by Mark Iles
“Crystal, Commander. No offense but I’d like your sworn oath. It was me who found my wife. She’d been gutted, her organs had been removed, including both breasts… can you imagine finding the one person in the universe you’d ever loved like that, possibly ever understand the nightmares that I face each night, knowing that I wasn’t there for her when she really needed me, and to die that terrible death on her own? I wake some nights screaming her name. I feel her touch on my shoulder but when I turn there’s no one there. I can smell her perfume, even now, despite all these years that she’s been gone. It’s as though she’s still here, with me, waiting for me to take revenge for her. And I will, you mark my words.
“Oh yes, I’ll agree to wait, Commander. I’ll even smile, laugh and talk to him — share a beer or two, if need be. But there’s murder in my heart and, as I said, I want your oath that you will not stand in my way, once the mission is over.”
“You have my word, Ensign,” Selena replied, looking him in the eye. “I’ll be blunt. He’s a valued member of the team, as are you. But once this mission is over, I wouldn’t be at all unhappy to learn of his demise; in fact it would be a pleasure to hear of it. But it’s not to be linked to any other member of this team. Is that understood?”
“Perfectly, and you have my word in return.”
“Good. Now, while you’re here there’s another issue that needs addressing.”
Arthur sighed, his long fingers fluttering. “You can’t be serious…”
“Very much so; I’m giving you a battlefield promotion to Second Lieutenant. Your promotion to First Lieutenant was issued eighteen months ago, but it appears to have been mislaid due to the war. You have a lot of back pay coming, Lieutenant. Spend it well.”
Arthur grinned. “Oh, I will; thank you, Ma’am”.
When Arthur had left, Bryn closed the door behind him and looked at Selena, biting his lip.
“What is it?” she asked.
“I looked Za’an up. Do you know that when they finally arrested him, they found breasts, nipples, hands, feet, and ears in his flat — even a human head on his mantelpiece. Can you believe there were books bound in human skin in his bookshelves? His freezer was full of sliced human, his dinner so’s to speak. He’s one of those head-cases they should have executed, not sent to the regiments for us to deal with.”
“Be that as it may, his mind-set might just be the thing we need to get this job done. If Za’an loves killing, then this is the perfect mission for him. He has the chance to kill billions of the enemy, and to be frank I’ll be more than happy to hold his hand and laugh with him while he does so.”
* * * *
The expected rebel attack came two days later, in the twilight hours of the early morning. The first warning the base had was when the geostationary spy satellites exploded and all intel was lost. Even as the general alarm sounded, the perimeter alarms went off as swarms of armed rebels burst from the dark and mist-clad forest. It was immediately apparent that Muller had grossly underestimated their number, for there must have been at least a thousand Rebels and those ranks had been swollen even further by the villagers.
The citadel’s main weaponry was anti-ship Sun Beams, with short range point defence guns as back up; none of which could be used in the immediate vicinity without risking damage to the base itself. There were, of course, the usual motion and infrared self-defence weapons and manned turrets, and the citadel’s crenulations would provide the troops with some protection against ground fire. The rebels would have been expecting all of this, but what they hadn’t reckoned on was Arthur, who’d been playing around with and improving the defences.
Having looked at Loreen’s limited resources, Arthur had the moat drained and refilled with a water-like substance that was readily available in large quantities through production locally, though he’d changed its molecular structure somewhat. As the battle kicked off, with beams, bullets and other projectiles hammering at the citadel, Arthur watched from the screens on the Magellan’s bridge, as most of the attackers began to wade through the moat. When the citadel’s twin gates were hit by a missile, and one of them breached, he watched silently for a moment longer and then triggered a sonic code, changing an agent present in the moat and turning what the attackers thought of as water that smelt slightly of chemicals into a lethal acid that destroyed all organic matter. A mist rose as the moat started to bubble, and those caught in it began screaming horribly, as they were literally dissolved by the mixture, their screams turning to gargles as they sank into the steaming depths. Those who’d already struggled through it began to burn too, as the liquid soaking their clothing ate into and then through them. They stood and shrieked, tearing at their clothing and skins, while the troops simply shot them where they stood. Only those wearing gravpacks, and who’d skimmed over the surface, made it across safely. Seeing the plight of their fellows, those remaining on the far side of the moat turned about and hurried back into the shadowy safety of the forest.
