by E A Wicklund
“Excellent. I think so too.” He turned to the rest of the attendees. A few months ago, the Major and I had been tossing around a plan that I think you’ll agree is…quite unexpected. Luckily, it fits the situation we’re in. Additionally, it involves Commander Zahn as a major player.”
“Me?” said Zahn. He looked surprised. “What would I do that involves marines?”
“Oh I think you’ll like this. It means you get to play with your dolly.”
Zahn smiled beatifically. “I like it already.”
“I thought you would. Alright folks, here’s the plan…”
***
Scirocco’s Marine Captain, Jesus Castellano, faced unusual challenges as he rose through the ranks. His guts and determination ensured he was one of the most decorated men in the Democratic Peoples Marine Corps.
Despite all that, his lack of family connection to the ruling oligarchs ensured he received the almost the lowest pay possible for a captain. He took a certain perverse pleasure in this as he personally checked his men’s complex boarding armor. Looking into their eyes, he knew he commanded their respect at least. Unlike his fellow officers, he ensured his marines received adequate rations. Getting even that often put him at odds with Mallouk, Scirocco’s asshole captain. For that and much more, his men would follow him to hell and back.
“Two minutes,” said the Marine shuttle’s pilot.
“Copy that.” He sat in the last jump seat beside the boarding hatch and let his armor attach itself to the bulkhead.
Moments later, the shuttle banged into the Elysium clipper. Castellano knew the toughly-built shuttle could take the abuse. It was designed for it. To him, smacking a shuttle into a ship seemed little different than the way troops banged into cover while under fire. Maybe it hurt, but it hurt less than getting shot while moving too slowly..
Magnetic grapples caught and held the shuttle against the hull. Their boarding tube encircled the target vessel’s external hatch. Their tech, Aziz, got the foreign mechanism analyzed and open within six seconds. Castellano charged through the hatch in the berserker-like manner of all Marines in Human space, knowing his men were right behind him, assault weapons covering all angles.
The marines always applied this “shock and awe” technique when boarding any ship and it usually terrified the receiving ship’s crew. The aggressive tactics simply served to ensure nobody developed bright ideas that would get someone killed.
This time the technique fell upon deaf ears. No one was there. Castellano looked around at the passageway. Pipes and conduits for various purposes ran up and down the passageway. Various fittings for atmospherics, maintenance, firefighting, and intraship communications competed for space upon the bulkheads.
He always thought most ships looked like they had been designed by cubist artists after eating interesting mushrooms. That was normal and expected. What was strange here was the bulkheads and decks should’ve been altoferramic, that ubiquitous material most ships (even buildings) were made of. This bluish-grey material was unfamiliar. Castellano touched the strange plating. “Armor?” he muttered.
“What the hell?” whispered Aziz beside him. “They said this was an Angeletti Clipper. It looked like one from the outside anyways.”
“I know those ships inside and out,” said Castellano. “But this is different.”
Master Sergeant Kowalczyk pushed his way next to Castellano. “No welcoming party? I thought these guys were giving in?”
“Me too. I was looking forward to milk and cookies.”
“What do you think, Cap?” said Kowalczyk, eyes constantly scanning for threats.
Castellano grunted, “This is no ordinary clipper. It doesn’t match the maps. There’s all these solid bulkheads with this weird abstract art.” He gestured with his chin at the coppery plates in the bulkheads. They looked something like relief sculptures but also appeared mechanistic in nature.
“I saw that too, Cap. There oughta’ be see-through grates on the deck and intersections there and there. There ain’t none. All I can say is that way’s the bow and that way’s the stern.”
“That’s all I know too. We’ll just have to wing it, Gunny.”
“Castellano’s Cretins always find a way.”
“God is great. Take Bravo Team and head aft. We got the bow. Secure engineering or anything…hell…important. Keep your comms channel open. If I don’t hear you sucking wind I’m coming for your weak ass.”
“Copy that.”
