A true man is never beaten; he merely retreats till he can find a path to victory!
HMS Exalibur -Yeji-Sola System
The twin transports that had been used to jump the Exalibur pulled back behind the Command Carrier, their jump pods retracting as they tightened in. Their crews maintained safe distances while the Exalibur's BARCAP launched from the Ark-Royal's flight deck, taking up a defensive posture around the Exalibur, F-175 fighters mixed with 120s and 150s. Beggars couldn't be choosers and there were only so many fighters to go around.
The Yeji-Sola star flickered and flared, and tactical boards around the Exalibur's command centre flickered off-line as the radiation interfered with their systems. Darien sat back in his command chair, dismissing the holographic data readouts that floated about him with a wave of his hand. His eyes searched the darkness for some sign of what he was looking for; after the ordeal at Ordessus, the Exalibur had been cut off without ammunition behind Amsus lines. It was a desperate situation for a battered and bloodied crew, hiding from an Amsus battle group that shadowed them, looking for an opportunity to catch them off guard.
The answer had come to him in a dream; at least, he thought he'd been dreaming... Elias, the man he loved, the new incarnation of the Immortal God Emperor, standing before him, repeating the name of a system over and over, urging him there. And without hesitation Darien had obeyed, an instinctual trust and a gut feeling that there was more to it than just a dream, there had to be. Had he sent the Exalibur on some wild goose chase because of a hallucination?
"Exalibur is detecting nothing on her scopes," Commander Durnham said, appearing on Darien's right hand side, absently removing his glasses and examining them in the light from one of the Exalibur's holographic tactical boards, "But given the disruption from the variable star, that is hardly surprising."
"There's something here," Darien murmured, studying the darkness, stroking the scars on his cheek. He was glad that he'd had the foresight to send R-403 on a desperate run to Sentinel Station, conveying General Riley, the resistance leader, and the critically ill Gorean Ambassador, back to Imperial space.
"Well, there are only a limited number of places to hide, even in a system like this," the Commander replied, "We can scan the outer system intermittently, and there is nothing out here. That leaves the inner system, close to the star where we can't scan; however, I must warn you that our navigational beacons won't work that deep into the system. If the fighters were to lose visual on the Exalibur, they could well be completely lost without a frame of reference."
"Then we take the Exalibur in closer," Darien surmised, "Will it affect the transports?"
"We will have no communications of any kind," Durnham replied, "Our best bet is to leave the transports at the edge of the system and rendezvous with them when this... mission is complete." He sounded uncertain of the last part, looking down at the Highlord sitting studying the star.
"I think he wants to know why we're here," Lauren said, turning in her seat from the helm, voicing the question that was on all their minds.
"We'll know when we find it," Darien said, rising from his chair and walking down around the second tier to descend into the communications and sensor tier at the very bottom of the bridge, leaning over Lieutenant Galadriel's console, squinting over her shoulder. "Order the transports to marshal with the CAP fighters. Masconi should keep a tight reign on them, while we investigate a bit deeper."
"Aye, sir." Lauren looked thoughtfully across at Commander Durnham, who was standing impassively, his head tilted in a way that usually meant he was communing with the ship. Lifting her hand to touch her headset, she issued orders for the fighters to carry out Darien's orders.
* * *
"Seven bloody hours," Mayfair murmured restlessly from the CIC chart table. He'd insisted on returning to duty despite his broken leg, resting his crutches balanced against his chair, looking across at Lauren who was examining data.
"It's slow going because it has to be," Lauren murmured, shuffling her clipboards and adding notes to the system chart, squinting up at the bright golden star that flickered and shifted towards blue, casting the bridge in new colour as well. She rubbed her head and bent back to it. They were charting a slow course into the heart of the system, searching to the very limits of the sensors while the star's constantly shifting ambiance fouled their readings beyond a certain range.
"Well, what's he looking for?" Mayfair grumbled irritably, "We should be making for Taïr, or even Sentinel, at least there we'd be doing some good rather than..."
"Are you here to help, or to complain?" Lauren snapped irritably, looking up from her work, "You know, ever since Kyr left the ship to accompany the ambassador I've been getting nothing but complaints from Nurse Pia about her patients thinking it's okay to discharge themselves and go running around the ship getting underfoot."
