The Apex Warriors

by Marc Stevens

  “How would you know that?”

  “I have an intelligence network spread across several outposts and sectors. Their primary goal is to find information on you, but they hear many things. Canik is an arms supplier. He does not care who the buyers might be. He has access to advanced weaponry and modern military starships. His services are in demand all over the galaxy.”

  “So if you wanted a Galactic Union gunship he would be the one to ask?”

  The Scrun looked up at me. “If you have the credits and are of the right character, which I doubt very much that you are, it is possible.”

  “How does someone contact him if he can’t be found?”

  “I can only say that he has ways of finding you if you meet his criteria.”

  I felt the Scrun was answering my question truthfully, but his answers were only leading to more unanswerable questions.

  “I have a question for you.” The Scrun said.

  I was surprised by the statement and just stared into his faceplate until he asked it.

  “Did you kill King Lashmos? We have been told you are the one who crept onto his ship and killed him while he slept. My entire race considers the cowardly act the most heinous of crimes. The Legion of the Chosen was formed with the sole purpose of hunting you down and killing you no matter the cost.”

  I was startled by the revelation. It wasn’t the hunted part that bothered me, it was the bullshit coward story. Since the Scrun was being honest with me, I decided he deserved a little reciprocity.

  “Since you seem to be telling me the truth, I will tell you what really happened to your King. We stumbled across him in orbit over the planet of a primitive race. His small fleet had shuttles on the ground and was attempting to gather slaves. We were intercepting his comms and cracked the encryption. We were horrified at what we were hearing. The locals were putting up a fight. Their only weapons were rocks and sticks. Your King sat on his flagship and ordered his troops to kill anyone that resisted. They were slaughtering hundreds of defenseless natives just because they did not want to be slaves. When that wasn’t going as well as your good King had hoped, he ordered his troops to gather up the woman and children and kill them until the males submitted.”

  The Scrun officer could no longer hold my gaze. He looked at the deck between his feet.

  “We killed his ground troops and then boarded Lashmos flagship. He was the only one we spared. We brought him down to the surface of the planet. The primitives he was so carelessly slaughtering, welcomed him with open arms.”

  The Scrun flinched at the reality of my sarcasm. There was hate in his eye, but I could tell he knew I spoke the truth.

  “Your admission will not make any difference. Even if my superiors knew what really happened, they would never tell the story. They have countless thousands waiting to sign up to the Legion. While you remain our main target, we are also being wielded as an elite strike force to further our slave gathering operations.”

  I pointed at the officer’s decorations. “I can see you are part of that so-called elite strikeforce. You should be pretty proud of yourself.” I scoffed.

  The Scrun officer no longer had anything to say. I looked up at Klutch and pointed at the med pod. The Troop Master didn’t care if the soldier was telling us the truth or not, he despised the slaver. He smashed his fist down on the Scrun, knocking him senseless. Coonts opened the pod and Klutch threw him inside. They closed and locked it securely then lashed it back to the deck with the cargo net.

  We went to the front of the hold and stepped out of our armor. Tria said our ETA to Alpha Base was just over six hours. She said we should go over our collected data to determine what we should do with the slaver and the new intel. I had already made up my mind he would join the rest of our prisoners for the time being. I told Tria to drop us out of hyperspace and re-orient us to a heading that would take us to Venture. She informed me the course change would put us at Venture in seventy-eight minutes. We spent the time discussing Outpost 3142. I wanted the Scrun to know it was no longer a safe harbor to plan their operations. Depending on what we find, it might even determine the fate of the entire outpost.

  We dropped out of hyperspace close to Venture. We got an immediate response from a large number of Sig warships in the area. They all made turns to our transition point. We hailed them with our encrypted codes and they sent a two battleship escort to lead us to the base. The rest turned away and resumed patrolling the outer reaches of the system.

  Tam Lin commed us. She was just as surprised by the visit as the Sig were. “Nathan, we were not expecting you, is there a problem?”

  “No problems that we can’t handle. We went on a fact-finding mission, and have another prisoner to add to our collection.”

  “Okay Nathan, I will upload the approach vectors to the new underground hangars.”

  I knew the Sig had found huge vacant underground storage bunkers at the former pirate base. The pirates had no idea just how large the complex actually was. When the Sig liberated the base, they brought in survey teams to assess it for improvements. When they were attempting to build a landing pad for large spacecraft, the drilling crews found a cavity below the surface. They bored an entrance shaft into it, only to find out it was a series of enormous storage areas. All had large well-hidden exits that were covered over with hundreds of years of debris. Now they were being repurposed for underground hangars and strategic storage, much the same way as Alpha Base was.

  Tria followed the vectors that took us well south of the main installation. We lost altitude until the shuttle was skimming just over the tops of the mountainous rock formations that dominated the planet. Tria reduced our speed to a crawl as two monstrous doors opened just below us. She dropped us straight down into the hangar. We descended for several minutes. The surface doors were closed and sealed before we touched the deck. A Sig controller gave us a countdown until a safe temperature and breathing environment could be established. When he gave us the green light to debark, a large contingent of Sig troops lined up on both sides of the shuttle. All stood ramrod straight with their weapons at port arms. Sushi, Pasta, and Tam Lin were waiting for us. We put on or recon armor for the meeting. The flashy-looking lightweight Chaalt armor was the next best thing to a dress uniform we had. Klutch opened the cargo doors and dropped the ramp. Tria and I went first to exchange pleasantries, while Coonts and Klutch pulled the Scrun from his makeshift prison.

