MISSION VERITAS (Black Saber Novels Book 1)

by John Murphy

  “Yeah, your saintly Global Alliance soldiers, who raped and murdered civilians and dumped them into big piles and burned their bodies. Yeah, that Global Alliance.”

  “But the Global Alliance is what’s keeping us at peace!” Dohrn said, her voice shrill.

  Killian clenched his teeth. “I’ve got news for you: the Global Alliance is a bunch of ruthless thugs who do whatever the Carthenogens tell them.”

  “That doesn’t mean we should kill Dr. Houlihan!” Goreman said. “He created this program! You can’t kill him! He’s on our side.”

  Dohrn joined her plea. “That’s Master Sergeant Houlihan’s father. Show some compassion.”

  “Houlihan said his father is dead,” Mitchell said.

  “Well, apparently not,” Dohrn said.

  “He’s probably lying,” Mitchell said. “Anyone associated with this planet would know that name.”

  “I thought he couldn’t lie,” Spalding said.

  “The atmosphere affects rational people that way. If he’s been here long, he’s likely insane and delusional.”

  Sowell held up his hand to cut her off. “Look, Vaughn, I know your parents are no longer alive, but don’t you think they would want you to show some compassion and try another plan?”

  “Naive compassion is what got my parents killed! They didn’t die by accident. They were trying to negotiate for autonomy from the Carthenogens, and they were killed for it.”

  “Is that what this is about?” Dohrn asked. “Bloodlust? You have to kill someone to exact revenge for your parents?”

  “No.” Killian seethed inside. “I’ve got much bigger goals. This is about defeating the ‘saviors’ who are enslaving human beings.”

  “I think the atmosphere is clouding our judgment,” Sowell said. “Let’s take a second and calm down.”

  “Look, Killian,” Kerrington said in a diplomatic tone, “maybe we can go in and ask these inhabitants to come out. Make them think we’re going to blow the bomb to get their cooperation. Then we can remove the bomb and not damage anything.”

  “Historically,” Mitchell said, “appeasement only ever leads to tyranny and the deaths of millions.”

  Kerrington turned to her. “How is this appeasement?”

  “By yielding our goals and letting our enemies dictate the terms, thereby gaining advantage. It’s happened throughout history. If we blink first, they win, and we lose.”

  “That is so stupid,” Kerrington said. “They aren’t enemies. Why are you bringing up your historical mumbo jumbo now?”

  Killian said, “They wouldn’t deploy Black Saber teams to accomplish an objective and then let them decide on the ground not to follow through. I say we blow it.”

  Dohrn stared at him in amazement. “What is with you? Are you so focused on getting into Black Saber that you’ll kill innocent people and call it collateral damage?”

  “It’s the mission,” Killian said.

  Dohrn shook with rage. “No, no, no! I won’t let you go through with this.” She ran back on the path and aimed her plasma rifle at Killian. “Warmongers like you are mindlessly bent on killing everything in sight! You shouldn’t be in any position of responsibility. It’s no wonder we’re always at war. Humans are a blight; Carthenogens are right. If you want to go back in there, you’re going to have to come through me.”

  Vasquez held his hands up. “Calm down, Dohrn. You don’t want to shoot your own guys.”

  “Like hell I don’t! If it means saving innocent civilians, I’ll kill you all! If I can stop you from killing innocent inhabitants, or Global Alliance soldiers, or Carthenogens, I will. Humans are a blight; Carthenogens are right.”

  The chant struck a raw nerve. Killian flipped his plasma to stun and pointed it at Dohrn. “Your people killed my parents.”

  He fired. Dohrn flew backwards and fell to the ground, unconscious. Shaken by his own action, Killian stared at the others, then dropped the rifle.

  Kerrington yelled, “Get him!”

  Vasquez grabbed for Killian.

  Killian deflected the lunge, spun around on his heels, and hit Vasquez in the back of the head with his elbow—a move meant to daze, not kill. Vasquez stumbled to his knees.

  Sowell jumped at Killian with an open arm grab. Killian ducked, stepped aside, stood up, and backhanded Sowell’s head with a hammer strike.

