Command and Compromise
-
“Sir Avery, it has been a pleasure flying with you”
The leader of Zeta wing holds out his hand. Roo reaches out and shacks it.
“If it wasn’t for you and your men, I might not of got here.”
“Well Avery, you are welcome. You are to wait here. The Captain of the Lord’s Private guard will be along shortly. Farewell”
Roo takes a glance around the waiting room. It had been a long flight and there had been more than one encounter with Outcasts and Corsairs. But the men of Zeta wing were seasoned pro’s. Only the best men flew and worked for Lord Nedelor. -
A screaming sneeze blew through the colonel. He reached across his desk for another tissue. The mound in his receptacle was becoming impressive.
He pressed the intercom button on his desk console. “Wilgins,” he muttered miserably.
“Yes, sir,” came back the healthy, wide-awake trooper. Blackheart scowled at his wellness.
“Brig me the latest reports and the trade authorizations for tomorrow, and mage hot tea.”
“Right away, sir.”
Several minutes later, the orderly appeared with a platter in one hand and a stack of datapads in the other.
As Wilkins began pouring, Blackheart began shuffling through the datapads. He always looked for the red-lettered headings. They indicated an attack somewhere. The words Gordon-3-8 flashed scarlet, catching his attention.
That’s interesting. It was attacked by Bundschuh, but not Outcasts.
He nodded in affirmation of a theory that was forming in his mind. Wilkins placed a cup of tea near his hand. “Anything else, Colonel?”
“That’ll be all, Lieutenant,” he punctuated with a sniff and an envious glance.
Recruit applications, trade authorizations, patrol orders and complaints; and among the lattermost was a submission from the Sergeant Major. Waylander was banging the drum against Lord Nedelor. The conflict between the enlisted man and the commissioner was growing. Blackheart feared the rift it could cause, and not simply between himself and these two men. If the dispute were to leak into the ranks, there was no telling what polarizing effects it could have.
Wouldn’t it be easy if I could pin this on Matsumoto? he thought. That really was the catalyst that spurred the situation. And there was no telling what SDI was going to do next. If Lord Nedelor was forced to side with the traders once again, there was no telling what his troopers might do next.
-
“Avery, please… take a seat”
Roo holds out his hand to Lord Nedelor, but the Lord of Justice doesn’t extend his out. Roo slumps down into the seat offered.
“Nice place here Neddy” says Roo looking around the office.
“It is Lord Nedelor Avery.”
“Well Lord, it is Sir Avery.”
Both men are silent. It is Roo that breaks the silence.
“You did not bring me here to bicker about titles. What is it you want?”
“Avery… Sir Avery sorry, where is Spectre? And tell me, why is it a Transporter fresh out of the SDI training program the new CEO? Surely Roo, surely you would of been picked to take that spot?”
Roo chuckles. Sitting up straight in his chair and unfolding his arms…
“Lord Nedelor, Spectre is gone. Do I know where he is? Does SDI Intelligence provide your police force with 90% of their Intel?”
“Well, why Matsumoto?”
“There is no one better than Matsumoto my Lord. He is a fresh cut man, full of ideas and full of life. Damn, he is so full of life, it seems your boys want him behind bars. Neddy… I mean Lord Nedelor, I can not lead SDI. Think about it, I am gone days, weeks, months on Operations for Intel. And plus, come on, I can barely control that jerk Revan in the coffee house. How do you expect me to run a Corporation the size of SDI?”
“Matsumoto will be the death of SDI Roo. You know this, don’t you? I saved your bacon in the Council Chambers, and trust me, I almost had a revolt on my hands. I can not save you again. SDI will have to deal with the crap next time they screw up.”
“Matsumoto the death of SDI? Well, if he is, lets make sure we go down with a bang shall we……”
“… Look, Matsumoto is the CEO. I will stand by him, and I will be the voice of SDI in the Council Chambers. If the voice of Matsumoto is the voice of SDI, so be it. That is my job my Lord.”
“And what off my offer?”
Roo removes the small datapad the Intelligence Traffic Controller gave him.
“Why did you send it on Spectre’s line?”
“The only was to ensure Matsumoto did not intercept it.”
Roo looks back down at the datapad in his hand. With a flick of his wrist he launches it at Lord Nedelor.
“Keep it. I can not do what you ask my Lord. You know why….”
With that Roo stand and makes his way to the office door…
“Avery……” snaps Lord Nedelor
“Think this through… remember what it is you stand to lose…”
Roo looks up at the door in front of him and reaches out to the handle. Opening the door he steps half way through it. Without turning uttering just one word, Roo leaves the office.
“…. everything…”
-
All wild on the eastern front, mused the colonel.
Standing in the command strategy room, gazing into a holographic map of the space between Rheinland and the Sigmas, the confetti of color had once again become the norm. Only weeks ago, there was a conspicuous absence of activity in the area of Sigma-13 and Frankfurt. Even Dresden had lightened up, yielding only a slight increase in Bundschuh attacks. The notable red icons denoting heavy KAOS assaults had seemingly disappeared.
Since the attack on the Rheinland trade convoy Gordon 3-8, formerly known as Police convoy Beta 2-0, Blackheart had been piecing together a theory. It reflected that if there were no Outcasts harrassing Alliance traders, then one of two things had occurred: either the traders had paid off the pirates in order to deliver their cargo unmolested; or, they were smuggling for them. Both options were undesirable.
Further investigation was conducted by the colonel himself. After several days of drilling Rebel Alliance corporate officers, it was learned that the former had taken place. Antilles himself had offered resolution, informing Blackheart that he had since terminated the arrangement. If only the admission had given the weary commander any peace.
But where one doubt had been put to rest, another arose. The concern before him now harkened back to an issue he had thought put to rest. Had SDI, the most intricate and dependable intelligence-gathering source in the Sector, erred in tracking this threat? Or worse; had they intentionally forgone the sharing of critical data that might have saved lives?
I don’t know.
He continued to ask the question. He needed an answer, and nobody had one. In the lounges and locker rooms, words flew like 'vettes as everyone shared their theories on why SDI did, or did not, or could not do something to help prevent incidents just like Gordon 3-8 from happening.
More than once Sergeant Major Waylander had to discipline troopers for taking that information into the public forum. It was beginning to have an effect on the image of the Police. It reflected on his troopers, on his officers, on himself. There were those who began to criticize Police organization, even competency. Some thought the Police needed help, a new influx of strength and energy. Others were talking of giving up on the Police entirely.
Among these were the Rheinlanders. After an alledged assassination attempt on one of their ambassadors, the Empire was adamant on reparations and resolution against Bretonia’s supposed negligence. Blackheart had come out in support of Bretonia’s lack of culpability in the matter, angering officials within the Rheinlander government. Now threats of leaving the Council over the matter were coming out, and peace between the two Houses was strongly in question.
Odd how they forget that we spilled blood for them, too. Most neglected, my joystick.
A spiral of rage was beginning to spin. There was seemingly nothing that could be done.
And now it seemed like Lord Nedelor himself was standing in the way. Blackheart could tell from their latest conversations that there was apprehension on the part of the Sergeant-at-Arms. When asked about why better tabs were not being kept on the trader group’s infamous intel corps, the commisioner became shielded and distant. He seemed to prevent any potentially incendiary episode from occurring between the eyes and hands of the Council. Why should Avery and Matsumoto be so inaccessible?
“I don’t have an answer.”
Standing at the front of a half-full command room, Matador gave a reply to the question that had been plaguing him in briefings for over a week.
“As far as intel knows, the Bundschuh were operating on a random hit-and-run. They would go out of their way to harrass convoys of little importance simply for effect. There was little or no way to assess predictability.”
