be detected easily with the proper equipment. Something about the way the Scrun phrased his statement bothered me. He said the anti-matter weapon and not weapons. It told me there was something different about the one in the possession of the Scrun. The problem with anti-matter bombs is they are relatively small. It was the containment vessel that made them much larger. Unless you had the exotic shielding materials we had access to, your bomb was going to be fairly large. If you wanted it to be undetectable, the shielding on a small one could in some cases, make it the size of a compact car. The anti-matter power sources for starships had containment vessels the size of a truck. A chill went up my spine. I had a feeling it was going to be a big one.

  The other piece of interesting intel was the link between the Legion of the Chosen and Hub Eight. It was putting a lot of validity behind our theory that it wasn’t just Canik and Genda Binar that orchestrated the terrorist attack on Outpost 9765. We were thinking that Bren Carsoon was the one supplying the means to make the operations possible. It also made me wonder if he wasn’t the one in charge at the Omega Syndicate. Either way, we now had a big problem on our hands. If it was discovered we were on the freighter and holding their Commander, the Scrun troops may decide to detonate their device. We needed to find it fast and disarm it if possible. Not knowing how many hostiles were still aboard the ship was another problem. Anyone of them may have the means to detonate the bomb. We would have to kill them all before that can happen.

  I had more questions I needed answers to, but we were now on a clock. It was ticking away and I didn’t know how long we had to stop it. It was unfortunate for the Scrun Commander that we could not leave him alive. A single word from him and the bomb could be set off before we could do anything about it. I circled a finger over my head and pointed to the doors. Klutch didn’t need me to tell him what needed to happen. He put his spike launcher underneath the Scrun’s faceplate and sent a full-power penetrator through him that pierced the deck below him. The Scrun’s suit decompressed, leaving little doubt about the results of the kill shot. I felt no remorse for the execution. The bastards had a bomb that could devastate the outpost if it was detonated. We were going to make sure that didn’t happen.

  We cloaked and formed up behind the Troop Master. He wasted no time moving out into the corridor. He took a look down the lifts and gave me a thumbs up. We followed him down to the hold deck. We exited the lift as quietly as possible and split up staying close to the bulkheads on both sides of the corridor. It was the only obvious route to the cargo hold. I was getting nervous. We did not know where the Scrun were at, but it made sense they would be monitoring the hold just like their former Commander. It could prove to be fatal if we went in search of the bomb without finding the Scrun first. There were eight hatches in the corridor. Four on each side. We would have to search them all. Coonts and Klutch took up stations on both sides of the first hatch. Tria and I took the hatch across from them.

  The magazines on our spike launchers held a mix of projectiles. We each had four spikes that contained nanites, four with explosive payloads and four with molecular acid. The remaining dozen were Containium tipped penetrators. The Containium tipped spikes were durable enough they could be recovered and reused. The weapon was the only silent kill device in our arsenal capable of penetrating the Scrun armor in a single strike. Not knowing what we were facing, could leave us no option but to resort to our other weapons if we used up our supply of spikes. If that were to happen, the Scrun will know they are compromised. I had no illusions as to what they would do shortly after that.

  I set my launcher for a two-spike burst and nodded to Tria. She gave me a thumbs up and hit the hatch control. It opened to a dark tool room that was uninhabited.

  Coonts and Klutch had better luck. “Two hostiles down,” Klutch called.

  Coonts’s message was a little more cryptic. “You better take a look at this Commander.”

  Tria and I closed the hatch on our side and crossed the corridor to where Klutch stood waiting. We entered and the Troop Master closed the door behind us. Stepping over the bodies of two dead Scrun wearing exoskeletons, we went to where Coonts was studying a large wall monitor.

  “What have you got Coonts?”

  He pointed at the monitor. “The hold and the deck above us can be monitored from here. It is fortunate that we came directly to this deck and did not stop on six.”

  He touched the video controller and the picture changed. It was a view of deck six’s lift tube. Just above the opening was a black half-moon-shaped device that resembled half of a watermelon. Coonts zoomed in on it. The device’s curved face was pointing downward at the entrance to the tube. It was somewhat similar to a Claymore mine from the planet of my birth.

  “Is that what I think it is Coonts?”

  “Yes Commander, it is a shaped charge. It was originally designed as a tool for salvage operations. It is capable of cutting through a variety of metals. A charge of that design is specifically used to cut through heavy bulkheads or hull alloys.”

  He changed the view again and it showed the open cargo doors that faced the dock. The Scrun took the precaution of hanging a cargo net from one side of the hull to the other. The only way to get any deeper into the hold was to pass under it. Sitting on the deck just behind the net, were several small crates. They went from one side of the hold to the other. They formed a semi-circle.

  Coonts put his finger to the monitor, tracing the line of crates. “I suspect these are also concealed charges of the same nature.”

  “What about a pressurized living space?”

  “Nothing obvious Commander, but I do find it interesting that this screen is monitoring a single hatch on deck six and no others.”

  He changed the view again and it showed a hatch with no markings on or near it. I didn’t see a device for opening it either.

  Tria suddenly called out to us. She was searching the Scrun corpses. “Coonts, what do you think this might be?”

  She held up two devices. One was severely damaged by a penetrator spike but the other was still intact. “These were hidden under a flap on their pressure suits. I was reco
vering the penetrator spikes when I discovered them.”

  She handed them to Coonts and he carefully looked them over. It had a touchpad on it and nothing else. Movement on the monitor caught my eye. The hatch the video feed was monitoring, was now open.

  I waved my team over. “Something is going on at the hatch we were looking at.”

  We watched in silence as Coonts took control of the feed and zoomed in on the open hatch. There was another open hatch about eight feet behind the one we were viewing. Three Scrun walked out of it. All were wearing exoskeleton armor and carrying large rifles. As they passed through the second hatch, one of them turned and held up a device like the ones Tria found, and the hatches closed. We no longer wondered what purpose the devices served.

  I pointed at the device in Coonts’s hands. “Do you think those are detonators as well?”

  Coonts examined the device again. “It could prove to be a fatal error on our part to think otherwise Commander.”

  I looked back at the monitor. The Scrun were headed for the lift tubes. The slaver in the lead held up his device and worked the touchpad. He was deactivating the charge over the tube entrance. That was all the verification I needed. The touchpad just needed the proper code, and boom, we all go up in a glorious flash. Skully’s crew of hitters said there were a dozen Scrun taking part in this operation. There were three we no longer had to be concerned about, and three on the monitor. Six were still unaccounted for. That was six too many, considering any one of them could blast us to hell.

  “Commander,” Klutch said. We should not let them leave the lift tubes. It appears they are not monitoring them.”

  “Roger that, take the lead Troop Master.”

  Klutch lead us back out into the corridor and we set up in a semi-circle across from the lifts as the Scrun soldiers touched down. We hit them with a barrage of Containium penetrators from about twelve feet. The unsuspecting soldiers never knew what hit them. Two of the three were staked upright to the back of the tube. They looked like morbid mannequins with their limbs dangling limply from their sides.