All My Sins Remembered
By: Brian Wetherell
Illustrations By: Nikolas Maslo
Acknowledgements:
I first want to acknowledge my wife, Dawn, who has endured endless sessions of my bouncing ideas off her. I want to thank my family and friends, who have been my editors, and sources of inspiration. Most of all I want to thank God, for allowing me to realize a lifelong dream.
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 1
As he stood on the quay, Hawke stared up at the Vulture class assault frigate he had just disembarked from and winced. Like its namesake, the ship looked a little like a vulture in flight, its wings swept back, and its neck outstretched. Black smoke billowed out from several gaping holes in its armor, exposing the internal structure of the ship. From several places on the exposed portions of the ship sparks showered anyone nearby as power relays tried to direct power through fused or destroyed power conduits. In a way, it looked like the docking arms were the only thing keeping the poor thing together. That last mission was more difficult that it should have been.
It was supposed to have been a fairly straight forward rescue of a mid-level Gadari diplomat, but what they met was ninety well-trained former military types that felt their government owed them something. They had been able to extract the diplomat, but one of his men was killed, and another severely wounded in a fighting withdrawal, which was just a fancy way of saying they were trying their best to get the heck out of Dodge while firing back as much as they could with a sweaty, fat, and wounded diplomat in tow. Once aboard the ship, their small frigate was hounded by a battlecruiser that had nearly destroyed them. It seemed its missiles had a penchant for hitting them with uncanny accuracy. It was amazing their ship held together at all, let alone survived the jump back home. As it was, they had to be pushed through the station’s giant airlocks and into the dock by a naval tug made just for that reason. The traffic controllers responsible for getting ships into the dock safely were worried that a tractor beam would stress the fragile structural integrity of the frigate past its tolerances. It would have been a shame to make it all the way back to the station, only to have their ship torn apart by the tractor beam right in front of the docking bay.
“It looks like you had a bit of a rough n’ tumble.” Commander Nathan Schultz said as he met him on the dock. Nathan was an older man with a gray-streaked black beard that was neatly trimmed. He was a fairly large, raw-boned man who was just a bit taller than Hawke. He was also the second in command of Hawke’s Talons, the private military company they started about twenty standard years ago.
Like Hawke, Nathan held two ranks, a Marine rank and a Naval rank, to avoid any questions regarding who was really in command at any given moment, but unlike Hawke, Nathan preferred the use of his Naval rank of Commander rather than his Marine rank of Lieutenant Colonel. Hawke still remembered asking Nathan about that, since Nathan had been a Republic Marine since he was old enough to enroll at seventeen standard years. Nathan just smiled, winked, and said that the rank of Commander was more dashing with the ladies. Now, twenty years after they had started the Hawke Talons, and no longer a young man, Nathan had given up chasing the ladies, though his preference of Commander had somehow remained.
Rubbing his hand over his buzz-cut salt and pepper scalp, Hawke nodded. “Navy messed up the intel on this one. We have one casualty, and one severely injured. We may have to give him a medical pension.” Hawke replied. “Funeral services will be at seventeen hundred.” Hawke could hear Nathan’s sad sigh.
“Alright. I’ll make the arrangements.” He said. As a part of the PMC Accord that regulated the operation of private military companies, or PMCs, Hawke’s Talons were responsible for paying for the funerals of its casualties, and executing the Last Will and Testament of the deceased, if they had one. That grim duty fell to Nathan.
With a glance towards the beleaguered frigate, Hawke grimaced, and was glad that he was finally done with it all. There would be no more missions, no more lunatic stunts that his men and women somehow manage to live through, no more guessing at what the Gadari Naval intelligence may have missed or left out in their briefing packet for the mission, and best of all, no more war. He was glad. Over the past twenty-eight solar years he had to do things that made him feel as if he had lost a piece of his soul.
