He that doesn't learn from the past has no future.
R-403 - Mars - Terran system - Hegemony Territory
The infamous R-403.
In Amsus news broadcasts the ship was vilified, a predator that swept down upon innocent Hegemony ships. A symbol of piracy and of insurrection, R-403 had become synonymous with Taine's resistance movement, the damnable Empire that was spreading its lies and its corruption through the peaceful order of the Hegemony.
There were whispers of an underground newsletter called R-403 circulating on backwater Hegemony worlds, spouting about how the Falcon Banner had risen again, and that the old order would soon come and tear down the carefully cultivated sterile utopia.
Inquisitor Thalak wasn't about to permit that.
Outwardly, the Raptor appeared much like any other, albeit camouflaged to match the Martian environment in a mottle pattern of reds. He was a predator, built to stalk his prey and to swoop upon it with speed and utilitarian grace. Armour plating and carbon composites pared back to IR baffles over the engine cowling. A pair of low-slung plasma cannons had replaced the Amsus auto-cannons, an enhancement that the Hegemony intended to implement on many other Raptors; it was an effective modification to an already deadly machine.
His deceptively soft eyes strayed up and over the external engines. Polian enhanced, meaning that Taine had found a way to get hold of the latest in Amsus military hardware. That would bear a closer investigation.
A TER-SEC forensics team was combing over the ship, trying to get some kind of hint as to whether Taine had jumped away using his Propylons, or if he were still there on Mars.
Agonizingly slowly, Thalak waited for the inefficient humans to complete the simple task he had laid out for them. Detective-Sergeant Bobby MacKay urged patience while they worked. But patience with TER-SEC, especially with Bobby, wasn't something Thalak possessed.
The Inquisitor marched up the ramp, out of the cold Martian night and into the brightly lit cargo bay of the Raptor, noting the pile of magazines and weapons next to a cold cup of half-finished coffee. A couple of TER-SEC officers were snapping pictures of it.
Thalak moved past them, a serpentine grace to his motions, climbing the gantry and into the lounge area. Neat bunks folded and closed away. Taine had not brought a full crew with him. That interested Thalak mildly: Taine had so many resources at his disposal, that, had he chosen too, he could have whisked in enough troops to help him hold the Raptor.
The fact that he had abandoned it could mean that he had brought a small strike team; Taine favoured fast moving, independent operatives making lightening fast raids. Thalak had read the reports out of Ordessus; maybe the intuitive Human was planning to attack Mars.
Yet the pattern was wrong to support that theory. There was no evidence that that was what he was doing. They'd found three dead bodies in the cargo bay, currently being examined back at the local coroner's office, members of House Kardiac from their uniforms. Another inconsistency; why hadn't he chosen his own men?
When He added that to the fact that Mars held nothing of interest for Taine; his strategies had never strayed so brazenly close to Earth and he was never so uncharacteristically careless.
Thalak walked out onto the shuttle bay, staring at the open doors. The racks of Imperial Electronic Warfare equipment were being examined by a couple of technicians. Thalak drew his rod weapon and shot the pair, holstering it again.
It was against Hegemony law to study Imperial technology.
Behind him he heard a rush as a couple of the TER-SEC officers hurried to see what the shooting was about. Thalak walked towards the edge of the bay, turning back to them, one hand resting on his black belt, the other on the rod weapon, daring them to say something, anything, to object to what he had just done.
But like all humans, they backed down, putting their PKDs away and returning to their work, the Inquisitor's warning fresh in their mind. Imperial technology was forbidden.
Why were the shuttle bay doors open?
Thalak looked down at the ground: too far to jump, and with the mud, such a landing would have left a mark. And the bay was too crowded with equipment to have housed any kind of escape vehicle. He turned, looking over at the service ladder to the upper hull, only accessible when the doors were open.
Thalak would have smiled, were he capable.
Whoever piloted the Raptor was still very much on Mars.
The Inquisitor returned through the length of the ship, walking past the open doors to the cabin where MacKay was examining the ship's log computer, seated at Taine's desk. It was going to have to be packaged up with the rest, back to the TER-SEC labs where a computer expert would break through the encryption codes and access the log entries. It would be a valuable insight into Taine's mind.
