All My Sins Remembered

by Brian Wetherell

“You were right.” Was all Hawke said. Nathan snorted, and took a chair across the desk from Hawke. That was no surprise. They both knew something was up. No, it was more than that, otherwise the shuttles would still be loading supplies onto Heaven’s Gaze, and he wouldn’t be here instead of overseeing the loading operations. Hawke sighed heavily, and then leaned forward into a sitting position as he tapped a few commands into the holographic keyboard of his terminal. In response, the holodisplay pulled up a file, which Hawke then had projected in the air above his desk. Using his hand, he flipped the image around so Nathan could read it. Nathan quickly saw that the file was a composition of Naval reports. The reports listed Navy frigates, transports, supply ships, and asteroid mining barges. The list went on at length, each ship listed as destroyed or missing. Nathan forgot his troubles at the shipyard for a moment as he took a closer, more detailed look at the report. The method of destruction for the ships seemed to bear evidence of the same kind of energy signature, though that isn’t saying much. It could simply be residual energy from their weapons, from a nebula they travelled through...anything. There were no survivors in each case, except one. Even the lifepods had been destroyed.

  “What is this?” Nathan asked curiously.

  “This is a compilation of reports detailing ships that have been destroyed in the Farstar Sector. Until they got their hands on a survivor, the Navy didn’t even know what was going on, but now we know it is a ship. We now believe that the same ship, over the course of two months, has destroyed all of the ships listed in these reports.” Hawke replied. Nathan’s eyebrows shot up.

  “Two months? That many ships?” Nathan asked in disbelief. Hawke nodded his head, a grim expression on his face. Nathan understood. A lot of innocents died, in some cases women and children. In another life the horror of it would have made him weep, but now? Now it was a lesser horror. It was a minor travesty in a long list of travesties that their government had grown used to turning a blind eye to.

  “The Navy is still working on getting intel for the ship in question, but it’s a rabid dog that has to be put down.” Hawke said. Nathan nodded as he realized what that meant. Commander Spears had strong armed them into another mission, but really this was the kind of mission the Talons would have done for free.

  “Does anyone have a clue as to why this ship is going around destroying other ships?” Nathan asked. Hawke shook his head and rubbed tired eyes with the heels of his palms. He had been going over the reports all day since visiting Tasha in the medical ward. He was tired, and his eyes ached.

  “Not yet.” Hawke sighed. “Of course the Navy, in their typical short-sightedness simply wants us to go hunt it down and destroy it, but someone doesn’t go around destroying ships and killing all of the crew and passengers, unless they have something specific in mind, or are doing something no one else wants them to know about. I think it would be prudent to find out.” Nodding in agreement, Nathan idly scratched his neatly trimmed beard as he looked over the reports thoughtfully. Hawke pensively looked at his longtime friend and mentor. He looked his old irritable self, but he could tell that age was finally beginning to catch up to this indomitable man. He was still a big man, standing a full inch taller than Hawke’s own six foot five inch frame, but Nathan’s shoulders were no longer quite as square as they used to be, as if age had weighed them down a bit. His black hair and beard showed heavy streaks of gray, and his blue eyes were beginning to show more than a few creases around them. Hawke suddenly felt guilty for bringing Nathan along, and for the first time feared that he would lose a pillar in his life should Nathan court death on the battlefield one time too many, only to have death finally take him at last. Shaking off his morbid thoughts, he gruffly cleared his throat and leaned into his desk, bringing up rosters and fleet availability.

  “We’re going to need a ship with some teeth on it, and at least two fire teams of Marines.” Nathan said, thinking aloud. “I’d suggest a full squad from Company C, 1st Platoon, The Helljumpers. They are the best Marines we have when we have when it comes to boarding tactics and close quarters combat.”

  “And I was thinking about the Black Wave. It is newly refitted, and has all of the latest military hardware credits can buy, and a few that it can’t. With its armament it should be able to kill anything short of a battleship.” Hawke added. Nathan shook his head.

