by REM
Josh felt his heart skipping a beat, when one of the dark craft chasing Jill swerved in his direction and launched two missiles directly at him. In that same instant, Jill hooked her striker toward Josh’s too. A cluster of mini-missiles shot out from her ship—exploding the enemy missiles that’d made it more than half the distance to Josh’s striker.
Josh turned to the side with his hands back over his head. Bright flames erupted a short ways from his striker. After the initial boom, he looked back to where Jill was flying, in disbelief of how she’d managed to react so quickly to save his life. Another series of bright explosions happened farther out than the first. Yes, Jill!
“My lasers are up! Nothing else!” Maya transmitted.
Josh looked to her striker. Beams flashed from her cannons but were nowhere close to hitting their mark. Jesus, you’re better off not even firing, Maya. You might kill one of ours.
Maya must have felt the same way. She didn’t let off another shot.
“Turn on! You stupid pile of…” Josh didn’t even get to finish his sentence. His lips were tight, his body was stiff, he could even feel veins bulging in his neck—when his entire ship’s systems powered back on.
Josh slammed his throttle forward. His striker burst into motion like a beast breaking free from its cage. I’ve got to get in there! he thought, seeing lasers shoot past Hoss’ striker—then Nate curling wildly in a two-on-one. Josh growled uncontrollably under his breath. He snarled, his eyes focused on the fight ahead. “Break right, Jill!” he transmitted, curving in her direction.
Jill did as told, jamming her striker north.
Josh fired a shot, which cut within a few feet of one of the fighters on her tail. “Damnit, missed! Come toward me!”
The shadow fighter he’d missed broke off from the chase. Josh tore after it. “I’ve got this one. Just keep safe, Jill. I’ll be right there to help you!” He glanced at his radar, then to the east. “Nate, how you holding?!”
“Under heavy pressure! These two snakes aren’t missing a beat. Hoss, can you shift this into a three-versus-two? Better our chances.”
“Headed your way!” Hoss responded.
Yes! thought Josh, favoring Nate’s strategy. The shadow fighter he was chasing slashed right. Oh no you don’t! thought Josh, veering in pursuit. The enemy craft glided up sideways as if riding a half-pipe. It twisted into a dive and swung back up, trying to get a shot from Josh’s flank.
Dirty! Josh grunted, thrusting his stick to one side and threading twin beams by a narrow margin. He slammed the controller in the opposite direction, coiling downward. The sudden maneuver was nearly impossible for the Mercen counter. Instead, the shadow fighter faded away from Josh’s flight.
“Get your ass back here,” Josh uttered, swinging his striker in the same Mercen’s direction. The shadow fighter soared straight up into a loop, and let off dual blasts while curving down.
Thoot! Josh twirled his striker hard right—then yanked his craft directly at the Mercen’s. He saw his targeting circle hopping around the enemy dot, but was unable to get a lock on the shadow fighter. Josh fired a shot before slashing off course to avoid beams from the same craft.
Boom! The shadow fighter Josh had fired at exploded into a fireball. Fuck yes! Can’t believe that hit! He cut back toward the rest of his squadron, taking a quick glance at his radar and seeing that Maya’s striker was functional. He then noticed the remaining shadow fighters had managed to position themselves to the east.
“They’re disengaging!” Hoss transmitted.
They better run! thought Josh. “They’ve seen what I can do!” he transmitted.
“Josh, it’s because our reservists are here,” transmitted Maya.
Josh took another look at his radar and saw the five strikers approaching from the west. He kept still for a second, his face stuck on stupid, then thought, It had to be because of me.
Hoss chortled over the transmission.
“Bring it in. Let’s form up with the reserves,” Nate transmitted. “Jill, what’s the integrity of your striker?”
“Shield down, top damaged, but zero effects on functionality,” she responded.
When flying to the rest of his squadron, Josh saw the laser sphere the Mercens had used for bait and fired a missile that blew it to bits. Clever reptiles.
“We maybe should’ve saved that for analysis,” Nate transmitted.