  Tam Lin took Tria by the hand. “Nathan, I will leave you and the boys in the care of Sushi and Pasta. Tria and I have some catching up to do.”

  I had no idea what catching up she was referring to. Tria gave me a small shrug of her shoulders and a smile, letting me know she was good with whatever it might turn out to be. The two boarded a grav-tram and disappeared down a large tunnel.

  Pasta and Sushi came forward. “Commander Myers, I will have my security team take your prisoner to the detention area.”

  Coonts and Klutch had no problem with that. They gave the Scrun a shove in the direction of the four-member Sig team. The Scrun was lifted off the deck and carried toward a large ground transport. The transport had a clear enclosure on its low flatbed. It was much like the ones used by the Scrun to transport slaves. The Sig’s however, was much larger and had a single bunk and waste fixture on the wall. The modular design was spartan but efficient. They put the Scrun inside and locked the door. Sushi pointed to the front of the transport. It had seating for at least a dozen Sig troopers. I sat in the oversized front seat next to Pasta as he took the controls. Coonts and Klutch piled in behind me with Sushi. The transport accelerated smoothly until we were moving at a fairly fast clip. We entered a tunnel that went in a different direction than the one Tam Lin and Tria took. There was a lot of transport traffic in the tunnel. Every opening in the tunnel wall was a beehive of activity. All of it looked like some form of military training. When we approached an oncoming vehicle it would pull to the side giving us the right of way. The Sig had transformed the small pi
rate facility into a large well organized military base.

  11

  We had gone about a half of a mile when Pasta slowed the transport and made a left-hand turn down a much narrower tunnel. We could see a brightly lit opening just ahead. As we got closer I could see it was a checkpoint. Pasta slowed to a stop in front of it and we received salutes from a dozen heavily armed troopers. The metal gate that blocked the passageway was opened and we moved into the large open area. Against the walls all around us, we could see the clear enclosures like the one our prisoner was currently in. Some were occupied but most were vacant. Out in the middle of the massive room were four large common areas. They were octagon-shaped and fit against each other in a cloverleaf design. Several of the smaller cells were butted up to the common area enclosers. The walls between them were opened so the prisoners had access to the common area. All four of the common areas had prisoners in them. We stopped at a structure against the sidewall. The guards got out of the transport and took the prisoner from his cell. They carried him inside and closed the door.

  Sushi told us the Scrun was in the infirmary and would undergo a thorough exam. They were taking precautions to prevent the spread of contagious diseases. I just nodded in agreement. The Sig knew how to run a prison. It was why our prisoners eventually ended up with the Sig.

  “Pasta, we need to speak with the Rugerian that we recently turned over to you.”

  The big Sig smiled at me. “Ah yes, the one that claimed to be the Collector. Give me a few minutes to have him moved to the interrogation room.”

  He led us to another structure next to the infirmary. We entered and saw a large view screen that had six windowed pictures on it. Each showed a single large chair in the middle of a small room.

  Pasta pointed at chairs facing the screen. “Please take a seat, the prisoner will be here shortly.”

  The console in front of us had smaller screens on it and Coonts pointed to one of them. I looked down at it and saw the Rugerian being escorted from the common area to one of the cells adjoining it. When he was secured inside, an overhead machine picked it up off the deck and moved it rapidly in our direction. The cell was set down against the wall of our structure. I looked up at the big viewscreen. A door opened on room number one and the Rugerian walked through and sat down. The chair clamped his arms and legs down. I was surprised that he sat down without any escort or urging from a guard. I thought about it for another second and decided I knew why the interrogation room was next to the infirmary. Non-compliance would earn you a trip next door.

  The video feed zoomed in on the face shield of the Rugerian’s pressure suit. We could easily see his face. Coonts pointed to another of the screens on the console in front of us. It had number one over it. The Rugerian’s biometrics were reading out across it. Among other things, we could monitor his breathing and cardiovascular rates. His circulatory system as well as his breathing was starting to elevate in anticipation of why he was in the interrogation room.

  Pasta pointed to a button on the console. “If you wish to have a conversation press that button. If you wish to privately discuss anything he has to say, push the button once more to mute the audio systems. He pointed to another button. If you wish to record your session, press that button and it will be transferred to a data chip.”

  He pointed at a red button at the top of the console. It also had a prominent number one over it. “Press this one and the Rugerian will be able to see your face.”

  “Thank you, Pasta, I am very impressed by what I am seeing here.”

  I turned to Coonts and Klutch, pointing to my head. I closed up my helmet and blacked it out to one-way mode. They took seats beside me and did the same.

  Before I started my questions Pasta clapped me on the shoulder. “Commander Myers, I have other duties that need to be addressed. I will be available on the base comms channel if you need me.”