  “Don’t you think we should bring The Fury instead? Taking a battleship to the fight would be a little more comforting.” He asked. Hawke considered Nathan’s question. It would be nice. After all, a Nightstar class battleship could hold two wings of four light fighters, a full platoon of forty Marines, along with their power armor and other supplies needed to field them, not to mention the considerable firepower the Nightstar’s six cruise missile launchers would be, but then he sighed and shook his head.

  “No. It is being refitted with docking mechanisms so that it can dock with Heaven’s Gaze for jumps.” Hawke reminded Nathan. It was an ingenious design made possible by James “Gordy” Gordon, who usually served as both the chief engineer for whatever ship Hawke happened to be on, as well as the company’s head of engineering. Since battleships were too big to fit in the carrier’s hangars, docking mechanisms would be installed onto the dorsal beam of The Fury that would then link up with docking mechanisms located on the ventral sections of the Heaven’s Gaze. Once docked, the carrier could jump with the battleship safely in tow. Since a battleship was a little less cumbersome to maneuver than a carrier, though not much, the idea was to have the battleship detach from the carrier to carry out the exploration missions that a capital class ship could not otherwise perform. Of course, having a fully armed Battleship for defense wasn’t too bad either. After all, they didn’t know what they might encounter when exploring the edges of the known universe.

  “The Black Wave it is, then.” Agreed Nathan.

  “I also want Raijan as tactical officer, and Gordy as Chief Engineer.” Hawke paused a moment before adding, “I’m sorry, Nate. You told me not to meet with Spears.” Nathan shrugged.

  “It happened. Nothing you can do now but put your head down so it doesn’t get shot off, and get through it.” Nathan said, and then added, “I’ll see to the personnel assignments. When do we leave?” Hawke stared at the information in front of him for a long while, and for a moment Nathan thought Hawke hadn’t heard his question, then Hawke finally answered.

  “As soon as our new communications officer finishes orientation.” Hawke replied. With a smile, Hawke slid his datapad across his desk towards Nathan. Curious, Nathan picked it up and began to read. It was a few long moments before he too began to smile, and then laugh.

  ***

  The next morning, after having to endure the typical orientation that all new hires had to go through, Tasha stood on the bridge of The Black Wave, a heavy assault cruiser. On a dais sat the captain’s chair, facing the carbosteel windows towards the front of the bridge through which you could see the station docks. Around the captain’s chair, and slightly below it, stood the various bridge stations. Weapons, helm, communications and sensors, and engineering. Tasha had never seen such a modern ship, which was rare among PMC’s. After all, you can only get equipment that you can afford to maintain, and it was difficult to gain the kind of success the Talons had achieved. In her old outfit, The Regulars, their sole ship, the Pripyat, was an aged Hound class cruiser bearing only the standard armaments. In comparison, it seemed that the Black Wave was outfitted with all the latest in electronics, weapons, and other hardware important for the running of a ship. Plus, she was a Hellhound class heavy assault cruiser, which made all the difference.

  Hellhound class Heavy Assault Cruisers share the same frame as a Hound class cruiser, but all of its systems were far more advanced. They were specialized for the single purpose of combat, whereas the Hound class cruiser was capable of filling multiple roles, and carrying out a larger variety of missions from disaster relief to combat duty. Like all heavy assault cruisers, the Black Wave ca
rried on it nearly twice the armament, better shields, and more powerful sub-light drives than that of a typical cruiser. In the hands of a skilled captain and crew, such a ship could bring even a battleship to its knees, though not without some difficulty.

  Sliding into the seat at the coms station, Tasha brought up a diagnostic display to see what kind of communications and sensors hardware she would be running. Though holographically projected displays were typical of most modern electronic devices, displays aboard combat ships often used screens because they tended to be more durable during a firefight.

  As she read the display, her eyes widened in shock. All of the communications and sensors were Navy grade. The Navy never openly sells their particular hardware on the PMC market, much less their most current technologies, with which the Black Wave seems to have been outfitted! Tasha shook her head, thinking what she could have done with a ship like this one when they were under attack in the Pripyat. But then, she doubted any PMC had a ship like this, other than the Talons.

