by Jan Domagala
Hawk looked at her, seeing the pain and confusion in her eyes and the bewilderment and fear of an uncertain future.
“You’ve always had someone to take care of you, haven’t you? You’ve never had to fend for yourself at all, have you?” he asked.
“No,” Tanya said almost apologetically.
“Well, you’re about to embark on your wildest adventure yet. It’s called ‘Your Life’ and it can be whatever you want it to be,” Hawk said, trying to give her spirits the boost they sorely needed.
“That’s easy for you to say,” she snorted derisively.
“I suppose from your point of view, it is, but it can be for you too. Until your father is apprehended and brought to justice you’ll be protected. Your testimony will form the heart of the case so we have to ensure your safety and during that time you can learn what it is to be an independent woman. Once your father has been brought to trial and sent to a penal colony you’ll be ready to embark on that adventure I mentioned.”
“Will you help me?”
“I will do as much as I’m allowed to, dependent on my duties.”
“Will you stay in touch, you know, after, when this is all over I mean?” she asked nervously.
“Do you want me to?”
She nodded her head gently almost afraid in case he declined. “That’s settled then, I’ll stay in touch,” Hawk agreed then caught a disapproving glance from the Colonel who, unnoticed by them, was still close by and listening to every word.
“One step at a time though, let’s get this briefing over and done with and then we can all go and get something to eat. You too Colonel, you and your men must be starved, I know I am,” Hawk said to get things back on track.
“Now you mention it, I could go for a nice turkey sandwich,” De Boer replied with a half smile, the first time Hawk had seen anything other than his usual dour expression.
“I’m sure we can rustle us all up something like that,” Hawk said.
“And a pot of coffee, sir,” the marine who had piloted the shuttle added.
“Goes without saying,” added Hawk.
“Make mine a cheeseburger, sir, please, and hold the pickle,” the second marine said.
“What, a cheeseburger with no pickle?” asked the first marine.
“No pickle,” he replied.
“Call yourself a marine?”
“I am a marine.”
“Then you’d eat the pickle.”
“I don’t like the pickle okay, it’s no big deal.”
“Guys, leave it, we’ll order the food when we get to General Sinclair’s office,” Hawk said cutting dead any further argument.
Listening to the verbal by-play between these men who had risked their lives to protect hers helped to take her mind off her own fear and by the time they entered the elevator to travel down to the basement sub levels where the Intelligence Division was situated, she was actually smiling.
NEMESIS WAS A STARSHIP that MaxCorp had in the development stage and would be ready for full production within two years after the final rounds of exhaustive tests that would determine her viability as an asset to the Confederation fleet, or so it was thought. In actuality, Wilde had the prototype ready and fully tested.
She was massive, the next generation carrier and, at over six thousand feet in length and having fifty-five decks she was the largest starship that either the Confederation or the Alliance had ever seen. Able to carry fifty one-man fighter craft housed in drop bays running the length of the craft and with the ability to transport over a thousand troops to a battle zone, she would be an asset to any fleet. Pulse cannons were situated both fore, aft and laterally down port and starboard as well as dorsal and ventral hulls.
Missile tubes were placed alongside these cannons through which she could deliver her load of Sabre, Hammerhead and a variety of other missiles that she carried in the thousands. To defend herself she had not just double hull configuration but triple hull plating and self-sealing bulkheads, which were also protected by primary and secondary shields.
In total, Nemesis was one hell of a threat and OMEGA not only had the only one but also intended to use her.
Rygar and Rover had boarded her before she was about to make her jump to Earth. Wilde had ordered she remain hidden on the far side of Cordoba’s moon because the only things they had not yet manufactured were the stealth generators.
Everything else had been rushed through for this deadline but time constraints meant that weapons and defensive shielding were given priority.
Wilde had been on the bridge when Rygar, Rover and the rest of the mercs arrived on board. When they entered they were greeted by the sight of him standing before the huge viewscreen, hands behind his back, as he stared at the scene displayed there.
“Well, we’re here, sir,” Rygar said when Wilde showed no sign he was even aware or their presence.
Wilde turned around to face them, glanced towards the captain and ordered, “Make the jump.”
GENERAL SINCLAIR WAS sitting behind his large, rather ornate mahogany desk when they entered the office. He immediately rose to his feet when he saw them and came around the side of his desk to greet them, Tanya first.
Standing before her offering her his hand he said, “When Matt informed me of your involvement Miss Wilde he never said how lovely you were. It’s a pleasure to meet you, my name’s General Sinclair. I do hope they took good care of you?”
“Very good care thank you, General,” she replied, taking the proffered hand. Before releasing it she asked, “General, what’s to become of me?”
“Well, first my dear, we must take your statement and retrieve the evidence from your NI, the call logs of your father and so on so that we may present a full and complete case to the Prosecution Service. Until the case is finalised, and because of your father’s recent actions, it may be best if you remain in protective custody until your father is placed under arrest, for your own safety you understand.”
“Of course, but what happens after that?”
