Traitors of Sol: Part One of the Sol Sequence

by J Porteous

  The AI stepped towards him. 'You asked for me, did you not, ex-serviceman Goban?' It approached closer until it stood practically over top of him. The bright light behind its eyes shone down at him. 'You are wounded, ex-serviceman Goban. Weakened.'

  Carl hesitated. He glanced around the room looking for a weapon. There was nothing within reach. 'Where have you been, Nelson? We've been looking all over for you.'

  The AI stood over him in silence. 'I have been waiting, ex-serviceman Goban.'

  'Waiting? Waiting for what?'

  'Orders,' the AI said plainly. 'You have all of the Sender stones, do you not?'

  Carl nodded slowly. Fear flooded him. A service Synth's frame was designed to take punishment, and Watts' armour plating had only added to it. He had no doubt the AI could kill him without a second thought. 'We have them all.'

  'I noticed that you received a visitor as well,' the AI carried on. 'The Harathdan's speech told me much of what you learned.'

  'Killing me won't change that,' Carl said. 'All of these other ships and crews, my death won't stop them.'

  'Understood,' the AI said. 'This is merely job completion. The rest of the Indomitable's crew were exterminated months ago. This is simply an end to that required task.'

  Carl opened his mouth to shout for help, only to find the cold metal hands of the AI wrapped around his throat. He kicked furiously, but only managed to injure himself rather than damage the AI's borrowed body. His fingers grasped desperately at the AI's hands, a useless act. Darkness crept into the peripheral of his vision and quickly began to close in. I've come so far. It can't end like this...

  Nelson's head exploded in a shower of metal and circuitry. The AI stood inanimate, it's crushing hands frozen in their clench around Carl's throat. Burly fingers reached forward and slowly pulled them away from his throat. He sucked in a desperate breath that chased the darkness from his vision.

  'Fuck me, Carl, you can't help but get in trouble can you?' Bjarke said. He holstered his hand cannon and shoved the old Synth's body, sending it clattering to the floor.

  'How did you know?' Carl breathed, grasping at his own throat.

  'To be here?' Bjarke asked. He nodded to the crumpled metal form on the floor. 'I was finished with the Council when someone mentioned they had spotted an odd-looking Synth making its way through some of the service corridors. When I realised that the rest of the Bastards were all together, that left me with one destination.' He boomed a laugh. 'Don't thank me too quickly now.'

  'Thank you,' Carl said. 'I mean it.'

  'I figure it pays to keep you alive,' Bjarke grunted. 'Keep getting into fights like that and you'll keep me entertained.'

  'We'll have more than enough fighting soon.'

  Bjarke's thuggish grin returned. 'That's what I'm counting on. And I'm planning on meeting the fuckers head first.' He held a hand out to Carl and hoisted him to his feet. 'We'd better head off, you've got people waiting on you.' He nodded at the metal frame on the floor. 'I'll get someone to sort this out.'

  Carl nodded. 'Thanks. Again.' He watched Bjarke pick up what was left of the AI's head, inspect it with a wide grin, and then follow him out of the room. They wandered through the walkways of the vessel, towards the room details Arrathnar had given him.

  The room was decorated in the most ornate way. Replicas of the etchings that Arrathnar had first showed them adorned the walls, recreated down to the smallest of details. The room itself was nothing like the dulled interiors of a standard ship. Being a Harathdan vessel, all of the surfaces were buffed to an almost mirror finish. Justinia, Hawke and Arrathnar were already deep in conversation when they arrived.

  'Here comes the hero,' Justinia laughed, and pulled out a chair for him. 'Think you can keep us waiting just because you pulled off a stunt like that earlier?'

  'I got a little caught up,' Carl said, and took his seat.

  Bjarke lifted up the remnants of Nelson's head. 'Found something for you,' he said, before throwing the blasted metal onto the table. 'I'll leave you to it,' he said, and swept towards the door.

  Hawke inspected the AI's head, a single eye staring back at him. He muttered something to himself then looked up as Bjarke was about to leave. 'No you won't,' Hawke said. He motioned to the empty seat next to him. 'Take a seat. We've already got more empty chairs than I would like.'

  Bjarke nodded solemnly at his words. 'Agreed. Too many.'