  “You are welcome to stay if you wish Pasta. Nothing I have to say would be a secret I would keep from my allies.”

  The Sig smiled at me. “I will review your interrogation at another time. We just uncovered another storage area, and I like to personally investigate each find.”

  Pasta gave me a Sig salute and left us to our interview. I pushed all three of the buttons Pasta showed me. The Rugerian fidgeted at his restraints. His life signs took a small spike but settled to their previous levels. I had a feeling he had no idea who he was looking at.

  He wasn’t going to be the first to say something, so I started the ball rolling with a little small talk. “Are you making lots of friends in here?”

  His eyes grew wide and his life signs took a giant spike. I guess sarcasm must be a human thing and I unknowingly made it my unique identifier.

  He stuttered. “I…I did not think I would ever see you again.”

  I put a sinister edge to my voice. “Depending on how you answer my questions, will determine whether or not you ever see anyone again.”

  That upped the Rugerians respiration another notch. “What do you want to know?”

  “Tell me about your membership in the Omega Syndicate.”

  I wasn’t sure, but I thought the alien’s pallor took a turn for the worse. I looked down at his vitals. If the Rugerian had a heart, it was getting a real workout.

  Klutch had to throw in a comment since it seemed the Rugerian was lost for words. “What’s a matter, Throgg got your tongue?”

  Since Klutch had to say something, Coonts couldn’t keep his pie hole shut and added his two cents worth. “Nassar sends his regards.”

  Admittedly, Coonts's comment got a much bigger rise out of the Rugerians vitals. The shock on his face had me thinking he was going to barf up his suit.

  I stood up and leaned my helmet close to the monitor screen. “Think hard before you answer. If you attempt to lie to me again, I am going to come in there and tear your arms off one at a time, and flail you to death with them.”

  “Nassar is my direct superior, and yes, I am part of the Omega Syndicate.” The Rugerian blurted.

  We were finally getting somewhere. The Rugerian was shaken and I wanted to keep him off balance. “Where can we find Canik?

  “I do not know. It is a question you should have asked Nassar, but I suspect you killed him.”

  I was going to fire questions at the Rugerian in hopes he would not have the time to think of a plausible lie. “Is Bren Carsoon the leader of the Omega Syndicate?”

  “It is another question I cannot answer. It is my understanding the Syndicate has a group of directors. Is it a possibility that Bren Carsoon is one of those directors, I would say yes. Do I know that for a fact, no?”

  “Where did you and your group of mercenaries stage your operation out of?”

  “We have specially designed freighters that serve as our base of operations. They have high-performance stardrives and cutting-edge jump drives. Nasser designates the missions, and the freighter gets us close to the location. The freighter’s hold was converted into a hangar and has twelve Galactic Union gunships for defensive and offensive operations. There are more than two thousand well-trained mercenaries on board the ship at any given time. The vessels are capable of demonstrating the Syndicate’s reach anywhere in the galaxy. The ill-conceived operation that led to my capture, was orchestrated by Canik but had the blessing of the directors. The pirates were at one time a tool of convenience. They toed the line until Eiger’s death. After that, they became unpredictable. With no clear leader, they all went their own ways. Now, they only care about their own sphere of influence and power. It is every pirate for himself and the Omega Syndicate cannot allow that. The pirates are staging raids on anyone crossing their paths, and it is interfering with the Syndicate’s operations. My team and I were supposed to make an example out of them, but as you are already aware, I ended up here instead.”

  Coonts had a question and I welcomed the break so I could review what I was hearing. “Are the freighters owned by Carsoon Shipping?”

  “Ye
s.” The Rugerian quickly replied. “I have heard that Carsoon Shipping only operates six freighters of that size and class. Two are used for clandestine missions, while the others are dedicated to hauling legitimate freight. The registration can be rapidly exchanged between them in the event one of the covert operations freighters comes under close scrutiny.”

  Klutch joined in, making it a tag-team effort. “An operation of this size cannot go unnoticed forever. Someone on the Galactic Union council has to be running interference to keep something like this under wraps.”

  “You already know the answer to that question. The Omega Syndicate has an enormous amount of wealth. The Syndicate directors know exactly where to spend their credits. They buy influence or silence daily. Meddling is not tolerated. In the rare event, they cross paths with someone such as you, persons such as I, are sent to remove you from the equation. The odds and numbers are overwhelmingly stacked against you. Your unbreakable moral codes will eventually get you all killed.”

  “And the scat story of amnesty for me and my crew?” I asked.

  The Rugerian’s eyes went to the floor in front of him. “Does it even matter? You saw through the deception and knew it was a trap.”

  “I want an answer!”

  The Rugerian winced at my demand. “Myself and certain other high-ranking officers are given that story in hopes it will win our freedom if we were to end up where I am right now. The story can be twisted to fit the situation. The fabrication has gotten more than a few of us out of very bad situations. You are the first to ignore the possibility of being wealthy beyond imagination. A few have survived the offer by proving they can be useful, but most go to an unmarked grave. It is far too late for you. In your case, a grave is the only option.”