by Caleb Selby
Kesler listened thoughtfully before speaking. “Maybe we can give them a chance to redeem themselves.”
Tarkin looked up curiously. “What do you have in mind?”
Kesler had a far off look in his eyes. “Let me talk to Fedrin first.”
Tarkin nodded. “In the meantime, if it’s ok with you, I would like to contact the officers I dismissed.”
“What for?” Kesler asked. “Should I prep the airlocks?”
Tarkin shook his head emphatically. “I’d like to explain to them that I understand their resentment and offer them another chance, if they’ll take it.”
Kesler smiled. “That’s very big of you.”
Tarkin shrugged. “The healing needs to start somewhere. I’d like to think that I am enlightened enough, to let it start with me.”
Kesler shook his head. “You’re one in a million, Tarkin!”
“All ships en route to circumscribe target,” Ensign Gallo announced.
Turning from his station, Jonas nodded in agreement. “She’s still just sitting there, Admiral,” he added. “I could take the engine shot now before she takes off again if you want me to. Just give the word.”
Fedrin nodded slowly, but looked as if he couldn’t hear his officer’s updates. Indeed, his mind was anywhere but on what they were saying. What was going on with the Defiant? Was Drezden ok? Were Unmentionables behind the mystery? Krohns perhaps? All these questions raced through Fedrin’s mind as he continually nodded.
“What’s the estimated time before we could get a boarding team over there?” Fedrin finally asked.
Etana tapped several keys and then looked up from her post. “Kendrick says the Hornell could have a Raider team there in twenty minutes.”
“That won’t do,” Fedrin said.
Etana turned back to her station and pressed several more keys before turning back and shrugging. “Next best time is from the Arbitrator at thirty-seven minutes.”
Fedrin shook his head before sighing. “Fine. Tell Kendrick to do it. And prep the team to be on the lookout. I’m not sure what’s going on with her, but until we know otherwise, I want the situation treated like a hostile ship takeover.”
“I’m on it,” Etana said, turning back to her station and typing the commands.
“And tell him to hurry,” Fedrin added.
Etana smiled, still facing her station. “I think he knows that, but I’ll toss it in for good measure...Sir.”
Reesa peered through her scope as the Krohn patrol walked past the dreary butcher-shop that doubled as an undisclosed entrance to the bunker network sprawled beneath the city. This was the last location on her list of such entrances provided by General Darion and the only one still standing or accessible. She wiped her forehead with the back of her sleeve as she watched and waited. The five-member patrol was nearly past the shop when one of them turned sharply, faced Reesa’s direction and began sniffing the air frantically.
Reesa tensed up and slowly brought the crosshairs of her weapon to bear on the creature’s green head, waiting and praying. She breathed a sigh of relief when the Krohn stopped sniffing and rejoined the others. Just when it looked like they were all about to walk away, they suddenly all turned in unison and began to charge Reesa’s position with incredible speed and uncanny stealth, so as to not announce to other nearby patrols that they had found a midday meal.
In full control of her nerves, a difficult task for even the stoutest of soldiers, Reesa calmly brought her weapon up and popped the lead Krohn in the head, sending him crashing into the street in a pool of spraying blood. She then smoothly brought the gun over and fired two clean shots back to back, one striking a Krohn’s chest and striking another in his leg, bringing them both to the ground and letting off horrible roars, which she swiftly silenced with another salvo.
The two remaining Krohns stopped their reckless charge and dove behind their fallen comrades, drawing their own weapons from sheaths off their backs and preparing to fight.
Reesa, not willing to wait for Krohn reinforcements, jumped from her hiding spot across the street and charged the Krohn position, laying down suppressive fire all the way.
Blood, armored scales, and entrails from the already fallen Krohns sprayed and splattered the street as shot after shot poured into the corpses. The two surviving Krohns were too petrified to move until they too also succumbed to Reesa’s relentless fire.
