Pugh stared at the monster in disbelief. It seemed completely unaffected. He had failed. Then slowly the creature collapsed, falling into two distinct halves, sliced cleanly into two pieces from head to toe. As it buckled and the red light inside its chest became gradually fainter and fainter, the last thought that surged through its poor, tortured and tormented mind was;
Peace…
Exhausted, Pugh allowed himself one last satisfied smile before finally passing out from the pain.
On board the Might of Fortitude, Commander Noir looked over towards Kittinger at the Scanner Control. ‘Where’s the Cour Valant?’
Kittinger looked up from his screen. ‘She’s out of range of our weapons and heading away as fast as she can manage. We only damaged her conventional engines. I doubt whether we could catch her before she’s out of the Kuiper belt and able to engage her Watters’ jump-drive.’
‘Damn!’ swore Noir.
Raven would get away. No matter, she thought, the troopers on the station were her priority now. The station had been badly damaged and there was still the rampaging robot to deal with. She turned back to stare at the space station out of the front view slit.
‘Sir!’ Kittinger called, even more excited than before.
Noir swung around. ‘What is it now?’ she snapped.
Kittinger’s eyes were wide as saucers. ‘I’m picking up another ship approaching. She’s massive, but somehow she’s managing to drop out of Watters’ drive, straight into the middle of the Kuiper belt!’
‘That’s impossible,’ Noir sneered, ‘no ship can…’ Then she tailed off as she saw the massive space-craft appearing out of thin air, right next to the space station. ‘Who the hell is that?’ she asked, in a small awed voice.
Hall spoke up this time. ‘I’m getting a handshake signal…’ There was a pause. ‘It’s the Papaver Corporation flag ship Sir. It’s the S.S. Bertrand!’
CHAPTER 22 “THE WARMONGER”
The mighty space-craft exploded out of Watters’ Drive right next to the crippled space-station. Somehow it had emitted a massive pulse of heat that simply melted away the surrounding ice lumps into gas. No other ship could have done what this ship had achieved, but then again, no other ship was the flag ship of the mighty Papaver Corporation. The S.S. Bertrand was the best that money could buy, quite literally. It had been built with no budgetary limits, unlike the ships of the Space Navy fleet. The hull gleamed with white and gold and was covered with the most powerful and most up-to-date weapons in the whole of the United Worlds. Some of the weapons were prototypes, still classified and not due to be rolled out to the rest of the fleet for perhaps years to come. No expense had been spared to make her a beautiful, but deadly sight.
Aboard the Might of Fortitude, Commander Noir was receiving an incoming signal from the Bertrand. The face of her Captain appeared on screen, a gentlemanly figure in a Papaver Corporation uniform, white braided with gold. He had the look and air of sea-captains of old. The white-haired gentleman turned towards Noir on the hologram and smiled as if they were old friends meeting for coffee.
‘Commander Noir?’
Noir nodded.
‘Good morning. I am Captain Grissel of the Papaver Corporation star-ship Bertrand. We stand ready to assist you.’
Noir’s eyebrow shot up. ‘Assist?’
‘Yes Commander,’ smiled Grissel. ‘We have excellent medical facilities on board to treat your wounded. They will be returned to you good as new; or perhaps even better.’
Grissel grinned. Noir returned a false smile. She didn’t like this man. There was something shifty about him. He was too well oiled; his eyes were hiding something.
‘Our troops are still…’ began Noir, but she was cut off mid-sentence.
‘I am fully aware of the situation Commander Noir. My crew are boarding the station even as we speak. Everything will be taken care of quickly and efficiently, I can assure you. We will attend to your injured and Captain Trenchard will be returned to you safe and sound.’ Grissel paused and his face became like steel. ‘This facility is under Papaver Corporation protection as from this moment on. Do not approach closer than one thousand meters or we will be forced to take protective measures. Thank you for your co-operation Commander Noir. Grissel out!’
The hologram blinked off leaving Noir fuming. ‘Protective measures!’ she shouted angrily. ‘Just who the hell does he think he is?’
