by G. P. Eliot
And it had been my mistake to think that the local warlord of this embattled planet would ever even attempt to keep to the Confederate rules of battle.
The mission had gone wrong. The warlord had laid boobytraps all around his base, Hank recalled. He wasn’t any sort of general–he had been a madman.
And two of my men had been captured on the far side of a dividing bulkhead. He remembered when the flash-bang had gone off and the bulkhead had slammed down across their path, effectively cutting off Hopkins and Damien on the far side.
To be picked up by my enemy, Hank shook his head.
“You want these two fine young men–with their entire futures ahead of them–alive?” the warlord had shouted through the rebel facilities intercom system, just as the Jackal was talking to them now.
“Then you had better call of your attack. The entire attack. I want every Union Marine off Reeves Ridge in under twenty minutes, and I want Union destroyers leaving our space in double that!” the warlord had shouted.
“No way,” Hank had been younger. He might not have believed in everything that the Union had stood for–but he had believed in the honor of the Union Marines. First in, Last out.
“No? Then I’ve just upped my demands. I want every Marine off of Reeves Ridge, and every Union destroyer out of my orbital space–and I want you to personally thank me for my leniency,” the warlord had been insane, clearly. A madman given too many guns and too much power by the Union.
But the Union Marines didn’t make deals with madmen, did they? That was what the Captain had always been taught. The Union didn’t make deals with the Confederacy–which had been a total lie of course, as Hank had later found out. There had been many times when Union and Confederate forces had agreed to step back from annihilation if it meant that both sides could profit in some way, or else avoid some sort of catastrophic loss.
But, I had been a lot younger and far more stupid, Hank now conceded. He didn’t think the word brave. It hadn’t been a brave thing that he had done next.
“Blow the doors, Marines,” Hank had given the order.
And the first bodies that they had found on the far side had been Marine Hopkins and Marine Damien, with laser burns straight through their foreheads.
The sight still haunted him, even now…
“What’s your answer, Snider?” the voice of the Jackal returned.
“Captain…” Steed was shaking his head. Hank wondered if he could see some of the same foolish and stupid ‘honor’ that he had once believed in behind the man’s eyes.
“No.” Hank said again. “Ida?” he whispered into his private channel. “Voice analysis on what you heard of Lory. Was it really her? Could it have been a trick?”
Ida’s computation came back in a heartbeat. Hank could tell that she had got a whole lot faster since her battle with the Apollon. “It was the biological Lory Cox, sir. My analysis machines could detect a high-level of cortisol and adrenaline release, altering the pitch and timbre of her voice, which is in accordance with a hostage situation. All bio-rhythmic and wavelength signatures also match perfectly my previous logs of Agent Lory Cox,” Ida said.
Dammit! Hank bit his lip. It had been his only hope, that somehow the Jackal was seeking to play a trick on them. But why would he now, at this late juncture–when he had all the cards?
“The Ubix crystal, captain… Please don’t make me bored. I may have to find something to amuse myself with in here if I’m bored. And, as you know I already have three of your crewmembers…” the Jackal said in electronic satisfaction.
“Captain–I could infiltrate using the service duct,” Steed whispered to him on their suit to suit secure channel.
Infiltrate, Hank remembered. Just like I had thought I was smart enough to infiltrate Reeve’s Ridge.
“No.” Hank said, lowering his rifle to the floor, his head hanging down. “Weapon’s down, boys,” he said heavily to the others.
Lory had put her life on the line for me, Hank thought as his hands moved to the large carry module on the back of his encounter suit and released its straps to allow the Ubix Crystal tumble into his hands.
She came back for me when the Jackal had me hostage, he remembered. She had traded her life for his.
“I can’t do this,” Hank shook his head. “Okay, Jackal–you win. Open the doors and let my people live, and you can have your damn crystal!”
37
“You have made the right choice, Captain,” the Jackal said as soon as the Bridge doors jerked and fumbled open.
Hank saw the shiver of unease spread through Madigan and Steed at his side, who still had their laser rifles up despite his orders, pointed at the far larger group of Union Wolverines that were revealed. Each of them wore their own heavy battle suits, and had medium blasters in their hands, pointing right back at them.
In the center of the throng of heavily-armored Wolverines stood the Jackal in his trademark black and blue service suit, with part armor plates. With a whistle, the Wolverines slowly stepped back into the Bridge, to reveal that the Jackal had a small laser pistol pointed directly at Lory Cox’s head.
“Lory!” Hank couldn’t stop himself from gasping. It had felt like an eternity since he had seen her. She looked pale, bedraggled, just in her base under-mesh service suit and nothing more.
But she is still devastatingly beautiful, Hank thought as he saw her lift her chin up and stare at him with those piercing blue eyes. It was her fierce defiance, wasn’t it? He asked himself. That was what made her so special. Somehow, she still managed to look strong, despite her current predicament.
