The Battle for the Solar System (Complete Trilogy)

by Sweeney, Stephen

  Time passed and Enrique didn’t return. And neither did I hear his voice. For all I knew at that moment, he was dead.

  *

  The noise of heavy bolts unlocking made Kelly recoil and dart away from the cell door in terror, scrabbling backward into the furthest corner of the padded cell. Whatever fate had befallen Enrique, she didn’t know and didn’t want to imagine, but now it looked to be her turn. The door swung open and two black suits strode in, arms outstretched, coming to take her to her destiny.

  “No! Get off you bastards! Let go! Get the hell off me!” she shouted, struggling against their hands and trying to pull herself free. She wriggled out of the corner, thrashing, bounding and scrambling to find a way around them and to the door; to freedom. In response to her escape bid, they fell upon her, pulling her up off the floor with ease. They said nothing as they took her under the arms and dragged her from the cell, ignoring her futile attempts to wrench herself free of them.

  The screams she had heard through the walls grew louder as she was pulled down the corridors, past other cells. Some of the doors were open. She glanced inside as she passed by one and immediately wished she hadn’t. A man lay on the floor of the cell, his face contorted in pain, his mouth and eyes bloody. His whole body was shaking, as if he was suffering a fit. His skin looked extremely pale, unnaturally so, with thick blue veins prominent all over his features. What looked like lumps and boils were also visible, some moving and pulsing, almost as if some creature had laid its eggs inside him and the young were preparing to hatch. Three unmasked black-suited soldiers stood over him, some sort of case or medical kit sitting at their feet. Various implements, bottles and vials had been removed from it and now lay on the floor. One of the soldiers held some kind of metallic instrument in their hand, gripped like a gun that she didn’t recognize.

  In another cell that she passed, a woman lay on her back, convulsing and thrashing madly. Blood and other fluids were spurting from her mouth like a geyser. She, too, appeared to be in total agony. A soldier stood over her, a shotgun raised and trained on her. Kelly shut her eyes, but heard the bang. She expected the woman’s cries to stop after that. They did not.

  A couple more twists and turns of corridors followed, before Kelly was dragged through an open doorway and into a room.

  And there, sat in a metal chair, was Enrique.

  He was locked into it, his hands fastened about the wrists to the armrests, his legs locked at the ankles to the base. His face was bruised from where it looked as though he had been struck. Blood was seeping from his mouth and cheeks. Several red splotches had splattered onto the white marble floor just in front of him.

  They had been beating him. They had taken him from the cell to question and torture him. It didn’t look as though they had inflicted a great deal of injury to him – just enough to put their point across. Even so, she got the feeling that their approach had met with little success. And now she realised that that was why she was here – they were preparing to change tack. She prayed it wasn’t anything like what she had witnessed in the corridor.

  “Enrique!” she cried, relieved to see him alive, but terrified for what now lay in store.

  The man raised his head and turned to look at her, grit and determination visible in his eyes. “Kelly…!” he started. He pulled hard against his restraints, but they showed no signs of yielding.

  “Enrique, are you okay?”

  “Don’t tell them anything!” he urged. “Just keep quiet!” He finished speaking just before a fist struck him across the face, the chair holding firm, despite the force of the punch knocking him sideways. Enrique spat onto the floor, before glaring up at the man who had dealt the blow. His tormentor then turned around to face Kelly.

  Julian Rissard’s expression exhibited no emotion as he looked over her. He nodded, then spoke a handful of incomprehensible words and pointed to another metal chair, similar in size and structure to that of Enrique’s. It was positioned a few metres away from the other one and had been turned to face it.

  Kelly felt her stomach flip as her eyes fell upon the seat. She knew immediately what this was all about. Ah, hell! No, no, no! They were planning to torture her in front of Enrique to loosen his tongue. She instantly resumed her struggles against the two soldiers who held her, though her attempts proved as futile as before. The two soldiers led her over to the chair and forced her down easily. The tight metal binding clicked around her wrists and ankles, and a short time later she found herself restrained in a similar fashion to Enrique. She could already feel there was no point in struggling against the locks, the clasps uncomfortably tight. Nevertheless, she tested her restraints, finding herself securely fastened to her seat, even as much as she attempted to rock it. The chair itself shifted only a small fraction. The two soldiers moved to either side of the seat, in the same mechanical, regimented way that they always did, standing by and waiting for instruction.