Hawke started out as a Marine for the Gadari Republic. He served eight years and was thrown into hell on one piece of rock after another to fight for the interests of the Republic. Then there was The Reformation. That was when the Gadari Republic, the Multani Federation, and the Rejai Empire collectively created the PMC Accord and disbanded a majority of their state militaries, with the sole exception of the Marandi, who refused to be a participant of the PMC Accord, and continued to willfully isolate themselves from the other three Empires. Hawke continued his service to the Republic as the owner and operator of Hawke’s Talons, which grew to become one of the largest, most respected private military companies in the four empires, which contracted exclusively to the Gadari Republic. Now, twenty-eight years later, Hawke was a much harder, more calloused man. With each mission, he felt as if he had bartered away a piece of his humanity, and now there was not much left, save a healthy dose of cynicism, a scornful distrust of Naval intelligence, and a strong desire to see something unspoiled by human ambition and greed. That is why he was retiring. After years of taking on the Republic’s dirty work, he desired to rediscover his humanity before his life was over, and maybe even find some kind of redemption for all of the things he had done.
With a sigh and a shake of his head, Hawke put the damaged frigate out of his mind as he left the docks behind and made his way through the dock master’s office and into the station’s plaza. The plaza was lined with shops and places to eat for naval personnel and guests to visit at their convenience. Ignoring the quiet hustle and bustle of people busy eating, or visiting this shop or that, Hawke made his way to the Navy Contracts Office on the other side of the plaza. The Navy Contracts Office was responsible for initiating, administering, and paying out any contracts to PMC’s. This included filing claims for compensation of any costs the Gadari Republic had contractually agreed to pay. In this case, the repair or compensation of the Talon’s shot-up assault frigate.
The Navy Contracts Office was a simple affair. It was a rectangular room with double glass doors on one side, and a metal counter that extended from the wall on the right, and then wrapped around to terminate against the back wall. In the back left corner was the door to Commander's office. Behind the counter sat a young lady wearing a Republic Naval uniform engaged in a conversation with someone on her console. Looking up from her console as Hawke stepped through glass doors and into the office, she nodded at him in recognition as she held up a finger signaling that she needed him to wait a moment. Hawke watched as she quickly ended her conversation, noticing the console had been secured so only she could see who was on the other end. Her headset with a microphone attached ensured no one could overhear what was being said to her. Bringing the conversation to a close, she went through the motions of navigating a menu or two on her console using a touch screen, and then briefly studied her screen before she grimaced, not liking what she saw.
“The Dockmaster’s preliminary report indicates y
our ship would be better off scrapped and replaced than fixed.” The assistant said.
“I am inclined to agree.” Hawke responded.
“How bad was it?” That last question gave Hawke pause. It was an odd question, out of place. The navy rarely wished to know the details of what happened on a mission. The only thing they cared about was results. They didn’t want to be soiled with the dirty details of war. It was much cleaner that way. At least, it was for them.
Hawke shrugged. “The Navy’s intel was wrong. That’s not usually news, but the degree of their error this time was…extraordinary.” That was putting it mildly. The briefing packet suggested four, maybe five kiDNAppers with small arms, and they named them simply as 'dissidents'. Yeah right. There were ninety of them with military grade gear and armor. The assistant gave Hawke a sympathetic look before it slid off her face to be replaced with a more business-like demeanor. Ah yes...there was the true face of the Navy.
“Colonel Bakore, funds for the frigate will be placed in your account, plus a small bonus for a job well done.” Hawke again nearly let his neutral demeanor slip as her words registered in his brain. A bonus? There was no stipulation in his contract for a bonus. Giving the assistant a grateful, if somewhat false smile, he nodded his thanks, but was suspicious. The Gadari Navy was not known for its generosity.
“Is he in?” Hawke asked, changing the subject as he waved a hand indicating the office door behind her and to her left. She shook her head.