  Kerrington aimed a karate kick at Killian’s face, but Killian dodged backward and grabbed Kerrington’s boot.

  “Hey! Let go of my foot!”

  “You’re not really a black belt, are you? Just like with everything else, you’re a fraud.” Killian twisted the boot and swept Kerrington’s standing leg. Kerrington went down hard.

  Spalding pulled a knife and ran clumsily toward Killian.

  Killian swiped the knife to the side, then trapped Spalding’s wrist under his right arm. He struck the back of Spalding’s head with an open left palm. Spalding became disoriented, barely remaining upright.

  Killian grabbed the front of Spalding’s head and pulled him back and down to the ground. He grabbed the knife from Spalding’s loosened grip. He twisted Spalding around, putting him into a choking headlock. His instinct was to sink the knife into Spalding’s throat and slash it out, but he held back and merely held the knife to Spalding’s face.

  “Go ahead, say something funny,” Killian said through gritted teeth.

  No one moved.

  A moment later, Killian dropped the knife and let Spalding go. Vasquez lurched and tackled him from behind. Sowell piled on to help.

  Kerrington jumped forward and punched Killian in the head. “Ssssah!”

  He loomed over Killian in a fighting stance. “You are so out of this program.”

  Barely clinging to consciousness, Killian no longer struggled against the four of them. “I could have killed you all, but I didn’t.” With a slight change in aim, a twist of his wrist, or a little more force, each blow could have been lethal. He was awash in pain, yet at the same time, relief. He had maintained control despite his impulses.

  “Take his shit and tie him up,” Kerrington said. “Get him out of the way until we figure this out.”

  Vasquez and Sowell held Killian as Spalding removed Killian’s gear. They stripped him down to his supraskin bottoms and top, even taking away his boots and footies.

  They dragged Killian a hundred yards beyond the landing pad and around a tall mound of rocks. They found a smattering of the same red crystals that had been so plentiful earlier.

  Kerrington pointed to the largest. “Tie him up to that. I don’t want him having any part of our completing the mission.”

  “The rope is back there with our gear,” Vasquez said.

  “I got this,” Spalding said. In an overly rough manner, he knelt and cut Killian’s supraskin shirt, grunting and huffing with anger. “Stick a knife in my face, will ya?”

  He feverishly bound a sleeve to one of Killian’s hands, reached the garment around the back of the six-foot-tall crystal obelisk, and tied the other.

  Spalding backed away, then kicked Killian in the thigh. “You crazy motherfucker!” He kicked him twice more.

  Vasquez intervened. “Okay, enough already. He’s done, all right?”

  The voices seemed distant to Killian. His head lolled to the side, barely aware of anything but the pain.

  “He’s a confessed enemy. He’s finished,” Kerrington said.

  “Bang…cock!” Spalding shouted, then spit on him.

  Kerrington sniffed. “Let’s leave him here like he left Pima and Carmen. Maybe the shuttle will come before the raptors get him.”

  Kerrington and Spalding shared a laugh. Spalding kicked a three-foot-tall shard. It shattered into several small, sharp pieces surrounding Killian.

  Spalding laughed again. “Don’t step on anything I wouldn’t ste
p on.” He and Kerrington went back toward the landing pad.

  Vasquez and Sowell hung back.

  “Sorry, man, but you crossed the line,” Vasquez said. “You can’t shoot one of our own. It’s my job to protect us.” He turned slowly and followed Kerrington.

  Sowell nodded. “I’m sorry, too. We’ll get you when the shuttle comes.” He hesitated. “Thanks for not killing anyone.”

  Sowell turned and walked away, crunching on the sharp crystal pieces.

  Killian’s head swam. He closed his eyes. When he opened them again, he saw Goreman standing before him, bathed in the bright light of Juno. Her helmet was off, still strikingly beautiful despite the grime and sweat. She stared at him in a way that he hadn’t seen before. It reminded him of the intensity and cool demeanor of Commander Connor.

  “You really do have good instincts,” she said.

  That surprised him. In his last recall of her, she seemed to be in hysterics. Now she seemed devoid of emotion, offering a critique of sorts.