“And we find that acceptable?” asked one of the frustrated precinct captains. “The colonel has given us little to counter the fallout from local conflicts. Citizens are beginning to take matters into their own hands.”
Another, motivated by the cathartic comment, followed suit. “Indeed, even some local military officers are speaking up. Down in Frankfurt we’re being referred to as the “poor richard’s” of security forces.”
“Commanders, you’ve received your orders and implemented the changes as they’ve come down. Political ramifications from broad area effects are best left to Command and the Council. We appreciate your patience these last few weeks. Dismissed.”
The room emptied to the back, oblivious to the presence of the colonel and his wingmen standing in a side hatch.
“Sir,” said Matador.
“Head to the hangar, Goldie. I’ll be there in a minute.”
“Yes sir.”
“Maty,” said Blackheart in a hushed voice, glancing down the hall after his wingmen to be sure of distance,“this is about all I can take of this “local” trouble. The people are losing faith in us. I don’t know how to give them the force they want.”
Maty stepped in close and leaned on the wall. “We can’t see our own feet in front of us. We’re blind out there. We can’t tell who’s our enemy, who’s our friend.”
Blackheart nodded sullenly. He breathed a sigh of resignation. “I gotta fly. I’ll be back in 8 hours.”
Maty offered a crisp salute, as was his custom. Blackheart returned it, then proceeded down the corridor.
Still in the hangar, sitting in his cockpit, going over the new hard copy for the flight, Blackheart glanced up at his blank scope. That’s how men all across the Sector were feeling now. Why had SDI seemingly abandoned them? What could he do?
He rubbed a gloved hand over his face and leaned on his elbow for a moment.
Finally, he switched on his comms.
“Foxtrot 4-10 to tower, this is Lead.”
“Go ahead, Lead.”
“I’m making a revision to the flight plan. Patrol will terminate at Sigma-19, Sector D-5.”
Blackheart fired up his starfighter and put on his helmet. The revving of engines filled the hangar.
The tower came back. “Confirm, termination point to be reached at Luxury Liner Hawaii?”
“Roger that. And notify Captain Maty to send a coded communique to Sir Avery at SDI. He’s going to be receiving several visitors very shortly.”
Blackheart suddenly caught the reflection of his badge in the cockpit window, then glanced up ahead at the blackness of space opening before him. Then he punched his thrusters, firing he and his wingmen off into space like angry red bullets.
-
In a darkened room, Waylander stared out of a window after the outgoing flight. He saw red engines glowing hot, then turning blue with the blazing fury of cruise speed achieved.
He gazed at the far off star of the system, a blue dwarf that coolly highlighted every surface in the sector. It was reaching the end of its life cycle. It was almost sad to Waylander, watching this faithful source of life and light wane.
Of course, in terms of human lives this meant relatively little. It would exist for some millenia to come. But these were the days that one questioned whether his service made a difference, whether he also was a faithful protector of life.
As he came to, Waylander realized he was staring into his own eye. Regaining his senses, he decided to turn his attention to more current matters and lifted the datapad in his hands before him. It described the loss of a convoy in Dresden some weeks ago. Normally, a loss such as this would be accepted as a typical loss. That didn’t make it any more acceptable per se, but anyone who traveled the trade lanes knew the dangers inherent in them. But for some reason, the colonel had become fixated on this one attack. And there had been others. Waylander wouldn’t have been any more troubled than usual. He was just following orders.
Notes on the growing tensions between New Berlin and London were included. At least this was current, but no more understandable than his commander’s request. What was the use of dividing alliances when the problems in each House were so evident?
Waylander tossed the datapad on his desk. He leaned on his shoulder with a fist to his chin, contemplating whether there was any wisdom in Rheinland’s moves. Long moments passed standing there at the window. Finally, a theory began to form in Waylander’s mind.
Rheinland navy were escorting Gordon 3-8 into Dresden when it was attacked. They were known to have been present at a transaction with RA in New Tokyo system while KAOS were in the area. The latest demands made of Bretonia seem like a power grab for the Omegas, a perfect foothold for Outcasts. Through conjecture, it’s possible to surmise that the Imperial Guard are somehow sanctioning Outcast activity, or even working with them.
Waylander nodded subtely at the thought.
Then he shook it off. “Nah.”
-
Private Quaters - Luxury Liner Hawaii
The room was still and quiet as Roo entered. Everthing was as he left it weeks ago. Things had been busy. The Coffee shop, Spectre leaving, Matsumoto taking over, the SCC, and of course Lord Nedelors offer. Roo was tired, no, not tired, exhausted. He had been on the move for weeks. He walked across to the small leather sofa at the far end of the common room and switched on a small side light. He slipped backwards onto the sofa and sighed deeply. It was only seconds before sleep had taken over completely.
_Waking suddenly, Roo felt a presence in the room. He slid his hand down to his boot and removed an ornamental knife. It was a Knife Cerun had given him years ago when Roo was working undercover for SDI intelligence and investigating the Blood Dragons. The knife had since seen much blood shed, none of it spilt with out remorse. Roo was not a violent man by nature.
He slowly stood from the sofa and made his way into the centre of the room._
“You need not have a knife out Roo. It’s not exactly how you welcome friends is it?”
“Spectre?”
“Who else where you expecting? Yes it is me.”
A light went on in the room, and there he stood. Spectre looked the same as before. Although it had only been a number of weeks, Roo had expected him to look different.
“Nedelor made you the offer then?”
“You know of the offer?”
“Of course. Before I vanished from sight, I spoke with him. At much length. Roo, the Police are scared. SDI Intelligence is not working with them, this worries them. We have always provided them with the Intel they need. Nedelor is worried, and this is affecting Blackheart. Waylander too is feeling the pressure. Waylander may just snap.”
“And what I am to do. If I do what is needed of me, I lose. I lose everything. I lose SDI, I lose my life, the Coffee house, the respect. Spectre, if I go through with it, I disappear, I am no more. Do you understand that?”
“You think I dont know what it is like to lose Roo? Look at me now. SDI is no longer mine. The company I built up. The Intelligence department I started with you, the whole system we had going. I too have lost Roo. Sacrifices need to be made. I have made mine, and now I have to go. Look around, look at Sirius. Is this still a place that SDI Sir Aver belongs too?”
Spectre starts towards the door. Once reaching it he turns around.
“You wont see me again for a long time my friend. I will be in touch however. Do what feel rights. Do what is needed, and what you know your needed for.”
With that Spectre disappears through the open door, and closes it behind him. Roo is left standing still. His hand shakes. His body shakes. For the first time in years, he is stuck for an answer. And this scares the Head of SDI Intelligence.
After what feel’s like hours, there is a small voice heard over an internal Intercom.
“Mr Avery Sir. There is a message for you. However, it is not recognisable. It is a code of sorts. I believe it is from Captian Matador of the Police However.”
“Thank you Matthew. Send it through to my console. Matthew, please arrange for Daeros to be contacted, I need a long chat with him. Oh, and I hear Spankey reported for Duty recently, get him here aswell.”
“Will do Sir.”
Roo crosses to the Console on his desk and opens the message Matthew had just sent. Roo recognised it straight away. It seemed Blackheart was on his way to visit… with guests. Roo looked out the window and spotted on the horizon a small cluster of ships… it seemed Blackheart was already here.
-
Heavy boots fell on the decadent floor leading to the office of SDI’s own Sir Avery. Flanked by his men, Goldar and Alpha, Blackheart was tightly escorted with an urgency approaching emergency.