Petty Officer Hall at the communications station piped up. ‘We’ve just received a message from High Command via N.A.C.I.N.,’ she said. ‘Orders from Admiral Adisa.’
‘Adisa?’ Noir exclaimed.
Adisa was the top-ranking officer in the Space Navy. He was the Admiral of the fleet and even out-ranked Admiral Fife. Why was he sending personal messages to a small boat like the Might, Noir pondered apprehensively?
‘What’s the message?’ she asked carefully.
‘To Captain Trenchard, Might of Fortitude,’ Hall began, reading the message out loud. ‘Papaver Corporation ship S.S. Bertrand arriving immediately to assume control of space station. Do not interfere. Stand down and accede to their requests. Military supervision is no longer required or necessary. Admiral Adisa, etcetera, etcetera.’
‘Are the drop-ships back on board yet?’ Noir asked with concern.
‘Aye Sir.’
‘Get me Captain Trenchard. Now!’
Trenchard had problems of his own. The Papaver Corporation crew had boarded from every single airlock simultaneously. They had then fanned out and begun rounding up his troops at gun-point. The security officers of the Bertrand were dressed in bright white shiny armour and helmets, picked out in gold. They carried a new rifle design that Trenchard had never seen before. One of them raised his rifle and pointed it straight at Trenchard. Trenchard in turn raised his rifle in defence. He was in no mood for this.
‘Please lower your rifle Captain Trenchard,’ said the white clad security officer from behind a gold tinted visor that masked his eyes and his identity. His words were polite but there was a definite underlying tone of menace.
‘Lower yours!’ Trenchard shouted, nodding to Chertok.
Chertok and the rest of the squad raised their rifles. The air resounded to the clicks of safety catches being turned off. The room was gradually filling up with even more white clad security officers. McGagh stared down at one of the white guards and growled at them, baring his teeth.
‘I’ve got a man in that room who is most likely badly injured, or perhaps dead!’ Trenchard barked irritably. ‘Get out of my way or I’ll put my boot up your arse!’
The man in front of Trenchard grimaced. ‘By order of Admiral Adisa at High Command, we are assuming control of this facility. You are to vacate immediately and return to your ship. Military assistance is no longer required or necessary.’
‘Required?’ spat Trenchard, full of dismay and anger. ‘You fucking son of a…’
Trenchard’s communicator beeped suddenly. He lowered his rifle and raised his wrist to his mouth.
‘Trenchard here,’ he growled.
‘Captain,’ came Noir’s voice over the radio. It had a certain air of concern and anger. ‘We’ve received orders from High Command.’
‘Yeah, I know,’ said Trenchard, still eye-balling the white guards. ‘What about Pugh?’
‘Apparently, Papaver’s people already have him in their medical facility on board the Bertrand. He’s being worked on by their surgeons.’
Trenchard’s expression became thunderous. ‘Get Pugh back as soon as he’s fit enough and get the drop-ships over here pronto. I don’t want to spend another fucking second in this shit hole! Trenchard out.’ Trenchard lowered his rifle and Chertok motioned the rest of the troopers to do the same. ‘Well?’ Trenchard asked. ‘What’s next?’
The white guard motioned with his rifle. ‘We will escort you to the main airlock and ensure that you exit safely.’
Trenchard smiled a sickly smile. ‘You mean make sure that we get the fuck off
this station?’
The guard remained impassively silent.
Trenchard waved at the troops. ‘Move out,’ he ordered.
The troopers began to shuffle unhurriedly away. The injured lad Cox was carried gently past by two other troopers.
‘Do you want our medical staff to have a look at your injured man?’ the white guard asked in a conciliatory tone.
Trenchard placed his fists onto his hips and scowled. ‘I’d rather slide stark bollock naked down a banister covered with rusty razor blades into a bath of piss and vinegar than let one of you miserable twats…’
Lieutenant Stofan carefully laid a restraining hand onto Trenchard’s arm and spoke in a soft voice. ‘Sir, forgive me, but we don’t have the greatest medical facility aboard the Might. It might be better to let them treat him?’
