Its long, grey tongue tirelessly whipped around its protruding snout and intimidating fangs. Its grey eyes had a glint of ancient wisdom, jaded by the soul crushing experiences of war and the demands of pack mentality.
It was a killing beast. Bred for combat. Singular in its endeavors to dominate and scavenge the galaxy.
Through precise pack driven raiding tactics of sensing the enemy’s weaknesses, the Lupos war machine had singled out and destroyed United Space Fleets ship by ship. Never standing to fight on anyone else’s terms. Always preferring to weaken the enemy and then run.
Human captains had learned the hard way. Many Fleet captains had given chase, only to sail into Lupos ambushes. The most feared of the Lupos ships was Canis Dirus. Captained by the infamous Captain Madog. They had met and fought only once. It had been a draw with heavy losses for both sides.
The Lupos before Hannibal snarled. “I am Captain Dara Dire of the battle cruiser Lycaon.”
“I am Captain Hannibal Grint of USF Valiant, state your business here.”
“My business is that cruiser Hermes,” Dire said. “She is mine.”
“She is a civilian human cruiser receiving our assistance and protection by order of United Space Fleet.”
“My boarding pack commander informs me Hermes is without captain or crew and adrift,” Dire snarled. “I claim salvage rights under galactic convention.”
“Negative, Captain Dire,” Hannibal said. “Valiant’s boarding party is in possession of Hermes.”
A smile revealed the full extent of savage rows of lethal upper fangs on the Lupos.
“My pack commander assures me there is no Valiant boarding party,” Dire said. “You have two minutes to surrender Hermes and withdraw or Lycaon will consider your presence an act of war.”
“Meaning what?”
“Meaning,” said Dire as he leaned forward allowing Hannibal to see the bloodshot veins spreading across the grey eyes. “Lycaon will destroy Valiant.”
The Lupos holograph vanished, leaving behind a small ball of red static.
“Shields up,” Hannibal said. “Comm officer, contact Commander Dax.”
CHAPTER 40 - SHOW YOUR HANDS
“Show your hands,” Dax ordered. “Slow and easy.”
Three pairs of hands slowly pointed at the ceiling.
The Vanguard woman shielded her eyes from Dax’s light.
“If you don’t mind, Commander Dax,” she said in a rich, sultry tone.
He felt his anger rise as before. He felt disgust in acknowledging he found her even more attractive in the flesh than he had when witnessing the vision of her.
Valkyrie approached from one side and shoved a tall, distinguished Vanguard man and a middle-aged human woman into the light. She searched them for weapons.
“They’re clean,” Valkyrie said and removed her helmet.
Dax recognized the middle-aged woman’s natural aura of authority.
“You know who I am?” she asked.
“Yes, madam President. Where is your security detail?”
“Stop wasting time, Commander, and get me off this ship.”
“All in good time, madam President.”
Dax turned to the Vanguard woman.
“Fyre of House Von Rha,” he said, “what happened here?”
“We cannot tell you,” Fyre said.
“Cannot, or will not?” Dax said impatiently as he watched Blok run a diagnostic on the pilot system.
He holstered his plasma pistol.
“It’s some kind of hack corrupting Hermes’ guidance system and engines,” Blok said. “Way more sophistication than normal combat viruses we might deploy. I don’t recognize it, Commander. It’s highly destructive and multiplying at an ever increasing rate through all ship’s systems.”
She swooned and fell forward, hitting her head on the pilot’s desk. Dax leapt forward and caught her as she slumped backwards and off her chair.
“I’m OK,” she said. “It’s the air.”
“What do you mean?”
“There is none,” she said. “Or very little.”
Dax caught Fyre in the arc of his plasma pistol’s light and studied her face. He recognized she wore a pair of nose filters with a subtle airline leading to a tiny air tank on her hip.
“You came prepared?” Dax asked.
“All cabins are supplied with air tubes,” she said dismissively.
The ship lurched violently by several degrees to starboard. Fyre lost her footing. She grabbed at the pilot’s desk, but missed. She rolled across the floor into Dax’s arms.