“I’m fine, Hank,” she said–even though she looked exhausted. No major injuries to her face though, Hank thought. Perhaps the Jackal had traced the Dalida down before he could start his torture.
“The crystal, Captain…” the Jackal said once more.
Behind him knelt the Professor and Cortez, with their wrists held in energy cuffs. The Professor had a large red mark on his temples, already growing darker into a black eye.
The Jackal must have seen him looking. “I never said that your crew would remain unharmed, just that I would let them live,” he said. “Now. You will walk forward into the Bridge, and you will place the Ubix crystal precisely two meters in front of me. Your men will remain outside. Do you understand my commands?”
Hank looked at Lory, and although she shook her head, he nodded.
“Hank, don’t!” Lory hissed through her teeth.
“I have to, Lory,” Hank said, and started to walk forward.
“Captain…” he heard Steed’s growl of frustration, and Madigan’s grunt of despair as he stepped through the Bridge doors, which whisked close with an audible click.
Hank was flanked on either side by Union Wolverines, and each of them had their guns levelled at his chest.
“No sudden movements now, Captain Snider,” the Jackal purred, stepped back and dragged Lory with him to clear a space in the center of the Bridge for Hank to leave the crystal.
“You know, I almost admire you,” the Jackal said as Hank took slow and heavy steps forward.
“I had at first believed that you were little more than a traitor. A weak ex-Union soldier who couldn’t handle the pressures of command,” the Jackal continued.
“Gee, thanks,” Hank said, reaching the center of the Bridge.
“But I see what your crewmates are willing to do for you–willing to give their very lives for your honor… That is a rare trait,” the Jackal said as Hank slowly lowered the Ubix crystal to the ground, and took a step back.
“Now let them go,” Hank snarled.
“But I think what impressed me the most, is your ability to survive,” the Jackal considered. He was clearly savoring this moment. “You and me, Hank–we’re the rats of the universe,” the Jackal said with a victorious gleam in his eyes.
“Speak for yourself,” Hank muttered. “Just shut up and let my crew go!”
“Amazingly resourceful creatures, rat
s,” the Jackal continued. “Everyone underestimates them. But just what is left behind after wars and bombs and plagues and political decisions gone awry?” the Jackal asked. “It’s always the rats. They always win in the end. They always somehow manage to survive.”
“I haven’t got any interest in your philosophy,” Hank shook his head. One thing he hated more than being beaten, was having to listen to the victor afterwards.
“So, I know that you will still survive when I tell you that I will be taking this crystal with me, along with all of the Dalida’s stores and food and weapons–and of course, the Professor Serrano.” The Jackal said.
“What? That wasn’t part of the deal!” Hank started to take a step forward, but the Jackal straightened his arm a little holding the pistol to Lory’s head.
“Uh-huh, Captain. What did I say about taking things nice and slow?” the man with the prosthetic hands and throat said.
“You can take what you want from the Dalida, but no more of my crew!” Hank offered.
“Really, Captain. This is not a negotiation,” the Jackal stated. “You see, I have to have the Professor to be able to complete his translation of the Message.” The Jackal raised his other hand, where a small data crystal was between thumb and forefinger. “I have downloaded the entire Message from the Dalida servers, leaving nothing behind. Professor Serrano will continue his work on board the Pequod, for me.”
“You can’t—” Hank hissed through gritted teeth.
“I am,” the Jackal said. “But I will let the rest of you live. I am not as dishonorable as you may think… the Jackal said, nodding to the nearest Wolverine. “Pick up the Ubix crystal, and get it stowed on the Pequod will you?” he said with a grin, as he started to turn—
To stare straight into the face of a shockingly-beautiful woman with a bob of cherry-red hair, deep green eyes, and scandalous red lipstick.
“Who?” the Jackal blinked.
“Shame about your face,” the woman winked at the Jackal, in the split second before she punched him.
38
“Captain, down!” Ida’s voice said inside Hank’s helmet.
It was the same voice as the woman had who was even now disarming the Jackal.
“What?” Hank said, seconds before Lory tackled him and brought him crashing to his knees. Laser fire erupted over the spot where they had been standing as the Wolverines opened fire.
“Professor! Cortez–down!” Hank shouted, rolling with Lory across the floor to the nearest command console.
There was an explosion of sparks as the console exploded, and then the sharp and small sounds as pain was delivered around the room at seemingly blistering speeds.
“Ida?” Hank sheltered over the form of Lory, risking a glance around the edge of the command console.
“It’s me,” his personal A.I. said from his suit, at the same time as she attacked what remained of the Jackal’s guards. “I told you that I would be able to access the Dalida’s central computer as soon you walked onto the Bridge, didn’t I? Well, I reconfigured the Dalida’s field generators to create a hard-light presentation of myself–and it is wonderful!”