"I'm sorry," Mayfair held up his hands, acquiescing to her, "Pass me the sector four-nine-two results."
She slid them across to him, smiling at him a moment. "I'm sorry," she said, glancing back through to where Darien was hard at work on his own set of readings in the command chair, "We're all feeling pressured."
"We'll get there," Mayfair reassured, "I suppose I should just shut up, should be used to his style of command by now." He paused. "Why do you think he's so mysterious?"
"He always has his reasons," Lauren said quietly, running her pen down a list of dust particles, "But I can't figure out what this one's ab..." she stopped short, frowning at the numbers on the readout, "I've got something..." she murmured, turning back to the bridge, "I've found something!" she said, "Bearing..." she looked at the clipboard as she began to make marks on the plotting board with a green grease pencil, "Zero-one-four mark Three-five-four point two."
Darien stood from his chair. "Alter course, come starboard Zero-one-four mark Three-five-four point two. Increase speed by two thirds."
"I am resolving sensors along the bearing," Commander Durnham reported, "Registering an intermittent stationary contact... approximately two miles in diameter..." He paused, looking confused.
Lieutenant Galadriel looked up. "We're receiving a broadcast..." she said.
"That isn't possible," Darien remarked, stepping down to rest a hand on the helm console as Lauren relieved the watch Midshipman. The two exchanged a glance: the radiation from the star was supposed to block all communications.
"We're receiving it on the FTL network," Galadriel explained, "I am uncertain as to how... It's old Imperial code, we're being challenged for our ships' transponder code."
"That is correct," Commander Durnham closed on the two senior officers at the helm, "Should I reply?"
Darien studied the star thoughtfully. "Do so..."
"We're receiving an automated reply, instructing us to proceed along a preset course," Lieutenant Galadriel held her hand over her earpiece as she paced the lowest tier, "The message cuts off."
Darien frowned, as he nodded to Lauren. "Take us in, slowly."
* * *
It appeared out of the brilliant haze of the star, at first a shapeless mass of girders, pockmarked and damaged from centuries of neglect; an Imperial station, resplendent in forgotten glory. Much of it was demolished, save for a trio of lit berths, two empty and one holding a dark shape.
"What is that?" Darien pointed at the holographic display.
"That resembles an Imperial Pocket Battleship." Commander Durnham studied the image and the holographic model the computer displayed underneath it, rotating for a better perspective. "These were theoretical designs, I had no idea that one had been constructed."
"It's approximately the same size as the Exalibur," Lieutenant Galadriel reported, leaning over her board and calling up more information, "Twice the amour plating and armed to the teeth, from these readings. Mainly rail cannons and missile tubes... I am also registering nukes in silos... Fifty of them as well as four..." she looked up in distress, "As well as four Type-Nines..."
Darien went cold.
He remembered all too well what a Type-Nine weapon was capable of; the Zero-Point bomb had been what Kardiac had intended to use on Arcanis.
"Sound General Quarters," he bit out, as the alarm klaxons began to sound, crew members rushing to their posts as the Exalibur powered up its weapon systems. They were woefully unarmed, but Darien wasn't about to take any kind of risk; he'd been taken in before by Kardiac's legacy.
He retook his command chair, watching as Mayfair barked orders into his TAC-link, sending Marines to secure vital areas of the ship, side arms and pulse rifles being issued out to the crew as the Exalibur circled the darkened Imperial Space Station.
"I'm reading no indications of life on the station," Galadriel reported, "Its reactors seem to have just been triggered as an automatic response to our arrival and are still powering up. The Battleship appears completely inactive. So far, no more broadcasts from the station."
Darien tapped his jaw, hand braced on the arm of his chair, staring at the ghost ship. Something terribly wrong tugged at his consciousness. It could be nothing more than nerves, but experience taught him to listen to his instincts. He turned as Shale joined them on the bridge, the stoic Taïrian Captain observing the dark ship, the fur on the back of his neck rising, and his teeth baring slightly.
"If we're going to re-arm," Lauren said, watching the crew around her draw pause, "This is probably going to be our only chance. I'll lead a team..."
"No," Taine said firmly, "If anyone is going over to that ship, it will be me." He stood slowly, pulling the greatcoat off of the command chair and slipping it on, "I'm not going to risk my crew..."