“I’m not sure I understand but I’m sure we can find the answer to your question. For now I must insist we continue with the most unpleasant task of building a case against your father,” Sinclair said, effectively cutting off any further discussion on the matter. “If you would follow me please, you too gentlemen, then we can get this debrief under way.” He led the small group towards the door to his office.
“Sir, is there any chance of us grabbing a bite to eat; I can’t remember the last time I ate?” Hawk asked as they left the office.
“I’m sure I can rustle up something,” Sinclair replied.
“Make mine a cheeseburger, sir, and hold the pickle,” the second marine piped up, then added, “No make that a double cheeseburger with fries, please. I’m starved, sir.”
“Again with the ‘hold the pickle’ thing, some marine you are,” commented the first marine.
“Colonel, you have my commiserations on being saddled with this double act,” Sinclair said with a half hidden smile.
“A double act they may be, sir, but they’re damn fine marines,” De Boer replied with pride.
“I bet they are, Colonel, I bet they are,” Sinclair said, his grin more obvious which earned a hasty, “Recon Delta hoorah!” from the double act in question.
As they walked down the brightly lit corridor, Tanya’s troubles seemed miles away as she listened to the chatter from the men.
THE NEMESIS RE-ENTERED normal space on the dark side of Earth’s Moon. For the time being they were undetected, not having shown up on any long range scans from either Earth, the orbiting station or on the Moon itself.
On the bridge Jonas Wilde stood before the huge viewscreen showing the forward view but could be tuned to show any view from any angle from the starship.
“Have we been detected?” he asked without taking his eyes off the viewscreen.
The ops officer replied, “No sir, but the moment we come from around the dark side of the Moon we’ll show up on every scannin
g station from here to Earth.”
“Then we’d better be ready to act the moment we move.”
“Aye, sir,” replied the ops officer.
Wilde turned away from the viewscreen to face the bridge and the expectant faces watching him. Taking a deep steadying breath he marshalled his thoughts in preparation to giving the command, which, if his plan went as he hoped, would bring Col Sec to its knees and leave the Confederation in chaos. When he spoke his voice was calm and steady and had an even timbre to it, belying the rage built up inside him which was about to be unleashed against the hated Col Sec.
“Captain, deploy your men according to your orders,” Wilde said, then turned to Rover and Rygar, “You gentlemen, will have a ringside seat as it were, a reward for your sterling service.”
The Captain spoke into the intership com. unit issuing his orders. The fighter pilots were sent to their ships ready to scramble and the gun and missile crews all reported to their respective stations and charged up their weapons systems. The final order was given as Wilde returned his attention to the forward viewscreen.
“Pilot, take us in.”
17
General Sinclair sat at the head of the conference table in his ready room facing the group as they ate the meal he’d had prepared for them and transported from the cafeteria. He thought it would save time if they started the debrief en masse as they ate, foregoing the usual routine of separating them and taking individual reports and later seeing if they matched up to corroborate the overall story. This time he had no doubts that what they said was a fair and accurate account.
While they ate he had a lab tec download all the relevant data for the evidence required from Tanya Wilde’s NI. The process was painless and non-invasive, with a link from NI to NI being all that was required.
Satisfied that the events were progressing well and without a hitch, he even afforded himself a wry smile, although that was short-lived as a call from Ops Centre wiped it from his face.
“Sir, we’ve just received word from our tracking station on the Moon which was confirmed by long range scanners on Io and our orbiting platforms near Earth. We have an unidentified craft on approach vector. She’s not responding to hails, sir, and according to early scans her weapons are hot,” said the voice.
Holding up his hand to indicate something was wrong, Sinclair linked the com. channel to the building’s com. system accessible to those around the table then said, “Does the craft bear any known recognition codes, markings or energy patterns and does it compare to any known configuration in our data banks?”
Everyone’s attention was riveted to the General and the conversation he was having.
“Negative, sir, to all your questions,” was not the reply he wanted but it was the one he received.
“Check against any new ships under development,” Hawk said. When Sinclair stared at him he explained by adding, “OMEGA has access to the same tec and munitions they provide us with, who’s to say a ship under development for us isn’t already built and up there now. It could have all sorts of new specifications we don’t know about yet.”
“I’ve a feeling we’re about to find out,” De Boer added.
“How long before she reaches firing range?” Sinclair asked Ops Centre.
“Hard to say for sure, sir. We know nothing about her so we can’t be certain what her capabilities are and we won’t know until we find her configuration in the database or she comes within our sensor range.”
“How the hell did they sneak that one past our sentry sensor posts?” demanded Sinclair angrily.
“I suppose they could’ve made a precision jump to just behind the Moon where we wouldn’t see them. Our SSPs would be tuned to look for craft which we expect to see attacking us, by that I mean they’re tuned to seek out and recognise starships from the Alliance, Raiders from various sectors and Outlaws. They’re not used to ships coming after us from within our own space,” suggested Hawk.
“That will have to be amended as soon as this mess is cleared up. Their range and scope will have to be increased to include all approaching craft of any description that doesn’t display the relevant operating codes,” Sinclair said confidently. Once the initial shock of the craft’s sudden appearance had worn off his usual calm and confident demeanour had returned. He was sure that if this new craft did belong to OMEGA the planetary defences would be able to handle her.