However...
Thalak drew his weapon again and shot the computer.
MacKay leapt back from the smouldering wreckage that had nearly taken his hand with it, looking around in surprise and anger at the Inquisitor in the doorway. "What the hell?" he demanded, "That could have..."
"You know full well why that cannot fall into the wrong hands," Thalak warned coldly, turning back to the hall, his hand pushing the open utility locker door thoughtfully. The raincoats were missing; standard on all Raptors, they were the same ones issued to the airfield workers. Thalak counted two missing coats.
That was how they had escaped.
The cockpit revealed further clues. The discarded weapon belt with the standard Imperial service automatic. Not Taine's weapon of choice, far too deadly for the Inspector's sensibilities. Thalak drew it. A pulse pistol usually issued to Imperial pilots, it lacked the distinctive hammer assembly, making it easier to draw in close quarters. The rounds were standard low velocity, typical for shipboard life.
He picked up the nylon flight jacket tucked down beside the pilot's chair, turning it over and looking up at Detective MacKay, his thumb running over the black leather name patch with its senior airman's wings. "Squadron Leader Alvin Katz, Imperial Star Navy."
MacKay frowned. "One of his companions?"
"One of your interceptors initiated a conversation when the Raptor was making an approach to Mars?" Thalak asked.
"Yes, with an individual naming himself Alessandro..." MacKay shifted uncomfortably.
"Then we are looking for two human males, one named Alessandro, the other named Alvin Katz," Thalak tossed the jacket back onto the seat, "Taine is not on Mars."
"I'll alert the Trinity Metropolitan..." MacKay began.
"I will hunt them personally," the Inquisitor said evenly, "They will know where I can find Taine. You and yours will return to your standard operations. Any sightings of either of these two... traitors, will be reported to me immediately." He paused, looking at the ship about him. "As for this ship, destroy him. He has betrayed his brothers."
"Yes sir," Bobby replied, blinking again at Thalak's almost human responses, tipping off a salute as he glanced around and patted the back of the pilot's chair. "I'll get right onto that... sir..."
* * *
Stylish sunglasses and swept-back hair, blue-grey ball cap tucked on at a slight angle. Olive-green Gore-Tex jacket with the collar turned up, a deep red and black backpack hanging low on his back. Worn blue jeans that looked entirely too comfortable, sitting on his hips. Shining pale blue eyes with a twinkle.
Alessandro stepped back, nodding his head at Katz's handiwork. "Very nice," he said with a grin.
Katz knew how to dress; he knew what people liked, he knew what looked good on him. He'd been trained well, he could blend, but still stand out in a crowd, accenting all the right features.
He picked at the jeans and bounced in the sneakers. He looked like a college student, which for most on Karin was a pipe dream, and for a slave... well, hardly in the realm of possibility at all.
He looked again, trying to recognize himself, but the only things that stood out were his eyes. They had both agreed had felt it best to blend in. A few tactful investments using the cop's money had bought an Orion follicle wand. Set right, it had changed Katz's hair colour in a few minutes, and now they were in a second-hand clothes shop, kitting Katz out in something more suited to the cold and wet Martian climate.
Alessandro had been easier; he'd found himself a nice Italian shirt and a trench coat, his Italian heritage showing that all he needed to look good were the sheer lines of a shirt and a good pair of trousers.
That hadn't quite worked for Katz. He was the kind of guy that a suit would never look right on; he had stood awkwardly, looking like a hockey player on draft day about to be picked for the Karin Raiders or some other backwater Apilon Rift team.
That had pretty much decided how things were to go, Katz dressed down to fade into the back ground, while Alessandro had dressed sharply. If they ran into anyone in authority they'd keep their attention on the Italian and hopefully not see Katz coming.
Dressed and paid for, they were able to go back out onto the evening streets, the bustle of traffic and cars hammering on their horns as TER-SEC interceptors blared overhead, sirens racing as they swept off to yet another crime.
The rain had abated. Mars was pushing into its spring, and overhead the moon of Phobos was tracking its hurried course across the night sky, peeking through the clouds as if mocking them.