Stunned as they were, the rebels and villagers who’d made it across safely, knew they were committed, and they did the only thing that they could; they dropped to the ground and shrugged off their packs, then charged across the remaining distance to the black gates. The attacking villagers had an amazing variety of weapons, from spears and bows and arrows to the occasional shotgun or rifle, but only the rebels themselves had anything really modern and designed for combat.
“What do you think, Commander?” Selena asked Muller, as they stood behind Arthur. “It’s your base.”
“Do it. Jones has dreamed up some pretty interesting stuff. Let’s just hope he doesn’t kill all of us while he’s at it.”
Arthur practically rubbed his hands with glee when Selena gave him the go ahead, as he sat next to Captain Kotes and made his next move. Small spinning silver spheres rose swiftly from their hidey holes in the ground amid the attackers, glittering like many-faceted gems. A rebel fired his weapon at one of them and the beam ricocheted, slicing through two of his comrades. Instantly, others fired and the rebels began to fall faster as their own beams slashed through them and took a terrible toll.
“Hold your fire, damn it!” one of their officers shouted, and after a few more shots their weapons fell silent.
“What the hell was that?” Kotes asked, looking at Arthur in astonishment.
“Deflector screens; instead of stopping the incoming fire, it reflects them at an angle.”
“So, why haven’t our ships got them?”
Arthur frowned as he looked back at Kotes, “Because a ship’s so goddamn big and such a device would take a lot of power. But I’m working on that one.” Turning away, he looked back into the screens. “And for my next trick...”
The manned self-defence guns locked onto the spheres and opened fire; their energy beams were scattered into thousands of smaller beams, which cut swathes through the enemy ranks. In utter panic, the rebels were unable to decide which way to turn and died where they stood. Those that tried to run were simply cut down by the troops hiding behind the protection of the crenulations atop the citadel walls. Then, as even more spheres rose, Arthur played his last card, and detonated them. The spheres exploded as one, the huge balls of fire and shrapnel cutting the enemy down. Even as the few survivors tried to climb back to their feet, clutching at their ears, eyes and wounds, the defenders swept out of the citadel gates. Muller had agreed to Selena’s suggestion that they carry only side arms; but most were holstered and the soldiers slipped their terrible two handed curved Japanese katana swords from the scabbards across their backs, yelling at the top of their voices as they charged towards the insurgents.
The colonists were kicked and punched to the ground, and any surviving rebels were slaughtered on the spot. Within minutes not one insurgent remained alive, while the colonists looked on in horror as their former allies were slaughtered, awaiting the worst. They bunched up, supporting their wounded comrades, or knelt, administering first aid; watching as the troops lined up b
efore them, silver blades gleaming and dripping with blood.
“I based that idea on an ancient explosive mine called the Bouncing Betty,” Arthur said cheerfully, glancing at Commander Muller, who was looking in disbelief at the devastation depicted on the screens. “In wars long ago they were planted in the ground and the unwary used to trip them, then the mines flew up to groin level and exploded. Full of ball bearings they were. I used the idea to create a similar trick here.”
“You’d think that would be illegal,” Muller muttered, still staring at the screens.
“It is,” Arthur admitted. “Mines like that were outlawed centuries ago. Still, needs must, as they say,” he replied, with a wicked grin.