A sharp turn right down another corridor and the group was bearing down on a cold durasteel blast door. It looked terribly out of place, at odds with an entire setting of comfort and beauty. The foremost guard lifted his wrist to his lips and spoke something unintelligible. Then the heavy door rotated and parted, revealing ornate wooden doors more appropriate to their surroundings. Two of the other escorts moved forward and opened the doors, gesturing for the colonel to enter.
Goldar and Alpha moved to follow, but were stopped short when the escorts quickly closed the doors and stood before them with hands clasped in front. The troopers looked at each other and scowled.
The Police commander couldn’t have been less concerned, unfortunately. His mind was full of questions, accusations, and other intentions. He could barely hide the frustration on his face as he stared ahead. Behind the desk set against the open field of stars sat the man he had come three systems to see - Avery.
Blackheart stepped forward, moving steadily, as much for effect as to keep himself from doing anything irrational. Avery stood in acknowledgement.
Blackheart stopped several feet before him. They were sizing each other up, profiling each other’s appearance and body language. Blackheart’s black fatigues couldn’t conceal his discomfort. Avery, on the other hand, was calm and collected.
“Welcome to the Luxury Liner Hawaii, Colonel Blackheart. Please sit.” Avery motioned to a slim but comfortable chair that rotated up out of the floor.
“I think I’ll stand if it’s all the same to you,” he said with slight condescension.
“Very well,” Avery replied, taking his own. The sounds of a nova-classical orchestra were playing. “Do you like the symphony, Colonel?”
“Not at the moment.”
“That’s a shame. Would you like a drink?”
“What are you doing?”
“Trying to help you relax. I prefer to keep my guests comfortable to facilitate conversation.”
“Or let their guard down.”
“Tosh. Do you want to discuss what is on your mind?”
“Where has my intelligence gone?”
“‘Where has the intelligence SDI provides you gone?’ you mean.”
“What else?”
“What do you know about RIG?”
Taken aback by Avery’s sudden change of pace, Blackheart blinked and said, “I know they’re about to perpetrate a war based on unjustified accusations. Why? Do you know who killed the Rheinland ambassador?”
“Yes I do. I also know why. But that is not what is important right now. What is important is the Empire’s involvement with pirates. Until now we’ve been unable to prove it. But I’ve had a theory-”
“That they’ve been in with pirates?”
“Perhaps indirectly. Perhaps complicitly. Or perhaps not at all. That’s what I need you for.”
"Need me? I came to you_,"_ insisted the colonel, irritated.
“I’m afraid you don’t follow, Colonel. If I were to venture into an investigation that calls into question the integrity of an entire House government that until now has been vehemently anti-pirate, I risk the legitimacy and safety of our entire operation. But if a high-ranking official of the SCC, such as yourself, were to come forward with similar concerns, then I can safely initiate a full investigation without jeopardizing our reputation.”
“You want to conduct a full investigation?”
“Don’t you?”
“Of course, but I could never get SCC backing. It would have to go through too many channels. The Rheinlanders would find out before we passed Munich and turn us right around.”
“That’s why we aren’t requesting SCC backing.”
Blackheart began to slowly take the seat he had refused. “Are you proposing-”
“A covert operation, yes.” A grin crossed Avery’s face as he leaned forward and clasped his hands.
This is nuts, thought Blackheart. Mere minutes ago he wanted answers. Now he was terribly reluctant to hear any more.
He hesitated for what seemed like minutes. In reality it was only seconds, but the ramifications of every scenario began to enter into his psyche, traversing the dimensions of the political, military, and diplomatic realms. Until he remembered the one reason why he came here.
“Justice.”
Avery smiled. “Justice. And a chance to stop what could become the most heated conflict since the Figureheads arose.”
Blackheart nodded in agreement. “We’ll need to leave immediately. I have two men with me.”
Avery stepped around his desk with a datapad and handed it to him. “We’ve already prepared alibis and identities for the three of you. We’ll be departing on a Republican armored transport in 8 hours.”
“Then I need to contact command. The captain needs to know what’s going on.”
“No, nobody can know. If you tell anyone, this is off.”
The colonel glanced aside as he began to realize the depth of the situation he was becoming involved in. “I understand.”
Blackheart began to turn to exit the room when Avery siezed his arm. He looked straight at the officer. “Do you?”
The colonel nodded in quiet resignation.
-
Roo turned back towards his desk and slowly made his over to it. Walking around to the chair, he lowered himself down into his chair. He reached down and opened a draw, he pulled out a single glass and a bottle of Jack Daniels Whiskey. This wasn’t the cheap stuff they tried to simulate, this was the real thing. Hard to come by, it had cost Roo $500,000 for this single bottle.
“So it is all in place then?”
Lord Nedelor walked out of the shadows next to the desk. Roo unscrewed the JD bottle and poured himself a larger than normal glass full.
“Yes.”
Roo bought the glass up to his lips, he looked towards Lord Nedelor, nodded and finished the drink in one deep gulp.
“And what if things go wrong?”
Roo placed the glass back in the open draw. He screwed the lid back on the JD bottle, and placed that too in the draw. He closed it and stood.
“Then it is over, and I lose.”
“You have made plans then? I mean, in case.”
“In case I die you mean?”
“…… yes…”
“The plan is for Spankey to run the Intelligence Department. He doesn’t know it yet. But when he gets back to HQ he will.”
“And Blackheart?”
“He suspects nothing, which is how it should be. He knows all he needs to know, for the greater good. Maybe when this is all over you can tell him your part in this……”
“… I have to be going. They will be waiting for me already. You can see yourself out.”
Roo walks out the doors. He faintly hears a murmur in the distance. Good luck. Yeah right thinks Roo as he makes his way down to meet the others. -
The armored transport floated beside the streamlined luxury liner, connected by a transparent umbilical bridge. Passengers of all kinds crossed over. But mixed in with the crowd were four who had a mission. They blended in well. Fashionable, but not flashy; confident, but not snobbish. Each man carried his own baggage. There wasn’t much, though.
And so they crossed on the umbilical.
On the Republican vessel, they sat in pairs. Goldar and Alpha sat on one end of the compartment, Avery and Blackheart on another.
Avery leaned back, pretending to be reading holonews. “We’ll be switching transports at Frankfurt. Out ID’s will change there. We’ll take a shuttle to Mainz where a repair ship will be waiting for her crew to come on duty. We’ll be taking that shift. A quick shot over to Mannheim Station, then join up with a Daumann Shipping crew bound for Dresden.”
“We’re just asking to get jumped, aren’t we?”
“Without announcing it, yes.”
“Mhm.” Blackheart looked out the window almost regretfully as the Sigman sun receded into the clouds.
Arriving at Frankfurt, the passengers disembarked anonymously. One by one, each of the covert operatives slipped out of the crowd and headed to a secluded location. They would return looking quite different, each in a dark green work uniform. They moved together quickly and walked briskly into the service shuttle hangar. A group of laborers were already boarding the shuttle for their daily commute to Mainz. The transition was seamless.
When the troopers arrived at Mainz, they put on their flight helmets almost immediately and moved to the nearest lift. It carried them to a sub-hangar where several repair ships waited for their crews. Avery stepped beneath the hatch and flipped open a hidden keypad, then entered the activation code. The hatch opened and the men climbed up inside the ship.
As they exited the station, Alpha opened a channel with the tower. “This is RSS Blue 7 clearing the hangar.”
“Roger, Blue 7,” came back the tincan voice of the tower operator. “Have a good one.”
The engines kicked into blue flame and sped off toward Munich.
The group had been safely nestled on board their Daumann transport for several hours. The ship had just cleared the New Berlin jump gate and was fast approaching the capital itself. Finally, it came into view. Blackheart watched it grow large in the window and reflected on whether he would return to it as a friend or foe. It was a shame it couldn’t be simply as a protector. A whole world couldn’t be guilty - could it?