“Operating codes, that could be a problem also, sir. If OMEGA has infiltrated Col Sec as deeply as we think, the codes, in fact everything, may have to have a complete reboot,” suggested Hawk thoughtfully.
The voice from Ops Centre returned to add weight to Hawk’s speculation. “Sir we’ve located the ship’s configuration within the folder marked ‘Top Secret’ sub division, ‘Under Development’. I’m forwarding her specs to you directly.”
The ship’s specifications were sent to Sinclair’s ready room and were shown on the monitor that rose from the centre of the conference table. It had screens on all four sides so that whatever data was shown could be viewed by all who sat around the table.
As the image and specs of the starship were displayed on the screen, Hawk heard Sinclair gasp. Whatever this ship was, the General recognised her and it disturbed him.
“Sir, are you okay?” he asked concerned, for in all the years he’d known the General he’d never seen him react that way.
“Yes I’m fine,” was his stilted reply.
“Do you recognise her?”
“It’s the Nemesis. She’s the blueprint for our new battle carrier group flagship. We were informed it would be another five years at least before MaxCorp would have a working prototype.”
“Seems Jonas Wilde may have pushed the date forward a bit then,” added De Boer.
“What’re we facing here, sir? What do you know of her capabilities, well those they told you about? If they’ve got a prototype ready five years sooner than you were told was possible, I would assume that’s not all they kept from you,” Hawk said.
“Her specs are impressive, at almost six thousand feet she’s the largest craft in the fleet. She should have fifty fighters, pulse cannons both fore and aft, as well as down each side and top and bottom, and missile tubes placed similarly. She can carry a thousand marines to the battle zone. They’re the things we know about, what else have they packed her with?” Sinclair said.
“There’s another way of looking at this, she may not have all her systems online, or at the very least working to full capacity. Think about it, she’s in space five years ahead of schedule, so how many corners have they cut to get her here now?” De Boer said, giving them something to think about and hope for the upcoming battle.
“There can be only one purpose for her showing up here like this, they intend to attack. Sir, we need something to counter this threat, and Colonel, I do hope you’re right,” Hawk said.
“So do I, Matt,” De Boer replied, his brow furrowing with lines of deep concern.
“I can’t think that Wilde’s hatred of me would manifest itself in this fashion,” Sinclair said, for a moment lost in thought.
“Excuse me, sir?” Hawk asked confused at the change in topic.
“Years ago Jonas Wilde was under my command, he was Recon Delta and had a promising career, but he began to show signs that he loved brutality more than the Confederation. After a psyche evaluation he was cashiered out on a medical discharge. He was deemed unsuitable material for a Recon Delta officer. He didn’t take it very well; on the day he left he swore revenge on me. I took it as just an idle threat from a man who was embarrassed about his situation, a spur of the moment thing. I never for a second thought he meant any of it,” explained Sinclair.
“Well, I guess him showing up with the Nemesis shows he did mean it after all,” Hawk said.
“An understatement if ever there was one,” agreed Sinclair, then regaining his focus said, “Ops Centre, scramble all fighters and recall the closest starships to Earth, inform them we’re under
attack. Alert all orbiting defence platforms, bring them up to Battle Stations and do it now before they try to jam our transmissions.”
“I’m on it, sir.”
“How much of a threat is she, sir? I mean she’s not built to function inside the planet’s atmosphere surely?” De Boer asked.
“Not that I’m aware, but her fighters are and the planet’s surface is within range of her missiles and pulse cannons and I’m not quite sure what his target will be,” Sinclair replied, pondering the thought.
“One ship against an entire planet does seem a little one sided on our part but there must be more to it, there has to be,” commented Hawk.
“My Dad never does anything without good reason, he’s not impulsive. Whatever he’s doing now is something he’s had planned for some time,” Tanya said, speaking up for the first time since ordering her meal. As all eyes turned to her she added, “Trust me, he’ll have a reason for all this.”
Hawk said, “We know what his reason is, Tanya.” Turning to Sinclair he asked, “Sir, you said his hatred of you, what exactly did you mean by that?”
“When he received his medical discharge he took it personally, he blamed me,” Sinclair answered.
“You, personally? That makes a little more sense now,” Hawk said as he tried to put the pieces together. He had wondered for a long time what the motives were behind Wilde’s actions going right back to the very first time they encountered the original clone. Now he thought he understood it a bit better.
“Sir, I think this whole thing, going back to when I brought that clone here from the chamber, has been about revenge, with you as the focus,” he said. Turning to Tanya he asked, “Think back to conversations you’ve had with your father or you’ve overheard from him, has he ever bemoaned his time in Col Sec?”
“How do you mean?” she asked not sure where he was going with this, or what it had to do with what was happening right now.
“You know, has he ever said things like ‘If it hadn’t been for Col Sec I’d be, whatever’ or ‘If I hadn’t spent so much time in Col Sec I’d be...’ that sort of thing,” Hawk explained.