  Human? Maybe. But they were also more like ants or robots, brainless workers. Zombies even. She glanced around the room, searching for any possible means of escape, no matter how unlikely. There was none as far as she could see, the only way in and out of the room being the door she had been brought in through. As well as the two soldiers who stood by her chair, two others stood silently in the corner, rifles drawn and pointed towards the floor. At this point, escape looked impossible.

  She could feel her heart rate increasing in anticipation of what was about to happen. Her mind filled with terrible visions that refused to leave, no matter how hard she fought to control herself. She looked to Rissard, who was now eyeing her with the hint of a sinister smirk. Enrique, too, was watching her.

  “Did they hurt you?” he wanted to know.

  What a gentleman. She shook her head. “No, they didn’t touch me. Are you okay?”

  “Fine,” Enrique said. He didn’t look it. He nodded towards Rissard. “This guy hits like a little girl.”

  Rissard struck Enrique once again, worsening the heavy bruise that was blackening the right-hand side of his face. Enrique spat some more blood out on the floor.

  “I take that back; little girls are more committed.” Another punch followed.

  Don’t antagonise him, Enrique, Kelly thought, desperately. Rissard’s smirk had vanished.

  Enrique spat again and grinned back up at the Imperial commodore. “Is that the best you can do? The boys told me that even your mother likes it harder than that.”

  Rissard scowled, showing several perfectly aligned white teeth, and looked from Enrique to Kelly. He spoke a few more incomprehensible words, and one of the two soldiers next to her moved to a trolley, standing against a wall. It was laden with numerous medical instruments.

  Oh God, this doesn’t look good. Kelly was filled with a sudden, terrible, sinking feeling, but could do nothing except watch helplessly as the soldier removed a device and a number of capsules from the trolley. The device appeared similar to the gun-like object she had seen held by one of the soldiers in the cell she had passed. The capsules were brightly coloured, aglow with the yellow and red liquids that filled them. The solider loaded one of the maroon capsules into the device and then returned to where Kelly sat. The next moment, a gloved hand pushed her head hard to one side and something cold, flat and hard was pressed against her neck.

  “Hey, what you doing there?” Enrique said, sounding angry.

  Oh, hell! They’re going to do it! They’re going to do to me what they did to the rest of Ifrit’s crew! She saw the soldier who held her turn to Rissard and nod. Her eyes flew to Enrique’s, imploring him to help her.

  “Call him off!” Enrique glared at Rissard.

  Rissard turned back to Enrique. “I will as soon as you answer my question,” he said in a calm voice. “Now, tell me. Where are the ATAFs?”

  The ATAFs? He’s after the ATAFs! How does he know about them? Who told— The realization struck Kelly a second later. Hawke. He must’ve told them everything – about the ATAFs, about the Special Op
erations … about them; about the White Knights! That’s how they knew who they were looking for. That’s why they hadn’t been killed on the beach. And that’s why they were trying to get Enrique to talk; Rissard must also have been made aware of his big mouth. But what of Estelle, Dodds and Chaz? If they weren’t here, then they probably hadn’t been caught yet. They must still be alive.

  Enrique, however, had so far said nothing. Rissard drew close to him, bending down, his face only inches away. “Well? Are you going tell me?”

  Still, Enrique didn’t answer him. He kept his face straight and his mouth shut. Kelly saw how, even as close as Rissard was, Enrique didn’t take his eyes off her; though he looked as though he was struggling with maintaining his determination not to spill Confederation secrets, because of his concern for Kelly’s well-being.

  Kelly knew then that it was she who had to help him. She wasn’t worth more than what Rissard was after. And with an ever so slight shake of her head, she made her point.