The ship had now entered Dresden. All there was left to do was wait. If all went according to plan, they would be attacked somewhere between the jump gate and Bautzen Station. It wouldn’t last long. If the crew followed standard operating procedure then a surrender would be offered within 30 seconds of the first shots. That was, unless a police patrol responded. But Avery assured Blackheart he had seen that the patrol would be occupied well enough elsewhere. The colonel didn’t ask for details.
And as they entered the trade lane, they knew that their capture would provide the perfect opportunity to find out the secrets of the pirates known as the Hessians.
-
The crew showed signs of discomfort when they learned it was a battleship patrol that was inquiring of them. The captain knew it was irregular for anything over the size of a patrol to stop a single transport with minimal escort. More than that, he was puzzled at the request. He opened a channel to reply.
“Charlie 1-0, this is Blue 7. Our personnel manifest is completely accurate.”
Junge wasn’t satisfied. He knew something was not right. And he wasn’t take any chances.
He touched his fingers to the communicator on his ear. “Commander Bird, you may engage the transport. I want it intact and its crew alive.”
“Roger that, Admiral.”
A smile blossomed on Full Bird’s face. “Hessians, let’s get busy.”
In moments, the transport shook violently. The crew were frantic, dodging to avoid sparking consoles and splitting bulkheads. And in rear of the ship, in engineering, Blackheart and his men were struggling to brace themselves against the impact of missiles and cannon fire.
“This is Avery’s idea of a smooth operation?!” yelled Alpha.
“Who said this was going to be a smooth operation?!” hollered back Goldar.
After several minutes under fire, the shaking stopped. Then throughout the ship a final shudder and clang. And Hessians began to pour into the hold. Uniformed pirates, it seemed, were filling the ship and spreading to every part of it.
The Police troopers were promptly apprehended along with the rest of the crew, and were brought to the rather large hole that had been cut in the hull. There they met Avery again, for the first time since they boarded. He had a small grin on his face. All was going according to plan.
They were blindfolded and gagged for most of the trip. They sat on the cold deck of a small space.
It’s too small to be a freighter, thought Blackheart.
He didn’t know how right he was. It seemed there was much Avery hadn’t told him.
For the entire crew had been herded aboard a single Rheinland gunship, and they were headed for dreaded pirate haven, Vogtland Base.
-
A thick, strong hand jarred Blackheart’s face. He had become quite familiar with the black glove of the officer over the last hour. His face was sore, but he took some small relief in realizing the worst pain would come after he’d had a chance to rest.
“Is it the Bundschuh?” inquired the Imperial Guard in thick Rhein accent. They’d been questioning him about his allegiances. It obviously didn’t take them long to figure out who the unauthorized “crew” were.
I hope Avery’s getting what he came for, 'cause I sure ain’t.
Another impact sent him to the floor, chair and all.
Avery sat across from Goldar and Alpha in the detentionary with hands bound behind him. The two policemen had already been worked over. Avery would be next.
“Not to worry, chaps. This is almost over.”
Moments later, the heavy durasteel door opened. Three officers stood there, one of them seizing Avery and dragging him out. Then the door was closed with a resounding clang.
The commander was being half-dragged down the hallway back to the detention cell his compatriots shared. He couldn’t move without extreme pain. He felt lucky they had only broken two fingers.
They must be saving some for later.
It had been 3 hours.
As the group turned the corner, Avery heard a faint click. Moments later, it was followed by two loud plasma discharges. Avery halted as he felt the grip of his two escorts loosen and slide down his arms.
The third escort was not an escort at all.
Avery’s bonds were deactivated and dropped to the deck. Taking the weapon of one of the fallen guards, he and the mysterious John Matrix began to run toward the communications center of the base.
The door to the comms room slid open quietly. Matrix and Avery stepped inside and quickly executed the five crew sitting at their stations with brutal efficiency. They approached one of the consoles and Matrix began to access it, while Avery fed him a code.
“Set to frequency Delta 1 and transmit: the cake is iced.”
The readout was clear in Chang’s cockpit. It was time to make a rescue.
“All craft, commence firing.”
In a second, the space around Vogtland was filled with various rebel ships pouring ordinance into the station.
One craft, a Rhino freighter, made a direct line for one of the hangar entries. The impact was devastating, opening a gaping hole in the dock and sucking out the unlucky souls within.
Another wave of Mules approached at high speed and penetrated the dock mere seconds before the security shield could be activated. Half a dozen men poured out of each of the four transports and opened fire.
They took up offensive formations and moved forward on the ill-prepared soldiers in the hangar. Those few who were there were eliminated in short order. One group proceeded through the main hatch, fighting their way to the control deck of the hangar. Another group followed, then soon broke off to take a lift to another deck.
A third group moved with purpose into the belly of the beast.
The corridors shook violently as the barrage signalled the beginning of the escape. Avery and Matrix quickly made their way back to the detention area to retrieve the injured troopers. As they approached they knew the guards would be ready for them. Matrix placed a small charge on the door. They just looked at each other, raised their weapons, then charged.
They blew into the room with guns blazing and dove to the deck. It took no time at all for the air to fill with smoke, and nothing could be seen but the green exchange of hot plasma. Small explosions went off as consoles sustained damage. Several screams could be heard.
Finally, Avery and Matrix stood up. The guard room was clear. They proceeded to track down the officers.
The two spies and their pulverized companions struggled up the passages toward the blown hangar. Suddenly they could see shadows and hear the heavy footfall of boots down the hallway. They put down the prisoners and took aim. But a coded flash of light showed the team to be their allies.
“Well done, boys. Let’s get outta Dodge,” quipped Matrix.
Reaching the hangar, chaos had again fallen. All squads but one had reassembled in defensive positions. But Imperial guards had arrived and were pouring fire onto the small team. One man was hit in the face. Another received a shot to the chest. Laser fire flew through the air. Guards took hits, some collapsing, others bearing the brunt with the help of their armor and continuing to pour on fire.
“Where’s the last team?!” shouted Matrix.
One of the invaders yelled back, “They’re on their way! Load up your boys, we’ll wrap up here!”
With a nod, they rushed to the front of the hangar and lifted the officers and spies onto one of the Mules.
Just as they did so, the last team arrived, running like they had bulls on their heels. Two men took direct hits in the back and fell motionless. “COME ON! COME ON!” shouted the leader. With speed the remaining fighters backed away and boarded their transports.
At once, they all lifted and rotated to exit the hangar. At the same time a console in the control room was detonated and the security shield dropped momentarily. The remaining guards were magnetized to the deck. One fired off a rocket, which slammed into the rear craft, creating a bright flash of light and flame that died out as the shield regained integrity.
A sudden surge in motion meant they had gone to cruise. Aboard one of the ships, Avery activated a communicator handed to him by the pilot. He breathed heavily, speaking into it.
“All passengers are secure. Report.”
“Data secure. Transmitting now.”
Matrix received the data on a personal pad in front of him. After scanning it for a moment and hitting some buttons with his thumbs, he glanced at Avery and said, “It’s Berlin.”
“Ah,” said Avery, flashing a cocky smile. “Then we’re going to Berlin. Let Chang know.”
The policemen had no idea what they were talking about. The troopers and spies looked at each other, exhausted and disheveled. They had made it.
-
16 Hours Previous
_Gathered around the table are 6 men. All impeccably dressed. New suits from the fashion markets on New Tokyo. The room is heavy with cigar smoke and the smell of brandy.At the head of the table, sits CEO Matsumoto, and to the right of him Spankey._
Gentlemen starts Spankey.
Thank you for gathering today.