Ten minutes later, the marines had gotten used to the spidery robots crawling across the bulkheads and even above on the overhead. Castellano surmised the hand-sized machines were cleaner bots. Though,he couldn’t believe a ship where sailors weren’t present and constantly cleaning something. It was like that when ships plied the seas of Earth with sails, with nuclear plants later on, and it still hadn’t changed. How else did sailors, one of nature’s most destructive forces, keep busy enough to stay out of trouble?
Castellano cursed angrily. “What the hell? This ship doesn’t have a damned bridge!”
“How do they sail it?” grunted Private Blazer.
“I’m sure the Ellies have a way,” muttered Castellano. He passed another of those complicated looking abstract art panels in a bulkhead. He murmured to the tech specialist beside him. “What are those, Aziz?”
“Damned if I know. Maintenance hatches maybe.”
Castellano sighed. “Probably something else that’ll kill us if we aren’t careful.”
“Something else?”
“Did you notice these movable balls with holes in the bulkheads?”
“I was wondering about them,” said Aziz. “They look kinda like eyeballs.”
“Not far wrong. Look.” He stepped to the side experimentally. The ball tracked his movement, keeping the small hole trained on him.
Aziz grimaced. “What the hell?”
Castellano grunted as he finally figured it out. “They’re murder holes.”
“Eh?”
***
On Springbok’s bridge, McCray watched a split screen display of both groups of Madkhali Marines. Ando had neatly hacked their comms. The bridge knew everything the boarders said.
“Uh oh,” said McCray. “They’ve found Gui’s murder holes and figured out what they’re for.”
“I still can’t believe he got those installed in time,” said Zahn.
“Welcome to the world of automation. Well done, Archimedes.”
“It was nothing, Captain,” said the ship’s AI.
“Alright, It’s looking like they’re about to realize they’ve been trapped,” said McCray. “Mr. Zahn. It think it’s time for you and your dolly to go make them a better offer. Try not to get shot. Those dollies ain’t cheap. Ando, standby by to jam their comms. We don’t want them calling for help before we’re ready.”
***
“In the Middle Ages attackers of castles found themselves in these narrow hallways,” said Castellano. “While the attackers were packed in all in a bunch, archers would fire arrows through these tiny arrow slits. They were shooting fish in a barrel.”
“Christ!” spat Aziz. “If that’s true, we’re walking deeper and deeper into a trap.”
“I think you’re right. Alright, I’ve had enough of this freak show.” He opened a channel to Kowalcyk. “Gunny. I got a bad feeling about this.”
“Me too, Cap.”
“Return to the shuttle, double-time. We’ll meet you there.”
“Copy that. See you in…”
Kowalcyk’s voice ended suddenly, followed by a particular high-pitched whine. Castellano knew that sound. He felt the blood drain from his face. “We’re being jammed! Back to the shuttle. Move it, Marines!”
They raced back the way they came, augmentations allowing them to sprint faster than any Olympic runner. They hadn’t run far before Castellano heard the ominous sound of a hatch closing. By the time they rounded a corner, he knew they were in deep trouble.
“What
the hell?” cursed Blazer. “That hatch wasn’t closed before!” He raised his weapon. “I’ll open it.”
“Cease fire, Blaze,” said Castellano. He knew an armored hatch when he saw one. Their weapons would never penetrate it. “Aziz, work your magic.”
Aziz rushed forward. Boxes of various kit bounced against his waistline. He selected a specialized comms box and ran a lead into the port beside the hatch. All ships in Human space included common communications ports. That way the rescue crews from any star nation could open a stuck hatch, for instance. It also provided a means for a boarder with the right hacking tools to open a hatch the crew didn’t want opened.
“What’s your hacking record, Aziz?”
“For a hatch? Four seconds.”
Castellano smiled, but it was short-lived.
“Ai!” shrieked Aziz, yanking the cable out. “Dammit!”
“What happened?”
“Counter-measures!” spat Aziz. “The hatch software counter-hacked my hacking tool! Overloaded the motherboard.”