“Geez, Josh,” transmitted Maya.
The pilots joined up with the reservists and patrolled the northern half of the Cosmolis. Josh and his crewmates stayed on high alert in case the enemy sought retribution for the shadow fighter he’d downed. But their patrolling was completed without further Mercen hostility.
The 3rd squadron strikers broke off from the reservists and returned to the M.N. Rampage.
Chapter 7
Josh strolled down a long hall en route to the third unit, with Maya, Hoss, Jill and Nate by his side.
“I just don’t get it,” said Nate. “Why would Mercens bother with setting up a random ambush, after going days without any signs of true aggression?”
“Ah, you know how they are; play it cool, then try to catch us off guard,” said Hoss.
“I guess. But I would only expect something like what they just pulled in retaliation for a recent Creston act,” said Nate.
“Maybe some southern cruiser pilots ticked them off. An unreported skirmish even,” said Maya.
Jill nodded.
“Think you’re right,” said Josh. “Why else would those chickenshits have harassed us when Maya and I were patrolling the far north?”
The pilots kept walking and were almost to the unit when Officer Rolly called out from behind: “Halt!”
Josh and his crewmates snapped their heads around.
“Sir,” said Nate.
“Josh, I need you to come with me. The rest of you are free to go,” said Rolly.
Maya jabbed Josh’s arm. “What’d you do this time?”
Josh smirked at her and said, “I don’t know. It’s probably nothing.” He hurried over to Rolly while the others went into the unit. Once at the officer’s side, “Sir?” he said.
“You’ll find out shortly,” said Rolly.
The response left Josh feeling somewhat confused.
Officer Rolly led the way through a number of left and right corridors before stopping at the space duct. He pressed a button that opened the capsule—but didn’t go inside. Instead, Rolly extended an arm toward the space duct while looking at Josh.
Why isn’t Officer Rolly going in? Why does he want me to go first? thought Josh. He stared for a second then did as instructed, knowing he could hardly refuse. Once inside, he turned and asked, “You’re not coming with me, sir?”
“No.” Rolly reached into the capsule and placed a finger on an I.D. scanner. Then he pressed a button for the bottom floor—the one that was not numbered.
Josh widened his eyes as the doors on the capsule closed. He’s sending me to Clint’s secret torture chamber…
Josh felt the capsule shooting down from the powerful suction—until it stopped, on the bottom floor.
The doors slid open. Josh jerked back in fearful surprise, at seeing Commander Clint standing with a stiff stare and his hands clasped behind his back.
“Hello, Josh,” said Commander Clint.
Josh dipped his head. “Commander.”
“I want to show you something. Then I’m going to need your help.”
My help? thought Josh. “Certainly, sir.”
Commander Clint turned and walked toward two thick, metal doors, which reminded Josh of a bank vault. There was nothing else on the level other than the dimly lit area leading up to the chamber. Josh thought it an awful lot like a cave.
Commander Clint placed his hand on a security scanner that read his palm. As the heavy doors slid slowly open, he turned toward Josh and said, “You did an excellent job on the Nystavia mission.”
“Thank you, sir. It wasn’t easy.”<
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“No… no it wasn’t,” said Clint, twisting back toward the opening to the secret facility.
Josh followed the commander inside. The room was large, round, and adequately lit. Its entire left side was draped off well enough to where Josh had no clue what was being hidden. The right half of the chamber was only partially draped, and had an entrance to a side hall about halfway in. Straight ahead was a computer wall with a wide screen in the middle. Some sort of communication/command station, thought Josh. There were no visible prisoners, and the room was quiet, other than a sole crewman tapping his feet against the ground at the computer wall.
That must be Tanner, thought Josh, remembering the name from when Commander Clint called it out the last time he’d been on the bottom floor. Same as the new recruit. Weird coincidence.
The guy was tall, buff, and had the appearance of a bodyguard. He looked in Josh and Clint’s direction and said, “Evening, Commander.”
“Evening, Piper,” Clint responded.
