Traitors of Sol: Part One of the Sol Sequence

by J Porteous

  An image of his parents flashed in his mind, one where they were together and laughing. Better times. Carl took a long deep breath, trying to steady his voice. 'Why, what's the point?'

  Hawke knelt down, bringing himself eye level with Carl. 'I'm sorry about your parents, I really am, but we still need to find that stone.'

  Carl raised his streaked face. He thought of Arrathnar, of the words she had spoken. He thought of Rix. He thought of what was at stake. There are still others that need you, he thought to himself. Don't let them down like you did your parents. 'Yeah...I know.'

  Hawke stood back up. 'Of course, if we find who took the stone then we are going to find the bastards that spaced the New England.' He offered a hand down to Carl. 'When we find them, what happens to them is down to you. You have my word.'

  Something ignited deep within him, something he had never felt before. A chance for answers, a chance for some merit of justice. His dismissal from the military as a failure became unimportant; something else flooded him and filling its place. Vengeance, that's what this is. He reached up, clasping Hawke's hand in a firm grip, and pulled himself up straight. 'I'll do whatever it takes.'

  A grin spread over Hawke's face. 'That's what I like to hear.' He slapped a firm hand on his shoulder and walked towards the door.

  Adrenaline surged through him. I will find whoever did this and I will make them pay.

  'And, Carl?'

  Carl turned to Hawke, who still stood in the doorway. 'Yes, Captain?'

  'Welcome to the Space Bastards.'

  A swell of pride washed over him. A feeling of belonging. Both were things which he had not felt since his final parade at the academy, not since being picked to pilot the Indomitable. That was the last time he had seen his parents face to face. He grimly nodded back. 'Thanks, Captain.' His eyes followed Hawke as he disappeared down the hallway.

  'Do not forget what we spoke of earlier.'

  Carl had not noticed Arrathnar still lurking in the shadows beyond the doorway. He flicked his eyes towards her.

  'Do not let your pride blind you to the truth,' she said. 'What do you think he wants more? For you to find who did this, or the stone itself?' Without another word, she melted back into the shadows.

  Carl swallowed, trying to shift the constricting feeling closing around his throat. One thing at a time, Carl, one thing at a time.

  Carl trudged down the ramp of the War Goddess, adjusting his helmet on the way. Three of the docking bays had been damaged beyond use but one was practically untouched, allowing for a relatively easy landing. He looked around at the damage that ravaged the ship. The attack had been savage, and he only hoped that it was quick. Watts stood at the bottom of the ramp looking at the carnage. 'How's it looking?' Carl asked.

  'They used standard munitions,' Watts said, heaving over a piece of metal from a now deceased docking arm. He pointed to a large hole punched through it. 'High calibre rounds. Standard armaments for bounty hunters and pirates.'

  Carl pushed his fist through the hole, following the direction of the round. 'They don't tend to hit mining vessels. There's not much money in unprocessed metals.'

  'Yeah,' Watts said. He let go of the debris, letting it fall to the floor with a crash. 'That's what doesn't make sense.'

  'You don't think it was the Kalindros?'

  'Not unless they've started using our ships,' he said. 'The damage on the War Goddess. I inspected it with Justinia when you were meeting with your friend. It wasn't caused by any kind of weapon we know of.' He nodded to the rest of the crew gathered at the base of the ramp. 'No point in hanging around, come on.'

  Carl heard raised voices coming from the War Goddess as they approached. He looked to Watts who shook his head in return.

  'You're not ready, Hawke. You've made good progress, don't undo all your hard work now.'

  'I'm fine, I'm good.'

  Justinia took a step closer to Hawke. 'Don't waste the strength you've built up on exploring a derelict vessel,' she said. 'Let us get the data, save your strength for when we find the bastards.'

  'She's right,' Watts said as they approached. 'And you know it.'

  Hawke's glare passed over them as he chewed his lip. 'Fine,' he said through gritted teeth. 'Fine.' He fiercely threw his helmet back into the ship, sending it clattering across the drop bay floor. He turned back to face Justinia, pointing a finger at her. 'Don't even think about holding me back when we catch up with them though.' He looked at Carl, his snarl softening. 'Don't worry, Goban, I'll leave at least one for you.'