“So that means….”
“I can’t believe it. There’s no expert system in existence that can beat this thing. Only an artificial intelligence could pull it off.”
“An AI on a ship?” winced Castellano. “Who’s crazy enough to do that?”
“Ellies. Who else?”
“Well try again, Aziz. We gotta get out of here.”
Aziz shook his head. “Sorry, the tool is fried. I can’t open this hatch. This ain’t no merchant ship, Cap.”
“Ya think?”
“Gentlemen,” said a voice from around the corner. “I’m unarmed.”
Ten assault weapons, each capable of pulping a human torso with a single burst, raised up. “Come out slow, real slow,” ordered Castellano.
A man in a ship suit emerged, empty hands ahead of him.
“How’d he get behind us?” muttered Blazer.
“Who the hell are you?” growled Castellano.
“I’m Commander Zahn,” he said. “Ship’s XO.”
“What the hell is going on here? Where the hell have you been?”
Zahn smiled. “I’m here to accept your surrender.”
“Surrender? We’re the ones with the guns, asshole,” spat Blazer.
“Shut up, Blaze!”
Castellano stepped forward in a flash. Suit-augmented musculature gave him inhuman speed and strength. He grabbed Zahn up by the neck and heaved the big man up with one arm. “Why would I surrender when I have such a convenient hostage?”
“Oh right. Maybe I didn’t think this through,” grinned Zahn.
Castellano grimaced. Something wasn’t right about his reply. Then Zahn drooped suddenly in the marine’s hand. His head flopped backward as if his neck were broken. Castellano cursed with sudden understanding and heaved the thing against the wall, hard enough to shatter a human back. “Dammit!”
“Why’d he kill ‘im?” whispered Blazer to Aziz.
“It’s a dolly,” sighed Aziz. “A robot controlled by remote control. That’s how it got behind us. It was folded up in a bulkhead somewhere. That one’s a super high-end model. So life-like they even pee.”
Blazer spat. “We’re fracked, right?”
“Mouse-trapped like a pack of damned rooks,” cursed Castellano. He justifiably saw himself as a consummate professional, the best of the best. There were few combat actions he wasn’t expert in, and shipboard combat was his specialty. Getting trapped so easily aboard a ship was an insult that drove a dagger into his soul.
***
The Zahn dolly stood up, unaffected by its back-breaking encounter with a bulkhead. Still controlling it remotely from his sarco, Zahn ignored the tense expressions of the Madkhali marines as they pivoted towards him. He opened a private channel to Ando. “Circus? You got enough?”
“Almost there,” replied Ando. “Keep him talking some more.”
Zahn closed the channel. Time to play their hold card. This was going to be very interesting. No doubt his grin unsettled the trapped marines a little as he sent a prearranged signal to the ship’s AI.
Beside him, two of the panels that the marines believed were abstract art on the bulkheads revealed their true nature as they began to move. The way they unfolded themselves, they looked birds emerging from squarish eggs, but they were machines, bipedal combat tanks. They stood up, unfolding to stand over two meters high, each with an array of weapons pivoting to target the stunned marines.
***
“Reapers!” gasped Aziz, staring at the machines rising beside Zahn. “Feck me.”
“We’re dead,” squeaked Blazer.
“You gotta be kiddin’ me,” said Castellano. He knew about Reapers from intel briefings. The very least of their weapons could rip open his men’s armor like it was tissue paper. As far as he knew, no unsupported infantry unit ever survived an encounter with Reapers. He turned to Zahn. “What the hell is this?”
“The result of a trade deal with our newest friends,” said Zahn.
Castellano’s jaw fell open. “You guys sold out to Thalls? Humanity’s greatest enemy ever?”
“Oh no. We’re trade partners these days. The war is over you know. It took a while after the accord, but once they shared their intel, we learned who our real enemies are. We get along much better now.”
“Who are your real enemies?”
“Classified. Look, Captain. There’s no way you’re getting back off this ship alive if you fight. Drop your weapons and remove your gear. There’s no need for bloodshed.”