  “For what that’s worth,” Killian said.

  Goreman knelt beside him.

  He flinched. Was she closing in to stab him?

  She grabbed his face and kissed him. Her lips were dry and cracked, yet soft and full, softer than Felicia’s. She pressed her mouth hard into his. He could smell her sweat, her hair. It was intoxicating. A different kind of energy surged through him. He responded in kind. Images of her naked body exploded in his mind. Mitchell’s face flashed, as well as the thought of her skin against his in the lake. More images of Goreman’s blue eyes. He enjoyed the kiss immensely, despite his situation.

  She pulled back. “There are so many men I’d love to kill.” She breathed heavily. “You’re not one of them.”

  She kissed him again, then broke away.

  She stood. “Follow your instincts.”

  She started toward the group, then crunched on a crystal shard. She looked up at Killian for a moment and stared at his bare feet. She bent over, unsnapped her shin guards, and tossed them to him.

  “Just in case,” she said, then hurried off.

  40 Minutes to Extraction

  Kerrington, Spalding, Vasquez, Sowell, and Goreman returned to the landing pad. Dohrn was sitting up, still dazed. Mitchell was comforting her.

  “All right, candidates,” Kerrington said. “This is what we’re going to do. We’re going to go in there and demand that they vacate the premises.”

  “Isn’t that what Killian wanted to do?” Mitchell asked.

  “Can it! He’s not in charge—I am.”

  Sowell eyed him skeptically. “You really think they will?”

  Kerrington shook his head. “No. I think it’s more important that we make a show of making the demand, and then we can file our report saying we did so.”

  Still groggy, Dohrn looked up. “What about the explosives?”

  Kerrington pondered that. “Here’s what we’ll do. If and when the inhabitants don’t come out, we’ll remove the explosive charge. We’ll bring it outside here and blow it up away from the buildings, where they won’t do any harm to buildings or civilians. That way, we can say we not only reached the objective, but we were also able to follow through with detonating the charge. Mission complete.”

  Dohrn perked up. “I like that idea. It’s only a training mission. It should be symbolic.”

  Mitchell shook her head in disbelief. “You really will make a perfect politician, Kerrington. You know how to speak half-truths and twist them into interpretations that suit your purposes. You’re very deceptive.”

  “There are no half-truths! It’s all true. We’re adapting to the situation and accomplishing our goals.”

  “My point exactly,” she said.

  Kerrington frowned at her. “What are you saying, Mitchell? That we should kill those people?”

  “No. Why bother trying to negotiate? Why bother blowing the explosives up at all? Why the pretense? The truth is, technically, our mission is a failure. You just won’t admit it. You’re willing to lie about being successful. Even to yourself.”

  Kerrington’s face reddened. “This mission is a success in my book, you little computer-brain bitch.”

  “Pretty disrespectful words for someone who just saved your life,” Mitchell said.

  Kerrington wore a disgusted, puzzled look. “What are you talking about?”

  “It occurred to me that your father was the biggest proponent of the Freedom Conference in which Killian’s parents died. I deliberately withheld that because I knew that he would kill you on the spot.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Kerrington said. “My father is retired from office.”

  “Yes, conveniently out of the spotlight when everything happened. Funny you should wind up here.”

  “My father had nothing to do with my being here. I earned it.”

  “Like Tucker said, if there’s anyone who’s out of place here, it’s you!”

  Kerrington shoved her. “Listen here, I’m getting into Black Saber even if I have to tie you up with your street punk boyfriend out there and let the raptors eat you, too.”

  Mitchell stared back defiantly. “Hmm…already eliminating dissidents. I stand corrected. You will make a perfect tyrant.”

  Kerrington cocked his arm, his fist tight. “Shut up, bitch!”

  CHAPTER 26

  30 Minutes to Extraction

  JUNO SHONE BRIGHTLY, illuminating the red crystal fragments around Killian. He struggled gingerly against the crystal obelisk he was bound to. He tried to rub his wrists up and down against the sharp edge to cut into his bindings. Unfortunately, the fabric was more durable than his skin. Blood trickled down his arms, dripping into the sand.

