The year is 2552. Over 40 years have passed since the hijacking of the human S.F.S. Leviathan. Random strikes of the Ghost Ship have sown mistrust and hatred between the six carbon-based races. The power of the Suul’ka is growing; unprotected worlds groan under the slave raids of the Zuul Horde and demands for Tribute. Winter Wars are breaking out on every front. Desperate factions try to hold onto their territory and people as the grip of the Masters keeps getting tighter upon the sector.
Chapter One
Hecate Base, Olympus Mons, Mars (Sol IV), Sol System
1635 Hours, 21st of March 2552 (Human Calendar)
The waiting room was silent except for the ticking of the clock hanged up near the exit, its second-hand tickling away like little droplets of a loose faucet. The Martian dusk slowly creeped over the rust covered domes placed upon the highest point in the entire solar system. From here the ‘rulers’ of the empire watched over their territories both near and far. While not the planet from which humanity had risen, it became more important than the homeworld itself. It was not as popular as other gem worlds, but it was the seat of the government and the undeniable capital of the entirety of Sol Force’s influence in the Galaxy. Terraforming this dust ball was still going to take some time, but the discovery of Node Drive technology and the subsequent colonisation effort had somewhat stalled such plans. Why terraform a dust ball when there are other planets more suitable out there over the galactic horizon?
But for now, it was still the focal point of administration, military and politics, a dangerous combination. If you had come to Olympus, then you would have surely fallen from grace and would have been assigned the punishment you would have deserved. This was the thought that plagued the officer’s mind as he waited in the sofa looking towards the Martian landscape outside the glass dome. His black and red uniform was neatly cleaned and his beret was tucked away in his pocket, two rows of ribbons adorned the left side of his chest. On his shoulder, the Sol Force insignia was held up by two crossed swords, and under it three words, ‘Has Mundos Custodiemus’, ‘These Worlds We Will Defend’; the motto of Sol Force Ground Pounders.
A door opening from the other side of the room woke him from his reverie as the secretary called for him.
“Commander, the Admiral is ready to see you now.”
He stood up and began walking towards the door, his footsteps not making a sound on the fine carpet. The room he entered was also very spacious, though it was fairly spartan in its contents. Various pictures adorned the walls, mostly ceremonial addresses and medal awards. Its far end was dominated by a large office of what looked like pristine dark-brown wood which was natural and not a plastic knock-off. The man at the office did not raise his eyes from the tablet he was holding despite becoming aware of his guest’s presence. As the Commander approached him, the epaulettes became visible: a polygon and three gold stars denoting the higher rank. After a few steps he stopped and stood at attention, giving a salute with his right hand and the interior of his palm pointing forward.
“Commander Vlad, reporting as ordered.”
The Admiral stopped his reading, placed the tablet down and looked at the man before him for a second, then gave a salute in return.
“At ease, Commander.” He dropped his hand and relaxed his posture. “Take a seat, we have a lot to discuss.” Vlad took the offered seat and stopped worrying for a second. This did not seem like a reprimand. “First congratulations are in order for your recent promotion.”
“Thank you, sir. Though, I admit it came as a surprise to be promoted.”
“Oh, why is that?”
“Well sir, I was never in the good graces of any of my higherups, not to mention I had a lot of reprimands from almost all of my previous commanders.”
The Admiral took the tablet in his hand once more and flicked through some pages in it. “Yes, you seem to have a knack of getting in trouble with superiors, and that bar fight on Io last week: tossing two officers out the window, not to mention the property damage.”
Vlad tried to diffuse the conversation a little, “It was at the spur of the moment, sir. I have not had a similar incident in quite some time.”
“Indeed. Though, from what I understand, the eyewitnesses claimed that it was them who instigated the conflict, by quote ‘The first punch was thrown after the a-holes harassed the Commander about his family and about being a damned Drac’ and other colourful metaphors. After the first punch all hell broke loose and led to a list of property damage the size of a wedding reception, though only minor injuries were reported, thankfully.”
“We were all drunk, sir. The men decided to throw a party in my name and things got a little restless.”
“Just a little?”
“I make no excuses for my behaviour, sir. It was my fault and I accept any consequences for the actions of myself and my men.”
“You have caught a lot of flak from all the higherups, though I think that is because of the Admiral and her relationship.”
It was a low blow to bring family in the discussion, but Vlad knew that it was unavoidable. His mother was an Admiral in Sol Force and a well-respected one. However, his father, though a human, belonged to another part of the major galactic powers which resided in this sector of space and that always created tensions for him since deciding to join Sol Force. Xenophobia was still prevalent inside the borders and while an uneasy truce bonded the major powers it was tenuous at best. The recent raids and attacks have made the situation even worse and the fear of another devastating war has culled any chance of peaceful resolution.
Though, this is one of those occasions where he did not stay silent. “With all due respect, sir, my parentage has no bearing to my actions and as such discussions of these nature are not appropriate in the context of my punishment.”