He held her gaze for too long. Her eyes sparkled with what seemed disdain for his tight embrace. She swallowed hard and pulled away.
“I can take care of myself,” she snapped.
“Next time I’ll respect diplomatic protocol,” Dax said, “and let you crack your head open.”
Dax’s comm unit cracked with static.
“XO, this is Grint, status update?”
“Three survivors, Captain.”
“Say again, XO. Did you say three?”
“Correct, Captain. Two charming Vanguard diplomats and our own President Xylo Arc.”
Dax thought he heard Grint issue a rapid-fire sequence of expletives, peppered with white noise.
“Listen, XO,” Grint said. “Maintaining a corrective orbit to compensate for Hermes’ rolling is asking for trouble. You’ve got five minutes to reestablish Hermes’ orbit before I yank the nuts off your docking tube.”
“I need more time, Captain.”
“Grint, out.”
Doc Ransom held up his healthscan device and moved out across Fyre’s forehead.
She backed away as if he’d clumsily breached some kind of diplomatic protocol.
Doc Ransom raised an eyebrow like a warning shot across the bow. It was met by an equally resilient defiance from Fyre. He let his arm drop to his side.
“Madam,” Doc Ransom said apologetically, but firmly, “this is standard procedure required before a Fleet vessel may accept civilians aboard. I have to scan for all viruses. Can’t allow an outbreak on an active duty Fleet vessel, can we, now?”
“Doctor,” said Fyre, “your scanner, along with your presence and indeed the presence of all humans disturbs the delicate, psychic balance of my Vanguardian psychic abilities.”
“With all due respect to your Vanguardian sensibilities,” Doc ransom said, clearly struggling to contain the pressure straining at the edges of his patience, “either you submit to this examination, or we leave you to take your chances in a life pod.”
He raised the device again.
Fyre closed her eyes and clenched her hands into a tight fist. Her eyes popped open. I have dulled my senses to compensate for your ignorant bureaucracy, Doctor,” she said in a tone that clearly riled Doc ransom.
“We all make sacrifices for the greater good, madam,” Doc Ransom said and continued his examination.
Dax turned to Blok.
“Can you correct the orbit, Lieutenant?” Dax asked.
“Maybe,” Blok said, “but I’ve found the source of signal jamming Valiant’s life-signs scans. It was part of the hack. And… My God.”
Her hands flew to her mouth.
“What is it, Blok?”
Blok shook her head. “They’re gone. All of them.”
“Who?”
“The crew. The passengers. Al ten thousand are no longer aboard.”
“Life pods?” Dax asked.
She tapped at the pilot’s screen. “All life pods accounted for.”
“Pirate kidnap?” Dax asked.
Blok shrugged. “There are no pirate ships or bandit fleets of sufficient size, Commander.”
“Keep trying to correct the orbit,” Dax said.
“Impossible,” Fyre said and when Dax shot her a dark look, she shrugged. “Commander, we sought to resolve the issue with a greater intelligence and ability than the combined efforts of your USF training. And yet we failed.”
>
“Blok,” Dax said and rolled his eyes at the Vanguard’s modesty, “do what you can. I have an idea on how to find the missing passengers and crew.”
Dax searched the ship’s digital logs for the most recent video footage. The entire log was blank. “Damn it,” Dax said and stared at Fyre. “Is this your doing? Are you here to scuttle this ship?”
Fyre smiled at him as if humoring a small child.
Dax turned back to Fyre. “You still haven’t explained where are the Captain and crew.”
“Perhaps I can explain, Commander?” the president said. She stepped into the converging arcs of light from several assault rifles. She wore a slicked back auburn hair and a slim, frame held with dignity and an air of authority.
“In my small capacity as Earth President Xylo Arc and member of the Galactic council of inhabited planets,” she said. “I am here at the invitation of Vanguard Ambassador to Earth, Hugo Von Rha.”