"Darien," Lauren said, warningly.
He glanced over at her. "You can accompany me. Lieutenant Galadriel, I'm going to need a member of House Kardiac I can... rely upon." He chose his words carefully.
"I understand," she said, removing her headset and handing it to her Midshipman, climbing up to join the Skipper, "Petty Officer Firlotte should come as well, in case there is anything worth scavenging we don't have on ship."
"Highlord," Commander Durnham commented, turning, "Might I suggest..." he looked meaningfully at the large robotic mech, swathed in a camouflage cloak, a silent sentinel, an extension of the Exalibur herself. Darien hadn't grown accustomed to its presence yet, but he nodded as Ezekiel, the assault mech, clicked forward anxiously on its steel legs.
Darien looked up at Shale, who was giving him an expectant glance. He shook his head. "You're injured, and I need someone to take care of the Exalibur in case things go wrong over there. If that ship so much as twitches I want you to blow it out of the sky, whether we're on it or not." He set a firm look on his face. "Your word, Shale; take no chances, destroy that thing if there is any kind of risk."
* * *
He descended to the main flight deck, clipping the Polian shard weapon he had taken from the Polian Inquisitor, Pachyeus-Ra, to his belt. His shaking was getting steadily worse; it was bad enough to stop him from being able to use his revolvers, but he'd be damned if he was going anywhere without a weapon. Especially not aboard an old Imperial station attached to a Kardiac warship.
The dropship EX-01was prepped for flight. How long had it been since that same dropship had flown into the Skyella Nebula? How long since Wing Commander Kendrick's betrayal that had seen the destruction of the moon of Arcanis?
Lauren was already aboard, running through the pre-flight checks with the plane captain doing the walk around outside. She turned as Darien took the number two chair beside her. Petty Officer Firlotte was back in the body of the dropship, again kitted out to resemble a Marine, this time adamantly clutching a pulse rifle as if his life depended on it.
"If you're going to hold a pulse rifle," Galadriel murmured as she reached across, "Make sure the safety's on, okay?" She flicked the switch, smiling at him as she settled back looking forward to the officers up front.
Darien pretended that he hadn't heard the exchange; Galadriel had a matter-of-fact way of going about things that was disarming and reassured the people she was around. She was a good officer, and he was proud to have her with them. Like Masconi, she was proof that not all of Kardiac's legacies were inherently evil.
The Karin Marines Mayfair had insisted on sending along sat in two rows. Mayfair had been very careful to select the same platoon of Marines who had accompanied him on the Skyella mission, adamant that they would understand the dangers the situation posed to them and would be extremely careful.
James and Ezekiel rounded out the rest of the boarding party, the Fida'i refusing to be left behind, and Darien had known better than to waste his breath arguing. The stubborn assassin would go where he wanted to anyway, and Darien had just grown tired of fighting a pointless argument.
"We're ready," Darien nodded to Lauren, who began to taxi the dropship towards the deck elevator that would convey it up to the flight deck above. The deck crews in their rainbow-coloured spacesuits guided the dropship forward.
"Boss; E dash X dash Oh dash One. On deck," Lauren called. No doubt her own memories of the events of Skyella were haunting her, and Darien wondered if he hadn't made a mistake in asking her to accompany him. She waited patiently for Sub-Lieutenant Ryerson, the current Air Boss, to acknowledge her.
"E dash X dash Oh dash One, taxi cat one, squawk..." The air boss replied.
Darien settled into his seat, fastening the seat belts, and adjusting his greatcoat, staring broodingly as EX-01shot off of the flight deck, the dropship pivoting on its engines and rolling around to streak towards the silent station. The normal radio chatter that surrounded Exalibur was blanketed by interference from the variable star, and Darien settled quietly, left to his own thoughts as the dropship pulled close to the damaged sections of the station.
Gaping rents had been torn through it, but without the telltale carbon scoring of weapons fire. Meteor damage; the station's main sections had sheltered the Pocket Battleship from harm as they had been designed to. As they swept closer he could make out the ominous golden lion's-head on its field of blue, synonymous with Kardiac.