  Carl nodded back. 'I've rigged the ship to pick up our suit comms, so you can at least keep in contact with us.'

  He stared back for a second, then let his shoulders drop. 'Good job.' He glanced around them again. 'Where's the High Researcher?'

  'Still on board,' Watts said. 'I fitted the AI core into our Synth, she's making some final calibrations.'

  'Okay, good,' Hawke said. 'That will have to do.' He walked back up the ramp of the War Goddess. He froze in place, then looked back to Carl. 'Hope you find some answers in there.'

  'So do I,' Carl replied. He watched Hawke disappear back into the depths of the War Goddess. A hand touched his shoulder.

  'Let's get moving,' Justinia said. She looked around the bay as the New England let out a low and long moan. 'Who knows how long this pile of shit is going to hold together for.'

  The door from the New England's docking bay slowly opened, its motors groaning under the strain. A flickering light greeted them, intermittently chasing the oppressive darkness away.

  'Lights on,' Justinia said. She reached up to her helmet and knocked the head-lamp on, the others following her lead.

  An eerie quiet followed them as they stalked through the ships corridors, only to be occasionally punctured by the sounds of the dying vessel. Carl's heart pounded against his ribcage, threatening to break through any moment. It was not the thought of the ship disintegrating that scared him, it was the thought of coming across his parents.

  Until that moment, a small part of him clung to the hope that somewhere, somehow, they were still surviving in the New England's carcass. It was a foolhardy thought, but one he could not quite let go of. He juddered to a halt as Justinia pushed a hand to his chest, stopping him in his tracks. He looked at her as she peered around the corner they had come to. 'What?' Carl whispered. 'What is it?'

  She glanced back at him. 'I think you guys need to see this.'

  Carl flicked his eyes to Watts, their faces sharing the same mixed look of confusion and worry. They stepped round the corner. The corridor opened up into a large maintenance room lined with great tunnelling machines, primed for planet-side deployment. It was not the size of the room nor the machinery that caught Carl's eye.

  Bodies littered the floor of the room, sprawled out where they fell, most still wearing their drilling overalls. Blood stained the floor beneath them. Carl knelt and put his fingers to the blood then held them up to his head-lamp. Dry. They've been here a little while.

  'It's a good job our helmets are filtering the air,' Watts said, as he turned over the body of a young woman. 'These poor sods have been here a while by the looks of them.' He looked up at Carl. 'You should have stayed with the ship, Goban.'

  Carl shook his head. 'No,' he said, standing up. 'I need to see this. I need some answers.'

  'Your decision,' Watts said. 'If you want to head back at any point, we understand.'

  Justinia was stood a little further ahead, inspecting one of the bodies. 'Doesn't look like space exposure killed all of them,' she said, as she crouched over one of the workers.

  Watts walked towards her. 'What makes you say that?' He stopped as he looked down at what she saw. 'Goban, get over here.'

  Carl made his way towards their lights, making sure not to step on the bodies who lay silently underfoot. None of the faces that looked up at him seemed familiar. Yet.

  Justinia looked up at the pair of them. 'What makes me say that?' she said. She dimmed
her head-lamp so as not to blind them. 'How about the bullet holes that they're riddled with?'

  Watts knelt next to the corpse and traced his fingers over the now putrid holes. 'Bullet wounds are different on each one. Very uneven,' he said. 'They must have sprayed the place. They weren't targeting anyone specifically.'

  Carl looked at the bodies that surrounded them. Justinia was right. Many of the bodies his head-lamp exposed were the same. Who would have something to gain from shooting an entire mining crew? The palpitations returned, his head throbbing. Who would have something to gain from shooting my parents? His throat felt suddenly dry. 'I need to find a worker log. Now.'

  Watts looked up at him. 'I'll see if I can get into the domestic mainframe.'

  The bodies had not only been confined to the first room. As they made their way through the ruined ship, the dead sprawled where they fell. The floor becoming sticky underfoot, the congealed blood gathering and becoming tacky in the tread of Carl's boots.