She finally reached the front door of the butcher’s shop and fell against it, panting heavily while trying to keep her gun fixed on the street. Once she was sure no Krohns were immediately following, she struggled back to her feet and walked in. The shop was cold, prompting Reesa to pull down her sleeves and tighten her refractive armor before pressing on.
“Greetings and welcome to Tate’s meat market,” a friendly synthetic voice sounded from a sensor fixed above the door. “Tate must be in the back but if you’ll wait a moment, he should be with you shortly. In the meantime, feel free to browse through our catalog of norpis cuts or our racks of fresh stal. Custom orders are available by request.”
Reesa ignored the computer and pushed further in, while carefully examining her surroundings. A long counter with a worn wooden finish ran along one wall, and a variety of large white and blue thermal reducers lined another. Through an open doorway behind the counter, Reesa could see hundreds of ghoulish hooks hanging from the ceiling on heavy chains, ominously empty for a butcher’s shop.
She tucked her rifle tightly into her arm and quietly walked behind the counter toward the back room. As she approached, she noticed why the hooks were empty. Ravaged carcasses of a variety of livestock were strewn about the floor chaotically; a testament to what must have been a violent and bloody feeding frenzy. The bones that hadn’t been eaten were gnawed to the point of making them hard to distinguish which type of animal they had come from. Every drop of blood was licked clean from the bones and floor. The place was eerily quiet except for a row of fans along the ceiling blowing more cold air into the room, evidently operating off of backup power.
Reesa pressed on toward a small door nearly hidden from view in shadows at the back of the room. Had it not been explicitly written down by Darion, she likely would have never noticed it. She was nearly there when she almost tripped over a skeleton wearing a tattered white apron stained with old blood. She shook her head as she easily eyed the teeth marks gnawed into the skull. She shook her head and slowly walked past until she reached the door. She was just about to open it when she heard a subtle, yet distinct, noise echo from the front room. She swung around quickly, bringing her gun up and training it on the doorway. She slowly backed away until she brushed up against the door. Using her elbow, she pushed the door handle down until she heard a click, and the door inched open.
Another noise, this time fainter, reached her ears causing her to tense up and prepare to blast whatever came through the door. She knew she couldn’t enter the secret passageway beyond the door if Krohns were in the area. If they found it, the things they would do to the millions of refugees was too horrible to imagine.
Her finger was wrapped tightly around the trigger of her weapon, and she very nearly fired, when she saw him; a little boy, no older than five, with brown hair and big brown eyes, had rounded the corner. He was dragging a small blanket behind him and held his thumb securely in his mouth. Blood, that apparently was not his own, was dried on his hands and caked in his hair. His cheeks were flushed and dirty and his eyes were puffy. He looked completely traumatized.
Reesa immediately let down her gun and stared at him, never feeling sorrier for anyone in her life.
“Hey there little guy,” she said as she slung her rifle over her shoulder and took a step toward him. The boy stepped back cautiously, eyeing Reesa’s daunting equipment.
“Don’t be afraid,” Reesa said, getting down on one knee and holding out a hand to him.
The boy looked at Reesa’s hand suspiciously before his gaze drifted toward the skeleton with the apron. His eyes then began to fill with tears and he looked back at Reesa.
Reesa was nearly moved to tears herself at what the child must have experienced.
“Oh honey, I’m so sorry,” she said as she stood back to her feet. “You must be so frightened,” she shook her head as she took another step toward him, inadvertently prompting the boy to step back yet again.
“You don’t need to be afraid of me,” Reesa said with a gentle smile. “I can help you.”
The boy continued to stare at her, pondering whether or not her offer was genuine.
“Greetings, and welcome to Tate’s meat market,” the familiar voice suddenly rang out again from the front of the store.
Reesa quickly stepped back into the shadows and reached for the boy to follow. It was too late. A Krohn had already leapt over the front counter and was perched in the doorway, slowly waving his tail as he eyed the child.