Trenchard scowled at her, uncomprehending for a moment and then he let out an exasperated sigh. ‘Fine,’ he said, turning to the white guard and prodding him in the chest with his finger, ‘but make sure you take fucking good care of him! He’s a damned, brave, young…’
Trenchard tailed off in astonishment as he saw a group of scientists from the S.S. Bertrand sweep through the room at that moment, on their way to some urgent destination. They were all dressed in bright red lab coats and escorted by even more white-clad security guards who carried even larger weapons. Trenchard stared coldly at them as they passed. The man at the front was dressed smartly in a grey suit. He was middle aged and had untidy dark hair which flopped across his eyes. He smiled at Trenchard as he passed and even gave him a friendly wave. Trenchard stood dumbfounded. He had seen the man many times before on the I.N.N. news reports. He was one of the richest and most powerful men in the entire United Worlds, the head of the Papaver Corporation, Claude Papaver himself.
Trenchard snapped his mouth shut when he realised that it had been hanging open in amazement. The fact that Papaver himself was here on the station explained the heavy-handed approach of the white guards. It also meant that whatever secrets were hidden here were more valuable to Papaver than they were letting on. Trenchard’s shoulders slumped and he turned away, resigned to the fact that there was nothing more he could do here. If Admiral Adisa was involved, then any complaints that he might make would be like pissing into the wind with his mouth open. He was extremely tired and needed a good meal and a wash. His casualties were being treated, even if it was by Papaver’s people. Trust them or not, Stofan was right. They would get better care aboard the S.S. Bertrand than on board the Might of Fortitude. Trenchard trudged slowly and disconsolately back towards the main airlock feeling like he’d won the battle, but lost the war.
Papaver’s team entered the tube-shaped cutting room and stood, surveying the scene. A group of technical staff were already repairing the damaged hatch, welding a temporary sheet of metal plate over the foam-covered hole. Blood was smeared across the floor and pooled around the control panel where Pugh had clung on for dear life. In the middle of the deck, the two halves of the Morgenstern lay where they had fallen. Even now a foul smelling green slime had begun to leak out from the innards of the machine and seep across the metal deck.
Papaver looked around. ‘Everybody out! Now!’ he shouted, clapping his hands and waving his staff away.
The technicians immediately downed tools and headed for the exit, as did all the guards. Papaver grabbed the arm of a young woman with dark brown hair as she passed.
‘Not you Elaine,’ he said quietly. ‘I need to talk to you.’
The two waited for the room to empty and all the doors to close tight. Then Papaver turned to the pretty young woman and smiled.
‘Do you remember when we built this unit Elaine, four years ago, on Mars?
The woman smiled and nodded. ‘Yes of course Sir. I’ve been with you throughout the whole of the Sentinel project.’
Papaver chuckled. ‘Sentinel. Morgenstern. Whatever it’s eventually going to be called, I think we can safely say that this was a successful test of its capabilities. What we need now is a way to improve the bio-links and ensure complete control. The subject was clearly unstable. Mental control is the next step.’
He paused for a moment and studied Elaine. She had been with his company for many years, since before Mars and before the Sentinel project ever began. He felt that he could trust her, but just how far?
‘Have you heard of the Providence project Elaine?’
Elaine smiled. ‘Only the name Sir. I’ve heard some rumours in the staff canteen but nothing detailed. Why?’
‘Because I think that you’re ready for a little more responsibility. The Sentinel project is dead in the water for the time being. We can’t go any further with this military automaton until we develop Providence further. You’ve been an invaluable member of my team while we developed the Sentinel. I’d like to bring you on board.’
Elaine flushed with pride. ‘Thank you, Sir,’ she said, beaming a broad smile.
‘Plus,’ continued Papaver, ‘we have just been gifted with the opportunity to take the Providence project to the next level.’ Then he fixed her with a serious stare. ‘It’s a top priority project Elaine. Once you accept, there’s no going back. You may not like what you find.’
Elaine shrugged. ‘I’m a scientist Sir. My quest is for the truth; however ugly it may be. I leave moral questions to the politicians and philosophers to argue over.’
‘Good,’ said Papaver. ‘Then let’s get the team back in and clean up this mess. I want to see you in my office aboard the Bertrand in an hour to get you up to speed on the project.’