  'There's still a slight atmosphere on board,' Watts said, adjusting his visor slightly.

  'That's a good thing,' Carl said. 'Right?'

  Watts pulled a face at him. 'Those that were shot got the best end of the deal,' he said. 'Sure, there's an atmosphere, but it's so thin that even if they survived the shooting they would have had to endure slow asphyxiation.'

  'Not a good way to go,' Justinia said, as she stepped over the next corpse ahead of her.

  Hope faded from Carl's thoughts at those words. That's the danger of hope, it's a fragile thing, all too easily smashed. He felt their eyes staring at him, awaiting a response. He kept his head down and carried on walking through the grave that surrounded him.

  'This is where we need to split,' Justinia said, her voice echoing back from a far wall.

  Carl looked up at. They were stood at the entrance to an atrium, the room stretching far above him, revealing a gang of walkways in the soft emergency lighting. He remembered this place. Memories of him and Rix chasing each other across the various walkways brought a brief smile to his face.

  Watts nudged Carl's arm, and pointed to a half closed doorway. 'See that door? Follow it until you see a room marked three two three. That's the one you are looking for. According to the domestic mainframe at least.'

  Quarters aboard the ship were regularly rotated, so it did not seem odd that the mainframe suggested they were assigned a different room. Carl's nerves prickled at the thought of what lay ahead. He managed a hesitant nod back. 'What about you guys?'

  Watts pointed over to the far wall. 'Navigation mainframe is through there, got to go get that data. Got to find out who did this.' He paused for a second, his mouth hanging open, trying to find his words. 'Good luck, Goban. I hope you get what you need.'

  'Thanks,' Carl said. He watched Watts walk away until the large atrium dwarfed him. Carl sucked in a deep breath in a poor attempt to steady his nerves. He stared at the half closed door, willing himself to move towards it, but instead finding himself frozen where he stood. You're not going to get any answers standing here, he told himself. He forced his muscles to move and made his way towards the door. His footsteps echoed back to him, breaking the silence of the dead that surrounded them.

  'Wait up,' Justinia called. She fell in beside him and gestured towards the doorway. A small smile crept over her lips. 'You don't think I'm going to let you go down there alone, do you?'

  Carl managed half a smile back. 'It's appreciated,' he said. 'You don't have to come though.'

  'Watts has got everything in hand, I'm not going to be any help on a mainframe,' she said. Her smile spread wider over her face. 'Plus, I'm a higher rank. What I say goes.'

  Carl managed a full smile this time. 'Thanks.' He looked ahead to the darkness beyond the door. 'Let's get going.'

  Carl squeezed himself through the opening of the door before peering into the darkness of the corridor ahead of him. He heard Justinia sliding through the gap. He held out a hand and pulled her to her feet. 'Wouldn't have seen Sherlock fitting through there,' Carl said.

  Justinia managed a small laugh. She nodded towards the darkness that greeted them. 'Looks like the emergency power has already died out in this area.'

  They stepped into the darkness. Less bodies littered the hallway of the dormitory section, though their deaths had been no more peaceful. The attackers must have struck during primary working hours, when most of the workers were out maintaining the machinery. Mining operations worked around the clock, although most of the graft still took place during daylight hours so as not to affect worker's body clocks. Even so, the work was hard and punishing. It was little wonder why Carl's parents wanted a different life for him in the academy. A life that had now crumbled. He pushed the thought to the back of his mind. They marched onwards, following the increasing numbers on the doors.

  'There's something I've been meaning to ask you,' Carl said, as they advanced further into the darkness.

  'Yeah?' Justinia said, her eyes scanning the door numbers. 'Anything in particular?'

  'It's about Hawke.'

  Justinia threw him a glance. 'What about him?'

  Carl paused, thinking his next words through carefully. 'Does he seem himself to you? I mean, since the attack on the War Goddess. Since that thing scarred his face.'

  'Seems fine enough to me,' she said with a shrug. 'A bit weak still, but his strength is coming back well. I'd like to see any of the rest of us fair any better after what happened to him.'