Slowly, nervously, Lauren manoeuvred the small craft through the maze of twisted girders and floating debris, her eyes glued to the sporadic sensory readouts. Her heart skipped a beat every time the display flickered, as the dropship's sensors were disrupted by the intense solar radiation. The radiation, the reason behind Kardiac's choice for this secret base, flickered and played havoc with the sensor readouts.
Darien felt the chill in the air, the angry scars on his pale and drawn face pulled tight, his eyes scanning across the endless metal monstrosity, the Pocket Battleship.
"Watch out!" He jumped in his seat, as Lauren threw the dropship into a tight spiral to avoid colliding with a broad piece of spinning debris that had materialized in their path. The dropship shuddered as the metal fragment grazed along the hull, both of them trying to steady their nerves at the near miss.
Lauren fired an apologetic look over at her Skipper, carefully timing her thruster bursts, pitching the dropship into a tight manoeuvre past the opening to the Battleship's dry-dock. Darien felt his hand reflexively tighten on his shard weapon.
"Lex Talionis," he read off of the prow, stylised in a golden lion's-head that swept back into the Battlecruiser hull, mounting the huge-bored cannons that would have come from a dreadnaught. It was the perfect synergy of speed, armour and armament, capable of running from the fights it did not like and pounding on anything that could keep up with it.
"An eye for an eye," Lauren remarked, catching the meaning behind the name.
"That sounds like Kardiac to me," Darien murmured, leaning down and pointing across to the station, "We should dock there, it looks like the station still holds pressure, we might be able to get across and investigate the Battleship from there."
Lauren followed his direction, and the dropship dipped, heading for the station's docking area, an open port that would let them go aboard the station. It curved about on its guidance thrusters as it pulled in close, Lauren flipping switches to zero their relative vector, watching as the great bay doors irised open at their approach. The automated system took over as the dropship slipped inside.
The gauges on the boards showed positive pressure, and confirmed the existence of a breathable atmosphere aboard the station. The Marines geared up, ready to go aboard first, but paused as the assault mech uncoiled itself and marched forward.
"I should assume point." The mechanical voice intoned as the dropship shuddered, its landing gears touching down upon the deck of the cavernous bay.
Darien unhooked his seat belts and clutched onto the cargo netting as he looked aft at his men. "Here's the drill," he said firmly, "Don't get separated, touch nothing you aren't one hundred percent certain of, and at the first sign of trouble return to the dropship." He drew the shard weapon and eased it in his grip, nodding to one of the Marines to cycle open the hatch. The mech scuttled forward, tossing back its camouflage cloak as it lowered itself to all fours like an animal and leapt out of the dropship, unfolding to its full twelve feet, its viscous tail sweeping to and fro as it searched around for any sign of danger.
The Marines entered next, careful as they covered one another, sweeping the connecting bridge that led inside the station, TAC-lights flicking through the darkness of the bay, a couple of them breaking flexible light sticks that they dropped to mark the way back to the dropship.
Darien dropped to the deck, turning up the collar of the greatcoat as he stared about him. He wasn't sure what he'd been expecting, turmoil, devastation. Instead a pristine bay, silent and dark, met him.
Galadriel carried a large, tubular flashlight that illuminated the area, looking at the shaking technician, who was gripping the pulse rifle absently as he stared around him in awe.
"I should take the rifle," she stated flatly, extending the flashlight to him, smiling and reaching for the weapon. The tech gratefully relinquished it, holding the flashlight with both hands as he instinctively took a step closer to her. Galadriel eased the safety off of the weapon, looking over at her Skipper and giving him a small smile.
Darien turned back to the dropship and leaned inside, looking over at Lauren who turned to face back at him. "Stay with the dropship," he ordered, "if we get into trouble we're going to need a fast way out of here... I'll leave a squad of the Marines here to keep you covered."
She looked at him a moment, pulling the ball cap low on her brow. "Stay sharp, Darien," she said warningly, "Everything Kardiac touched is tainted... and his madness is contagious."
"I'm the Highlord VonGrippen," Darien replied with a grim look, "it's my job not to underestimate Kardiac."
He pulled back, looking over at Sergeant Hobbes, the leader of the two Marine Squads that had accompanied him. "I want one of the squads to cover the dropship, the other to accompany me to the Lex Talionis."
"Sir," Hobbes said, pointing to his Corporal, who barked orders at a couple of his men, taking up firing positions to cover the dropship.