The Vanguard male made a shallow bow of respect. But his eyes showed his true contempt.
“I can vouch for my Vanguard friends,” President Arc said.
“Invitation to what, Madam President?” Dax asked.
“That, Commander shall remain confidential,” she said.
“With all due respect, Madam President,” Dax said, “my field command gives me a right to all matters concerning our situation.”
“It has no bearing,” Xylo said calmly.
He knew while she felt in control, no explanations would be forthcoming. What’s it going to take to ruffle your feathers, Madam President?
“I’ll be the judge of that, Madam President.”
Her eyes narrowed. “I am here on a matter of Galactic security,” she said. “And my security clearance out ranks yours, Commander.”
“Please, just tell us what you know.”
“I know nothing,” President Arc said. “Same goes for Ambassador Von Rha and his daughter.”
“Got your stories straight, did you?” Dax asked.
“I resent that insinuation, Commander.”
“Resent it all you like,” Dax said. “But until I get answers I’ll go right ahead and ask the awkward questions.”
“I’m telling you we have no recollection of events in the last twelve hours,” she snapped.
You’re hiding something. All three of you.
“Commander Dax,” Doc ransom said. “They may be telling the truth.”
“Got a lie detector built into that thing, do you, Doctor?” Dax asked.
“No,” Ransom said a little crankily. It seemed he was unaccustomed to having is medical practice questioned. “But something more pertinent. Evidence.”
“Evidence of what?”
“According to my scans, each of these civilians trace levels of a neuro-toxin.”
“What kind of toxin?”
“One capable of rendering the host unconscious immediately and for a period of at least twelve hours,” Doc Ransom said. “The side effects are minor memory loss of the preceding hour or so. Headaches, but nothing permanent.”
“You’re saying someone gassed ten thousand passengers and crew and took them off ship?”
“I’m simply stating medical evidence that Madam President and her companions are telling you the truth as they know it.”
Dax balled his hands into fists. “Thank you doctor,” he said. “Can you identify the likely source of the neurotoxin?”
“It’s too common for a quick answer, Commander,” Ransom said. “I’d need to examine a sample back on Valiant.”
“Please do so,” Dax said.
Van Cleef bounded onto the bridge. “Commander, we got company.”
“Who?”
“Lupos boarding part,” Van Cleef said and struggled to suppress the look of panic. He leaned in and whispered, “Wolf-head division.”
“Perhaps,” Blok said, “they know where the missing are?”
“Taking human civilians is their style, Commander,” Valkyrie said. “But we’re at peace. As much as I hate them, would they really risk war like this? What do they have to gain?”
He shook his head. “Maybe.”
The ship rocked with the sound of an explosion.
“Exiting the way we came is no longer an option, Commander,” Valkyrie said.
“Blok, can you slow them down?” Dax asked and glanced at the elevator doors. “They’re almost here.”
“I can’t stop the elevator,” Blok said. “Scanning for an alternative route back to Valiant.”
“We do this the marine way,” Valkyrie shouted. “Everyone take cover.”
Delta squad took up positions behind consoles.
The elevators doors exploded into a ball of flames and in rushed Dax’s worst nightmare.
CHAPTER 41 - NO WAY OUT
Small, but deadly balls of crimson plasma energy burst out of the exploding elevators and sprayed out in a wide and intense fan. Dax ducted down behind the bridge bulkhead with Delta squad. He drew his plasma pistol.
“Cover me,” Dax shouted.
Van Cleef aimed his assault rifle and led the barrage of blue and white plasma balls over Dax’s head as he dared to take a peek at the Lupos advance.
A plasma blast almost tore off his head. He ducked back to the relative safety of the bulkhead. But sure enough, a squad of bipedal wolves, presented a broad shouldered target in crimson and black heavy armored suits.
“Lockers,” Van Cleef shouted and everyone felt the dread of what he meant.
Dax scrolled through his visor display and selected a forearm plasma-shield. The power-armor around his forearm generated a soft, shimmering blue field. Enough to take one or two direct hits, but nothing more substantial.