The Admiral did not change his demeanour and looked directly at him. “So, you do have teeth, Commander.” Only by moving a hand below the table he produced two glasses and a bottle of what seemed to be whine. Uncorking the bottle, he poured until the glasses were two thirds full and set it aside, afterwards taking the glass in his hand, waiting.
Vlad knew that this was an invitation and that he could not refuse, so he took the second glass.
“Cheers,” he said, raising his glass and taking a sip. The dry taste pricked his taste buds, although not being unpleasant in the slightest. That was definitely a good wine. As the last drops of the drink flowed down his gullet, he returned the glass to the table and once again looked at the Admiral.
“Now that the pleasantries are out of the way, let us get back to the real business.” He took one of the tablets and handed it to the commander. “These are your new orders and assignment for the next months. To give you the rundown version before you read all that: as of the next forty-eight hours, Commander, you are assigned to a new task force under the purview of the Morrigi Confederation Military Council.”
The Commander almost choked hearing that. Rarely did Sol Force Command try military exchange programs or even joint military exercises, so an officer under the command structure of the Confederation meant that something very, very bad had happened. As he began taking a glance at the report in his hand, he noticed quite a few interesting lines, though a single name made him ask.
“What is this all about, sir?”
“We are sending you, Commander, to hunt some big game. The Morrigi Confederation is assembling a special task force as we speak. Its mission will be the hunt of the infamous ghost ship Leviathan.”
“And my role in all this is…?”
“The Confederation has been stretched thin in light of recent skirmishes on the Horde front and are unable to move units from the frontline at this moment. They have asked, through diplomatic channels, for more manpower.”
“So, all the other governments are on this?”
“Indeed. All have responded with soldiers and so have we. You are assigned to one of their scout ships with a squad worth of troopers.”
“May I ask why me, sir?”
“Simple. Most of the other commanders have somewhat of a distaste for this mission and do not want their men to be under the command of another government’s military. They also have a fear of any information leaks or that their men will be indoctrinated to join the Confederation. A bunch of nonsense, but you cannot blame them for thinking like that,” he sighted. “They are all paranoid that this will be only the beginning so they outright refused the involvement in the operation.”
“And I suppose Admiral Buckner agreed to participate, so that is why you chose me.”
“You are half right. He was the most vocal of the briefing, but when your name came he was more than willing to ‘send your ass as tribute to the crows where you belong’ end quote.”
Vlad began to feel his head throbbing and it was not the drink he just had. “So, in conclusion my new rank and assignment exists because I pissed off everyone and they are all after my neck.”
“It’s good to be known, is it not, Commander?” He smiled. “The Director is convinced that you are the right man for this job because of your background and your personal relationship to the Confederation government.”
“It seems that I do not have a choice, either way I am on board, sir.”
“Good then. A transport will leave the spaceport at 1300 hours tomorrow from Asteria Station. You will then embark on the SFS Sibiu supply ship bound for Confederation territory. The rest of your men will be debriefed and will meet you there after you will proceed to your destination. And keep the bottle, think of it as a gift for your promotion.”
“Thank you, sir.” He stood up from the chair and saluted the Admiral, who duplicated the gesture.
The Commander turned and headed back out the door, bottle in hand and somewhat anxious towards his new mission. “Once more into jaws of the Horde.” Was his last thought as he exited the office.
Chapter Two
Asteria Station, Valles Marineris, Mars (Sol IV), Sol System
1220 Hours, 22nd of March 2552 (Human Calendar)
All in all, Asteria Station was not the beyond end all of transit hub. Compared to most of Mars this was one of the less busy places, mostly civilian operations were conducted here. Moreover, because of its relative isolation from other major spaceports, it also became a good place for smuggling and black-market operations. Though, many would deny the market’s existence. It was undeniably present alongside any trade hub and this was no different. Everything from luxuries, weapons and sometimes alien devices and artefacts were all up for grabs for anyone who had the credits to spare. The Commander knew of this place but not in the way many thought about it. This place was the only way to receive gifts from his father. Small trinkets and even a written letter sometimes. It did not matter how small the gift was for him, it was a way to be connected to his father even beyond the reach of the entire sector. But today was another day and another task to complete.
With backpack and a single handbag, he strode across the metal plated floors, moving towards the indicated departure terminal. People sometimes gave him side glances because of his military uniform, but the glances fizzle out after he moved past them. On the walls were displayed full videos of advertisements presenting products, clothing and sometimes even religious topics, mostly belonging to Utilitarian faith. This religion had slowly risen from the ashes of The Conflagration, the last major interhuman conflict that happened during the 22nd century and had a loyal following the distinction. However, its aversion to violence led it into an ideological rivalry with Sol Force ever since the organization had taken shape as a unified galactic human empire. Even then its members were forbidden from joining any form of military organization, even during the Hiver Wars.
