by P W Hillard
“I think so,” Sergei said. “Give me a second.” There was a noise audible over the still open line, a sort of clattering like someone was digging about in a kitchen drawer. “Right, I have an employee access code, transmitting it now.”
A light flashed green on the hull, nearly imperceptible against the ship's bulk. The cargo doors slid open, bright light from within pouring out into the birth. It looked like a yawning portal, a glowing chasm into some other dimension.
“Looks like it worked,” Xander said.
“Glad to hear it,” Sandhu said. “What’s the plan now? We were going to head to where our own ship is docked, but it’s not as flashy as this one…”
“You want a ride, right? Rather than wait around for the jump ship?”
“If it doesn’t fuck you up at all.”
“It’s no problem, I’m not entirely sure where we go from here. Or how we go from here, honestly. My ship experience is pretty basic. I don’t know about the rest of you, but this looks beyond my skill level.”
“We've got you there,” said a voice on the radio. It was Mikal. Despite his aggressive method of doing it, he had delivered on his promise. He and his pirates had spent the best part of a week holed up in various buildings on the climber. It hadn't seemed worth restraining him anymore, and attitudes to the pirate had cooled in that short time. Everyone still thought he was an arsehole, just one who held to his word. “Me and the lads, well, we're a bit fucked ain't we. Our own ship is locked up, and I can't imagine the other crews, or Black Rose, are going to be best mates with us now."
“He’s got a point,” Anya said.
“We’ll crew this beauty, get her up and flying. It’ll be a right pleasure an all, this is a nice bit of work.”
“Fine,” Xander said. “Let’s just get everyone aboard and get the hell out of here. This has been the road trip from hell. I’ll be glad when we’re out of here, and nothing else can go wrong.”
***
Xander watched the data upload flow in from the buoy. A ship had passed through, depositing an updated file, fresh news and financial information spreading through known space like a virus. Xander had his hands in his head, fingers in his hair, despair across his face. He had known it was a close-run thing, but the orbital strike had cost him everything. He had a handful of credits to his name.
What was worse, was the business news. The headline sat on the screen before him, the light from the glass throbbing almost angrily. “Heliustech collapses, as audit unveils massive unreported debts." Everything about this job had been a nightmare from the start. In hindsight, it was obvious. The brand-new jump capable ship, the underbid mission, the inability to provide more support. The corporation had been on its last legs. According to the article, they had shuttered the same day Xander and his comrades had set out on their journey. It had all been for nothing. No-one would get paid, all the death and destruction done in Heliustech's name had been pointless.
“Fuck,” Xander said, not for the first time.
“Yeah, fuck,” Anya said. She was stood behind Xander, reading the article over his shoulder. They were in the ship's bridge, a massive chamber covered with consoles. Mikal was sat in the captain's chair, directing his pirates as they drove the ship onwards across space, getting enough distance between them and the planet to jump away. Even with the pirates working, there was still plenty of free stations, the ship designed for a much larger crew.
“So, you’ve seen the news then?” Tamara had strolled over, her tablet in her arms. The same news article was visible on the device. “I think maybe this is a good time to talk about my idea.”
“Your idea?” Xander said.
“Yeah, I’ve already spoken about it to Sergei, as well as Mitch and Trevor. We had a feeling something like this might happen. You tend to get a nose for these things, working news.”
“Nice of you to warn us.”
“Would it have made a difference?”
Xander swivelled his chair around. “No, I suppose not. What’s this idea then?”
“Probably best to gather everyone.” Tamara swiped across her tablet. A floorplan for the Sunchaser appeared, downloaded from the ship's database. “There's a meeting room here.” Tamara touched the screen, the room highlighting in blue.
***
“This is…a good idea, I think,” Xander said. He leant back in the chair, letting the cushion take his weight. It felt good, the meeting room was incredibly plush, no expense spared on it. That was a recurring theme throughout the ship, the expensive jump ship seemingly came with luxuries as standard.
“She has a point,” Matthias said. Xander ignored him, the AI seemed to dip in and out, switching between total silence and constant chatter.
“I like it,” Meg said. She was also leaning back in the chair, her hands behind her head.
“Agreed,” Alexi added. He was smiling wide, the idea clearly pleased him.
Anya just nodded.