  “I was told a greenfoot sauntered onto ship.” Tasha jumped from her seat as if it were on fire, and spun to face the speaker. She was unsure if she should have been accessing anything on the bridge, and suddenly felt embarrassed at having so presumptuously done so. A tall man stood at the door to the bridge with a neatly trimmed black beard that was streaked with gray, and a large scar running around his right eye. He waved Tasha away dismissively.

  “You’re fine, girl. I just came to see who all the fuss was about. The Colonel told me he signed you.” The man said. “I’m Commander Nathan Schultz.” Looking around the bridge, Commander Schultz showed a ghost of a smile that Tasha thought looked a little feral.

  “You like her?” The Commander asked, indicating the bridge around them. “She’s got big, sharp teeth.” Tasha looked around the bridge once more, taking it in. She never understood why a vessel was always referred to as being female.

  “It’s impressive, Commander.” Tasha replied. “I am surprised by how cutting edge your systems seem to be.” Nathan snorted, which Tasha took to be somewhere between a laugh and a dismissive gesture.

  “The better equipment we have, the more likely it is that more of us will survive.” Nathan replied gruffly. Stepping onto the dais where the Captain’s chair sat, his eyes became unfocused as they seemed to stare beyond the confines of the ship’s bridge, and into distant memories.

  “Too many of us have not come home.” he whispered. Then, as if realizing what he said, he blinked his eyes a couple of times and fixed Tasha with a cold stare. Twinkling blue eyes met brown for a few silent moments before Tasha shifted her gaze to stare slightly above the Commander’s head. Perhaps unconsciously, Tasha felt her stance stiffen into something close to attention, unsure of whether or not she should have heard his whispered words. So she did the only thing she knew to do, acted as if her superior officer had said nothing at all.

  Sensing her growing discomfort, Nathan rumbled, “As you were.” and abruptly left the bridge. Tasha’s stance relaxed as she stared at the door the Commander had exited through for a few long moments, and then slowly walked towards the exit while letting a lingering hand slide across the top of the coms station of the bridge with a sad look on her face as memories filler her mind.

  “I just wished some of us could have come home.” She whispered sadly. Bowing her head a moment, a tear coursed unbidden down her cheek before she could stop it. Taking a deep, shaky breath and wiping away her tear, she squared her shoulders and purposefully left the bridge to tour the rest of the ship.

  ***

  Hawke leaned back in his chair at the head of the briefing table with his feet propped up on it as he puffed on a Domidor, one of the finest cigars money could buy in this part of the Republic. Not that he was given to smoking, but once in a while he indulged himself, maybe to the grand total of three or four times a standard year. Given recent events, Hawke felt the need to kick back and relax a few moments while he waited for his officers to arrive. The frantic pace of the last few hours found him a little tired. Maybe he was getting a little old, he thought. But no, he was only fifty-eight years old, which made him a little less than middle aged thanks to the wonders of modern medical technology. If he was lucky, he would live until the ripe old age of 160, or 170, maybe even longer. It depends on whether or not he could keep from getting shot. Hawke was savoring a particularly long draw on his cigar when the door to the briefing room swung open on squeaky hinges as the ship’s senior officers made their way in. Like Hawke, they weren’t too happy about being strong armed into another mission either, but every member of the Talons were professionals, and knew to keep their sentiments to themselves.

  First to enter was Hawke’s newest Marine officer, a man of Asian descent named Raijan Kemai. He would be serving as the Black Wave’s tactical officer, though he still looked uncomfortable wearing the silver bar of a Second Lieutenant. A former citizen of the Rejai Empire, Hawke met him during a rescue mission the Talons had been tasked with, and Raijan simply stayed when all the other rescued captives disembarked. Hawke never really made an issue of it, and instead just made arrangements for him to be added to the company’s payroll as a Lance Corporal. That was nearly five standard years ago, and since then Raijan had served with the Talons, exhibiting a knack for small group tactics, and astounding skill in hand to hand combat. Recognizing this, Hawke quickly promoted him through the ranks. Now, Raijan always served as tactical officer for whatever ship Hawke’s flag was on, even if his rank didn’t befit his station.