  Enrique acknowledged it, before turning and looking Rissard directly in the eye. “No.”

  The commodore stared at him for a few seconds more, as if giving him a chance to change his mind, then drew himself back up. He turned to face Kelly’s chair and issued an order.

  Kelly heard what sounded like a tiny piston go off next to her ear, followed by a sharp prick in her neck. The soldier was injecting her! The short, sharp pain of the needle driving itself in was followed by an uncomfortable sensation, as the contents of the tiny capsule were forced into her neck. The job done, the soldier released her and stood back.

  For a moment, she felt nothing, save for a stinging sensation around where the liquid had been administered. A couple of seconds later, she started to feel quite hot, and a tingling feeling began to sprout within her toes. It followed to her legs, then her hands, through to her chest and up along her arms. It built within every part of her body, as though she was suffering from pins and needles. It was an irritation that made her want to break free of her shackles and shake it from her body. Soon enough, the tingling intensified, the pins transforming into daggers, a tremendous stabbing pain. She felt all the muscles throughout her body begin to tighten, as though they were being squeezed like a sponge. The squeezing was accompanied by what felt like a peeling of her skin and a burning of the vulnerable, tender flesh beneath. It felt like all at once her blood was boiling, that her whole body was aflame, and that she was being repeatedly punched and kicked in the gut. It was agony! She screamed out against the pain and pulled against her restraints, hoping that they might somehow break and free her from the torment. The chair hopped and rocked a minute amount, but held her fast.

  “Kelly! Kelly! What’s happening? What are you doing to her? KELLY!”

  She was dimly aware of Enrique’s cries between the continuous waves of pain, that crashed against her over and over. It felt never-ending. She tried to speak, but the words wouldn’t come.

  Dear God! Please, just kill me! I can’t stand this! Either stop it or kill me! Please!

  After what felt like an age, the pain began to subside, and a minute later she sat breathing heavily, her head bowed down on her chest. Sweat was rolling off her brow and dripping down onto her legs, the drops mixed in with her tears. She raised her head, catching her own reflection in a small mirror across the other side of the room. Her face was red and blotchy, as if she had burst a number of blood vessels. A rather apt appearance, she thought, after suffering an experience that felt as though she had been thrown into a cauldron of boiling oil. She finally faced Enrique, seeing the man seething with rage.

  “Kelly,” he began.

  “Stay … stay strong,” she managed, though she knew that seeing her this way was beginning to get to him. It was probably just what Rissard was after.

  To Enrique, Rissard said once more, “I will not ask you again – where are the ATAFs?”

  “Don’t … don’t tell them, Enrique,” Kelly breathed.

  Rissard regarded her with contempt, before focusing back on Enrique. “Answer me!” he spat, his eyes narrowing.

  Don’t, Kelly mouthed.

  Rissard waited for Enrique’s answer.

  “Go to hell, Rissard,” was all Enrique said.

  Rissard spun around and barked to the two soldiers by Kelly’s chair. The same soldier loaded another of the capsules into the device he held, and seconds later, Kelly felt her neck injected with another dose.

  She braced herself as the serum circulated around her veins, feeling, only a few seconds later, the searing pain once again coursing through her body. And although she tried not to, she screamed out, a combination of pain filled cries and desperate sobs. Even with her eyes shut tight, she was aware that Enrique was struggling against his restraints, hoping that something might pop loose and enable him to rescue her from the hell she was going through.

  A minute later, the pain was gone and she slumped down in the chair, tears streaking down her face.

  “Bastards …” she said, through the sobs.

  “Kelly—” Enrique started again.

  “NO!” Kelly said, hearing the pity in his voice. “No.”

  It became clear that Rissard was beginning to lose his cool. Whilst the other soldiers seemed indifferent and devoid of emotion, Rissard was full of it, and at this time ‘it’ was mostly anger. His eyes blazed as he looked from Enrique to Kelly, shouting at them to tell him what he wanted to know. Both pilots continued to sit in stone silence.

  “Very well,” he said. “Maybe this will loosen your tongue.”