The remaining 4 men all look up to Spankey and fall silent.
As the 4 main shareholders in Sirius Diversified, Inc, it seems only right we inform you of what is going on.
Matsumoto stands from his seat and looks around the room.Gentlemen, Avery has left on an important mission for SDI and SDI intelligence. It is expected he will not make it back. The only information I have to hand is that he left for Rhineland, and early reports suggest he left with at least 2 members of the TFL Police force.
Matsumoto starts to walk around the table spinning a small silver coin around his fingers as he goes.I received a transmission from Avery with instructions for how he wants SDI Intelligence to be run, should he not make it back. SDI Intelligence will be taken over by Spankey and Daeros as a join effort.
There are whispers around the table. And the youngest attendee stands to talk.
I do not understand, what is it Avery is doing?
It is unknown the exact purpose of his current mission. What is clear is he has been in contact with Lord Nedelor, and this mission is off high importance. It would have to be of high importance for Roo to risk his life.
Gentlemen, I do not want you to worry. Should Avery not return, and we hope he does, but should he not, the Intelligence department will run as always. Avery has spent much time effort and much money training the current operatives, and they are loyal to him and SDI. Spankey has already been to the Intel’s HQ and they are prepared for what might happen, and are ready to continue working for us as always.
The doors to the conference room open.Well, that is all for now. Should anyone have any further questions, please feel free to contact me first thing tomorrow morning. For now, I have to be else where. Gentlemen, good night.
With that, the 4 share holders get up from there seats and quietly leave the room. When the door is closed, Matsumoto sits back down with Spankey and both remain there through the night discussing the future of SDI.
-
Blackheart and his men sat in the makeshift command room being attended to as several rebel leaders gathered around a tactical hologram depicting New Berlin. Chang and Matrix led the briefing, explaining the maneuvers and strategies they would employ to penetrate the defense net of the capitol. Presently Chang was presenting the space offensive.
“…a squadron of Daggers enter here, led by Alexander, with another squadron of captured Banshees led by Krieger entering here to intercept reinforcements. This will get us past the space net.”
Matrix began explaining the atmospheric entry. Blackheart shook his head and whispered to Avery, “I can’t believe we’re doing this.”
“The offensive? It’s simpler than it sounds. Basically we’ll just-”
“No, I meant I can’t believe we’re working with outlaws. By rights I should be arresting these men.”
“Arresting your rescuers? That would be less than gracious, Colonel. You should trust them.”
“Just because I want to arrest them doesn’t mean I don’t trust them. When Chang was a naval officer I always trusted him. Even when he fought for the Blood Dragons, I sensed he was a man of honor. I don’t doubt his intent. I only doubt his means.”
Avery just grinned that charming grin of his.
Matrix continued. “The sky defense platforms on the ground will be neutralized easily. Our Wolfhounds will make several passes with assistance from our Valkyries. By then the Mules will have made atmospheric re-entry and will be on a course for the executive center of the Northwest semisphere. Chang?”
“We expect Admiral JJK to be in attendance at a meeting of high-level diplomats, including some unofficial SCC reps. We haven’t been able to find out who those are, but we’ll decide what to do with them once they’re ID’d. The ground assault will be the final key to this assault, and could decide the future of this conflict, possibly even of Rheinland herself. We’re gears up in four hours. Are there any questions?”
“Yes,” piped up Blackheart, stepping away from the nurse that fussed over him. “How can we justify kidnapping one of Rheinland’s heroes, and a diplomat at that? Let me remind you that it was the death of a Rheinland ambassador that sparked this chain of events.”
Chang looked unapologetically at the policeman. “Commander, you don’t have to remind me. I put together the assault that retired the ambassador myself. You are failing to see the full picture. These people are endangered by the integration of a lesser people. The Hessians made their decision a long time ago to leave the society of Rheinland, and as a result have degenerated into a cutthroat generation intent on raping Rheinland of her resources and leaving its people destitute, consigned to a form of slavery which will require centuries to recover from. Meanwhile, the leaders of Berlin will be revered for their contemporary thinking, and the people will have no idea they’re cheering their own end. So, Colonel Blackheart, if you think it’s more just to allow tyrants to use the honest people of the Rhein for their own gain, you can arrest myself and everyone here once we return from this mission. But if you think these people deserve a chance to exercise their democratic rights, the rights of free people, then help us remove the forces that would deny them that, and show them that true justice is being free to decide your own future.”
Blackheart looked at the floating transparent planet and wondered. But after a moment he replied.
“If you want to win, you’ll need experienced tactical commanders. It looks like you have a few of us sitting in the back of the room. Mind if we come to the table?”
Chang gestured for the four men to step forward. And they did.
-
The orb of white hung silent against the dark contrast of space. It could have been called tranquility itself.
But inside the cockpits and holds of the approaching vessels, there was no peace. Not for the pilots, not for the soldiers, and not for their commanders. If the task they set out to accomplish was achieved, their victory would give truth and a future to the rebellion they hoped for. But if they failed, death would be a certain consequence of tonight. Death, for them, for the rebellion, and for the ideas that moved them.
The police could not participate. But that didn’t mean they couldn’t care.
A Rheinlander accent punctuated the signals of the military defense channels surrounding New Berlin.
“This is Rheinland patrol Red 1 to Battleship Dolga, requesting permission to dock. Over.”
A moment passed as the controller checked the transponder and cargo scan of the Valkyrie squadron.
“Rheinland patrol Red 1, this is Battleship Dolga. Permission granted. Please proceed to Dock 2.”
The dock began to open as the bombers approached. But the controller quickly grew uncomfortable with the pattern and velocity of the incoming patrol. Patching in a command channel, he addressed them again.
“Patrol Red, you are coming in too fast. Wave off and fall back to station 3 for further instructions. Over.”
No reply.
“Patrol Red, do you copy? Over.”
But all Red 1 did in response was wave is wings. A moment later, twelve bright white objects sped toward the open bay before them. They quietly sought their target. As the projectiles reached their destination in unison, the white blossomed into a plume of red fury. The trumpets of battle had been sounded.
Chaos broke the peace of the space around New Berlin, with fighters drawn from all around the planet into defensive postures. Squads of security craft were launched in response to the assaulted command ship. In a short time the Valkyries were surrounded and under heavy fire from the Dolga and her complement.
But the promised aid of Daggers stabbed into the heart of the oncoming naval forces. Formations crumbled into two-man flight groups attempting to resolve into a counterdefensive motion. The capabilities of the assault craft were pushed to their limits as a combination of skill and passion quickly reached a furious intensity.
In the midst of the fighting came new players. “Police Gruppe Grun approaching the combat zone.” The Banshees screamed into the furball, showering the rebel craft with green fire. The naval pilots expressed their joy with cries of victory already on their lips.
But it was not to last. From within the ranks of the Banshees themselves came dissenters, posers who withdrew from the formation, spinning over and engaging the Rheinland officers. Confusion gripped the defenders as rebels pierced their formation, scattering pilots in every direction.
And finally revealing himself, “Old Man” Chang announced the arrival of his Wolfhounds, and behind him came the Mules hauling their deadly cargo of rebel soldiers. “Dragon Leader to Red Group, make a hole!”
The fire was a blizzard of green and red, creating a seemingly impenetrable wall between the battleship and the Valkyrie bombers. But in a suicide run of conviction and passion, they reformed as best they could. Navy fighters and their gunboats turned on the squadron, laying heavy ordinance and laser fire into their tails. One rebel went up in flames, then another, and another. Holding the pattern with resolve immovable the rebel fighters aimed for the port engine block and released the fury of their powerful craft upon it.