Dax allowed himself a split second indulgence of fear to conjure up memories of the devastation of lockers on the wartime struggle on Mars. The guided missiles of plasma energy ‘locked’ onto human bio-signs, and for a distance of up to several hundred feet, evaded all objects to find their human targets with lethal efficiency. They were a Lupos specialty and secured the Mars conquest a particularly bloody chapter in Galactic history.
Dax noted everyone else had their shields held up. Except of course for the three Hermes’ passengers. Fyre was closest to him. He grabbed her arm and hauled her under the protection of his shield.
She shot him a fierce look and opened her mouth to scold him, just as a fire-red locker rammed into Dax’s shield.
The sudden energy dispersal slammed them hard against the bulkhead. For a moment her face lost its defiance and changed from its arrogant defiance into frightened innocence. Dax felt her grip his shoulders with unexpected strength. But the vulnerability lasted only for the duration of the locker’s impact.
When the flaming ball rolled onward, the innocence in her expression quickly vanished. A rolling wave of anger crossed over her face. She grabbed Dax’s plasma pistol and threw herself up into the path of the speeding lockers. She aimed the pistol at a second wave of lockers and squeezed off the trigger.
At least three lockers, that Dax could see, exploded harmlessly above President Xylo and Hugo Von Rha. But Dax wasn’t taking any chances. He grabbed Fyre’s ankles and hauled her back down to him. She turned her head to him and her eyes flared with passion.
“I didn’t come all this way to see you get yourself killed,” he shouted at Fyre. “I came here for answers.”
She gripped herself and nodded.
Thor howled with appreciation. “Damn, if she didn’t take out six of them buggers,” he shouted.
Dax shouted over to Valkyrie, “We need to get out of here,” he said. “Any ideas?”
Valkyrie looked around her. The bridge’s bulkhead had one exit. The same one used for the entrance.
“We need to rush them,” she said. “I estimate forty percent casualties. No less.”
“Reassuring,” Dax said and shook his head. “Blok?”
Blok crawled over on her hands and knees. “Commander,” she said, “I’ve found a route o
ut of here.”
“How?”
She glanced down at his feet. “We blast a hole in the floor and drop down to the executive kitchens. From there we take a service-bot elevator to the docking tube.
“How long?” Dax asked.
“Two minutes,” Blok said decisively.
“Do it.”
Blok nodded to Van Cleef. He took a thermal mine from his back pack. He set the timer for five seconds and tossed it to the center of the bridge.
“Breach blast,” Van Cleef shouted and raised his plasma shield.
The explosion shook the bridge. Without waiting for the blast cloud to settle, Van Cleef hurled one end of a wire-rope into the resultant hole.
He fixed the remaining end of the rope to the bulkhead with a magnetic clamp.
Two dozen similar ropes flew through the air and down into the smokey hole.
Valkyrie turned to Dax, “Take the President,” she said. “I’ll follow with the Vanguards.”
Dax nodded and took President Arc’s hand. “Madam President,” he said, “time to leave.”
Her eyes were wide with a curious mixture of anger and fear. He gave her credit for simply nodding and trusting him by taking his hand. Her ice cold grip should have told him something, but he couldn’t figure what it was that sent a shiver down his spine.
“When I tell you,” Dax said, “put your arms around the back of my neck. Got it?”
She nodded.
“Thor,” Dax shouted, “With me.”
“Presidential secret service duty, huh?” Thor said. “Comes with a pay increase, Commander?”
“Yeah, Thor,” Dax said, “but you don’t get to live to spend it.”
“Sounds like my old job,” Thor said and laughed.
“Cover,” Dax yelled and shielding President Arc, he ran at the hole as a barrage of blue plasma balls launched at the advancing Lupos.
CHAPTER 42 - GUN FIGHT
Clutching hold of the wire rope, Dax descended through the blast hole with President Arc on his back. He dropped so fast he was sure the friction would burn through his gloves. But he heard not a sound of complaint from President Arc.
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