Bleak - The First Mission

by Ian Martyn

When Bleak came too he tried to sit, then flopped back down, agony again racking his body. As he lay trying not to black out again he studied the man on the floor next to him. He was unconscious but at least he was alive. Taking a slow, shallow breath and preparing this time Bleak hauled himself, using his good arm, onto one of the pod’s seats. He sat for a few seconds doing his best to damp down the spikes of pain. When he thought he could cope he opened his eyes and checked the displays. They were now more than a hundred thousand clicks from where they’d started. Bleak nudged their direction towards where the Confederation fleet had first appeared and changing the distress call to Confederation codes he activated the locating beacon. Finding the medi-pack Bleak injected himself with painkillers then immobilised his shoulder which would allow his bodies enhanced healing properties to get to work. The bleeding from the wound in his leg had stopped. It was deep and had severed muscle, but had avoided any major arteries. He slapped an emergency dressing over the congealed blood. Turning his attention to the unconscious rating, the sensor told him the man was weak, but stable. It suggested putting him into deep coma, so that’s what Bleak did. He then consumed half the emergency food supplies. His body needed the energy to heal.

  Three days later he was picked up by a Confederation scouting vessel. After a brief examination Niias had him transferred to The Pride of Metrakis where he was taken to the medical unit. When the doctor had left the room Bleak noted the guard outside and security that meant there was no way he could leave without permission. An hour later Niias appeared.

  ‘I’m honoured, sir,’ Bleak said. The general frowned, trying to decide if Bleak was being sarcastic or not. With the relaxation of his features and the half smile he presumed the general was accepting his remark as genuine.

  ‘I thought I should tell you, that your mission was a success. Of course only a handful of people know you were there, or even that you exist.’ The general grinned as he remembered. ‘It was really quite spectacular. As Koerreg’s ship spun out of control one of the starboard engines exploded, destroying half of the vessel and taking out two of the escort with it. The debris from the resulting explosions then destroyed five other ships. The subsequent confusion made it easy for us to punch through the rebel line with devastating results. What was left of the rebel fleet then scattered. I now have squadron’s quartering the sector, mopping up any pockets of resistance they come across. If I had my way we’d simply destroy every ship we encounter, but it seems our Lords and Masters want to negotiate their surrender.’ The general was about to say more, when it was as if he realised who he was talking too. Instead he fixed Bleak with a look that made him feel uncomfortable. He could almost see the man’s mind working, wondering what to do with him.

  Bleak’s thoughts went back to Admiral Koerreg and the other men he had trained and lived with. But as regrets surfaced, they were difficult to hold on to, drifting away like smoke on the breeze. He presumed that was his Prime Directive asserting itself. As the words entered his head he again believed that his actions, though costing the lives of thousands had saved many more. He relaxed. ‘What about the rating.’

  ‘Recovering. Why did you bring him with you?’

  Bleak shook his head, he wasn’t sure. ‘It seemed the right thing to do.’

  The general grunted in response, then turned to leave.

  ‘Your holding me prisoner,’ Bleak said, a statement not a question.

  ‘For your own good,’ the general said as he left the room. Somehow Bleak suspected it was anything but.

  As soon as they entered orbit around the Metrakian system’s gas giant, Tritoron, Bleak was transferred to a shuttle. For the journey to Metrakis and then on the planet itself Bleak saw no one other than the two guards that accompanied him. Having said he saw even them was stretching it. Whenever they were with him they were armed and in fully body armour complete with visors that were opaque from the outside. On Metrakis he had no idea where they were taking him. The compartment of the vehicle they travelled in had no windows. The guards told him nothing, other than when to get to up, where to go and when to sit back down. It was with some relief that the first thing he did recognise was Professor Morran’s suite of laboratories. As they entered the professor was waiting for them.

  ‘You can leave,’ the professor said to the guards, who hesitated as if thinking about it.

  ‘We’ll be outside,’ one of the guards said.

  ‘Lie down, Bleak,’ the professor said as the door closed.

  ‘What’s hap…’ Bleak started, stopping when the professor pressed a finger to his own lips.

  The professor then turned to a display. ‘That should do it,’ he said when he looked up, ‘but we haven’t got long.’

  Bleak sat up. ‘What’s going on, Professor?’