  He was glad for not having killed anyone. However, now that his secret was out, no doubt Kerrington would use it to condemn him. Stunning Dohrn was bad, too—really bad. But what she said and did seemed treasonous.

  Still, he had a chance to finish. It would likely be the last thing he ever did.

  Overhead, he heard a distant screeching. An overwhelming, sinking feeling stopped his struggle against the bindings. He looked up and saw scavengers circling in Juno’s light. He knew what that meant.

  His fears were confirmed by the swoop of large wings—a raptor coming in to size up its prey.

  Ice flushed through Killian’s veins as he resumed his attempt to cut his bindings. Blood streamed down his arms.

  The raptor swooped in again, close enough that the wind from its wings tousled his sweat-soaked hair. The raptor’s musky animal odor filled his nose. Its talons nicked at the crystal shard, which emitted a delicate ping.

  Killian jolted back instinctively, his head banging against the crystal. He heard a clink, similar to the resonance he’d heard when Spalding kicked and shattered the other crystals.

  He had an idea…He began pushing his feet into the sand, trying to get the shard to fall over. It wouldn’t budge.

  The raptor swooped in, closer this time, talons grazing the air above his head. Killian flinched again, his head hitting the crystal harder. Another distinctive crack.

  Killian thrust back with his legs, banging his head on the crystal once more. It cracked again, and Killian felt movement. The obelisk crackled like thin ice on a pond. He pushed hard with his body. He was rewarded when the obelisk split and tumbled into the sand. Killian scrambled up, his bindings loose behind his back. He brought his wrists below his feet until his hands were in front of him. He shirked the ties, wrapped his hands in the fabric, and picked up a three-foot-long, razor-sharp sliver.

  The raptor swooped in again, flaring its wings, talons forward. As it opened its mouth, Killian shoved the shard inside. The raptor’s forward momentum knocked Killian down, and the two tumbled onto a mix of sand and crystal fragments. Killian felt the fragments dig into his back
and arms. The raptor’s talons flailed wildly in an attempt to dislodge the shard from its throat. Its frantic movements pushed Killian into the sand.

  Killian twisted and scrambled free, crying out as crystal shards pierced his skin.

  The raptor writhed helplessly. In a few moments, it collapsed in spasms. A swarm of scavengers descended on it, tearing away the remains of its life.

  The scavengers also swooped in on Killian, but he fought them off. Their bodies were light enough for him to bat them away easily. They were scavengers, not killers, so they shied away from Killian and joined in the frenzy over the dying raptor.

  Killian looked around for any other attackers. Seeing none, he began to move, stiff and pained, with fragments of crystal embedded in his back. He reached behind and brushed them off, accidentally stepping on a piece of crystal left by Spalding’s vandalism. He winced. Fortunately, the sand gave way and kept the shard from penetrating too deeply.

  Killian found Goreman’s shin guards. He pushed his feet into the holes where the knees should go, then shuffled awkwardly past the short field of crystal debris.

  25 Minutes to Extraction

  Led by Kerrington, the remaining seven candidates entered the mine complex to recover the explosives. As a gesture of peace, Kerrington had insisted they leave their packs, helmets, and plasma rifles back on the landing pad. They carried only light sticks.

  They walked resolutely into the warehouse, but took on a more cautious posture once inside the shaft.

  The higher concentration of nitrous oxide inside the mine had a distinct effect, causing them to wobble as they walked. Several shook their heads in an effort to snap out of their fuzziness, to no avail.

  “Hello? Dr. Houlihan?” Kerrington’s voice echoed in the void.

  Dohrn joined him. “We come in peace! Dr. Houlihan?”

  Shuffling sounds came from the catwalks below.

  Goreman gasped. Everyone tensed as they reached the junction platform.

  Kerrington called out again. “Dr. Houlihan? We come in peace. We’re here to negotiate peace.”

  “Negotiate?” Dr. Houlihan spoke abruptly, startling them. He stood on the catwalk they had traversed only moments before. “How about you killers leave our home? Then we’ll have peace.”