Emerald flames licked the hull as bulkheads ripped apart and tore the engines from their body. A shock wave hit the Valkyries head-on, damaging their systems at such close range. But the hole was made, and through it charged Chang and his men.
Re-entry burned the undersides of the fighters and drop ships as they penetrated the atmosphere at galactic temperatures. It shook them violently, threatening to tear them apart. Some half dozen ships were lost, never to see the completion of their task.
Finally reaching the skies above the capital city, Chang led his fighters against the air defenses, blowing up turrets and missile pods everywhere. The heavy Wolfhounds roared over the streets and skyways of Berlin, throwing the people into a panic.
Approaching the government district, the Mules hastily lowered to the ground and threw open their cargo hatches. As men poured out, each soldier quickly moved toward the main complex. Matrix led his commandos quickly up the steps of the Bundesrat capitol building, eliminating the guards with brutal efficiency.
Blackheart yelled above the din of the transports to his troopers, Goldar and Alpha. “You boys go with him! If there are SCC reps in there, you make sure Matrix doesn’t touch them!”
Avery interjected, “That wasn’t part of the plan, Colonel!”
“I don’t care! These are my citizens, Avery, and they will be left alone! Do you get me?”
A cursory nod from the spy and Blackheart followed him across the plaza toward the intelligence building. The other two tailed Matrix’s men into the capitol.
Inside the capital building, the fighting was intense. Rebels and Imperial guards clashed in the hallways, spraying blood and boiled flesh across the marble floors. And soon the fighting spilled into the halls of the legislators. Desks became cover and aisles became gangways as soldiers exchanged deadly blows. John Matrix continued to charge forward with his men close behind while the soldiers held the chambers, and the police followed.
Running up the stairs to the conference hall where the meeting was being held, Matrix began issuing orders with hasty hand motions. Upon reaching the stretch of hallway that led to the chamber they halted briefly. Goldar and Alpha looked at each other, pistols in hand, then up at Matrix. Then came the charge. And as they moved fearlessly forward, troops suddenly appeared lining the gangways above and stepped out from behind the massive marble pillars that stood before them. And throwing open the chamber doors was indeed Admiral JJK himself, watching as his men tore into the rebels.
There seemed to be no escape. Commandos fought with courage, falling before the guns of the Rheinland Imperial Guard. There was no let-up. They just kept fighting and dying. Soon there was only a handful. And Matrix knew it was over. He looked to a window on his right and saw his only way out. Making a break from the cover of his men, he yelled an urgent command to follow. Some did, and others could not. And as Goldar and Alpha made a break for it, only one of them would reach the window.
Goldar looked back just in time to see his wingman take a round to the head and collapse in a heap on the floor. The officer stopped, spun around and knelt, heaving the body of his dead compatriot onto his back, then mounting the window’s edge, and leaping for all he could muster. Firing the grapple from his gun, it caught an edge and he stopped with a jerk that dislocated his left shoulder. He cried in agony. The grappler ascended to a ledge where Goldar disconnected and settled, his dead comrade in his lap.
-
The government district was not a widespread area of the city, but it was large nonetheless. Avery had led his men across 100 meters of street and had yet to encounter heavy resistance. Blackheart knew it was strange that so few guards were present in the district. He and Avery communicated their uneasiness through subtle glances, and each knew what the other was thinking.
They entered the square where the main entry to the intel center was located. Avery held his men at the corner of a building on the opposite end of the courtyard. He motioned an order to a troop commander to take a group of men forward to secure it.
At that moment, the square lit up. Turrets raised up out of the ground around the perimeter and commenced firing. Simultaneously, Imperial guards poured out of the gates and entries scattered throughout the courtyard. The outgoing squad was being cut down before them and there seemed to be no way to stay the onslaught.
“That defense net is nearly impenetrable from this range! We’ve gotta pull back, try another way!” yelled Blackheart over the blaster fire.
Avery watched as the rebels fell like wilting grass. “No! We’ve come this far! We need to accomplish the mission!”
Blackheart pleaded with Avery. “Forget your mission, man! Your life is at stake! If you take it in your own hands, you’re signing your own death warrant! It’s not worth this!”
“It’s all worth this! Let’s go, men! Your comrades are dying! Go, Go, GO!”
They charged across the plaza completely disregarding the thick cloud of fire raining down on them from all directions. Men fell with bloodcurdling screams, limbs being severed and blood boiling in plumes of vaporized matter. And on they charged.
Halfway across the courtyard they came to a fountain. Some of the men jumped in using the lip as cover. Others ascended to the higher levels, and the remaining men took up prone positions surrounding it. The now-drenched Avery peaked over the lip and spied the entrance to the intel center crowded by a squad of heavily armed guards and two turrets.
They think they’ve got big guns. Watch this.
Reaching for his comlink, he activated a frequency and yelled into it. Blackheart could barely hear from across the fountain. And suddenly the commander felt the early pangs of panic creep into his mind as he saw red running down his arms. But as he realized he could not have been hit, he turned his gaze upward to see the corpses of dead soldiers in the upper levels whose blood was now washing over them.
Suddenly the comlink came to life as a tin radio voice broke. “This is Dragon Four, initiating ground support.”
“Get down!” cried Avery.
A split second later, a thunderous roar filled the plaza as a Wolfhound flew over the plaza and released a bright blue object from its underbelly. None but the men near the fountain could realize that it was a Cannonball missile modified for a surface-to-ground assault. It blew the whole front end of the intelligence center wide open, ripping floors of debris down around the now-disintigrated entry.
Fire abated for a moment, giving Avery and his men the chance to make a run for their destination. But the boldness of the Rheinland Guard soon returned. Another Wolfhound approached, intent on providing cover for the imperiled soldiers.
“This is Dragon Lead, making my attack run!”
Blackheart spun around to see Chang’s Wolfhound on approach. Without knowing why, he looked down the path of the oncoming fighter and saw in an alleyway a small manned missile turret taking aim.
No.
“No, Avery, tell him no! Tell him to wave off! Wave off!”
Blackheart found himself waving frantically at the Wolfhound, hoping against hope he might be seen. But it was too late. The missile left the ground, and a second later made impact directly on the aft underside of the fighter. It rocked, pitched over left and went into an uncontrollable roll. Smoke billowed out from behind the craft as it descended behind the buildings in the square, and a horrendous boom and the sound of wrenching steel signified the fighter was down.
Blackheart looked at Avery as he sped toward the building. He had to make a decision. Would he follow the man whom he had followed all this way to discover the truth of Rheinland’s dealings, justifying a war the Council anticipated all-too-strongly? Or would he turn away now to save a citizen of the Council, and a trusted ally?
It seemed like minutes as he crouched in the middle of the wartorn plaza. But he came to a decision, and so with a heavy heart, he watched Avery charge over the mound of rubble before the intelligence center and disappear with his men.
He looked to the fountain and saw some of the soldiers still holding their ground, now emboldened by the support that was ripping the Rheinland defenses apart. “You men, get over here! Your commander is down!”
They leapt up and followed the officer across the plaza, every man opening fire to make a path to the nearest alley, hoping it would lead to their fearless leader. But Blackheart didn’t hold out much hope.
-
By the time the dust had settled and Roo had managed to get his bearings, he was crouched down low, alone.
He could hear gunfire behind him towards the entrance hall of the Intelligence department. His men where still holding their ground. Something had detonated as Roo made his way down the first corridor. He looked around; debris, but no sign of anything else. Rising up on his feet, Roo spotted his blaster lying just a short way from him. He walked over and grabbed the gun, and placed it in his shoulder holster. Checking his boot, his knife was still there; the knife he acquired during the Blood Dragon incident. Might come in handy, Roo thought.