  He gave another order, and one of the two rifle-wielding soldiers reached down to their belt and produced a knife. They threw it over to the second soldier standing by Kelly’s chair, the one not holding the syringe. He caught the knife smartly and then, with one hand, took hold of her head, holding her tight under the chin. With the other, he held the blade just beneath her right eye.

  Oh God! Kelly gasped and tried to move her head away, catching her cheek on the edge of the knife as she did so. She felt a warm sliver of blood begin to trickle from the tiny wound. The hand gripped her tighter and her eyes darted from Enrique to Rissard.

  “Cut her eye out,” Rissard said smoothly.

  “NO!” Enrique shouted.

  Kelly couldn’t help but scream, and screwed her eyes up tight as the soldier made to begin, tightening his hold about her face and applying his weight to keep her still. She could feel a sick sensation building in her stomach, as though she was going to vomit at any moment.

  “PLEASE, NO!” Enrique cried. “Please! I’ll talk! I’ll talk!”

  Rissard gave a command and the soldier’s grip relaxed. Kelly opened her eyes to see him pulling back.

  “I will give you one more chance,” the Imperial commodore said to Enrique. “And after that, if I am not satisfied, I will have the bitch’s eyes removed. Then her nose, her ears, her fingers, her hands, her breasts, her toes and her feet. And you will remain where you are the whole time, with your own eyelids cut off, so that you can see and hear everything.” He looked to Kelly. “And don’t worry about losing consciousness due to shock – we have the means to keep you awake the whole time.”

  Even with the threat of the knife still close, Kelly suddenly felt as though she was seeing through a feint. She didn’t know why, but she sensed that Rissard wasn’t about to hurt them; he needed them. She swallowed, her throat tight and her heart beating fast. “Enrique, don’t listen to him. He’s bluffing!”

  “I am, am I?” Rissard said. A command was barked and the knife was back. This time, however, the blade didn’t return to her eye. Instead, the soldier stuck the tip of the blade into her cheek and ran it slowly down her face, greatly lengthening the cut that already existed there. Kelly let out a silent scream, but nothing more. The blade wasn’t cutting deep, but the soldier was making a grand show of it nonetheless. Her other cheek followed. Another order was given, and the knife was once again before her eye, the tip mere centimetres away, h
eld almost perfectly straight, waiting to be plunged forward.

  “Okay! Okay! Stop!” Enrique’s voice came from beyond her obscured vision.

  Whether Rissard had once more ordered a halt, Kelly didn’t know; Enrique’s voice was all that she could hear and care for.

  “Listen, listen,” Enrique’s voice continued, sounding strained and desperate. “The ATAFs are aboard CSN Ifrit. It ditched into the sea about five or ten miles east of where you found us. They are sealed in the rear cargo hold. Commodore Hail, the ship’s captain, sent a distress call out to the Confederation before we landed. They will be here soon to pick them up.”

  Kelly tried to speak – to tell Enrique not to talk, to tell him to keep his mouth shut. But the words refused to come. The blade was so close to her eye that she could almost feel it being driven into the socket the moment she uttered a single word. Another command from Rissard and the soldier released his grip on her, finally moving away. The Imperial commodore’s expression relaxed, the man seeming more than satisfied with the answer that Enrique had given.

  You already knew, Kelly thought. You just wanted us to confirm it.

  “There,” Rissard said. “That wasn’t too hard now, was it?” He looked between Kelly and Enrique, but the two said nothing. “Now, next question—”

  Next question?

  “—where are the bombs?”

  “The bombs?” Enrique said.

  “The Tachyon Star Bombs.” Rissard growled. “The bombs that you filthy traitors are preparing to use against our beautiful nation!”

  Kelly met Enrique’s eyes, seeing, as she expected, that they were filled with confusion. Rissard then moved directly in front of Enrique, grabbing the armrests with his hands and staring into the man’s face.

  “Let’s not go through all this again. Where are they? Tell me!” he shouted.

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Enrique said, earnestly. “I’ve told you all I know.”