  Hawke looked around the room. The bruising of his face coloured brightly, even through his thick beard. He pulled out a bottle from under the table, a brilliant gold hue to the liquid. 'Guardian of the Abyss,' he said. 'Finest liquor in the universe.' He unscrewed the lid and poured everyone a glass. 'You know, I haven't touched any drink since this happened,' he said, motioning to his face. 'Not like me at all.' He passed the drinks around the table. 'Where to start? I suppose with our latest victory.' Hawke raised his glass, the others mimicking him. 'To Carl Goban, if it wasn't for you we wouldn't be doing what we are tomorrow.'

  Carl felt his face redden as everyone rounded on him and toasted his name. 'Thanks,' he muttered, the rest of them laughing at his embarrassment.

  'Next drink. This one's to Sherlock and to Watts. Fuck knows what they would say if they could see us here now.'

  'To lost crew,' Bjarke added. Those gathered nodded in agreement.

  Carl smiled to himself and raised his glass. The smooth burn of the drink hit his throat again. He managed to stifle his cough and looked up to see Arrathnar smiling at him. He had not managed as well as he had hoped.

  'Thirdly,' Hawke said. 'This one's to tomorrow, and to the seven shades of shit we will rain down upon those bastards.'

  A cheer rose from around the table. Bjarke slammed his fist onto the table repeatedly and bellowed, Carl joining in. Justinia laughed and slammed her fist down as well, Hawke joining them. After a moment, the noise died down, and they all sat smiling in the knowledge that this could be the last true moment they spend together before the chaos of battle.

  'There is one last thing,' Hawke said, his voice suddenly sober. He thumbed the edge of his glass, studying it before continuing. 'If we are going to die tomorrow, I will not go without the closest people to me knowing what I am. Who I am.' Looks of confusion followed him from all sat at the table. 'We've all seen what these bastards can do. We've all seen people we know die because of them.' He threw back another glass. 'I know there is speculation about what the scar is, what it does, so I am just going to come clean. They speak to me. They promise me things that I now know are impossible. I know it's bullshit.' He looked plainly around the room, looking squarely into the widened eyes that stared back. 'I want you to know that you can trust me. Tomorrow, when we go head first into the fight, I want to know that we can stand together, that we can be the team we need to be to show those bastards just who they've fucked with. I've made my choice,' Hawke said, all eyes on him. He poured another round of drinks. 'There's one more thing too. I'm not the Traitor of Sol. Never was.'

  Bjarke slung back his drink. 'I think you've had too much to drink.'

  'No, Bjarke,' Hawke said, looking over to the large man. 'This is the truth. My truth. I was framed.'

  Carl's eyes widened. His time with the Space Bastards had made him question the stories he had heard about the Traitor of Sol in the academy, but he put it down to simple exaggeration. He never thought they would be completely fabricated. 'You're joking? Aren't you?' He glanced at Justinia, who's face answered his question. 'You knew too?'

  'Only recently,' Justinia replied. 'Since Savannah Haven.'

  Bjarke put his glass down and pushed it across the table. 'You're fucking serious, aren't you.'

  Hawke nodded. 'It's a long story. Too long for tonight. But believe me when I say Daria is dead because of them, my daughter sold into slavery. ' He threw another drink down his neck. 'They took everything from me. Now we are going to take everything from them.'

  'A daughter? A wife?' Carl asked with wide eyes. It had never occurred to
him now that Hawke even had a family. 'From Callisto, you mean?'

  Hawke smiled sadly to himself. 'I'll tell you. Tell all of you,' he said, looking around the room. 'But now is not the time or the place for it. We're at the point of no return. I figured if I am going to die, I want to die with people knowing who I really am.' He poured another round of drinks. 'Tell you what, I'll tell you the true story of the Traitor of Sol when we get back through the white-hole.'

  Bjarke snatched his glass back. 'I've known you for years, Hawke, and I know that you're not a man to mince your words, and that's good enough for me.' He raised his glass. 'The Traitor of Sol is dead. A drink to Hawke Sparov.' The others around the table joined and drank deeply.