  'I didn't mean physically.'

  They walked on in silence for a moment, returning to the task of counting the doors. Three fourteen, three fifteen.

  Justinia sighed loudly, breaking the quiet. 'I knew what you meant.'

  It's not just Arrathnar that has noticed it then? Carl looked over to her. 'What's your thoughts?'

  She shrugged. 'I don't know what to think if I'm honest,' she said. 'He's thrown himself into the Abyss more times than I care to count and has always come out the other side unscathed.'

  'But?'

  Justinia sucked on her bottom lip. 'But this, this is something different.'

  'Maybe his luck has just run out?'

  Justinia shook her head. 'No. Luck's got nothing to do with it,' she said. 'The way he used to throw himself into a fight, the way he used to look death square in the face, you could see in his eyes he went at it with nothing to lose.' She stopped walking and looked directly at Carl. 'Now it's different, I can see something different in him. Something I haven't seen before.'

  'Emotions?'

  Justinia laughed, forgetting herself for a moment. Her smile soon faded. 'No, not quite. Something has softened in him though. A part of his resolve has died with it.' She looked Carl dead in the eye. 'It's going to get him or someone else killed.'

  Carl froze at that. Hawke's words back on the War Goddess came back to him. Welcome to the Space Bastards. For the first time since leaving the military he actually felt part of something. It was an odd feeling, seemingly growing out of nowhere. His stomach knotted at the thought of losing one of them. He had already lost one of them. He mind raced back to when he awoke on the War Goddess to find Sherlock was dead. He shook his head. You can't change what happened to Sherlock. Dwelling on the past won't change what happened. His mind flicked back to the task at hand.

  Justinia whistled, getting his attention. She pointed over his shoulder. 'Looks like we're here.'

  Behind him, the number three hundred and twenty three lightly glowed from the panel next to the door, its white glow somewhat comforting in the darkness. He sucked down a big breath, steeling himself for what was behind the door. His mind painted an image of his parents lying dead, brutalised beyond recognition. He shook his head, refusing to accept it. I don't know that yet.

  He hesitated as he reached for the door control. To open it would give him his answer, but perhaps some questions are best left unanswered. His hand hung in the air. He sucked in another deep breath. In the long run he knew answers would hurt less than
questions.

  'I'll stay out here.'

  Carl turned and nodded a slow acknowledgement. He shone his head-lamp against the door, finding, then pulling, the door access switch. He stepped back, the door shooting open in front of him. His visor started to fog, his rapid breathing grabbing any oxygen his lungs could grasp. Pull yourself together. The air was perfectly still. He stepped forward into the darkness of the room, hesitantly scanning the surroundings.

  The air shot from his lungs, emptying him. Two figures lay crumpled against the back wall like wet paper. He approached slowly, his legs trembling underneath him. Time stood still as he edged towards the figures, the air as still as the death that permeated the ship. He crouched down in front of them. No, no, please no.

  Two holes were punched through his father's chest, his mother's body being held by his father's arm in a failed attempt to shelter her from their attackers. Her hair was matted with blood, her face sat in his father's lap. Carl cupped his mother's head in his shaking hands and started to turn it towards him.

  'Don't.'

  He looked back, struggling to focus through his watery eyes.

  'You don't need to see that,' Justinia said. She motioned to his father. 'At least they didn't go down without a fight.'

  Carl looked down. His father still clasped his hand cannon, cold fingers still holding the handle in a fierce grip. He reached down and gently prised it from his father's grip. Carl held it closer to inspect it. His mind flowed back to him asking his father if he could use it, many years ago. Complete your first tour, then I'll let you handle it, his father had told him. Tears cascaded down Carl's face, streaking his skin. He placed the hand cannon in his holster and made a silent promise. I'll not let this part of you stay on this ship to rot. It will see the people who killed you.

  Carl placed a hand on each of them. 'I'm so sorry,' he whispered through heavy sobs. 'You gave me a chance at another life and it still dragged me right back here. I've failed you both.' Their skin was cold and paper-like, nothing like his warm memories. 'Rix was right. I should have contacted you sooner, I could have warned you...'