Guess I was wrong, thought Josh, peering around for any signs of torture equipment, but not see anything of the sort. Has to be behind those drapes.
“This way,” said Commander Clint, moving toward the hall on the right.
Upon entering the corridor, Josh saw two doors spaced about twenty yards apart, as well as a third on the left. At the far end was a metal door that was clearly much thicker than the rest. The latched peephole near its top gave Josh the impression there could be a cell block behind it.
Commander Clint stopped at the second door on the right and placed his hand into an I.D. scanner. There was a loud click prior to him pushing the door open and stepping inside.
Josh followed the commander into the room. It was small, dark, with a tiny computer station and an average dark-wood desk on the left side. What caught his attention the most was the black window covering most of the wall straight ahead. To the right of that was a door to another room.
Commander Clint flipped a switch. A light came on in the room on the other side of the window. Josh saw clearly into it—and froze. He knew he shouldn’t have been too surprised at what he was seeing, but yet he was.
Nemchek was bound upright with his arms and legs spread. He’d been stripped down to his undergarments, and didn’t appear to be able to see into the area where Josh and Clint were standing. Near the Mercen was a slim, wheeled table with various objects on top: Knives, scissors, clubs, needles, shock devices…
Josh closed his mouth, which he’d opened in surprise. He turned toward Commander Clint, who was eyeing him curiously. His pupils moved ever so slightly, as if searching Josh’s emotions.
“This Mercen has extremely valuable information… information that I need you to extract,” said Clint.
Josh felt his eyes grow wide, though he fought to keep an unfazed demeanor. “Me?” he let slip out.
“Yes,” said Clint, with a straight face.
“Sir, may I speak freely?”
“Of course.”
“What information exactly are we trying to obtain?”
“As I’ve stated previously, we have a strong suspicion the Mercens are hiding another secret base in the Cosmolis. I want you to make him give you the location or locations of such bases.”
“Sir, if I might ask. Are we certain Nemchek knows where these bases might be? This Mercen strikes me as more of a civilian than one who would carry high-grade military intel.”
“Think of him more of a rich politician, with a weakness for gambling—one who’s slipped up with his identify, and has been confirmed by our forces as having knowledge of such high-level Mercen affairs.”
“How’s that possible, sir? Every Mercen I’ve come across refuses to interact normally with humans. Generally, the only time they speak is when it’s time to attack.”
“Oh, it’s possible. I’d trust the source with my life.”
It was clear to Josh there would be no talking his way out of the interrogation.
Commander Clint kept his eyes on Josh, still obviously trying to read his emotions. “As always, we’re on the clock. You’d better get to it,” he said, giving an edgy glare.
Josh felt a tide of nervousness rising from within. He glanced to where Nemchek was bound in the other room, and said, “Yes, sir,” before turning toward the door. He felt as if he could barely hold his head up, though he did.
Josh slowly opened the door to the integration room, walked inside, and closed it just as gradually behind him. He glanced at the black window and saw it was as dark as he’d expected it to be from this side. Clint could see him, but he could not see Clint.
After gazing at Nemchek for a second or two by the door, Josh walked carefully in front of the Mercen and stood with his back to the glass, so that Clint could barely see his face. Nemchek was staring at him just as apprehensively as he’d remembered on Nystavia. I wonder if Clint can hear me, he thought. “Listen carefully, Nemchek. We don’t want to harm you—but if you don’t tell us what we want to hear—that is going to unavoidable. Do you understand?”
The Mercen maintained a straight face and a firm glare.
“Where are the locations of the Mercen bases in the Cosmolis? Give me this information and we can skip the torture,” said Josh. He waited patiently for Nemchek to comply. The Mercen remained silent. “I’m going to give you one last chance. Don’t try me. Where are the bases?”
Nemchek kept a solid expression without saying a word.
Hell, thought Josh, turning his hesitant eyes onto the small, wheeled table just a few feet away. He reached slowly for the shocker—but stopped mid-grab when hearing Clint’s voice over the comm: “The club,” said the commander.