Not noticing Reesa in the shadows, the Krohn slid his weapon into a holster on his back and slowly approached the boy, savoring the very thought of sinking his teeth into the boy’s supple, young flesh.
Reesa slowly lifted her lydeg from her back, being careful not to make any sudden moves that would alert the Krohn to her presence.
“Hiss, hiss,” the Krohn sounded, as drool spilt over the corners of its long mouth. It took another step toward the child.
The boy stood still, frozen in fear, as he watched the Krohn inch closer.
“Hiss, click, click, click,” the reptile’s forked tongue chattered away.
Reesa brought her gun up to her shoulder and looked down the sights.
The Krohn quickly glanced over his shoulder to make sure he did not have to share his feast before turning and lunging at the child, mouth wide open!
‘Bang!’ a single shot from Reesa’s rifle struck him square in the neck, nearly severing the creature’s head from its body and covering the child in yet more blood.
“Let’s go!” Reesa yelled as she grabbed the boy’s arm and led him to the door. The child did not resist and obediently followed Reesa, dragging his blanket through the blood behind him.
The doorway in the back of the room led to a small set of stairs, which in turn led to a dark and very damp basement beneath the shop. Reesa tapped a light rod attached to her lydeg and used it to quickly scan the room. Several boxes filled with rusty old knives and cleavers stood along one wall, while a broken thermal reducer with its back plate removed and parts assorted in piles around it, lay on its side in the middle of the floor. In the corner behind the broken reducer, stood three cylindrical tanks of various sizes and shades of grey.
“That’s what we want,” she said to the boy and led him there, abandoned cobwebs from the ceiling getting in Reesa’s hair as she walked.
With the muzzle of her gun, Reesa tapped each tank. The first one made a very dull sound, as did the second. The tap on the third however resonated highly within and echoed for several seconds.
She set the gun up against one of the other tanks and felt around the lid of the third until she found an edge and pulled with all her might till it broke lose. She pushed the lid to the ground and peered down into the tank. It was nothing more than a small shaft with a dozen ladder rungs fixed to one side. Small orange lights were mounted along the shaft in a circular pattern that repeated several times letting off just enough light to climb down.
“Ok,” she said as she knelt on the ground. “We need to go down there and there’s not enough room for you to ride down on my back. Do you think you can climb down yourself? I’ll be right behind you the whole way.”
The boy slowly nodded.
“Ok then,” Reesa said as she stood to her feet and picked the child up and set his feet on the first rung. “You’ll have to give me that blanket before you go down,” she said, noticing he still clutched it fiercely.
The boy ignored her and clung to it all the tighter.
“Tell you what,” Reesa said as she pried the blood stained blanket out of his hands. “Let’s tie this around your waist like so. There you go. Now it will be with you on your trip down. Sound good?”
The child nodded and after being hoisted into the shaft, began his slow trek downward.
“I’m right behind you,” Reesa said as she hoisted the heavy metal lid off the floor and awkwardly lowered herself in, while covering the entrance hole the best she could.
“There we go,” she said as the lid fit snugly back in place over the hole. “Now we’re all set to go,” she said trying to comfort the boy who was making very slow progress down the rungs.
It was a long trip from where they were to the actual bunker network. With a young child in tow, it would be even harder, but Reesa wasn’t about to quit. Too much depended on her and on Darion. She shook her head. She hoped he was all right.
Darion slammed the console of the deep space transmitter. He was sure the transmission was getting through but no one was answering. Perhaps there was no one left to answer? Perhaps Fedrin and his Commanders had perished just like all the others had? He didn’t know what to think or what to do. If he didn’t get the data files from Fedrin, his entire mission would have been for naught and the missile defense system would never fire on the enemy ships. He shook his head and activated a new message.
“I say again, this is General Darion to Admiral Fedrin or any warship serving in the Sixth Fleet. Please respond. I repeat, please respond!”
