The Fifth Reich: Knight Squadron - Ambush: Book One

by J Palliser

  Ares figured that Jarro had probably been sitting there for the best part of the two hours he had spent speaking with Captain Amara, Jace Borne, and the leaders of Thula by holo-comm.

  I can't remember the last time I saw Jarro this depressed.

  He walked over to join the Major. Jarro acknowledged him with a nod, but barely took his eyes off Hanson's floating form in the tank.

  "How's he doing?" Ares asked, sitting on the bench beside him.

  "Is just as Neva said, nothing too serious. Some hypothermia, a concussion, and various cuts and bruises. He'll be out in a half hour or so."

  There was silence as the two friends stared into the depths of the tank. Ares leaned back against the wall, folding his arms across his chest. A grin blossomed on his face as a thought occurred to him. "How many times do you think we've sat by and watched him float like this?"

  Jarro turned his head towards Ares and managed a faint smile in return. Hanson had amassed quite the reputation for the amount of time he had spent floating in Loraca, mostly because no one could crash a ship like he could. At one point, a pharmaceutical company had even offered him a great deal of money to endorse their product. "I don't know. Too many times to remember."

  "Yeah, and with much worse injuries than this." Ares looked at the back of Jarro's head. "What is it about this time that has got you so worked up?"

  Jarro sighed and then remained silent for a few moments. He seemed to be ordering his thoughts before answering. "He's my wingman, and I am responsible for his safety. I let a Interceptor get past me to him. If I had been faster, if I had got the Interceptor, then he would be okay. Shit, it's my fault that he's even out here in the first place!"

  "I think there's more to it than that, Jarro. I think that you're transferring your guilt of Aiden's situation onto Hanson."

  Jarro looked over his shoulder at Ares, confused. "How did you plot that course?"

  "Whether we realize it or not, the four of us are very protective of each other, especially Aiden. We've been friends for years, through thick and thin. Aiden has stood by us, me especially, when no one else would. If it wasn't for him, I would've been drummed out of the military and would be piloting a freighter somewhere in the Rim Worlds. We've all had our troubles, but we've always been there for each other. This time we weren't there for Aiden, and it's eating away at us. You especially."

  "Why me especially?" Jarro asked. Ares noticed he wasn't denying what he had said.

  "Because I know that ever since you left the Knights you feel, deep down, like you've abandoned Aiden. So now you're taking a lot of the blame on yourself for his disappearance. Beating yourself up over Hanson's injuries is just the latest symptom, insubordination being another. That isn't like you, Jarro." Ares sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. "What you have to understand is that you're not the only friend that Aiden has. And none of us could have prevented this from happening."

  Ares patted him on the back, but Jarro just hung his head. "We all want to bring him back safe, Jarro. The burden isn't yours alone to shoulder. As for Hanson, he would have come, with or without you."

  Jarro leaned back against the wall and rubbed at his eyes with his fingers. He sighed again and turned to look at Ares with dark rimmed eyes. But the troubled look that had been there over the last couple of days seemed to have faded somewhat.

  "You're right." He gave Ares a tight smile. "Hanson would have come without me and I without him. And as for Aiden, I think I have been blaming myself for what happened to him and the fact that I wasn't there to save him. It's just that he's always seemed to face insurmountable odds and come out the other end in one piece. To have something like this happen seems so... so..."

  "Wrong."

  "I guess."

  Ares looked towards Hanson again, struggling with his own guilt over the situation. "Jarro, I know where Aiden is."

  Startled, Jarro spun to face him. "What?! How did you find out? How long have you known?"

  "I got a message from Ru Larado a couple of hours ago. Aiden is being held by a Prefect in the Artemis System. Once we meet up with the Prometheus at Thula, we'll be on our way to a rendezvous with her. This ship and the Pioneer will be joining us."

  Jarro sagged with relief, as if the burden of responsibility he had been carrying around for the last few days had been lifted from his shoulders.

  Just then the technician on the other side of the Loraca tank moved over to them. "It's time for him to come out of the tank."

  Jarro was on his feet, suddenly full of his old energy. "Well, let's do it, then."

  Ares just shook his head.

  ***

  By the time the Abraxas returned to Artemis III, Omar Samra still didn't know what he was going to tell Prefect Tanweer. He traveled down to the Prefect''s palace in his shuttle, knowing full well that he may not leave the palace alive. He had seen what Tanweer was capable of and how she reacted to failure.