“Uh huh,” said Castellano. “And then what? Labor camp? Torture?”
“Torture?” winced Zahn. “What for?”
“We’re both fighting men,” said Castellano. “We know how this works.”
Zahn’s looked away for a moment, as if receiving a transmission. Then he smiled as if finally getting something he’d been waiting for. He shook his head, “We aren’t going to torture you. You’ve already given us what we need.”
“What the hell does that mean?”
“Geez,” groaned Aziz, shoulders sagging. “I know what they’re doing.”
“What?”
“Captain,” interrupted Zahn. “You’ve boarded an Elysium ship in Elysium space. You’ve committed an act of war.”
“Negative, Zahn. You have penetrated Madkhali space under false pretenses. This ain’t no merchant vessel, and it likely is a spy ship as we were told.”
Zahn smiled sadly, as if pitying him. “You’re in the Gershon system, near the McGowan Star Cluster. The DPM may claim Gershon, but the Egalitarian Stars of Elysium have a claim to it that’s accepted by international law. Until the Madkhali claim is resolved and accepted this is still Elysium space.”
Castellano felt the blood drain from his face. This wasn’t the first time Captain Mallouk had lied to them and placed his marines in a difficult position. Without access to Scirocco’s sensors, as usual, they had no way of knowing they were led astray. He sighed. He’d been lied to so many times before by his own despicable captain, he was willing to bet this enemy told him the truth.
“They said we were in Binzi, in Madkhal territory.” Ponderously, he removed his helmet. “Marines are always the last to know.”
“I thought as much,” said Zahn. “Surrender without any violence, then help us out with something, and we’ll put in a good word for you with the international court.”
Castellano lifted an eyebrow. If the Ellies wanted something, then maybe this situation wasn’t as untenable as it seemed. Perhaps he could bargain for the safety of his men. “I want more than a good word, Commander. I wish to request asylum for me and my men.” He turned to Aziz. “You don’t have to join us in that, Aziz. I can’t order you to do it.”
The other marines removed their helmets and turned questioningly to Aziz. The specialist took his headgear off and said, “What? You think because of my family name I know those pricks in the government? I grew up working for a living. I’m in, Cap.”
>
“It’s not up to me to say yes or no on asylum, Captain,” said Zahn. “But you could go a long way towards getting it approved if you helped us with one insignificant, little thing.”
Chapter 05
On the bridge, McCray watched the proceedings in the tank via an unusual surveillance system; a swarm of flying nanites, each no bigger than a dust mote, hovered just outside the boarding tube leading into the Madkhali shuttle. Just one of the nanites wouldn’t provide a clear picture for McCray, but the near-invisible cloud of thousands produced a high-resolution image. McCray could see all the way into the shuttle and observe the pilot and co-pilot lounging, damn near asleep.
Springbok’s guise as a merchant had worked its magic on them. They apparently expected no resistance from a civilian vessel. They appeared far less alert than the marine commander.
In another view, he watched the progress of far larger, far more dangerous machines advancing down the passageway towards the boarding tube. He smiled as part two of his plan commenced.
The Madkhali shuttle remained pressed up against the hull of the ship, a clear example of sloppy procedure. These men were perhaps Madkhali Navy pilots, clearly not under the command of the edgy, disciplined Castellano. If they had expected any resistance, they would have pulled away from the hull and armed the shuttle’s heavy guns. A second shuttle would have attended them several miles away in the High Guard position.
Nanites slipped into the shuttle itself. He could see the screens in front of the co-pilot displaying external views from the shuttle’s cams of Springbok’s passageways, as well as a view just inside the hull of the vessel. All this security ensured no clever crew member from the ship could run an end around past the marines and attack the shuttle. The system worked well as long as the co-pilot watched carefully. It probably didn’t matter he didn’t watch them at all. Had he blinked at the wrong time he might have missed the fast-moving, killer machines hurtling into their shuttle.