“Well, that seals it then. It'll have to be a joint venture. Our contracts have a limit we can claim on defaulted debt. It'll take the three of us to claim everything. And I want Meg to be an equal owner as well. It feels fair.”
“No disagreement here,” Anya said. “She fought as hard as all of us for this.” The rest of the table nodded in agreement.
“Well, seems like everything is agreed then. I’ll draw up the paperwork,” Tamara said.
“What’s in this for you?” Meg leant forwards suddenly, her chair rocking.
“I can’t go back to Hades News Network now, that would mean going back into an active war.”
“There’s war everywhere, we’ve all seen the reports by now.” Meg reached forward, picking up a glass of water. Tamara had taken the time to lay them out, setting up the meeting room as she was used to. It was far more formal than any of the mercenaries had expected. “Seems Black Rose really wasn’t lying. They’ve stoked war across the Iron Belt, appearing on a dozen different planets.”
“The Iron War,” Xander said. “That’s what the news is calling it.”
“Well, Iron War or not, being with you lot seems safer than not. Besides, I can bring a little something extra. Good PR, no-one else uses it. I think we can use footage to make webcasts, they put our name out there, and make us money. A unique business model.” Tamara grinned from ear to ear. It didn’t suit her. “Sergei and I run the numbers, the business side, all the promotion and contracting. You lot do the real hard stuff. We fight the corporate battles, you do the real ones.”
“I do hate doing all the contract paperwork,” Alexi said waggling his finger.
“Fine,” Xander said. He stood up, it felt like the right thing to do. “If we’re going to do this, we need a name. We’ve got everything else if we submit the debt claims through the guild. A ship, mechsuits, and whatever liquid cash we can sell that lost tech for. We just need to name ourselves.”
“Paladins,” Matthias said. “You should be the Paladins.”
“Paladins,” Xander said. He didn’t disagree with the AI. The Paladin mech had been destroyed, but it had gone down in a blaze of glory, ultimately saving everyone. It deserved to be remembered. “It’s what that lost tech suit was called.”
“How the hell do you know that?” Anya said, her eyebrow arched.
“It was in the bottom of the HUD,” Xander lied. “We owe that thing.”
The rest of the assembled mercenaries nodded. Personifying suits was a long tradition, and they wouldn’t be the first to take their name from one.
“Seems we’re in agreement. The Paladins. Welcome to a brand-new mercenary company, I guess. No more freelancing.”
***
There was a hiss as the tube slid open, revealing the figure within. They were unclothed, though they didn’t care, modesty not present in their mind. Connections shot free from the ports on their head, the cables retracting back into the tube as they stepped out from within.
The person was male, average height with oddly pale skin
. They were totally bald, not a single hair anywhere on their bodies. They simply marched forward, presenting themselves to a woman holding a tablet.
She was clothed, wearing a simple all-black jumpsuit. Her long auburn hair was tied into a bun, and silver-framed spectacles rested on her nose.
“Everything seems in order,” she said, inspecting the nude man. “Take a right, join the intake queue to receive your supplies.”
The man nodded, before leaving through the doorway, striding past a row of identical tubes.
“Bring in the next,” the woman shouted.
A door slid open behind her, two more near-identical bald men appearing through it, though these were clothed in black jumpsuits identical to the woman with the tablet. Woven upon the chest of the jumpsuits was an embroidered image of a rose. The men were dragging a third person with them, their arms locked through theirs. This third person was thrashing about, trying to break free of his captors’ grip.
The prisoner lacked any clothes, their head shaved to the scalp. Blood trickled from their skull, the wetware implants still fresh. He struggled as he was pulled forward, but felt weak, the anaesthetic still not fully worn off. He was bundled into the tube, clamps locking around his wrists and feet.
The two other men reached up, pulling cables down and connecting them into the wetware ports hammered into the prisoner’s skull. Happy with their work, they stepped back, the tube sealing shut, muffling the pained screams of the person within.
“Thank you, gentlemen,” the woman said, tapping at her tablet. “Starting processing. We’ll need a lot more of you before we’re done.”
The Heroes of Hades
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The Void Beyond- Sample Prologue
A wail rang out, the piercing tone of metal being torn away, shredded by malefic talons. Mor’keth cowered behind his station, his hands clasping the sides of his head, his thin auburn fur sneaking through his thick fingers. He shook, rocking back and forth, tears streaming from his eyes, trickling around his stubby snout.