  Arrathnar tapped her glass against the table, drawing the attention of the gathered crew. 'I think we need another toast,' she said. She held her glass up high in the air. 'To new beginnings. Once this is all over.'

  The others echoed her sentiment. Carl threw his drink back, the burn now something he was accustomed to. He looked across the table and watched as Arrathnar downed her drink, looking back at him. They shared a smile.

  'We know what we've got to do,' Hawke said, slamming his glass down. 'We all know what tomorrow brings. Let's be ready for it.'

  With that, those around the table stood and made their way back to the War Goddess to get some rest. Carl lay on his bunk restlessly. The thoughts in his head were not initially of tomorrows venture, but of Arrathnar. Keep focused, Carl. Get through tomorrow first. Eventually sleep came for him.

  Chapter Twenty

  Hawke

  The weight that had followed Hawke had gone, lifted after last nights revelations. It was bittersweet that the only reason he could be so truthful was because Daria was dead. If all Elpis knew of him was the lie of the Traitor of Sol, not truly of Hawke, then she would want nothing to do with him. He was free, in the most awful way possible. The Kalindros had no leverage over him anymore. He made a silent vow to the Kalindros, if they still listened. No more hiding, no more running. Once the day is done, I will see one of us dead.

  Throughout the night, whilst the mercenary crews drank, told stories and prepared for the coming onslaught, the Researchers had taken the Sender stones outside of the station and aligned them. The stones were now locked in place by Researcher ships, the great ring easily visible through the open doors of the docking bays. All but one stone was placed. They awaited the final briefing before pulling the last stone into the formation.

  Hawke checked over the hull of the War Goddess one last time. 'Come on girl, does us proud.' Footsteps approached behind him. He turned to meet them.

  Arrathnar watched him hesitantly. 'Hawke, we need to talk.'

  'We got time to talk?'

  'It is important,' she said. 'It is about your scar. Your brand.”

  Hawke returned her stare. 'I've already told you, whatever shit they are sending through to my brain, I'm telling them to fuck off.'

  She pulled out sheets of notes, thumbing through them rapidly. 'I have been going through the information that the creature had given us.' She stopped dead and looked up at him. 'Breaking their central warp-hole may not break the bond you have with them.'

  His guts turned to slush. 'What? If we collapse their link to our universe, then it will break the bond, right?'

  'It will stop them from coming through to our universe, to any universe in fact, but it will not break already established bonds.' She thumbed through a few more pages. 'There are notes here, notes that say that they will torment you, communicate with you even more as you sleep. They will show you terrible things.' She brought her notes back to order and fixed her black eyes on him. 'If we crush their ability to travel the multiverse, you will no longer be of any use to them. Who knows what they will do to you?'

  Hawke rubbed his calloused fingers across his brow. The Kalindros still came to him in the night, whispering to him of defeat and death. No, this can't be right, he thought. This should be my ticket out, to get rid of them for good. 'I'm already no use to them, they haven't done anything yet,' he said. Her unwavering glare answered his question. He swallowed the truth that clogged his throat. 'How sure are you?'

  'These notes came from the creature,' she said. Her gaze dropped to her notes, avoiding his accusing stare. 'I am almost certain. I am sorry.'

  Hawke let out a deep sigh. 'Don't be,' he said. He straightened himself up. They've taken everything else, why not me? Do they think I'm still of use? 'We'll cross that bridge if we get to it. I'm not the main concern here, shutting down that warp-hole is.'

  A klaxon sounded and the internal communication system of the Winter Dawn whirred into life. 'All mercenary crews, make your final preparations. The brief will be made shortly.'

  'I had better make sure my own preparations are in place,' Arrathnar said, and turned her back to him.

  Hawke grabbed her arm. 'Arrathnar?'

  'Yes, Hawke?'

  'I know we haven't always seen eye to eye, but thanks. For being up front with me.'

  A small smile touched her lips. 'You were up front with us last night. It was the least I could do.' She nodded a farewell before quickly disappearing back through the crowd of mercenaries, who busied themselves with checking their weapons and ships. She had led a testing team overnight, studying the build and composition of the battered Kalindros ship which led dormant in the corner of one of the docking bays. The Researchers had made announcements and handed out diagrams of where best to hit their ships and what ammunition did the most damage. It was the best chance they had to make a dent in them.