  One thing that Samra had decided was that being submissive seemed the best way to go. If Tanweer could feel that she had power over him, then maybe she would let him live, if only to toy with him. If not, he was sure he had something to offer her that would make him indispensable enough to preserve his life. He always had plans to fall back on in times like these. It was the only reason he had been able to rise to the position that he was in.

  But he hated to waste such a large 'favor' this way. He had spent years gathering incriminating facts about all kinds of people in the Empire. He had used such a tactic to acquire the use of the Cruiser that had been an integral part of Tanweer's plan to capture Hunt. And now he might have to use another piece of blackmail material to secure his own life, and for a failure that could not possibly have been his fault.

  He entered her chambers, and she was there waiting for him. She stood by her window, looking out onto the monument that she had spent the last six years planning and building. She wore the uniform of a Khawarij Prefect, tailored to accentuate her pleasing figure.

  Samra fell to his knees at her feet, hanging his head penitently.

  "Well? Have you destroyed Knight Squadron?"

  "I have not, your Excellency. When we ambushed them, two Thula cruisers appeared from gravity-drive and drove the Abraxas off."

  He braced for the blow that he knew would come, but was still knocked to the floor with the impact of her hand on his face. He looked up at her to see her face blood red with fury.

  "You let them drive you off with two cruisers? You are in command of a Jinn-class Destroyer, not a transport ship. You should have crushed them!"

  "I thought it best to withdraw before..."

  "You did not think at all! You have let Hunts' comrades escape, and they'll undoubtedly know where we are after they identify my ship. You may have ruined months, if not years, of planning!"

  "I am sorry, your Excellency."

  "I am afraid that is not going to work this time, Omar. If it weren't for the fact that I would not be able to replace you quickly enough, I would have you killed where you stand. I would torture you if I didn't think that you would enjoy it." Tanweer's chin came up as she took on a truly Imperial posture. "Return to the Abraxas and remain there. I will have to re-evaluate your worthiness to govern here by my side. I will also have to consider whether to let you participate in the ceremony or not. Think about that as you circle overhead."

  Samra climbed to his feet and wiped the blood from his lip with the back of his hand. He looked her in the eye, no longer wearing an expression of timidity. As he suspected, he would need to sacrifice one of his favors in order to retain his position of power. "Do not send me away, Natal."

  "And why not? You obviously have nothing to offer me."

  "Oh, but I do. I can guarantee that your plan to kill Hunt cannot fail."

  "How? You had your chance and you let it slip through your fingers."

  "I will obtain another Destroyer to add to the Abraxas."

  She laughed at him, but he kept his expression solemn. "Yo
u are serious? I wasn't aware that you had a Destroyer hidden away."

  "I do not. But I know someone who does. And he will give it to me."

  She took a step forward and placed her hand on his cheek. "If you can do that for me, Omar, I may just forgive you for letting Knight Squadron live."

  She kissed him.

  23

  XXII

  Wulf and Duke managed to make planet-fall on Artemis III without incident. For an Khawarij world, the security didn't seem to be tight at all. Perhaps because most everyone on the planet was trying to get off the surface, not onto it.

  The two men had traveled together under the cover of out-of-work mechanics. As both of them were rather handsome and distinctive, Wulf had done his best to make them into the stereotypical mechanic. They had managed to stain their hands with oils and hydraulic fluids, giving them the appearance of having spent a lifetime inside machines. They wore baggy overalls which were as stained, if not more so, than their hands. Duke, the Vipers part-time mechanic, had gathered up some appropriate tools and materials for them to pack into their bags in case they were searched, and Wulf had agreed that if they were questioned about anything technical, Duke would do all of the talking.

  But they had cleared customs without any problems and waited in a rather seedy transit lounge for their first contact with Ru Larado. They kept their eyes open since the only way they could recognize her visually was from a rather blurry static holo that had been included in their hastily compiled briefing notes. It looked to Wulf like it had been a frame captured from a holographic message, but he couldn't be sure. It was out of focus just enough that he hoped she would recognize them.

  Should Ru be unrecognizable, she could reveal herself with a pass-code that General Marcks had given them, and they in turn would have to give the proper response. The phrases themselves gave Wulf a pretty good idea what her cover identity would be.

  There were several other people sitting in the lounge, none of which he would want to meet in a dark alley. They sat there for over half an hour before Ru made her appearance, and she didn't look anything like the holo. Her auburn hair was straggly, looking very much like it needed to be washed. She wore an extremely tight blouse in a shade of yellow that was offensive to the eyes, and her cleavage was just as hard to miss. The skirt was so short that she had to pull at it before she sat, and if she just happened to bend over, the surprise would've been over as well.