As silence fell, Selena and the others left the ship and climbed to the citadel walls, where they peeped over the battlements. Apart from the gates damaged by the missile strike the black onyx-like citadel was unscathed. It had easily shrugged off the beams and bullets of the enemy, while shrapnel from the mines did hardly any damage at all. It had, after all, been designed to withstand far greater weapons than mines, bullets, and beams from hand weapons. The insurgents had obviously hoped to breach the stronghold through the gate and then swamp the defenders, winning by sheer numbers and using the civilians as cannon fodder. But they’d failed and by the look of it a great many people had lost their lives, some of them horribly. Selena glanced at the moat and shuddered. Then she looked at the display on her left forearm and accessed her statistics, as beside her the team rose to their feet.
“How many wounded have we got?” Bryn asked. “How many dead?”
Selena glanced at him, answering softly, “No major casualties, Lieutenant. Just a few minor wounds, that’s all, nothing serious.” They watched the lines of troops below them part in the middle, revealing one open gate and a damaged second. The colonists were disarmed and marched through the gates and lined up before a disused storehouse in the courtyard.
“Well, they sure got their arses kicked,” Za’an said, smiling and shaking his head in admiration as he looked down over the battlefield.
The colonists were given medical help and then put into the citadel’s cells, where they were left to sweat until the next day, without food or water. They talked in subdued whispers, wondering what fate had in store and what terrible deaths the soldiers in black had planned for them. They wept and cursed, ruing the day they’d been swayed by the promises of the insurgents and wishing that they could see their loved ones just one last time. Then, on the second day, the doors opened and trays of steaming food were brought in by robots and laid on their cell floors, pitchers of water and fruit juices were set beside this and the prisoners stared at both the robots and platters of food with distrust.
“It’s quite safe, I assure you,” Selena said, stepping from the shadows with two guards. She grasped the floor to ceiling iron bars and nodded towards the rations. “Eat, drink; you must be hungry.”
Nobody moved for a while and then one of the villagers approached and also took hold of the bars, with both hands next to hers. Selena didn’t even blink as his face closed to within inches from hers, a bitter twist to his lips. “That’s exactly the point, isn’t it? We wouldn’t be here now, if that wasn’t the case.”
“You should have spoken to the base commander, when you had the chance. It’s his job to ensure your welfare.”
“We did, and he didn’t.”
Then one of the prisoners walked over to the feast and, after staring down at it for a moment or two, he picked up a flask of cool fruit juice and began to drink. The juice spilled down the sides of his face but he never stopped drinking. Dropping the jug with a clatter he reached down and grabbed a hunk of meat and started to eat. There was a mad rush as his fellows followed suit, while their spokesman remained where he was, continuing to stare through the open bars at Selena.
“You,” she said, “what’s your name?”
“Franks.”
Muller stepped out of the shadows and sniggered. “Franks? Don’t mention it.” He looked at Selena with a grin that faltered as she returned his look, po-faced. He turned back to the colonist and said, “Dillon here and some of my men went to one of your villages a few days ago. They say it’s disgusting and that you live like pigs.”
Franks’ lips twisted even further and he snarled, “What the hell do you expect? Two of our previous crops failed and the current one won’t be ready for months, if it comes to anything. What limited supplies we have left are rapidly running out. We came to you asking for help time and again, and you just laughed at us and sent us away. The supply ships don’t come anymore, despite everything we offer them. The few that do arrive are yours, bringing supplies for your people only. What would you do, if your children were starving? We tried to reason with you, even begged for help, but you didn’t want to know. In the end we had no choice but to side with the rebels. It was that or watch our families die of starvation and disease.”
“And I bet,” Selena interrupted, “that the rebels told you that once they’d taken this base they’d bring in their own supply ships, with food for you. Am I right?”
“Yes,” Franks replied, coolly.
“Well, then I’m sorry to disappoint you but the rebels had no intention of holding onto this planet. They have few ships left, and little manpower to spare. Those insurgents were the sole survivors of a battle with the authorities, on a world many light years away. They lost, and their ship was damaged during their escape; that’s why they crashed-landed here. They would have abandoned you, leaving you to face the music on your own. But let’s put all that aside for the moment, I want to prove to you that things are going to change, and for the better.”