  Hawke made his way across the docking bay to join the throng of bodies that had already gathered there. He could see two figures stood on the raised platform, talking to each other. As he made his way through the crowd, he realised that it was the Faceless Man and the Grand Researcher who were talking before the audience. A crackling of violent anticipation filled the air. Most of the faces around Hawke stood still as stone, but some of the less seasoned mercenaries barely hid the fact that they were close to cracking, ready to spill their fears out at a moments notice.

  'Mercenaries,' the Faceless Man said. He echoed through the internal communication system, filling the room with his raspy voice. 'We have our plan. We are to go through the white-hole and destroy what we have been told is their central warp-hole, a doorway to anywhere in the multiverse. We have learned some things of what to expect and will brief you en route. Remember, we fight not just for ourselves, but all who live, today and tomorrow.' He paced dramatically. 'No one else can be trusted with this task. It has fallen to us to beat back the darkness. Show them what the Mercenary Guild is made of!' He stepped back as cheers and war cries rose up to greet him. He raised a hand, signaling for silence, as the Grand Researcher stepped forward.

  The Grand Researcher appeared withered next to the powerful stance of the Faceless Man. He walked slowly, pained by every step. He looked out at the crowd in front of him with aged eyes. 'Most of you will not recognise me,' he said. 'And that does not bother me, for our lives follow different paths. But today, our paths twine together.' He looked over to a gathering of Harathdans at the edge of the crowd and nodded an acknowledgment. 'It will not just be your mercenary fleet that flies into battle today, but also my finest crews.' The gathered mercenaries approved of that, with cheers rising to greet the Grand Researcher. 'From what intelligence we have, we understand there is a planet which will house the central warp-hole. It is embedded into the very crust of the surface. We have equipped a bomb to one of our carriers, a bomb powerful enough to crack the earth under it. We will need you to defend our carrier, to allow it to reach its destination. We will make their planet tremble as they plan to make our universe tremble.'

  The crowd around Hawke cheered. He nodded in appreciation. Good to see it's not just us fighting.

  The Faceless Man stepped forward, standing beside the Grand Researcher. 'Return to your ships and make ready. Today we fight. Today we win or we perish.' He
raised both of his fists into the air. 'Let us show them who they are fighting!'

  Hawke threw his fist up in the air and yelled. Fury consumed him. Adrenaline pumped freely through his veins, all of his bruises and broken skin fading into the background. I promise you, all of you. Sherlock, Watts, Daria. Today I will make sure you did not die for nothing. The crowd around him dispersed, shouts of camaraderie filling the air as he made his way back to the War Goddess. He saw Carl and made his way to him. 'How are the preparations looking?'

  'Good,' Carl said. 'Justinia and Bjarke have checked over the weapons systems. Ammunition is fully stocked and the Goddess is in good working order.'

  'Good work,' Hawke said. 'Looks like Arrathnar made good on convincing the Harathdans to do something.'

  Carl smiled to himself. 'I knew she would.'

  Hawke could not help but smile back. Kid's got it bad.

  They made their way to the War Goddess and prepared to launch. Ship after ship ascended and released itself from the docking bay, the War Goddess following in turn. The ship lurched and fell in line with the other vessels, making its way through the docking bay door and into the darkness of space. Ahead of them, the last Sender stone was being dragged into place by two Researcher ships. Hawke stood with Justinia, Bjarke, and Carl, watching as it slowly made its way to the top of the circle that the stones formed.

  'Just remember,' Hawke said, not taking his eyes off the stones. 'Fight hard and fight well, and we all stand a chance of making it back.' He turned to look at them. 'They might have met us before, but they haven't met us pissed off yet.'

  Bjarke grinned fiendishly and nudged Justinia. 'Let's go get on those turrets, show them what we can really do.'

  'Don't have to ask me twice.' She turned as she met the doorway. 'Good luck guys, let's show them what we've got.'

  'We don't need luck,' Hawke said. 'We're the Space Bastards.'

  The communication system crackled into life. 'All ships, this is the Faceless Man. On the other side of this white-hole is an enemy who wants you dead. Wants your families dead. Wants everyone you've ever known dead.'