“Oh,” Hank said, looking in awe at the silvery-blue form of his personal A.I. as she dismantled an entire team of superior Wolverine Marines.
She was fast. Too fast, in fact. Hank watched as her movements blurred as she moved with all the speed of a computer processor–not at the slow speed of a biological life form. One second, he was watching as she kicked a gun from a Wolverine’s hands, at the same time as she struck the man in the neck, before seizing his arm, breaking it as she whirled the hapless warrior around to receive the attacking blasts of another Wolverine.
And then, with a flicker of blue-grey light she was at the Wolverine who had fired on her–stamping the side of his kneecap with force that her slim and pale feet shouldn’t have, seizing the man’s helmet and twisting it with the audible crack of the neck inside.
And then Ida was at the next Wolverine, and the next.
Hank reached for the service pistol he had at the back of his suit, and then realized there was little point as Ida was already down to the last two Wolverines.
How many had the Jackal walked in here with? Hank thought giddily. He couldn’t make sense of all of the tangled limbs of Marine bodies, but he was certain that it was more than ten.
One roundhouse kick from the battle A.I. sent one of the remaining Wolverines flying upward over the command console to land with a smash of crystal-glass and an eruption of sparks on the console opposite.
Ida continued the spin of her kick to stop, with precise timing in a two-fisted punch that sent the last of the Jackal’s Wolverines to smash an opposite part of the ship.
“Ida, I’m mighty pleased to see you–but be careful of the ship’s furniture, hey?” Hank was saying warily as he stood up.
Ida–his Ida–had destroyed what should have been the most highly-specialized and dangerous killers known to the Union military, Hank’s mind was reeling. And she had done it all in under a minute.
“Um…hi?” Hank said, taking a step towards the blue-grey form of the beautiful woman who was flicking specks of dirt or blood from her fingers. She wasn’t panting with the effort, obviously, and she shrugged and grinned mischievously at him as she walked forward.
“Great to meet you, flyboy,” she said, as her shoulders and hair started to mist into a halo of sparkling light.
“Ida–what’s happening to you?” Hank said in alarm. Did the Jackal have some new trick up his sleeve? Hank turned to see where the Jackal was gagging and squirming on the floor, his hand on his prosthetic and metal throat, clearly crushed.
“Oh, he’ll be fine, I left him for you to kill,” Ida said as more of her started to waiver into diffuse light. “I can’t keep this form for long I’m afraid, it takes up way too much processing energy…” she stepped lightly forward and lightly kissed him on the cheek.
“I always wondered what that would feel like,” she said with a wicked wink, as the rest of her dispersed into a whirling haze of light, and then vanished completely.
“Ida?” Hank was left looking at nothing but light and air.
“I’m still operational, Boss but will need some time to re-calibrate my available processing speeds…” she whispered from the inside of his suit, before her voice faded away to nothing.
“Well, that was unexpected,” Hank heard Lory say, who was standing up from the console, with one of the Wolverine’s medium blasters lowered over the bodies of the Marines–and the Jackal.
“He’s mine,” Hank said, raising his service pistol.
39
Hank marched forward, the pistol in his hands levelled at the Jackal’s gasping, bright red face. Their nemesis must have seen the far greater threat coming for him, as he stopped scrabbling for air and flopped over onto his back, his eyes wide as he looked back at the Captain.
“This is for torturing me,” Hank said, each accusation bringing him step closer. “This is for taking Lory.” Another step.
“This is for all the good people you’ve killed…”
“Urk!” the Jackal gasped, scrabbling weakly at the ground. But there was nowhere for him to go.
“And this is for…” Hank thought, “for making my life hell for the last year!” He aimed the pistol at the spot between the Jackal’s eyes.
“No!” Lory was suddenly in front of him, pushing the gun down. “No, you can’t do this, Hank!” she was saying to him, her eyes wide with worry.
“What?” Hank looked at her as though she might be mad.
Maybe she was. Maybe the Jackal really did have time to torture her after all… Hank thought. “Get out of the way, Lory,” he said. “I need to do this.”
“But Hank–if you kill him, then you’ll be just as bad as he is,” Lory pleaded with him.
Hank blinked. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. What was she trying to say to him? Didn't she feel the same as he did? “You’re not in
your right mind, Lory,” Hank muttered, raising one arm as if to push her out of the way.
“Think of everything that this man–no, not a man–this thing has put us through. Think of all of the pain that he has caused, everywhere he goes…”
“And if you shoot an unarmed, injured man, then how will you be any different to him?” Lory said, stepping back in front of Hank with her arms up.
She’s shielding the Jackal! What is wrong with her!? Hank shook his head in fury. He’d never thought of himself as an angry man, but there had been plenty of times in his past when, high on battle stimulants or alcohol, he’d taken his ire out in battle.