He'd trodden Karin's cold streets, and his fingers moved to scratch the little black barcode tattoo on his wrist. It had contained his registry, his specifics, so that whenever the Karin guard had come round inspecting the boys who had worked the frozen street corners or the underground subway stations, they'd always known who had owned him.
Flesh had been a hot commodity on such a frozen world. His marked him as disease-free; that had been pure luck - how many close calls had he gone through? Those few extra credits gleaned for the right to savour him without the mandatory precautions? Money that had been swiftly pocketed by his masters, anxious to make a profit off of such a skilled...
"Hey Ragazzo, we should sleep, sė?" Alessandro nudged him from his thoughts and Katz smiled back, realizing for the first time how much taller the Kardiac Lieutenant was.
"We should find a hotel," Katz murmured absently, turning as he walked, looking at the cluster of young women attached by golden chains to a large blue Gorean swaying his way up the street, his proud tail sweeping to and fro. The girls still wore their sales tags attached to their ears... grocery shopping.
Alessandro led them into the lobby of a hotel, working his way past the casino with its maze of one-armed bandits churning out credits and enticing people to play with hypnotic light displays. Alessandro stared with a certain amount of awe at the gaudy ringing bells and the scantily clad constructs in bunny costumes bringing drinks, an army of Barbie clones serving the needs of the patrons.
A woman detached herself from one of the banks of gambling machines, coiling herself seductively around Katz's shoulders. "Hello honey," she purred into his ear.
Katz on instinct tugged back his jacket sleeve and showed her his tattoo.
She laughed, lightly pulling down the neckline of her tight blouse revealing her own barcode. "Take care hon," she said with a warm smile, "Stay safe."
Katz nodded his head. "You too," he replied, remembering what it was like back on the streets, remembering that sometimes a friendly smile and a wish for luck could brighten the dark and cold nights.
He scratched the tattoo again, realizing that Alessandro was watching him. "It goes back to the Imperial days," he explained, showing him the tattoo, "When... things... were legalized, bar-coding was the simplest system to keep track. It was an Orion idea, they were the best to administrate the database..."
"Database, Ragazzo?" Alessandro asked in concern, taking Katz's hand. Licking his other thumb, he rubbed it a few times, trying to make the property mark go away, looking back up in frustration. "This is not right."
"We should just go," Katz said quietly, "Get some sleep..."
Alessandro squeezed his hand, dark brown eyes looking angry as he studied the mark, finally letting go as he looked up into Katz's eyes and smiled again, a sad smile this time, one that said he was sorry that it had happened, deepening into a firm smile that said it would never happen again.
Katz turned his hand in Alessandro's grip and clutched at his hand. "We should..."
Alessandro nodded, his smile turning to a blush as he looked down again, and back up with a slight smirk. "Sė, Ragazzo, we should check in."
He bounded up to the desk, still holding Katz by the hand, tugging him along with him, far too exuberant for his own good. The desk clerk sniffed as they approached, taking in the pair, his eyes travelling down to Katz's hand and the mark there. He drew a sigh and folded his arms.
"Can I help you?" he asked, sounding annoyed.
"Sė, sė, a room, one bed," Alessandro grinned.
"Will that be by the hour, sir?" the clerk inquired, pretending to type something into his computer. His uniform was a little too pressed, his bow-tie tied tight, and his name-tag said he was called Jack.
"No, no, all night," Alessandro tugged Katz towards the counter, nodding as he fished out his wallet, obviously missing the implications as to what the clerk was hinting at.
"Well sir, I am sure that we can make arrangements, if that is what you wish. However we do have a special rate for...," the clerk calmly nodded to Katz as he stepped back from the counter.
"Huh?" Alessandro looked perplexed, "Why?"
Katz nudged Alessandro and pointed to a small placard on the counter that detailed the 'special rate system for Sex Tourists'. "He thinks you want to sleep with me."
"Sė, sė, I do wanna sleep with you," Alessandro said, still lost in the translation, a puzzled expression on his face as he turned back to the clerk, "I have money, I'll pay."
"I'm sorry sir, his kind," he gestured at Katz, "Aren't allowed to spend the night in our facilities..." the clerk smiled slyly, "It's hotel policy, and for your protection."
"Che cazzo stai dicendo?" Alessandro asked, folding his arms, "I am trying to get a room for the night, I have money you have keys, you give me keys I give you money, sė?"