The large metal doors looked slightly damaged, but Roo knew even damaged they would be impossible to pass without inside help. He took a small black box from his coat pocket and placed it over the data terminal on the right side of the doorway. The box started making a small humming noise once attached to the terminal. Knowing it would take another two minutes for the doors to open, Roo took a Marlboro from his shirt pocket and lit up.
The door had just slid open with no resistance. Roo was unsure exactly what the box had done, but it worked. It was an invention belonging to Daeros. He had let Roo test it. It was a shame Roo was unlikely to ever let him know how well it worked.
Entering the chamber that was previously hidden by the big metal doors, Roo stood and looked upon what it was he had come for.
The terminal wasn’t as complex looking as he thought. It was small in comparison to a Corvette main data terminal, but he knew the size was misleading. This terminal stored information on Lord Nedelor, the new Chancellor, but most importantly the information Roo had come to destroy… the ultimate weapon designed by scientists from the Gemini Sector. The weapon had been given the name “Alexandria”. Roo was led to believe this was after a famous figure from “Earth”. But here it all was, information so deadly Lord Nedelor himself was going behind the SCC to destroy it. It was best for the SCC, they should not know this technology existed; if they did, they would keep it. They would say things like “We wish to study it”. No studies would be undertaken. They would reproduce it and use it for themselves. Lord Nedelor had not even informed the Chancellor, or Blackheart. It was a secret shared only by 5 people. Lord Nedelor, Sir Avery, and two top ranking officials from the Rhineland Government. The fifth person was Spectre, former Chief Executive Officer of SDI.
It was rumoured Spectre originated from the Gemini Sector, and for many years it had been rumoured Spectre revisited the Sector to work on his prized project… “The Centurion”. Roo knew the rumours where true, as he himself had dropped off his former CEO many times at particular places so that Spectre could catch his “lift” as he called it. Spectre had become aware of “Alexandria” on his latest trip to the Sector. After trying to learn what he could, he came back to Sirius with only one bit of information… Rhineland. This was shared with Nedelor, and later, Roo.
Roo stood and looked around him. He knew the data had to be destroyed. The gun blasts were getting louder outside the chamber. His men must’ve been falling back towards his location. That must’ve meant the Rhineland military where here… that was not good. Roo quickly dropped to his knees and got to work removing various instruments and devices from various pockets. It was time to build the bomb.
-
We’re going to make it, Blackheart thought in the harried moments after the crash. He had gathered a group of survivors from the plaza and was now running with all speed toward the place where he hoped he would find the downed Wolfhound that carried Chang. It was all he could do to hope that they wouldn’t find him first. There was no telling what the Imperials would do to him if they couldn’t find him in time.
They charged through the back alleys and side streets of the capitol district. It was in fact only two or three clicks to the crash site, but it seemed so much further. They crossed street after street, showing no sign of the craft but the wreckage that had descended while it spiraled out of control. They were losing hope.
Then, finally, a sign. As they prepared to cross another street, Blackheart could see several hover tanks and a platoon of soldiers moving quickly toward them. The rebels held their position in the relative safety of the alley. Blackheart peeked around the corner to observe their movements, and saw they were turning east from their northbound course down the street. He knew they had little time. As the last of the troops rounded turned the corner, the rebels opened up with a dead sprint to the east.
But it was hopeless after all. Even as Blackheart began to make out the edges of the wreckage through the alleys ahead, he knew in moments the ship would be surrounded with soldiers. And yet he couldn’t stop running. Something in him echoed with the principles of justice he so deeply believed, that he had no choice but to continue flying to the scene of what he feared would be an execution.
They had crossed the final street, even in sight of the soldiers just several blocks south of them, and broke out into the open air of the crash site. And there was Chang, blaster in hand, sitting below his wrecked ship, covered in cuts and burns, his jumpsuit ripped and torn. Blackheart ran to him as the soldiers attempted to take up defensive positions.
But to no avail, they were surrounded. The Imperial guards had arrived and moved efficiently to knock down and beat the rebels. They ran to Blackheart and tore him away from Chang, throwing up against the ship. They began to punch him, and would’ve beaten him the way they had beaten the others. But a moment later, out of one of the tanks came their commander.
“Stop, gentlemen!” he ordered. “Don’t you know who this is? Why it’s the commander of the Police himself, Colonel Ice Blackheart. We wouldn’t want him to think we were uncivilized.”
Blackheart arose with a hand on his gut and saw Teig Junge standing tall and proud. Junge looked down at the injured rebel and acknowledged him as well. “And the infamous Old Man Chang. Where is your partner, John Matrix? Not protecting you, I see. Or you might still have gotten away with your life. But even now I hear he has attempted to capture the admiral of the Rheinland navy and has failed. I am told that when he realized his failure he was overcome with shame and jumped out of a window twelve storeys up.”
Blackheart and Chang exchanged a knowing glance.
Junge pretended not to notice. “Colonel, I had sent you a package in the hopes that things would not come to this. I understand you did not receive it. That is regrettable. This insurrection might have been avoided if you had not arrived to aid them. The Union meant to build a relationship with the SCC. Now, that will be more difficult.”
Blackheart tried to stand, but the pain wasn’t going away any time soon. He winced as he spoke. “I am here on an official investigation from the Sirius Central Council. I am investigating charges of conspiracy in the destruction of RA convoy Gordon 3-8 and death of the Rheinland ambassador to Bretonia.”
“Ha!” exclaimed the Rheinland officer. “You are investigating us for these claims? My dear Colonel, these crimes were against the Rheinland Union. Why would we commit such acts against our own interests?”
“A pretext for imperialist intentions, perhaps?”
“Colonel, if we wanted to take a territory, we would have no problem doing it. We do not need a pretext. The Rheinland Imperial Guard is intent on re-establishing its empire, for the good of all Rheinlanders. I fear, Blackheart, you have sadly misinterpreted the situation.”
Confusion gripped him as he began to realize how wrong his assumptions may have been. Could this all have been in vain? Could all these deaths and sacrifices have amounted to nothing more than a dramatic build-up to a colossal miscalculation of the events of the past few weeks? How could that be possible?
Junge stepped forward and crouched before the two men, removing his black gloves and looking up at Blackheart, then at Chang. “This is all…very unfortunate, and I wish there was some way I could allow the two of you to leave, what with the shape you are in. Unfortunately, I am pressed to enforce justice for the people of Rheinland. I’m sure you understand, commander?”
The troops began to move in with bindings to place on the men, having already bound the rebel soldiers and lined them up on the street. With a cry of pain, Chang was hauled to his feet and bound. Blackheart was about to be bound, and was braced to experience the pain of the neural stabilizer they were preparing to place around his neck, when seemingly out of nowhere came a voice he hadn’t heard in some time.
“Don’t do it, soldier.”
They turned to see the commissioner himself, Lord Nedelor, seemingly materialize out of a doorway in one of the buildings behind them. He stepped out in green fatigues and a trench coat, an appearance not typical of the sergeant-at-arms. “Lord Nedelor,” spoke up Junge, “you have arrived just in time to see me take your commander into custody. Perhaps you care to observe how well we treat our prisoners?”
“Don’t pat yourself on the back too much, Admiral. I’m here to relieve you of the good colonel here.”
“Indeed. On whose authority, might I ask?”
“Klaus von Hapsburg,” replied the the commissioner, pulling a datapad out of his trenchcoat and handing it to the admiral. It was a letter of marque granted unconditionally to the Sergeant-at-Arms of the Sirius Central Council for diplomatic matters. “This man comes with me.”