  Sitting down beside Duke, she placed her left hand on his knee. "You look like the kind of man who knows what to do with his hands." She smiled expectantly at him, and he smiled back.

  Her hand began to slide further up towards his thigh, but he quickly took it in his and looked into her eyes. "Is there somewhere we can go to get better acquainted?"

  "There sure is, handsome. You can even bring your friend. I know someone he might like."

  "Lead the way." He put an arm around her waist and picked up his satchel with his free hand. Wulf followed closely behind them, surreptitiously glancing from side to side to see if anyone was paying an inordinate amount of attention to them. He couldn't see anything suspicious, but from past experience knew that meant little, especially in an environment that he wasn't accustomed to.

  Once they made it out into the streets of Jamara, Ru picked up the pace. Duke and Wulf did their best to keep up with her as she threaded her way through a market and several back alleys. Finally they made it to a cantina with a picture of a protocol droid doing what looked like an awkward jig painted on the front. Wulf could read The Watering Hole in faded lettering in Terran and several other languages.

  They made their way through the crowded cantina to a back room. To the side of that room was a door hidden behind a curtain, leading to a secret chamber. Within were scattered chairs, a small wooden table, and discarded wrappers of ration bars.

  "It's safe to talk here. It's swept daily for listening devices," Ru said as she slipped a dark tunic over her garish blouse.

  Duke sat down heavily on one of the chairs, dumping his bag on the floor beside him. "You know, when you first sat down beside me in that lounge, I really thought you were coming on to me. You don't look anything like your holo."

  "I thought that was the whole idea. Don't they teach you Intelligence boys anything anymore?"

  Wulf sat down beside Duke and leaned on the table. "You'll have to forgive his stupidity. We've been on the move for the last twenty-four hours. We'll try to make a better impression after we've eaten and gotten some sleep."

  "All right. I'll give you boys a couple of hours to get yourselves together. But after that we have to get some serious planning done. I have to leave to meet with Ares and the gang in six hours, and I want you guys to get some work done while I'm gone."

  "You mean we aren't going to be in on the planning with the Knights?"

  "Actually, I wasn't even going to tell them that you're here. I didn't think they'd care."

  Duke winced. "Ouch, I'm glad you're on our side."

  "Then you had better get some sleep, hotshot, because I haven't even started yet."

  ***

  A thin lipped smile on her face, Natal Tanweer stood at her window and watched as Aiden's Valkyrie was lowered into place in front of and below the huge black monument. It was exactly as it had been when it had been captured by the Abraxas. Even the mech-droid was in its slot, deactivated. Soon she would complete the memorial to her sons by adding the finishing touch: the man who had murdered them. Aiden Hunt.

  She had been so proud when her sons, Abdul and Saheim, had graduated top of their classes from the Military Academy on Mukalla. Their first real assignments had been on the Prophet's Destroyer, the Lucifer. It was ironic that they had both been assigned to the same Destroyer.

  She had been on the Abraxas when the news of the Prophet's death at Khondor reached her. For weeks she could see her sons' faces as death took them. They haunted her in her sleep, and she could not escape their stare. She knew what they wanted. They wanted her to take revenge on the man who had killed them.

  Revenge on him.

  The then Commander Hunt had been paraded around the galaxy, hailed as a Hero of the Reich. The man who had killed the Lucifer and the Empire. The man who killed my future! She slammed her hand out of frustration against the wall to the left of the window. Her sons were to have been her legacy. They could have been greater than she could ever be; something for her to be proud of. They would have reached heights that she could never achieve, limited by her position and gender. And now all that she had was a deep hole within her, a void that, despite all she had accomplished, she could never fill.

  She watched as the Valkyrie settled into place, and she hoped that Hunt would be alert enough to understand his circumstances. She wanted to see every thought, every emotion cross his face as the air was removed from his cockpit and he slowly asphyxiated. And there he would stay, a symbol of the sacrifice her sons made for their Prophet.

  Her frustration faded as she thought about her impending moment of revenge. Her mind turned to Hunt and the agony she had inflicted on him over the last few days. That had served to quiet the voices of her sons as they cried out for revenge, but it was never enough. She would have to return to the interrogation chamber and exact some new form of suffering on Hunt.

  When a new manner of torture occurred to her, a cruel smile spread across her face. She picked up her comm and thumbed it on. "Lieutenant Hashir. Have your troopers escort Commander Hunt to chamber two-two-three."

  "As you will, Madame."

  With a last glance at the Valkyrie, she headed for her next and most satisfying "appointment" with the Commander.

  24

  XXIII