Katz shook his head. "It's okay, we should just go," realizing they were attracting the wrong kind of attention. All it would take was for the wrong person to notice what was going on and they would have TER-SEC down on them.
"I think you should listen to your rental," the clerk sneered, turning to look at Katz, "Peddle your ass somewhere else, this is the Trinity Astoria..."
"Sė? Sė?" Alessandro asked angrily, "Testa di merda!" he said, reaching out and grabbing the first thing he could find, wagging the offending placard at the Clerk, "He is not a 'rental', we are just looking for a room, Cazzo! What is wrong with you?"
"Hey," Katz tugged on Alessandro's sleeve, "Come on, before they call the police."
Back out onto the street Alessandro was seething. "I can not believe it!" he said angrily, pacing back and forth around Katz as the two of them set off in search of another hotel, "That... he... uno che va in culo a sua madre!" Alessandro swore again folding his arms, adding a few other profanities for good measure, pausing a moment and looking at Katz. "I am sorry, he was rude..."
Katz bit back a laugh. "Not as rude as you are. Does your mother know that you swear like that?"
Alessandro grinned after a moment, stepping to avoid a couple walking up the street past them. "My Momma was a very strong woman, probably best that she not know. Safer for me that way." He bobbed his head decisively, sinking his hands into his trouser pockets, watching his breath cloud in the cool night air. He skipped a little and looked at Katz with a sheepish smile. "I am sorry Ragazzo, he had no right to speak to you like that, assume you are my whore..."
Katz nodded, holding onto the straps of his backpack, glancing upwards as a gleaming silver Orion Trade Liner began its landing procedures for the large primary spaceport that gave the city its name. A juggernaught of cargo-pods loaded with the best trade goods, ready to open for business like a roving bazaar.
It would have been good could they get aboard it, they might have been able to get some kind of help. But the Amsus knew all too well about Nicholas Denver's declaration of war, and they were watching all Orion ships.
It was strange; Katz would have expected an immediate embargo on all Denver goods, yet they were everywhere, state seizure of those assets trapped behind. Yet The Denver megastore across the street certainly didn't seem hurt at all. But then, Denver and Rikard were the same person, and so it was business as usual, no one in the Hegemony stopping to question the status quo, they knew better.
TER-SEC interceptors swept back again, lights blaring, flashing past, giving chase to a speeding white truck. It was weaving its way through the streets, ploughing through a red light and careering through the heavier traffic crossing the boulevard, swerving with a squeal of tires as it tried to make a turn the interceptors would be unable to duplicate, rushing away as the interceptors tried to bank around the large buildings, screaming after their quarry.
Katz shook his head as he felt Alessandro draw close to him. "Ragazzo, this place is..."
"Insane?" Katz asked as they turned into a pedestrian shopping concourse, merchants and street vendors flogging their wares to the crowds of people thronging past them. An astounding variety of wares were being sold, everything from drugs through to children.
Katz stiffened at the sight of a cluster of young men, each collared and identical, being marketed as the next best thing in domesticated slavery. More dependable than a maid, and requiring less attention, affection guaranteed.
Alessandro put his arm around Katz. "You okay?" he asked earnestly.
"I'll be fine," Katz replied, shrugging out of the intimate touch, suddenly feeling very dirty, used... discarded.
Alessandro watched him and sighed, glancing about him at the flesh market, shivering as he pushed his way through jostling crowds, clearing a way for Katz to keep up with him as he climbed up the far end of the concourse and away from the din.
"We will find a hotel soon, eh Ragazzo?" he asked, stopping and turning realizing that Katz was nowhere to be found. He looked confused and then began to scan the crowds trying to see where he went, looking for the faded blue ball cap amidst... "Merda!" Alessandro exclaimed as all hell broke loose. Little domesticated boys were running, whooping and screaming around through the crowd, making a break for it as a distinctive blue cap was slinking its way back towards him.
"What?" Katz said when he finally rejoined Alessandro, who was sitting on the top step watching the slavers trying to round up the errant constructs who were creating pandemonium in the market concourse.