Josh peeked over at the shaded window. A gut-wrenching swarm of guilt sunk into his stomach when picking up the club. He gripped it tight. I don’t know if I can do this, he thought, turning toward Nemchek. “Where are the bases!?”
Nemchek’s eyes sharpened on Josh so intently that he could feel the Mercen’s hate. Josh glanced down at his club, then back up at Nemchek. It would be easier to just blow him up in a shadow fighter, or if he was holding a blaster. He inspected the chains binding Nemchek’s arms and legs. This just feels all wrong. He’s completely defenseless.
Josh felt what seemed like the weight of a world crashing down on his shoulders. He turned and went back into the other room.
Commander Clint had a steeled expression, as if holding back a mountain of anger. “What’s the problem?”
“Sir,” said Josh, lowering his head slightly to match the timidness of his voice. “I was wondering if we could take a more humane approach to extracting the information, one that doesn’t end up breaking bones. I believe I can get what we need with the shock device, or even simulated drowning, sir.”
Commander Clint narrowed his eyes. His brows curled. “Are you feeling sympathy for that alien in there? Are you? Does that filthy snake look a shred of human? Do you truly think it deserves to be treated humanely? Do you have any idea what that dirty creature is capable of? What it desires to do to our species? What it has done to our species! You think that Mercen would hesitate for one second if you were the prisoner in one of their torture chambers? Huh? You think he’s going to treat you—humanely? Do you? Black ops can’t be soft! Soldiers can’t be soft! This is war. Billions of lives are at stake—and you’re concerned with breaking a few bones—causing that Mercen pain!”
Josh was speechless.
“Have you forgotten about Talee? The terra-fumes that ravaged thousands of innocents. What if I was to tell you that Nemchek was the lead Mercen behind the attack? And that this has been confirmed by multiple sources. What if you knew that Nemchek was at the Mercen facility on Neton moon the night you, Bor, and the others attacked? And that he oversaw the torturing of Smokey, personally.”
Josh was stunned by what he was hearing, the depth of Nemchek’s involvement. He felt foolish for the empathy he’d displayed for the wicked Mercen bound in the other room—but even so, he
didn’t relish the thought of beating up on a helpless being. Josh glanced at Nemchek. Like it or not—I have to!
“Those human remains you mentioned seeing to Rolly, in the space lots on Nystavia; meals, for Nemchek. He killed them all.”
Josh felt anger bubbling in his chest. He gritted his teeth. “I understand, sir,” he said, with his chin held high. Josh turned toward the small door and heard a knocking from the main one behind him.
“Come in,” said Commander Clint.
Josh closed the interrogation room without seeing who’d entered. His mind was focused solely on the task at hand. He gripped the club tight and marched to a halt directly in front of Nemchek. “Where’s the base?!”
The Mercen maintained a staunch stare.
“Aaah!” Josh cried, twisting his upper body and swinging the thick club hard into Nemchek’s gut. He brought the weapon up high, and swung it across the Mercen’s face.
“Haaiieesh!” Nemchek cried out, in a long, dragged out tone, fighting at his chains, then scowling at Josh with a vile glare.
Despite all that Commander Clint had just explained, Josh felt sick to his stomach at seeing the dark purple, almost black, fluid leaking from the corner of Nemchek’s mouth. He felt his hands shaking uncontrollably.
If Josh could’ve seen the faint slant on Commander Clint’s lips, he would’ve thought it showed a hint of pleasure.
This ain’t what I signed up for, thought Josh, unsure of how far he’d be able to continue with the beating. He knew Commander Clint was watching carefully to see how he’d perform. “Where’s the damn base, Nemchek! Don’t make me kill you!” Josh shouted.
The Mercen stared fiercely… but didn’t say a word.
Josh scrunched up his face angrily, gripped the club tight, and cocked it back in preparation for another blow.
“That’s enough,” said a familiar voice over the intercom.
Josh turned toward the black window while lowering the club.
The small door opened. Old Smokey walked into the room, his right jaw loaded with sunflower seeds, his expression as serious as could be. “Get on out of here, young buck.”
