by Dan O'Brien
“Well, what news?” pressured Welvon.
“I was not supposed to read it, sir. I was only to bring it to the council.” The man’s voice wavered a bit under the throaty barrage of Welvon.
“Fine.” Welvon broke the seal of the envelope, read the words quickly to himself, and then whispered them aloud. He dismissed the man with a wave of his gluttonous hand.
“I fear that the Supreme Council is in far more danger than we could have ever imagined,” Welvon confessed. The council quieted. They all turned to Welvon’s mass, their eyes dimmed with fear of news of the Supreme Council’s demise.
“What’s the problem, Welvon? What has become of Councilman Damon?” called members of the council without waiting to be acknowledged.
“Wings of the State has fallen under attack, and it appears they might not survive.” Welvon turned from the assemblage in mock despair and allowed a miniscule grin to creep across his face. The smile broadened, turning to a fit of laughter that Welvon stifled.
* * * * *
“Captain, may we be of assistance?” came a voice behind Arudi. The clean-cut man had been onboard the ship the entire time and had not made any attempt at conversation until now, leaving their presence unknown until they had emerged on the scene. “I am Lieutenant James Rider, and we are members of Alpha Squadron, special unit Alpha Zero, the security team assigned to the protection of the Supreme Council.”
The man gestured to the two people standing with him, a woman of medium height and a lithe man with a sword strapped across his back. Captain Mela Alvarez was their leader. Jonathon Wei was a mystery. He had not spoken to another human being outside of Alpha Zero in many years and was considered by many to be deficient in intelligence.
“I suggest that you take the Supreme Council and the ambassador from Nemodtia into the safety hatch and await our signal. We will storm the Baldorian craft. Lieutenant Wei will accompany you and seal you inside the hatch for your own safety.”
“There is limited oxygen supply in the safety hatch,” replied Captain Arudi, his hands burrowed in his jacket pockets.
“This is nonsense,” spoke Tissler, her fists clenched.
Mela cast an annoyed glance at her. “I’m afraid this is necessary.”
“Why the secrecy? We should have been told,” rationalized Arudi quietly, his tone defeated.
“We can discuss all of this later,” replied Rider.
“But ….” began Tissler.
“Wei, please escort them to the safety hatch.” Rider turned to Wei who merely nodded. Turning back to the captain, he continued. “You should have more than enough air to hold you over until we subdue the vessel.”
He pulled his plasma staff around his back and magnetized it. His jacket hung loosely across broad shoulders, and a red stripe traced its way across the back. His face showed battle scars of many wars fought, but he retained a youthfulness that came through rigorous training and exercise. His eyes mirrored deep blue oceans, and his hair was cut short, swaying only slightly in the swift breeze of the on-ship coolers. Captain Arudi and the Supreme Council nodded, filing off with the rest of the crew.
Once the ship’s passengers and crew were safely sealed in the hatch, the three members of Alpha Squadron closed the control room and climbed into the air ducts. They made their way to the atmospheric hatch where the assault squadron would board. The hatch opened with a hiss, and ten troops stepped into the smoke with their guns raised. Rider reached for his utility belt and unclipped a silver sphere with a rectangular release across the side; he tossed the ball into the hallway, and it bounced along, coming to a stop in front of the hatch.
A faint tap and the piercing hiss of a release mechanism echoed. The hallway exploded with a black column of smoke, and the members of Alpha Squadron slipped in under cover of the gas. Mela raised her rifle and pulled on the goggles that were strapped to her head. The goggles changed the hallway from dark to iridescent blue.
“It’s a trap. Go into formation and call for ….”
A troop member was cut off as a blade sliced his throat, causing him to gargle his last words before falling to the ground. Wei pulled his weapon back. The other members of the boarding party shot blindly into the smoke, aiming at everything and nothing all at once. Rider leapt forward, his plasma staff glowing a clear green. He discharged the energy at the remaining attackers. They fell to the ground with a sickening sound.
When the smoke cleared, only three pale figures remained. Wei sheathed his sword, and Mela pushed her goggles back upon her skull, her red hair twisting in the band. Rider removed a headset from a boarding party member and adjusted it on his own head. He breathed slightly into the microphone to test if the frequency had held. When he heard his own shallow breathing he knew it was ready.
“This is the boarding party,” he spoke sternly into the headset. “We were met with resistance. We suffered light casualties and need a few more personnel to secure the control room. Please be advised that we need more to secure the ship. Open the atmospheric hatch to return the wounded.” Rider stopped talking and wrenched the headset off. He tossed it on the ground where he crushed it with his foot.
“The Dalcons were the most pure of the two races, and upon pulling the Planeshifter, they condemned mankind forever. The line of men would battle the hordes of Rh’Keltken for all time and when Failure came with Truth, man would be able to stop the endless cycle of despair.”
-The words of the Fourth Tier of Chronos
The Baldorian ship, Debilitator, hung in space beside the smaller gold ship. The crew sat back in apprehension of what would come of this insurrection.
The communications board lit up suddenly, and the nearest comm officer turned quickly to the flashing panel. The distant voice of Rider carried through his headset. “Captain, I have received word from the boarding party,” he said.