Vlad had several conflicts with the church, mostly because of his status as a serviceman, but rarely have they been more than the usual rhetoric of ‘war cannot serve a Greater Good, and thus cannot be sanctioned as a morally correct course’. “Well, when you face the punching claws of a Zuul female, that might change your perspective.” His thoughts drifted. Taking his eyes off the billboards he returned to the terminal entrance. There were grouped around the waiting benches uniformed soldiers, backpacks in a pile next to them. Some talked, some checked their communication devices to send any last messages to their families and loved ones before the start of the operational blackout. As soon as they saw him, the mood changed.
“ATTENTION!” The command was given and the troopers stopped what they were doing and stood straight, eyes forward, heels snapped.
“At ease!” Vlad responded and the soldiers relaxed.
“Good to see you back, sir.” The man offered his hand in salute and the Commander took it.
“Good to see you too Andrey, hope you were not waiting too long for me.”
“Not a chance sir, though the men started to get a little restless. It is nothing a good training regimen will fix.”
“I am sure they are just eager to get on our way, is everybody accounted for?”
“Yes sir, we are ready. All equipment was verified and we are ready for departure.”
“Alright then. Ok boys and girls, let us get this show on the road.” The troopers began gathering their belongings and assembled at the entrance hub. Chatting came immediately, all bringing up more farfetched ideas and theories about what was going to happen when they were to reach their destination.
The transfer corridor was mostly just an enclosed hollow metal tube with railings on each side. Though its diameter was large enough for a LAV to pass through with enough room to the sides, they were more than likely heading towards a secondary cargo hangar for departure. Once the corridor ended they found themselves in a large hangar area.
Inside, the ground crew moved in every possible direction, either unloading materials, fuelling or performing maintenance on the various ships and shuttles in dockyard. While bigger ships were mostly maintained in orbital spaceports, sometimes it was easier for ships to simply land and be looked over in a safer environment that did not require EVA and was easier for the engineers and mechanics to do their job.
Among all this bustling activity a single craft stood apart from all the others. While not massive in scope, the transport was definitely a successor to the old and reliable attack shuttle used by the void forces, but this one is different. For starters its size, most shuttles were around twenty meters long and ten meters high. This beast was over forty meters long and twenty meters high, looking like someone infused steroids in a normal shuttle. All around its structure technicians verified every inch of it and among these a single individual inspected the craft not with instruments but with his own eyes and hands as if making sure not a single bolt was out of alignment with the rest of the fuselage.
His black and green clothing denoted his position as a pilot of Scout Corps. His nametag read Davis.
“Commander!”
“Captain, I suppose you are our delivery service for today.”
“Yes, sir!” He smiled and saluted. “Captain Frank Davis, at your orders.”
“At ease, Captain.” The salute was returned. “I guess you are our designated driver.”
“And them some, sir. My crew and I have been assigned to your command for the duration of the mission.”
“Yes, I was informed. Are we ready for take-off, Captain?”
“Almost, sir. We still have a few check-ups and some equipment needs loading and securing.”
The Commander turned towards the Sergeant. “Andrey, get the men to help with that equipment and secure our gear as well.”
“My engineer is inside, he can direct you where you are needed.”
“Yes, sir! You heard the Commander, get your gear in the shuttle and put your back into it, we should have taken-off yesterday!”
The troopers moved towards the craft with the Sergeant in tow. The two officers remained in place.
“Captain, I wondered about the shuttle, it is strikingly different from most shuttles I am used to.”
“You are right, sir.” He turned to the aircraft. “This is the latest from Sol Force R&D. The T-54 Pegasus Heavy Assault Transport, twice the size of the old assault shuttles, but faster and far more capable in both exo and atmospheric environments.”
“Strange that we have such and advanced aircraft at our disposal. I wonder if there was a mistake at the Logistic HQ.”
“I highly doubt they could misplace such a piece of technology, especially since it looks brand new. Would you rather go with and old T-48 Assault Shuttle, sir?”
“Prototypes and early models usually do not work very well and are prone to ‘accidents’ because someone high up wanted to cut some costs. That is how things usually work.”
“Well, I can at least give you some ease on that front. I have clocked a lot of flight time with this bird and I can assure you she will get us where we need to go.”
“I am in no position to refuse, so...” He gave a small chuckle.
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He moved towards the back of the craft and up the ramp. In the middle stood the boxy cargo containers fixed with straps to keep them secure from moving, each side providing a row of seats. Having arrived last the only remaining seats were close to the ramp. But that was to be expected taking one of the seats next to a trooper. He secured his bag under the seat and fastened his seatbelt for departure.
A beeping sound started and red light began to bathe the bay as the ramp began to rise. A metallic thud was heard as the ramp closed and the lateral bolts slid in their sockets locking it airtight, drowning the troop bay in dark-red light.