  Professor Morran busied himself with what Bleak recognised as a scanner that the professor had used on him in his early days. ‘I used the excuse that I need to run diagnostics on you to get you back here. That understanding what effects the mission might have had on your mind might be important. Whether it, together with the Prime Directive, had raised any conflicts as it did with the type twos.’

  ‘And the real reason?’

  The professor nodded towards the door. ‘To get you away from them. To help you if I can, although I’m not sure what I can do, Bleak.’

  Bleak registered the concern in the professors frown. ‘I’m sorry, professor, I don’t understand.’

  The professor looked up and put a hand on Bleak’s arm. He gave him an apologetic smile. ‘Of course you don’t, they’ve had you shut away. Since you were taken on board Niias’s ship the Confederation have been negotiating the rebel’s surrender. Final settlement is expected any day.’

  ‘Surely that’s good? But I don’t see what that has to do with me.’ As he said it he could see the lines deepen on the professor’s face, the sadness in his eyes.

  The professor sighed. ‘With an end to the rebellion, they won’t need your special services, Bleak. He hesitated and took a deep breath. ‘They won’t need you, Bleak. Worse than that, you’ll be a potential embarrassment just waiting to happen. They’ll want to deny that you, or anything like you ever existed. They’ll want to terminate you.’

  Bleak shook his head as if it would help clear the confusion that was fogging his mind. ‘Surely, no, professor. I…’

  ‘Bleak, you have to believe me. Remember you’ve been engineered to perform specific tasks. That engineering extends to your mind, your thoughts, your beliefs.’ The professor took hold of both Bleak’s shoulders. ‘This is no lie, Bleak, no trick.’

  Bleak could see in the professor’s eyes the truth of what he was telling him. He felt his heart beating faster in his chest, a reminder of a life that they now aimed to deprive him of. He had believed, that when it was over he would be given a life. That there was a future for him, that his continued existence was a given. It had never occurred to him to doubt it. But it seemed those false beliefs had been burned into his mind along with everything else that made him function. After all, how could they rely on him if he had any concerns that that would not be the case?

  Bleak stared at the professor. Even though logic, and the events of the last few days, told him told it was true, the idea was like water in his hands, impossible to hold on to. He shook his head trying to block out the denials that kept returning to his thoughts. ‘So what now?’

  The professor shook his head. ‘I’m not sure, Bleak. My plan, such as it was, didn’t go much further than finding a reason to have you brought back to me. Now, I must go and report some of my findings, along with further reasons to keep you here. When I come back we’ll try to think of something.’

  Bleak nodded in numbed response. When the professor had left the room he lay back on the bench, the conflict still raging in his mind. He tried to focus on the professors words. He was the only person he had ever really trusted, or was t
hat an implanted belief as well?

  ‘Bleak, Bleak!’ Bleak woke, for a second unsure where he was. Then the reality of everything the professor had told him came rushing back. ‘Bleak!’ It was the professor’s voice in his head. It was a communication method that hadn’t been used since his first forays into the world outside the laboratory on his own. When the professor had used it to guide him through any social situations that he was having difficulty with in those early days.

  ‘Professor?’

  ‘Bleak, you have to leave. The rebels have signed their surrender.’

  ‘Professor, how, I…’

  ‘Bleak, there are guards on the door you entered by. However, there’s a service door at the back of the room. I’ve disabled the security for thirty seconds, any longer and they’ll notice.

  ‘But, professor…’

  ‘Just run, Bleak. Run!’

  I hope you enjoyed this prequel.

  Bleak’s story continues with:

  Bleak

  The story of a shapeshifter

  Available on Kindle from Amazon

  https://smarturl.it/Bleak

  www.martynfiction.com

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Ian Martyn lives in Surrey in the United Kingdom. Following a degree in Zoology he spent thirty years working in the pharmaceutical industry. On leaving to become a consultant he was determined to complete and publish those science fiction stories that he had started and were rattling around in his head. You can find more about Ian Martyn and his writing on his web site: www.martynfiction.com.

  Also by Ian Martyn:

  Bleak the story of a shapeshifter

  Ancestral Dreams: The Return

  Project Noah

  Collection of short stories:

  Dancing With The Devil - Ten science fiction and fantasy short stories of the weird and wonderful for those pressed for time