Franks smirked. “Oh, really? How?”
“Commander Muller, you’re under arrest.” Captain Kotes said, stepping out of the shadows to face the base commander, whose face blanched as he stepped back away from Kotes. “As the senior officer present, it’s my duty to inform you that you are hereby relieved of your command.”
“What?” Muller bellowed. “Says who?”
“I do, and if that isn’t good enough for you, here’s a signed copy of the authorisation from Commodore Van Pluy, Penal Special Operations and Sector Intelligence.”
Muller snatched the order from Kotes and read through it. He sucked his cheeks in, making a hissing sound between his teeth. “This can’t be right!”
“Oh, it is,” Selena replied coldly, “very right, as it happens. Read the good bit first, about you being reduced in rank with immediate effect. So, Lieutenant Muller, like the man said, you’re under arrest. Guards, take him away.”
Four men appeared, cuffed him and dragged the protesting man away, leaving Kotes and Selena alone to face the colonists. There was a deathly silence for a while, as Franks looked on in disbelief. Then he asked: “Okay, so what’s the deal? You won the battle and by letting us live you obviously want something from us, but what? We don’t have much to offer, as I’ve told you.”
Selena stared at him for a long time. Then she said simply, “Oh, but you do. You have a lot more to offer than you can imagine. We, the Penal Regiments, want Loreen.”
“What?” The colonists behind Franks gasped.
“Shut the hell up,” Franks bellowed, turning to those behind him. Eyes widening he turned back to face Selena and said more softly, “What do you mean, exactly?”
With a gesture from Selena one of the guards opened the door and Selena entered the cell, while Franks noted she’d left the door open deliberately. She sat down on one of the bunks, picked up a mug and poured herself some fruit juice. Then she raised her eyes to meet his and took a sip of the cool, sweet dark liquid and licked her lips. “It’s quite simple, really; the Penal Corps need a place to call home. As I expect you know, we haven’t one anymore, none of us do. As part of our punishment for being former bad guys our homeworld citizen rights have been revoked. We can never return to where we came from, which means finding a home elsewhere. So, where do we go wh
en we’ve finished our service? Let’s face it; we’re persona non-grata just about everywhere throughout the Federation. Despite what our contracts say, people will always look at us and know who we are. It’s in our faces, our actions, our looks and in—actions. Think about it.
“Then think about this, too. In return for granting us citizenship you’ll get the best fighting force the Federation has ever known, and a damned good space fleet into the bargain, as we do have a lot of ships. All we want in return is automatic Loreen citizenship for the entire Penal Regiments; past, present and future. We’ll police your planet. We’ll employ you, feed you, protect you; and most important of all, you and your families will have a purpose and a future. Something most of humanity is lacking at present.”
“But there are thousands of you!” someone protested from behind Franks.
“That’s right,” Selena agreed, her ice-blue eyes never leaving their leader. “But this is a huge planet, even if a lot of it is ocean. If need be, we can build cities under the sea, even a floating spaceport. Another thing to consider is that, yes there are indeed thousands of us, but where will we be spending our pay checks?”
“What about yesterday morning?” Franks asked, quietly.
“What about it? We were attacked by terrorists, rebels, all of whom were killed in the fighting. Sadly, it appears that some of the colonists were also killed, helping us defend ourselves. Naturally, they’ll be duly honoured, and compensation will be paid to their families. You’re free to go now, all of you. Talk about it among yourselves and discuss it with the other settlements. Let us know when you’ve made a decision, and we can talk further.”
“Why should we trust you?”
“Because you know that we could kill you right now, if we wanted to. But a long time ago my mother had a saying, Committing an injury puts you below your enemy; taking revenge makes you even with him; forgiving him sets you above. Now, we forgive your people; will you forgive us in turn and work with us?”