With that, Papaver spun on his heel and headed away. Elaine watched him go with a sense of pride and more than a little trepidation in her heart.
A couple of days later, the Might of Fortitude was back in orbit around Cairn. Her damaged tail fin had already been repaired and the snipes had replaced the damaged stealth tiles and re-painted the hull. The crew were already down on the surface getting some well-earned leave. Pugh and Cox were safely in the naval hospital facility. The ship was almost empty, cold and virtually soundless, as still as the grave. Trenchard was sitting in the wardroom doing some overdue paperwork when there was a knock on the hatch and he looked up.
‘Come,’ he called.
The hatch swung open and Commander Noir gingerly stepped inside.
‘Noir,’ said Trenchard in what he hoped was a friendly voice. ‘Thank you for coming. Please sit.’
Noir looked a little taken aback. The Captain wasn’t usually this friendly. In fact, their relationship had been on the cold side of frosty ever since she had been posted to the Might. Noir settled down warily onto the bench.
‘What can I do for you Sir?’ she asked cautiously.
Trenchard leaned back and smiled. ‘Nothing really... I just wanted to catch up. How’s A.S. Cox?’
‘He’s been patched up and is resting in the infirmary at the base. The Morgenstern shredded his arm pretty well, but Papaver’s surgeons have managed to re-connect all the tissue. He’ll have some scarring, but he will get the use of his arm back fairly quickly.’
Trenchard nodded in what he hoped was an affirming way. ‘…and Pugh?’
Noir shuffled uncomfortably. ‘He seems fine,’ she said, ‘but it must be hard to lose a limb. The replacement that Papaver gave him is top of the line though, a sort of thank-you for defending his factory. Physically he’s fit for duty. Only time will tell if he is psychologically well adjusted.’
‘He’s a brave man,’ Trenchard stated simply.
‘Yes Sir, he is,’ Noir agreed.
Trenchard nodded and stared off into the distance, deep in thought. ‘I have something that I want to tell you Commander,’ he said finally after a long pause.
Here it comes, thought Noir. What have I done wrong this time?
‘I’ve just reviewed the ship’s logs from the last mission,’ said Trenchard. Then he fixed her with a steely glare. ‘You did a damn fine job Commander Noir. I couldn’t have asked for a
better X.O. I just wanted you to know that.’
Noir stared blankly back at Trenchard for a moment before she realised that he was waiting for a reaction. She blinked. ‘Thank you, Sir,’ she managed. ‘I just did my job.’
Trenchard nodded. ‘But you did it well. Everyone did. I was seriously concerned about this crew when I was first given command of the Might. But I guess that first impressions can be misleading. There’s still some work to be done here but I think that these people are shaping up to be one damn fine crew.’
There was a moment of silence as they both digested this. Then Trenchard sat up and became business like once more and Noir relaxed. She wasn’t used to personal moments with a commanding officer. It made her feel more than a little uncomfortable.
‘Do you have any idea what happened to that thing?’ Trenchard asked.
‘The Morgenstern?’
‘Yes. I was pushed into the drop-ship soon after Papaver’s lot arrived. What happened?’
‘I’m not sure. Several shuttles visited the station after you left. I’m fairly certain that they cleaned up any trace of the stuff that they had stored there, including the Morgenstern.’
‘So, Papaver still has it? Makes you wonder why they’d be so interested in a failed prototype doesn’t it?’
‘Yes…’ said Noir, tailing off into a retrospective silence.
Trenchard stretched and clicked the bones in his neck. He pushed himself up from the table with his palms and looked down at Noir.
‘I’ve given the whole crew some time off. I know it’s against regulations but High Command can go jump! Every man and woman on this boat needs a bloody good drink and that includes me.’ Trenchard started to move towards the door. ‘Coming?’
Noir looked up at Trenchard. ‘In a short while, I still have a few personal matters to finish up here first.’
The Space Navy Series Books One & Two: Including the Kindle novellas Josiah Trenchard and the Might of Fortitude & Josiah Trenchard and the Morgenstern Page 20