“No. Vice Admiral Reardon docked a short while before you did, and ordered Commander Spears to come see him at his earliest convenience. He did not sound the least bit happy, so Commander Spears left right away.” Tiana answered. “But he asked me to tell you that he would be there tonight.” She said with a smile. Hawke nodded at her with what he hoped looked like a grateful expression, then slid his data pad towards her.
“One of my men was KIA. Here is the information for his pay, and where it needs to go. Commander Schultz will contact you if any other arrangements need to be made. The assistant glanced at the data pad, and nodded once more as she touched a button on her console that initiated a data transfer between Hawke’s pad and the station’s computer, which in turn authorized payment directly into the appropriate accounts.
“Very well, is that all?” Tiana asked, though her tone of voice was clearly indicating that she believed their business to be at an end. Hawke picked up his data pad.
“Yes. That about covers it.” Hawke said. With a parting nod in her direction, Hawke saw himself out the door as he left to get ready for the night’s event. Hopefully, a hour or so of sleep and a shower would be involved. If it were his own choice, he would just stay in with a good book and a glass or two of scotch or bourbon, but, as Nathan often reminded him, these events are often more about those who attend them than those who are the guest of honor. Hawke took that to simply mean that everyone needs an excuse to party now and again, and this was as good a time as any. Oh well.
***
That evening found Colonel Hawke Bakore sitting at the head table, looking around at the people in the banquet hall of Dugan’s Bar and Grille. A sudden lump of emotion began to rise that he had to swallow down, roughly clearing his throat. They were all there, those that were like family to him. There were the Talon Marines, made up of some of the toughest leathernecks that he could afford to recruit. These men and women were sent in when a landing force was required to kick in some teeth, and over the years, their ability to do so has become well known and respected throughout the four empires. Every one of them were trained in the tradition of a Marine. In fact, it was Hawke’s intention to make them into the spiritual successors to old Earth’s Marines of the United States or Britain, two of the premiere fighting forces of their age.
Then there were the covert ops crews. Hawke saw their commanding officers grouped around a table, playing a drinking game that involved knocking back shots of some dark liquid, and a knife. Hawke chuckled. They were always a little crazy. Then again, they had to be. It took a special kind of crazy for a crew of men and women to pilot a small frigate behind enemy lines armed only with a cloaking device and a sensor suite, often in advance of a strike group, to feed intel to the fleet.
Of course the only ones crazier than soldiers in Covert Ops were the Black Ops crews. They were not sitting far from the Covert Ops table. He was surprised to find them all quiet, and simply looking around. Then again, it fit their natures. Their motto was “Death on silent wings.” Crewing battlecruiser class ships, those who made up the Talon’s Black Ops units were typically tasked with sneaking behind enemy lines and operating away from the main fleet for an extended duration, often carrying out sabotage, or other surgical strikes, with each Black Ops battlecruiser carrying one Platoon of Marines that had additional training above and beyond the training they give all their Marines. Sometimes the Talons avoided direct confrontation that would have cost thousands of lives by a few well-placed surgical strikes by their Black Ops teams.
Then there was the bulk of the rest of the Talon fleet. Nearly one hundred ship captains, and a few of their officers, all here to help him celebrate a day he has been looking forward to for quite some time now. For today, Colonel Hawke Bakore officially removed Hawke’s Talons from the rolls of the Gadari Republic Navy as one of the premiere private military companies that has served the Gadari Republic faithfully since The Reformation, and retire.
“ATTEN-SHUN!” Commander Nathan Schultz’s voice blared across the large banquet hall without the aid of a microphone, cutting through the din of conversation. From years of habit, everyone in the room rose as one to stand at attention.
“At ease” Commander Schultz said as he grabbed his beer. Everyone chuckled when they realized that Nathan merely wanted silence. Some even followed the Commander’s example, picking up beers from their tables.