The shuttle engines began to hum, slowly at first but rising in intensity, making the ship vibrate as the interior lights lit changed to a simpler white light. The hangar doors opened and shuttle moved towards the airlock. Even large the ship moved gracefully towards the exit. Once fully inside, the inner doors closed and the pressure began to equalize with the exterior. When the process finished an elevator began taking the shuttle up towards and after two levels, the large dome shaped hangar roof moving to the side revealing the reddish Martian sky.
When the elevator arrived, the dome’s surface dust started to pile upon the fuselage, though it did not stay long as the ship vibrated when its lower thrusters engaged and it started to rise from the ramp when it reached a certain height. The back engines flared and the ship was propelled forward, leaving only two blue trails behind.
Inside, the passengers and crew felt very little of the acceleration as the shuttle blasted upwards through the thick atmosphere. Impulse engines burnt bright as the transport left for the upper atmosphere, colour soon giving way to darkness of outer space and the sparkling of stars. There, above the red planet stood the great Argos Naval Shipyards, with a history of over one hundred years, being the largest starbase in Sol Force controlled space. The main station itself was formed around a large sphere that doubled as living quarters, commercial and entertainment areas for both on site workers and visitors. Two docking piers extended in opposite directions of the main structure holding docking ports for any ship class, both military and commercial. Four more dome structures extended from the main body. These housed the four main shipyards where workers and engineers toiled to get the newest classes out onto the new fronts, both scientific and combat.
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At one of the docks a cargo cruiser was being loaded with containers of different dimensions. The ship itself looked like it was pancaked. The bridge was placed in front and with two hangars on each side of it. The rest of it never went above the level of the bridge, the aft was dominated by the large node drive ring, the engine and engineering section. The flat surface extended almost from bow to stern. On it stood two levels of the mismatched blocky forms of cargo containers each with its own colour, giving the ship a very distinctive look.
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The shuttle turned to align with the ship and deployed its forward reaction thrusters to slow its descent into the hangar area. This dance continued for about two minutes, eventually leading the shuttle to deploy its landing gear and slowly touch down.
Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.
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The shuttle stopped its movement and the pilots began engine shutdown procedures, the ramp opened and the soldiers grabbed their belongings and proceeded into the hangar. The mission officially beginning.
Chapter Three
SFS Sibiu Cargo Cruiser, Node Lane NL-95
0200 Hours Shipboard Time, 5th of April 2552 (Human Calendar)
Two weeks passed since their departure from Mars and the troopers began settling into a routine aboard the ship. While not officially a part of the crew, they have adapted well to the small microcosm of the Sibiu. Each ship was unique in it, having its own rhythm to things. Also, the different crew made sure everything ran smoothly onboard. Though cramped, the ship was welcoming to the soldiers, each being able to offer their expertise onboard supplementing the enlisted crew.
The Commander had a different mission at that moment. Sweat flowed down his knitted brows and he had not blinked for almost two minutes in which he kept looking down. Though, with another move from his enemy, his fate was decided.
“Check Mate,” the Captain declared in a calm and collected manner after blocking Vlad’s king with a rook. “Though, it seems you are improving. It only took you five more moves to take me out than last time.”
The Commander chuckled, “I am no match for your strategic genius, Captain.”
“Surprisingly,” he replied, his eyebrows raised up his forehead a little. “Given your reputation in the field…” the Captain continued their dialogue as he carefully placed the chess pieces back in their initial places.
“Half the things they say about me are all because of that damn movie. Turning me into some sort of hero who ripped victory from the jaws of the Zuul.” The Commander almost rolled his eyes as he helped his Captain place the pieces back.
“It was quite the dramatization, won several awards and put you in the spotlight.”
“And, of course, they forgot the month-long siege, the mudded trenches where you could not even sleep and the three-day long assault we had to endure before we received any form of relief. Damn screenwriters.”
“You do not need to convince me, Commander. While not a ground pounder myself I know how life is on the frontline.”
It was one of the things Vlad liked about Captain Connors. While belonging to the Outer Colonies Logistical Office, the Captain was not in any way a pencil-pusher. He was pragmatic, down-to-earth and exigent but fair in his actions. He had served on a warship until an injury relegated him to rear support, far from the front. Having given these common traits, the two men clicked and became fast and good friends.
“I am glad that my team was able to help your crew wherever and however they could.”
“I have a thought of just making a request to Mars Dome to transfer you lot as permanent crew on this bucket.”
“I don’t think Mars Dome would allow us to just jump ship right before our destination.”
He laughed, “Fair enough, though I wish we had you on a permanent basis. This ship is my pride and joy, but sometimes she has the biggest mood swings in the entire commercial fleet.”
“A ship is its own individual with its own personality quirks, Captain. It needs to be treated with respect or else you might find yourself stranded in a node lane without any way to return.”
“Yeah, I have to give it to the old girl. She got us out of a lot of situations when assholes wanted to shoot at us.”