Captain Kawe Sadon was a loyal member of the Baldorian Security Council. Like most Baldorian fleet commanders, Sadon was once a respected and integral part of the State’s navy, but Xzin could be quite persuasive, as well as cruel.
Xzin made Sadon a wealthy man in exchange for commitments to acts of pure evil, such as the assassination of his own family, which would have been done by someone else if he hadn’t done it himself. The memory of his family pleading before he registered their bodies uninhabitable almost brought emotion to his voice.
“Continue your report,” replied Sadon as he looked out across the bridge to the captured ship. Wings of the State was the only registered vessel that transported the Supreme Council. The Baldorian Security Council had tried repeatedly to discern the exact location and shipping logs of the Supreme Council in the vain hope of capturing him. It was no secret that the councilman traveled without a convoy simply because it would draw obvious attention.
“The squad leader reports that he has been met with resistance and requires a team of reinforcements to pursue them,” replied the lieutenant. “Shall I open the hatch to allow more to board?”
Sadon didn’t answer immediately. “Yes, dispatch an additional squadron and have them proceed with caution,” replied Sadon.
“Understood, sir.” The communications officer moved his fingers adeptly over the controls. The atmospheric hatch creaked open allowing the second squad to negotiate its way aboard the State ship.
* * * * *
The seals on the atmospheric hatch rotated with a metallic hiss. It opened ever so slowly, crimson searchlights of the photon hand generators quickly exposing the darkness. The Baldorian squad leader, rifle extended, led his men. He motioned the squad forward. The soldiers filed through one at a time, spreading alternately right and left, crouching in the shadows of the ship’s interior.
The shadows above hung quietly until the last Baldorian had disappeared around the corner. Their chronos glowed clear yellow in the darkness of the ducts. One by one they dropped without a sound to the floor. The hallway was dim, and the ground glittered with the sparse light from the interior of the B
aldorian ship. The darkness mirrored their silhouettes, their attire blending with the shadows.
“We don’t have much time, so we better make the most of it.” Rider stood, checking his chrono. The light from the chrono cast an unearthly glow upon his face. His eyes were sunken, circled by dark purple patches. It was the sign of a man in constant motion, never once stopping to allow time to catch up to him.
“The party in the hatch has about ten minutes before they have to resort to the reserve oxygen tanks. Any longer will be pushing the lines of safety,” said Wei as he checked his gear. “What do you think, captain?”
“We have to eliminate the threat as quickly as possible. Our presence here needs to go unnoticed,” replied Mela as she adjusted her gear and checked the toggle switch on her vest.
Spacehawk uniforms were crafted from indestructible fabric, designed to retard most airborne projectiles and straight-on concussion attacks usually associated with plasma weapons. The toggle switches activated a recovery process, to heal the body and the protective layer of armor.
“I’ll go straight to the control deck to see if I can force entry. You guys trek along the maintenance corridors and try to eliminate the power,” said Rider.
He thumbed the slide mechanism and the piercing green staff illuminated. Mela turned and shot him a quick glance, brow furrowed, glowering slightly at his assumption of command. Rider smiled casually, and she returned his expression.
“Okay, Rider, left toward the main chambers,” began Mela. Casting a glance at Wei, she said, “We’ll circle back and knock out the generators so we can get this ship off-line as soon as possible.”
Wei nodded and touched a metallic pad alongside his temple. A clear pair of glasses encircled his head and the indicator light glowed red.
“We have only eight minutes remaining, so let’s make the most of it.” Rider turned quickly and raced down the corridor. His plasma staff hung close to his side reflecting the green of his home world. Mela turned and watched Rider disappear into the darkness. She adjusted her rifle with a hammer fist on the barrel.
“We are wasting precious time.” Mela strapped her rifle across her back and checked the sheathed blades littered across her armor. “Energize your armor and bring weapons systems to full.”
Wei nodded solemnly and depressed the circular patch on his vest causing an orange light to encompass him. When it shimmered away it left a bio-armor extension of his body. The field around it was not transparent, but seemed to have an electric nature to it, emanating fragmented particles. He flexed his hand. The armor crackled against the pressure, releasing ions and causing Mela’s armor to hiss as well.
“Weapons systems engaged and armor integrity at one hundred percent,” replied Wei. His monotone nature was ever dominant over his demeanor. Mela hovered for a moment and pressed forward, her armor repulsing to keep her a meter off the ground; all the while never making any noise.
Wei followed suit and lifted off, his armor straining against the slow, methodical nature of floating. The armor was made for deep space battle. At lower levels the armor strained, as if the delicate nature of floating was too much pressure on the generators.
The ground shook for a moment as three sentry bots raced forward, nine legs scratching against the pale floor of the corridor. Their spinning bodies came to an abrupt halt, and their robotic heads swiveled one way and then another. Blue sensors cast a glow ahead of them. Wei ejected a series of smoke grenades, the capsules exploding as they neared the bots, casting an eerie cloud over the hall.
Mela raised her rifle.