“We’re here today to give honor where honor is due. For twenty years Hawke has guided the Talons through one combat operation after another in service to the Gadari Republic. Through that time, we have gained many new members of the Talon family, and have lost some as well. Through the years, Colonel Hawke Bakore has instilled in us the kind of teamwork, tenacity, courage, and skill that has made the Talons one of the best, most respected private military company in the Gadari Republic, if not the galaxy!” Nathan paused to wait for the cheers and shouts of approval to quiet before he continued.
“Without further delay, let me present our commander, comrade, councilor, and brother, Colonel Hawke Bakore.” Nathan stepped back from the podium and held out an arm towards Hawke who reluctantly stood to his feet amidst shouts of approval, applause, and cheers. One enterprising Marine, obviously already a bit under the influence of the liquor that had been flowing freely since before Hawke arrived, even climbed on a table, to nearly fall flat on his face, if it hadn’t been for a couple of the other Marines who showed more sense and pulled the staggering man down off the table before he could hurt himself. Stepping up to the podium, Hawke smiled, and held up a hand. After a moment, the room grew silent once again.
“Thank you. I appreciate everyone coming here tonight in my honor, but it is I who must honor each of you.” Hawke began. “I will not keep you all listening to the droning of my voice. I’m a Marine, and we tend to make our points rather concisely.” The Marines in the room laughed loudly, and ‘hoo-rahed’.
“We’ve all kicked some serious tail in the name of the Gadari Republic. We have shown ourselves to be more loyal to the ideal that the Gadari Republic represents than to the paycheck it gives us, and I think that is what separates us from most PMC’s out there. Yet we have all had to do some things that made us lose a piece of our soul.” Hawke paused as memory threatened to choke him up. Roughly clearing his throat, he took a sip of his scotch.
“Now, that chapter in my life is complete, and a new one has begun. For those of you who have chosen to join me, you too are beginning a new journey.” Hawke held up his glass of scotch in a toast.
“So I say this to you tonight, ‘To new beginnings. May our road be long and amazing.’” In solemn toast, the officers in the room lifted up their glasses and joined in the toast.
The sounds of the retirement party faded a little as Hawke walked into the viewing room attached to the banquet hall a little over an hour later. It was one of the main attractions of a restaurant like Dugan’s. He had always enjoyed coming here to look out the station windows that overlooked the planet below while he enjoyed a cigar and a glass of scotch. There are some sights you never get tired of seeing, such as gorgeous waterfalls, colorful nebulas...and yes, something as common as the sight of a planet from a window. This was part of the reason why he had commissioned the construction of the Heaven’s Gaze. It was a capital class ship, based upon the Gadari Republic’s Starfury carrier design. All of Heaven’s Gaze’s systems were designed to be somewhat modular so that they would be adaptable to changing situations, but the systems being installed on her now were primarily geared towards exploration. After years of killing, destroying, and doing distasteful things that gave him nightmares, Hawke felt that peaceful exploration may be the one way he could contribute something positive to humankind. While he was aware that he was both feared and respected as a product of his past actions, he did not want to be remembered for his sins. He wanted to be remembered for something, he hoped, that would be far more meaningful.
Hawke reminisced about his company, Hawke’s Talons, and about how difficult the transition had been. His so-called retirement caused no small amount of controversy among the other private military companies. So-called, because in a brief press conference he announced that the Hawke’s Talons would no longer be a PMC, but rather would be repurposed towards exploration. The moments directly after the press conference were troublesome as many investors sold off mass quantities of Talon stock, while other investors clamored to purchase stock in droves, heralding Hawke as a true visionary who saw that the future of mankind was not in warfare, but in exploration. Meanwhile, the Gadari Republic began making inroads towards transitioning the Talons out, as they had been their most actively utilized PMC for any action requiring more than a platoon of Men or a single ship, because Hawke’s Talons was one of the few PCMs that had an entire fleet at its disposal, as well as nearly three hundred thousand employees ranging from research and development to nearly forty thousand well trained and well equipped Marines.
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