“From what you told me, those events seemed to have multiply in the last months.”
“The borders have started to be heavily patrolled and all the other empires are on high alert, thinking their neighbour will launch a surprise attack. Traders are also under scrutiny for transporting illegal goods and some have been imprisoned on basis of espionage.”
They went speechless for a very short while, so short that they did not even notice it. “Never thought that it was that grim.”
“A lot of the more paranoid governments have instituted martial law and not even a speck of information gets out of those worlds. I hope the situation changes, but as things are now… it is not looking good.”
While the Commander had a vague idea about things happening on the frontier, he never expected things to be this bad. If the situation did not improve, the sector would find itself in a full-on war and would leave each world isolated and defenceless against any Horde incursion.
“Anything happening around the node line we are currently on?”
“Nothing of the sorts, a few blips here and there, but nothing out of the ordinary.”
“Any sightings of the Leviathan?”
“Nothing substantial, just whispers and false readings. I had a morrigi last month saying he sighted it around the Hiver-Tarkasian border, a tarka merchant said he saw it near the Research Station at the supernova remnant in the Turin System. Our trading network is falling apart and I fear we are going blind out there.”
“Is not that how things work? Drop you on some barren rock with zero intel and hope you get to see another day?”
“If it were me I would demote every last Sol Force Intelligence operative to Spaceman for every fuck-up they did since the Hiver Wars. We turned the Hiver and Tarka against us, we almost started a shooting war with the Liir and had a goddamn traitor inside the ranks selling us to the Zuul. SFI should be disbanded.” He sipped from the clear liquid in the glass.
“Every branch thinks they have the moral high ground in a debate and while there are a few bad apples you can not judge an entire department based on that. Some have done a good job and they seem to have become more competent.”
“That does not mean I have to like them. They are still a bunch of stuck-ups, though you seem to be ok.”
That made the Commander pause. “I am not part of SFI.”
“You may not be on their payroll, but you think they sent you out here just for a group project. No. You were sent here to keep an eye on things and report anything the other races are doing. Bunch of paranoid desk-jockeys, playing right into the Horde’s net.”
At first, the Commander thought that was a wild theory, but the more he put thoughts in his assignment, the more it was dubious at best, though he wondered if he was the trap or the cheese.
He shortly kept eyeing his glass filled with the transparent liquid for a couple times and in the end decided to stick his hand and grab it. He leaned forward but a moment before placing his fingers on it, the liquid started to shake a little, its still surface coming in some waves.
Vlad frowned softly, staring at the liquid inside that had become still again. He took the glass in his right hand and did not keep his eyes off it, scanning it closely.
“Come on, Commander,” Connors let out a short laugh, “a little alcohol is not going to kill you.”
The ringing of alarms interrupted the conversation and a message: <
The Captain activated his headpiece and began, <
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No words were necessary as the two moved out of the Captain’s quarters and into the main corridor. The corridor itself was claustrophobic, to say the very least. The celling was barely two meters high and the metal floor creaked under their boots. It was an old ship as ancient as the city it was named after.
At the end of the corridor stood a large door with a large locking wheel smacked in the middle of it. Next to it a guard stood still, weapon in hand. He gave a salute as soon as he noticed the Captain and Commander approaching him and opened the hatch leading into the command bridge. The room itself was more like collection of command chairs each with its own display. In the centre stood the Captain’s chair and above it in a circle stood several monitors feeding sensor data for quick reaction time.
As soon as he entered, the XO began giving his report.
“Captain, an unidentified ship has taken position behind us on the node lane. IFF is not squawking, it is not one of ours.”
“Prep security teams and the marines to repel boarding. Helmsman disengage us from the lane. FCO, prep aft batteries for engagement.”
“Roger!”
“Damned pirates, they must have been ghosting us for a while they are bold.”
The ship began its deceleration. While most ships could attack with no problems during node travel, it was usually unadvised to do so. The volatile nature of the lane made it difficult to engage ships properly and also could attract the attention of the spectral denizens that called this place home. Ghostly creatures that are attracted to bursts of energy and highly aggressive towards anything that travels thought their realm.
The bright-blue of the lane gave way to the star filled blackness of normal space. The ship transferring was similar to a car leaving a highway using a deceleration lane. It was not a complicated operation but it took time and in those few moments the ship was vulnerable. As soon as it entered normal space, the pursuing pirates opened fire.
“Hostile ship has launched torpedoes!” one of the operators shouted.
“Activate point defence cannons and deploy countermeasures!” the Captain ordered.
The ship was equipped with specialized defence cannons designed to intercept any incoming solid projectiles by saturating an area with thirty-five-millimetre rounds of different types designed to engage most known enemies. Though, while not as effective against heavier ships, it was more than sufficient against smaller craft and torpedoes.
The auto-cannons began to fire filling the area behind the ship in hail of rounds as a protective curtain formed around the aft of the ship. The fast traveling torpedoes were silenced as shrapnel perorated them, exploding before even reaching the target.