CHAPTER 8
Raiders
The Hornell’s sleek boarding craft sped toward the wayward Defiant. Inside its narrow fuselage were twelve members of the elite fleet fighting force known as the Raiders.
Six sat snuggly against one wall, five on the other, while the twelfth skillfully piloted the craft to their target. They were equipped from head to toe with dark green dampening armor, heavy lydeg attack rifles, advanced high caliber lydeg pistols, two-way communication pieces fit over their right ears and dark grey armored helmets with light rods fixed on each side. Each Raider also wore a pack on their back filled with an entire assortment of equipment and tools for any given situation.
The Hornell squad leader, a veteran Raider by the name of Captain Carter, sat near the front of the cramped boarding ship, close enough to the cockpit to check up on the pilot from time to time and close enough to his team to give orders and field questions.
Usually when a Raider team was sent out, the deployment was so fast and chaotic, that nobody really knew what was going on. This mission was no different. One second Carter and his team were trying to catch up on sleep, due to their late night job repairing the Arbitrator’s external thermal condensers, when before they knew what was going on, they were being crammed into the uncomfortable boarding craft with only the vaguest of instructions to investigate the Defiant’s predicament and offer assistance if needed. And just moments ago, the Chief Admiral himself had spoken with Carter, warning him about a potential hostile takeover, perhaps by Unmentionables. All the orders, combined with his lack of sleep, made the entire mission one big confused hodgepodge of orders, warnings and objectives.
With his elbows resting on his knees, and using the butt of his lydeg as a chin rest, Carter sat, contemplating the mission while fighting off fatigue. His eyes were heavy and it took extra effort to keep them open. He pivoted the muzzle of his weapon on the floor as he struggled between sleep and being awake.
A stellar wind jolt transiently roused Carter and prompted a glance out one of the portholes. The stars seemed to be flying past the window while the ship in-turn, seemed to be sitting still. Watching it made him nauseous and he turned away. He never would have made it as a pilot. Hand to hand, down and dirty combat is what he thrived on; but this mission was likely far from that. He had been sent on these types of calls a hundred times before and it was getting old. He
hated with a passion that the Raider’s prized ‘rapid response ability’ warranted their deployment to every technical difficulty or anomaly that had to be addressed in a hurry. His team was a fighting team, not a rapid response repair team. Yet this particular situation had to take the cake for obscure orders. Why his team had been called to offer technical communication assistance to a wayward destroyer with a veteran crew, he couldn’t begin to guess. The Defiant had much smarter people onboard for these types of issues after all.
Carter slowly raised his head from resting on the gun and ducked into the cockpit. “What’s our ETA Melisi?” he asked casually as if he didn’t really care.
“Just bringing her in now,” Melisi slowly replied. She sounded almost as sleepy as Carter was.
Carter gradually stood up and put his helmet on, latching it snuggly beneath his chin. “Alright guys, let’s recap.”
A murmur rippled through the cabin as the dozing Raiders looked up at Carter with disinterest.
Carter clapped his hands loudly, rousing his team again. “Listen up! I have no idea what’s going on with the Defiant. As you all know, she took off a few days ago inexplicably and we haven’t been in contact with her since. It is possible that it’s just a major technical issue but there is also the distinct possibility of foul play at work. Act accordingly.”
“Sir, yes, Sir!” the team said in dull unison.
The vessel slowed as it approached the Defiant. A few curious Raiders peeked through the portholes and stared at the massive destroyer. She was hopelessly battered from her encounter with the Unmentionable ship in the Guardian Asteroid Field but she still managed to look proud and strong. As one of the newest ships in the fleet, the Defiant was as modern and fierce as they came, boasting an array of advanced weaponry and technology making her a true asset in the fleet.
“Once we dock with her,” Carter said, retaking their attention. “We’ll split into two teams. I’ll lead team one,” Carter motioned to one wall indicating which Raiders were on his team, “And Sergeant Melisi will lead the other,” he nodded to the others.