Junge, visibly dejected, motioned for his men to release the officer. “Very well. Take him and go. As you can see we have work to do.” With that, he mounted his tank and shouted, “Los!” The rebels were marched into a transport with Chang behind them. Blackheart caught one last glance at the “old man” as he entered the vehicle and was seated on a bench near the opening. They simply exchanged nods. Then the gangway was raised on the transport and closed. The convoy geared up and left.
“You okay?”
“I’m fine,” replied Blackheart, his frustration clear.
“Then you’d better come with me.”
Then, like a flash, Blackheart suddenly recalled the man who had dragged him here. Avery.
-
Back in the intelligence building, in the lower levels, Avery had almost completed the construction of the device which would obliterate all knowledge of the fearful weapon conceived by the Rheinland government. He worked with poise and care as wires interconnected with detonators and the explosive compounds which could destroy an entire building. But Avery was satisfied that only the room would be left a burned out wreck, along with its exponentially more destructive contents.
All seemed well in hand as the final pieces clicked into place. A moment later another click he was more familiar with came from behind him.
“Stop what you’re doing, Avery.”
The spy slowly raised his hands and placed them behind his head.
“Very good, you already know the drill. You always were a smart one.”
“Yes,” admitted Avery,“but not smart enough to see this move.”
Behind him stood John Matrix, the alleged ally of Chang and leader of the rebellion against the Rheinland Union, and he had a gun pointed at the back of Avery’s heart.
“You almost did it. To be honest I’m not sure how to feel about it. I was very pleased to see how well my men fought today, but their tenacity almost prevented me from being able to get here in time. I should thank you for leading them so well.”
Avery’s stomach turned on itself as he thought of the needless sacrifice of the good men who were mowed down like grass to get him here, to this place. Anger began to rise in his heart.
“Matrix, if you take this information to use against the Imperials, you’ll have negated everything they fought and died to achieve here today. You’ll become the enemy! Do you understand?”
“Don’t fool yourself, Avery! Everything I’ve done has been for the rebellion! Do you think that for one second I was fighting for anybody but them? It’s for those deaths that I am doing this now! If I don’t do what must be done to achieve peace, then I am no better than the fascists who will sentence my soldiers to death!”
Grabbing Avery by the neck, Matrix began to march him to a nearby wall intent on binding him to a rack of data modules. Matrix didn’t have to say it. The spy knew he would be left for the Rheinlanders to execute.
As Avery walked across the room, he began to recall all his life had stood for. Spectre taught him that duty always came before honor, and that there was no sacrifice too great to give to accomplish the mission. He had given aid to those who needed it, had been a faithful soldier, and had always been willing to do what needed to be done, make whatever sacrifice, to accomplish the good.
In those moments, Avery’s mind was filled with the faces of those he cared about. If he allowed this travesty to occur, he would destroy all for which they had fought and suffered. Beyond all that, he knew he really had no choice. All was decided for him. He had his mission. Now it was time to complete that mission.
Everything suddenly seemed to move in slow motion. Avery lurched back and drove his head into Matrix’s jaw and jarring his teeth together. Matrix cried in pain, but Avery made a break for the bomb. He ran as fast as he could even as he waited for the death blow Matrix would deliver from the barrel of his gun. The rebel turned and began to back away toward a large rack of data modules for cover. With frantic aim he fired away at Avery, peppering the air around the spy with hot plasma. Avery dove through the air and hit the floor to slide the final ten feet to the device. In mid-air he took the hit straight to his back. He could sense that his lower body was no longer under his control as he fell to the deck. He looked up toward the detonator on the floor before him and reached with all his might. A cry of desperation left his lips as his fingers stretched to grasp it. He took hold of it and pulled it to himself. As he placed his thumb over the manual detonator button, he uttered one last affirmation to himself: “For the good.”
Then he pressed the button. In a bright white flash, everything in the room was obliterated.
Blackheart could see the smoke leaking out of the blast door down the hallway as he and Lord Nedelor stepped off the lift. The commander ran toward the door regretting that he had left Avery to fend for himself. He touched the door, but his hand was scorched by the heat from the fire blazing within. He sank to his knees and yelled at the pain. He yelled at the pain, yelled at his failure, and yelled at the injustice done there that day.
Nedelor walked up slowly behind him. He crossed himself then put his hands in his trenchcoat pockets. “There was nothing you could do. He knew even before this that he wasn’t coming back.”
“How could you know that?” questioned Blackheart.
“He told me himself.”
Blackheart looked up disbelievingly at the commissioner. “You mean you knew…and you let him go anyway? You should have done something. You should have helped us! If you knew, you could have spared us all of this and a good man would still be alive!”
“I did. I sent you.”
The realization dawned on Blackheart that he had been allowed to discover all the events that had led him here. A bitter taste arose in his mouth.
“We all have our duties, Colonel,” scolded Nedelor. “Mine was to make sure nothing interfered with his.”
Blackheart looked down at his hands, then slowly stood to his feet. He faced the door and raised his right arm in a salute. Turning around, he stopped short just beside the commissioner, but couldn’t find any words. He walked the distance to the elevator and turned to see Nedelor staring after him with a shadow cast on his face from the lights above. Then Blackheart closed the lift door.
-
Limping with the pain of seared and exposed flesh, the badly burned John Matrix made his way out of the building via an alternate hallway, leaving a trail of blood and soot behind him as he dragged his left foot. He entered the open air past the mound of rubble that had fallen at the entrance to the intelligence center. The rebel soldiers who had followed him there from the capitol building were standing guard when they observed their injured leader struggling. A couple of soldiers ran to him and put their arms around him. “Get a ship down here!” one of the soldiers yelled.
Moments later, a Mule descended from the sky and opened its hold up. The men and their wounded commander all boarded and were lifted up into the sky. Then they disappeared with an arriving escort of starfighters.
-
Gemini Sector
Spectre was sat at the desk in his office. He had spent the last few days shut away in his private residence. He feared the news Nedelor was due to bring him. Failure. But he feared success also. As success meant death of a friend.
He looked out of the window and watched a “Centurion” come in for land on the grassy plain. His scientist had almost finished the work. He looked carefull at the one landing. It was the one for Avery. Both Avery and Spectre had designed custom ones for themselves.
There was a knock at the door. “Enter”
A figure entered, no talled than child maybe 10-12 years old. Yet this figure was fully grown.
“A parcel for you boss Spectre”
“Thank you, leave it on the table and you may go.”
The creature left the parcel and disappeared. Relief, and dread spread across Spectre all at once. He knew what the box contained, he knew now how the mission had ended.
Spectre stood and crossed to the table. He stood there for a moment, maybe longer, he was unsure. But after a time he began to open the parcel. He lifted the lid, and his heart sank. Inside where 4 items. A ornate carved knife. A bretonian tunic, a leather wrist slap and a sealed envelope. There was a note on the underside of the box lid.
_Spectre,
I retrieved these items for you. The Tunic and wrist strap where left in Averys Office. The knife i retrieved from his body.
The envelope arrived at my personal residence 2 days ago. I have not opened it. It is addressed to you.
I am sorry,
Nedelor._
Spectre stood a while. He turned to window and saw Roo’s ship launch for a second flight test today. He was dead. He had gone through with it, and now was no more. “For the good” he thought.
He took the envelope and opened it. Inside was a picture and a small note.
_Hey there boss,
Smile you grumpy git. Bet you never thought I would be speaking to you from beyond the grave huh?
I had Spankey send this to Nedelor should I successfully complete mission, resulting in my death. I know Nedelor would hjave passed this to you.I want to say only a few words boss. You were a friend and mentor. But more than that. The picture explains it all.
Take care,
Roo_
Spectre put down the note and picked up the picture. He placed it in his top shirt pocket and left the room.