“Interception complete, all enemy torpedoes neutralized,” the defence operator stated.
“All ahead full. Activate emergency beacon. All weapons engage cooldown procedures.” The Captain turned towards Vlad. “We will not last long against that ship. We are hauling a lot of cargo and are less manoeuvrable than that pirate skiff.”
The pirates began closing the distance between the two, the smaller ship having an advantage against the larger and bulkier cargo transport. Engines burning bright the two locked in a game of cat and mouse.
“Why are they not firing? We are well within torpedo range,” the Commander asked, a scowl forming on his face.
“Maybe they do not want the cargo damaged,” the Captain offered.
“They could have used their guns to take out our engine, but since the torpedo volley they have not fired a single shot.”
The lights began to flicker and monitors began giving static. The baleful sight of the colour red sent a chill though the spine of everyone as the emergency systems came on-line.
“Someone, give me a sitrep.”
“Captain, all decks report power loss, we are running on reserve power.”
“Shields and weapons are off-line, we are dead in the water.”
Alarms began to blare out as several displays returned to life as new contacts were detected approaching the vessel.
“Passive sensors detect boarding craft approaching. Their target seems to be the port hangar.”
“They might be after the prototype transport,” Vlad suggested.
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“Captain, this does not make sense.”
“What, Commander?”
“Why did we lose power the moment we exited Node Space? There was no warning and not a single abnormality during transit and almost the minute we exit we lose power.”
The Captain pondered the question. The Commander was right, something like that was too to specific to be a coincidence. There was an unknown factor that was not visible. Hopefully, it was not something that would make the situation worse.
The assumption, however, was proven right as the sound of a discharging weapon echoed on the command deck. From the side, the one holding the weapon was the ship’s XO. All around the other crewmembers remained fixed in place to stunned to even react. The Captain gasped as the last vestiges of air left his lungs and stood limp in the command chair.
Vlad drew his pistol from the holster on his left side, the barrel aimed at the other officer. Tensions where high, fingers on their triggers.
“Major, what have you done?” Vlad asked the officer in his crosshair.
“I do not…I…I…”
“I am the arm of the Master,” the voice changed like flipping a switch, but it felt like it was coming from all directions, “I am your Master!” No, not from around him, directly in his mind.
Pain surged through his mind like someone was dragging nails on a metal surface and the sound was projected right in his brain, his balance faltered, knees gave in and he found himself on the metal floor. Around him the crew members suffered the same fate. All were either writhing on the floor or clutching their heads in agony. Even in this state he heard something that made his blood go cold.
The command deck entrance door began to buckle, like some great force was pushing against it. The hitting continued stronger and stronger almost breaking it. The sound of metal snapping signalled the doors futile attempt to bar the passing of the intruders. But what came through made the Commander realize how much worse the situation was.
Pushing the damaged door like a piece of trash came the monstrous form of a Zuul female. The two-meter-high alien barely fitting through the frame of the damaged entrance. The massive creature trudged through the room with little grace, haphazard plates covered her chest, shoulders and head, most likely taken from other defeated enemies. Her strange green eyes peered over room and soon gazed at the writhing Commander. An animalistic grin spread across her pointed muzzle as drool began to sip down to the floor.
Ignoring the rest of the crew, she moved towards him, for a moment it looked like she would use her punch claws to end his life quickly but all of hopes of that were dashed as the massive hand took him by neck. He thought that she would snap his neck and end it right there, but again death did not come. As he was turned like a rag doll in the hands of the female, he faced again with another pair of eyes. While the female had and animalistic instinct in them these hid a sadistic intelligence behind their red irises. A male faced the Commander, most likely the master of this female.
He wears a black cloak that almost entrapped its entire form, from head to legs. Only the snout sticks out with rows of uneven teeth sticking out each side of his chin. The eyes peered into the Commander mind like laser melting through a piece of metal and yet those eyes reflected as much curiosity as malice.
“You will tell me what I need to know!” The voice from before resurfaced in the Vlad’s mind.
“I will tell you nothing, you damn mongrel!” He defiantly responded.
The zuul looked at his female and the pressure on his neck started to increase. The simple act of breathing became harder and his vision started to fade. Just as he was about to faint the pressure subsided. Gasping for air coughing intensely as oxygen once again filled his lungs.
“Defiance will only prolong your suffering.”
“Why do you not just take what you need?” he retorted.
“In time.” The response came.
He turned his back and moved towards the exit with the female in tow, dragging the Commander with her by the neck. The rest of the command crew followed behind, all thralls to the zuul’s psionic might.
Chapter Four
SFS Sibiu Cargo Cruiser, Sol Force/Morrigi Confederation Border
0217 Hours Shipboard Time, 5th of April 2552 (Human Calendar)
The group began the march in total silence as the commander was dragged by the neck his oxygen deprived mind began to wonder why this elaborate scheme.