  Of course there was Nathan Schultz, who stepped into the room after Raijan and looked around, looking his normal irritable self as he absently scratched at his beard. He was Hawke’s rudder when he needed some advice, helping him stay the course. Bringing up the rear was James “Gordy” Gordon, Hawke’s chief engineer. This man he trusted with keeping his small fleet running. Give him a welding torch and some tin and Hawke would swear that the man could build a life pod to escape a ship while it was burning down around them, and never panic. Gordy had a strange knack for always being one step ahead of him, no matter how impossible it seemed. Hawke remembered him once saying, “Either we die, or we don’t, but until we do, I’ll work on keeping this bucket of bolts from falling apart.” Which he did, time and again.

  “Come in gentlemen. Take a seat.” Hawke said, waving them to chairs around the table with cigar in hand. As his senior officers were seated, Hawke sighed and reluctantly took his feet off the table, swinging them down to stand up. Smothering his cigar and setting it aside, he began pacing, hands clasped behind his back.

  “You all know why we’re here. We’ve got a job to do.” Hawke began. “We have been tasked with the destruction of a ship. According to Naval Intelligence-” Hawke broke off as Nathan barked a laugh and mumbled something derogatory about Naval Intelligence. The others chuckled, and Hawke allowed himself a small smile before continuing. Every one of them had been bitten by what passed for ‘intelligence’ in the Gadari Republic’s Navy. Raijan had even gone so far as to fielding a proposal to develop their own intelligence gathering apparatus, but Hawke had never been able to justify the expense.

  “According to Naval Intelligence, this ship is responsible for the destruction of no fewer than forty-three ships ranging from cargo scows to a battleship.” Hawke continued. Tapping a few buttons on the console in the middle of the table, four holographic displays projected themselves into the air, one facing each side of the table, showing the compiled report of all the ships listed as ‘destroyed’ or ‘missing’ that were localized to a few systems. “No one seems to know anything about this ship, though Commander Schultz and I suspect that it is approximately the size of your average battlecruiser, capable of cloaking, and has solid firepower for a ship of its size.” Hawke paused a few moments as his words began to sink in, and then, predictably, there was a minor explosion as all the officers began talking all at once. Hawke let it go for a few moments before slamming the palm of his hand dow
n on the tabletop with a loud CRACK, making everyone jump and turn towards him.

  “Yes, it’s impossible with our current technology. Or at least, it was, but now we know that it is not.” Hawke acknowledge. “And yes,” he added, holding up his hand to forestall more excitable comments from Gordy, “I know what that means. To be honest, the thought of it scares me.” Gordy swallowed hard, and settled back in his chair. Of them all, only Nathan had kept silent.

  “What we need to know, is why this ship is going around destroying other ships, and, perhaps more importantly, who this ship belongs to.” Hawke said. Turning his eyes back towards the holographic display, Hawke tapped a finger on a tab in the report, which then displayed a map of the region in which the attacks took place.

  “The following will show the attacks on a week by week basis, up to the most recent reports we have.” Hawke announced as he tapped a button on the display. On the map, a light yellow overlay was superimposed on the map, followed quickly by a light green one, light gray, and so on, until every week was superimposed on the regional map, each with its own color.

  “What do you see?” Asked Hawke. The officers studied the map for a few moments before Raijan leaned back with a faint smile on his face.

  “They overlap in a central location.” Raijan quietly responded. Gordy nodded in agreement, his brows lowered in thought.

  “They still need logistical support.” Gordy offered. “The overlap can help us narrow our search.” Hawke nodded, then caught Nathan’s surprised look.

  “Nate?” Hawke prompted. Nathan folded his arms across his chest and a slow smile spread across Nathan’s face.

  “They made a mistake.” He announced. “Their attacks overlap near Gitmo.” The other officers looked a little confused, but Hawke nodded knowingly as he navigated back to the original report and tapped a finger on one of the systems listed in there. The display changed to show that system’s star chart. There were assorted asteroid belts, a gas giant, and a second planet with an orbiting moon. Hawke selected the planet with the moon. The display responded by zooming in on the planet. The officers could all see the planet was of average size, and extremely green. The moon looked to have some kind of station built on it.