The noise stopped, the snarling creature vanishing from the camera before him, trailing off beyond Mor’keth’s limited view. He peered over the console, summoning all his bravery to do so. The bulkhead he had slammed behind himself had a cluster of thin gashes dug into it, the results of the nightmare thing pursuing him struggling to get in. He let out a long sigh of relief. The door had held, for the time being at least.
He stood up, puffing out his chest in a false display of bravado. There was no-one else in the command centre. No-one else alive at least. Mor’keth was trying his best not to look at them, to avoid his gaze settling on the mangled limbs or self-inflicted gunshot wounds. His impromptu sign of courage was for himself. Salve for a wounded spirit.
He placed one foot on the small step, pulling himself around behind the lectern that held his console in a swinging motion. Gravity was lower than he had expected. The engines must be losing power, he thought. It was too late to do anything about that now, and far beyond Mor’keth’s knowledge anyway.
He pressed one palm to the console’s touchscreen, and it sprang to life. At least this is still working. Mor’keth’s hand danced across the screen, checking status indicators and loading protocols. Satisfied, he pressed the transmit button.
“This is Junior Communications Engineer Keth, third born for the Mor family. Currently in command of Her Radiant Grace. As far as I’m aware I am the sole survivor of the crew. We have failed in our mission. There is no safe worlds out here, no colonies to settle. There is only death and horror. We were fools, we should have listened to the Speakers. They warned us not to leave our solar system, to fly beyond the grace of the Eternal Mother. They were right.”
His hands pressed another set of icons, a small loading bar appearing beneath the oscillating wave of his recording message.
“Alert!” screamed an automated voice. “Reactor shielding failed on deck seven. Commencing radiation spillage procedure. Bulkheads closing.”
“Out here, in the void, beyond Her light, there is only blackness. Not just the blackness of space, but of being. As I talk something stalks our ship, the blood of my crew dripping from its talons. I…don't know where we are. Our ship is far off course. I pray by Her light that this message returns home, somehow.” Mor’Keth rubbed the sides of his head. He knew, deep down, that it could take centuries to reach home. "Look, I know that maybe, by the time this reaches you, it will be too late. Another ship launched, another crew lost. I just hope that maybe, by some miracle this stops someone, anyone, coming out here. The dead do not sleep easy in the void beyond Her light. I have included recordings of everything. Please, no matter how unbelievable it may seem, understand, that this is the truth."
Mor’Keth pressed the icon to send the message, and immediately authorised the transmission. The long flowing script of his people flared onto the screen, informing him of its successful sending.
***
The handgun felt heavy, its large handle and trigger designed for use with a vacuum suit meant it was much larger than the one Mor’Keth had trained with. He barely carried his normal sidearm these days, or at least, he didn’t before the nightmare he had endured. Some of the other crew had taken to carrying their guns openly again after the first sightings. They had been the first to shoot themselves.
He bounced forward with each step, the gravity had dropped signi
ficantly. The engines were well on their way to failing totally. The vacuum suit Mor’Keth had scavenged from its locker was too tight, rubbing awkwardly as he moved. It didn’t matter, the discomfort was a small price to breathe should he stumble into a breached area.
The ship rocked again, metal groaning from deep inside, as if it were feeling a deep throbbing pain. That was the fourth impact Mor’Keth had been able to keep track of. Something was pelting the ship from outside, slamming against the hull. He, like the rest of his crew, had set off into space excited to experience everything they could, the first faster than light explorers of their people. Now he simply didn’t want to know. Curiosity had killed them, a lesson Mor’Keth had taken to heart.
***
Mor’Keth’s fingers squeezed through the small gap, wrapping around the edge of the door. He pulled, grunting as he forced the doorway open. He swallowed, sending vomit back down to where it had originated as he looked at the bloodbath beyond. Corpses floated through the corridor, the gravity finally giving out. Blood pooled in the air from gashes, entrails coiling through the air like thrashing snakes.
He closed his eyes, took a deep breath and gripped both sides of the door frame. He pulled, launching himself with as much force as he could muster. As Mor’Keth flew bodies bounced off his arms, raised up to screen his visor from the loose globules of gore. He grunted again as he struck the doorway at the other end, slamming against its metal. He took a moment to gather his senses and then flicked open the cover to the override.