The sound of gunfire interrupted such questions and it seemed close by to be this clear. The group reached their destination: the starboard hangar. Though, a strange sight awaited Vlad. A number of armed individuals stood guard over the hangar, clad in similar equipment to that of his own troopers, though with various personalised decorations adorning them. An old assault shuttle also stood there, its black hull painted with different symbols, most likely how these pirates got on board. Some were loading cargo onto the shuttle, others were directing and checking the containers in the hangar.
A particularly loud individual seemed to be directing most of the action. He shouted orders to his men, ‘encouraging’ them to move with purpose. The arrival of the zuul interrupted the bluster.
“You took your sweet time. This deal we made is getting more unpleasant by the minute.”
The female growled at the human but he did not flinch. With a gesture from the male, the female ceased its growling.
“I have honoured the deal to your exact requirement.” The speech was rugged like attempting mimicry of an unknown language. “I have provided you with a cargo vessel full of goods.”
“And yet this simple cargo ship has a fully equipped marine squad onboard. That was not part of the deal.” The disgruntled response came.
“The presence of the marines was not anticipated, though I thought your underlings would have fought better.”
“Or maybe I should put a round through your head for double-crossing me.” The mercenary pointed his weapon at the cloaked zuul, its red sight squarely between his eyes.
The female growled and shifted her weight in an attempt to spring upon the human. “If you do not cease these accusations my alpha would be more than willing to feast upon your flesh, and she is quite hungry.”
“And if I die the rest of my crew would gun you down like the dog you are.” The entire situation was a powder keg. The other pirates were trailing their sights on the zuul and his female which was growling and snapping jaws at them while he gave no sign of a reaction, but his psionics were already charging for an attack.
“Captain, I have thought that we had an understanding about this mission.”
“I am making a new deal, we give you to Sol Force and we get out of here with the loot we managed to acquire.” He spat.
“You are in no position to alter the deal.” His face snapped in the direction of the entrance. “But if that that is what you wish, I can provide you with more credits at the end of this endeavour.” The gleam of avarice flashed through the Captain’s eye. “Provided, you have found what I was looking for.” The weapons were lowered in a strange act of understanding. This zuul, whoever he was, seemed to use other methods of coercion that the usual psionic control.
“Yes, I found your ‘artefact’. This way.” He turned from the male and moved towards a group of containers which were anchored to the floor. They moved towards one of them its contour rugged and most its colour of yellow and black washed out. The door had a keypad its numbered button worn out from usage. “It’s in here, but I have no keys to open it.”
“That was easily rectified.”
From the group of thralls, the XO came forward, his movements almost robotic uncanny. From a pocked he took a yellow plastic card and slid into the slot next to the keypad. Afterwards, he introduced an eight-digit code.
“VOICE RECOGNITION REQUIRED!”
“Major Bennett, Security Access Code 556-Echo-6-Charlie.”
“VOICE PRINT ACCEPTED.”
The unmistakable hiss of hydraulics and machinery followed that acknowledgement as levers were released and safeties were disengaged. The doors opened slowly as steam began exiting through the cracks, a cold front pushed outwards, hitting all those looking at the opening doors.
The content was revealed. Inside the insulated container stood a single golden sarcophagus adorned with different symbols and encrusted with gems of different hues.
The commander tried to look up from his position and managed to get a glimpse of the artefact itself, despite feeling the grip of the female on his neck, though now it was lessened. He recognised the design immediately: it belonged to the morrigi race, though the opulence of it denoted its age predating that of the Suulugi Wars. Why was this zuul so interested in this? What was his endgame?
The zuul moved towards it, giving it a hungry look, but there was a gleam of both curiosity and excitement in his eyes. He pushed three of the unknown symbols and the artefact began to hover about half a meter from the floor.
“Move it to the shuttle, we are done here!” he barked his orders.
The mercenary captain signalled his men and two of them arrived, moving towards the back of the container and pushing the object outside towards the waiting shuttle.
As the two walked alongside the artefact the captain looked upon the Commander in the grasp of the female zuul, “Is he your trophy?” he said.
“In a way. I have need of him for a special research project.”
“Glad it is not me then.”
“Your uses are limited, this however is something I wish… to savour.” The sadistic glee of the zuul gave even a captain’s blood freeze in his veins and for a second wondered if all this warranted the risks he exposed himself. Though an early thawing soon arrived as a silver-blue canister rolled towards them.
“TAKE COVER!”
Chaos erupted as the flash grenade detonated, sending waves of light and noise in every direction. A few of the mercenaries were hit hard and fell to the ground, stumbling on their own legs. The male took an opportunity and erected a barrier protecting him and the female, negating the effect of the flash-grenade. Yet that was not the end as marines began flooding through the hangar entrance, each taking cover behind metal crates or any object which seemed to provide enough cover.