Before she could fire a shot, the sentry bots began to screech, their high-pitched wailing shaking the entirety of the ship. Wei threw his body into motion, swinging his crimson blade across the corridor in broad strokes. Mela, in turn, fired bursts in the same direction. After a few seconds of battle the ricochet of metal could be heard as the bots fell to pieces.
“They know we’re here now. We have to move in haste,” called Mela as she started down the hallway at full speed with Wei at her heels.
* * * * *
Rider moved stealthily against the darkness of the ship, never bothering to illuminate the corridor with light. He continually checked his chrono, the amber light casting a peek of what lay ahead.
Rider’s foot smashed against a wall and startled him from his thoughts. He touched the side panel on his temple and a green light flashed, illuminating his blocked path.
The wall was dark except for a small panel with a data pad. Rider holstered his plasma staff and produced a small cylindrical tube with a push-button trigger on the rear tip. He depressed the button and a vibrant blade erupted from the crest and spun counterclockwise. He inserted the blade in the panel and chiseled away. The small panel slid open as the remnants fell to the floor. Rider looked down at his chrono. Three minutes remained.
* * * * *
Metallic and cold from the deep space freeze, the safety hatch interior resembled much of the rest of the ship. The space was no larger than the control deck and, at the moment, four people sat huddled around the table in the center. If the ship’s core elements became unstable or the ship fell under attack, they could escape by the safety hatch. The chrono by the entrance ticked backward, marking the ten minutes of oxygen supply they had left. They silently watched time slipping away.
“Who are these Alpha Zeros?” Arudi asked, zipping his flight jacket to fight against the freezing air. The captain had not wanted to relinquish control of his ship so quickly, but the supreme council had executive command authority.
“When Xzin started raiding diplomatic ships, the council decided to include elite squadrons onboard every ship,” replied Damon, his features turning pale blue from the cold. “We know that there is a spy in the council, and for that reason the information has not been disclosed.”
“That’s absolute nonsense,” replied Lieutenant Tissler, her anger boiling over into her words. “We should have been notified. It is bad enough that no one tells us our destination until we board. We are treated as though we can’t be trusted.”
Arudi brought his hand down on her shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze. She looked up and her eyes softened.
“They were confident that they could eliminate the problem without resistance, so we know that they at least have seen battle before.” Erinana’s voice was tranquil. Her features were as graceful as when they had first left Nemodtia, the frigid air having no effect on her at all.
“I agree. They would not have taken charge unless they were positive they could handle the situation,” acquiesced Damon, his thoughts drifting to the elegant figure of Erinana.
A smile crept across the face of Erinana. For a moment it seemed she knew what he was thinking. Can she read my mind, he wondered. Her smile grew, and he knew then that she was reading his every thought and teasing him for his embarrassment.
“Well, whatever the case, as far as I can tell we have less than four minutes before we have to disengage from the ship or else we will have to resort to using the spare oxygen tanks. Last time I checked, they had a serious leak,” mumbled Tissler, her fuming anger disintegrating into the cold, hard reality of their situation.
“Let us hope they are as good as they say they are,” replied Damon with less enthusiasm than he would have liked. Erinana and Arudi turned to him, grimaces painted across their stoic faces, each doubting in their own way. The ship pulsed again. Their sprits sank with every shifting of the vessel.
They looked at the chrono. Two minutes remained.
* * * * *
“Captain Sadon,” began the lieutenant as he stared wide-eyed at his monitors. The control panels lit up as if they had been struck by lightning. “Our ship is under attack, from the inside.”
“Impossible.” Sadon released the word slowly, as if it were gas escaping from a container. “I will not be the captain to tell Lord Xzin I have failed,” he roared, bringing his fist down upon the table.
He gathered his thoughts.
The lights died out, and only the red glow of the emergency systems illuminated the room. Rider dropped from the duct interior and landed silently. He crept along the back wall and came around near the center view-screen. He took his rifle from his back and laid it upon the floor. Peering over the top of the comm control module, he looked for the captain of the Baldorian vessel. Rider selected the captain based on the outlandish volume of his voice.
“Captain Kawe Sadon, this is Lieutenant James Rider of Alpha Squadron. I implore you to surrender before I have to use force to occupy this ship,” he called through the darkness.
“Force be damned,” the captain screamed. “You have already killed half my crew. What do you call that?”
Rider brought up his rifle. “Work in progress.”
He then opened fire, catching the captain across the chest with the lowest setting. He rose from his position. The other members of the crew raised their hands in defeat, knowing that they had been occupied. Looking down at his chrono he saw that he had forty-five seconds to spare.
* * * * *
Wei’s head went up instinctively at the sound of gunfire. He moved to Mela and found his position in the darkness. Mela nudged him and brought him back in focus. He holstered his plasma cutters and stood up, taking in the tattered surroundings of their path of destruction. The walls were scorched with burns from their rifles and energy from Wei’s blade. The floor was bleeding oil, highlighting their flight suit path.
“Rider must have control. Let’s circle around to the control room of the Wings of the State and see what we can do,” replied Mela.
“Agreed.” Wei’s responses were always curt and without feeling. He found it the best way to deal with all people, not just enemies. Wei gathered his equipment and activated the lifts. He glided back toward the safety hatch, backtracking through the carnage.