Darien turned, looking about for James. As usual the Fida'i had pulled his vanishing act, but Darien felt reassured knowing that somewhere in all the dark shadows of the metal mausoleum, death waited and watched over him, coiled to strike down any that would harm the Aga-Khan of the Silent Caliph.
Darien crossed the deck, sinking his hands into his pockets, staring at the heavy blast doors that barred their way into the station, his eyes tightening. "Open it," he commanded.
Firlotte gritted his teeth, fishing through the red utility vest, selecting the appropriate tools and setting to work to pop the locking mechanism. He stepped back triumphantly as the hatch doors unlatched and slid back, his face falling at the grizzly sight beyond.
Darien tilted his head, staring across the bodies that lined the floor, lying at the door in a pile, as if they had clawed over each other trying to get out. Their faces were frozen in anguish, contorted in pain as they had died screaming. The ravages showed the effects of explosive decompression, a few clutching small religious symbols, the black steel roses that had been the Emperor's holy talisman. They had all died a gruesome death, one that all space mariners had learned to fear.
Firlotte was suppressing his urge to vomit, heaving as he bent towards the ground looking away. Galadriel reached up to pull a black rose on a simple chain around her neck and murmured a prayer.
The Mech moved forward. Not programmed with the same sensibilities that the human beings possessed, it propelled itself over the pile of bodies and moved into the access corridor. Turning its head first one way and then the other, its tail twitched like a cat hunting prey.
Galadriel reached out a hand to touch Firlotte's shoulder. "You okay?" she asked, still rattled by the sight herself.
Darien offered a compassionate look, motioning for the Marines to move in as well. The Highlord closed his eyes as he stepped over the bodies of the dead. There was no other way inside; he felt his skin crawling, treading as carefully as he could, looking at the destruction of what had once been a departure lounge.
"The seals are intact," Hobbes offered. The veteran Marine looked about him. "It's like someone killed them deliberately." He shook his head, puzzled. "They vented the entire station to space... and were thoughtful enough to reseal it again afterwards." The Sergeant looked down at the corpses.
"They were murdered." Darien said, staring at the shimmering golden lion's-head painted upon the wall, his police training kicking in. He reached up to the breast pocket of his shirt where he kept his TER-SEC badge; he'd seen so many horrific murders. None more so than his final case, the Human politician and his wife killed by Inquisitors because he had objected to the Morality Code. The one that had sent the Inquisitors to his door that fateful day...
He turned back as Galadriel guided the shaken techie across the pile of bodies, waiting patiently as Firlotte stopped, heaving up his breakfast in a corner. All of them understood what the boy was going through as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. No one should ever see such horror.
"Which way?" Darien asked, looking over at Galadriel, trying to ignore the smell as the bodies began to thaw after centuries frozen in vacuum.
"Starboard," the Lieutenant nodded, helping Firlotte back to his feet. And as Ezekiel lead the way; they began to make their way through the ghostly crypt of the station, winding through corridors that would have once been teeming with life and were now, instead, tombs for the dead.
Darien pulled his shard weapon from his pocket, passing rooms where people had asphyxiated, pushing whatever they could up against the doors to keep the air inside, only to die slowly instead of in a rush like the others. No matter how it had happened, it was a terrible way to die.
It was a long, silent passage through the station, broken by the mechanical creature ahead of them, bounding down the hall at a half gallop, pausing every so often to allow the jogging Marines to keep up with him, leap frogging their way up the halls, none of them willing to take any chances.
Darien kept a steady pace behind them, his eyes hard. Galadriel and Firlotte trailed a step or two behind him. The Highlord listened to their murmured conversation, realizing a time when he had been just as scared aboard the Imperial Corvette on Irulia.
"I'm sorry I lost it back there," Firlotte said quietly, gratefully touching her arm.
She smiled again at him, and nodded. "It's okay, that was rough on all of us. You're doing better than most would..."
"Sir!" Hobbes called down the corridor, "We've reached the ship..."
Darien drew up, looking at the polished black doors that stood ajar, the connecting bridge that linked them to the Lex Talionis. And beyond them, the hatch to the ship itself, the dull red activation lights that said the mighty warship was still powered, waiting for someone's return.