The distinct sound of rounds flying left and right like lightning strikes engulfed the hangar into a storm of chaos. Vlad kept staring at the female’s face, an animalistic rage flickering in her frigid, ivory irises as her pupils constricted. Her trembling jaws clenched and she growled through her teeth, moving the Commander like a rag doll. He vainly and relentlessly attempted to break free from her grasp by digging his nails between her fingers, the feeling of fear of unknown clawing him even more.
“Kópsson is down!” Olczak shouted, rushed towards and dragged him into the cover position, then he pointed his rifle towards a mercenary and killed him. “Kaarim!”
The medic took cover behind the metal crate the corporals were. Olczak chose another cover position and reloaded, waiting for the best time to open fire. Bekker put a disruptor grenade inside the attached grenade launcher beneath the assault rifle barrel.
“Fry that mutt,” Meretskov commanded with a loud enough voice for his squad to hear.
Corporal Bekker sat on one of his knees and launched it next to the male’s barrier, disabling it. Having that crucial advantage, Olczak put his right eye on the rifle’s sight and hit the zuul female in her left shoulder, causing her to drop Commander Vlad. The armour-piercing round penetrated her armour through the fur, skin and even muscle, a sharp bellow echoing in the hangar. She took ragged steps away from the male, her instinct telling her to hide.
Vlad fell on his knees and coughed, feeling his lungs almost explode in his chest. He kept his head down, facing the steel floor as his vision got blurry. He tried to raise his head and, through the havoc, he noticed the mercenaries that were left moving the sarcophagus towards the shuttle. Bekker loaded another grenade, but the hostiles’ fire obliged him to return back to cover.
“No clear shot, sarge!” he shouted, watching the enemies successfully bring the artefact inside.
The male’s nose fretted a couple times seeing his men bring the object to safety, then he grabbed the commander by his suit’s collar and pulled him behind two mercenaries that were firing towards the Sol Force squad.
“I thought I could arrange a more proper way to pursue this endeavour, but it seems I must make cuts for time.” Psychic energy fired from his hand hitting the downed, still recovering commander. But this was no simple act of malice as the greatest currency to a zuul is the knowledge they can gleam from their victims. Vlad screamed in agony, lacerating thoughts trying to rip through his memories. But even weakened and in pain his small mental defence seemed to limit the piercing energies ransacking through his mind. Memories became a jumbled mess, smoky and uneven silhouettes appeared all around, dreams he believed he never had seemed as clear as yesterday, aspirations and ideals, some locked inside and some given up on years ago blooming, routes he could have followed which would have changed his entire life appeared once more, words he could have said but decided not to let out echoed, the myriad of mixed emotions that drained him like waves smashing into the boulders into the sea and into the shore, eating the rock for millions of years without halting intensifying...
The lower crates were then swallowed up by an explosion instantly followed by a deafening sound, the shockwave pushing the nearby objects far away from the radius. Two mercenaries were blown up to shreds, burnt pieces of their insides thrown all around the floor and walls. The commander was lying on the floor and watched the male growling in pain, numbness in his limbs. Instinctively, the female bellowed and grabbed the zuul, lowering her head between the armour plates on her shoulders and cradling the male between her furred arms as she ignored the bullets ceaselessly flying towards and hitting her, retreating to the shuttle.
Cold. So cold.
Vlad was utterly immobilised to the floor. He helplessly watched Olczak and Bekker attempting to shoot the shuttle down, but it fled and blended through the stars like the tips of a billion needles flickering discreetly into the abyssal galaxy.
Cold. Even colder.
The shouts and commands became muffled and fluctuated around him, only being able to hear his own heartbeats still pumping blood further into his veins. The word ‘Commander’ was shouted, possibly by Meretskov, who hovered above him, but Vlad’s vision was completely misty, seeing just a dark figure.
Cold. The coldest.
The sounds were muted. The room was pitch black. His body disappeared entirely, no mechanism of flesh and bones left to control. The frequency of his heartbeats lowered, yet did not extinguish entirely. Nothing was in motion – nothing even existed around him. Just pure darkness. Void. Abyss.
Nothingness.
Epilogue
Cold…Warmth…Cold…Silence… There was nothing. He could not hear any thoughts, he could not hear. He was deaf, though his ears worked. Eyes slowly opened, the buzzing light of a faint LED forcing him to squint at it. His jaws clenched into one another while he faintly dug his claws inside the female’s fur, who still held him between her arms. A steady pant began to take contour as the seconds passed and the grasp tightened unexpectedly.
Both zuul were standing in a corner, the female’s vermillion, hollow eyes shining like blood stained snow sparkling beneath the sunrays’ gentle touch. The male, feeling cornered from all directions and unable to break free from her nearly asphyxiating embrace, tried to squeeze his body through her glossy fur after having realised he could not communicate, but to no avail.
Hatred… Agony… Despair… Seek. Me. Out.