Alessandro smirked at him picking up a baseball cap that had rolled away from an overturned stall, brushing the off centre Viking logo of one of the Martian motocross teams. He shrugged and adjusted the back as he popped it onto his head, riding it back and high, the store clerk was too busy trying to stop one of the kids from tipping his other stall to notice the missing hat. "You are a good man."
"Sorry, I..." he sighed as he sat down, wrapping his arms around his legs and resting his chin on his knees watching the mayhem, "...they deserved a chance to make a run for it. Maybe... I don't know... Maybe one will get lucky."
"Like you, Ragazzo?" Alessandro asked.
"Yeah," Katz replied, "Like I did." He turned his head a little to look at his companion's amused eyes as he watched a couple of the children turn over another table. "I wish..."
"You wish?" Alessandro asked, taking his hand and absently touching Katz again under his jacket, feeling the fighter pilot respond by leaning in to him.
"It's stupid," Katz said with a faint look of regret.
"You wish you could take it back," Alessandro said, "That you were one of those boys running free."
"You grew up free, right?" Katz asked, suddenly realizing how little he knew about the companion he was marooned with.
"Ah," Alessandro smiled, "I was not free, no Ragazzo, I have duty, and obligations. No one is truly free, not when they have a family like mine, Famiglia grande." He gestured with his other hand. "Many cousins. We are all in the Military now. Momma is a Capitano. Very Important. My uncle..."
"But when you were young?" Katz pressed, "Before the military."
"I was a very pretty boy," Alessandro smiled fondly, "Big eyes. My aunts, they liked to pinch my cheeks, call me their Ragazzo..."
"I knew there was a story behind that," Katz smiled faintly, realizing that he was enjoying Alessandro's company. The young man was kind and thoughtful. Wasn't he supposed to be thinking of Firlotte? When was the last time he'd thought about him? He frowned in confusion and looked away.
"We should go, before the police get here," Alessandro said, beginning to rise.
"We're not exactly the best at keeping a low profile," Katz said, standing as well, looking about him, torn on what to do next. Maybe it was an idea to get out of Port Trinity, get on one of the high-speed elevated trains and whisk to another suburb of the city. But if there was any hope of getting off of Mars, then their best chance was right there.
It didn't take them long to find a hotel that lacked the 'morality' of the Mars -Astoria, a dark and grimy dive tucked off the main core of the city in one of the more industrial sectors.
There were no emissions laws on Mars. On such a cold world, any green house gas that didn't burn hydrocarbons was considered good. Anything that raised the temperature of the planet could only help in keeping the natural water found on Mars liquidized. The plants around them belched out thick clouds of rancid gases that poured thick and black into the sky, a thin layer of soot descending over everything.
Katz felt grimy. As Alessandro worked his magic and secured them a key, he was itching for a chance to shower and sleep properly.
Too many hours up, too much adrenaline; he found that he could barely keep his eyes open. Scrubbing at them with the back of his hands, he allowed himself to be led upstairs. The desk clerk of that motel giving had given them a knowing smirk as he had tossed them a couple of condoms.
"I-I'm not..." he yawned, rippling as he stretched, sinking lower into his coat as he stood obediently just inside the door to the room, allowing Alessandro to undress him like a child. It was catching up to him in a rush, and he fought it, reaching out a hand to step out of his trousers that Alessandro was folding for him.
The two climbed onto the thin foam mattress in the dark room, listening to the buzzing of the neon sign that cast the small room in a vaguely purple glow.
"I-" Katz started again, knowing that Alessandro was listening to him patiently. He felt the dark eyes watching him and he turned his head to look into them. "I wasn't a whore..." he said quietly, "Not at first."
"Che Ragazzo, I know you are not," Alessandro said, touching his arm. The warmth of his touch was welcome in the frigid room, especially with the threadbare blanket, and Katz drew closer to the heat.
"I was... bought to keep her company," he said, his eyes fluttering, "She'd lost her own son, she wanted a replacement. I was lucky I guess, there were others taken with me who... I heard... things..." he shuddered, thinking of the other boys and girls, a barely-remembered memory. He'd been so young, too young.
"Shh," Alessandro coaxed, a soft hand on his face, "Ragazzo, you need to sleep, you are tired."
"She sold me when she became pregnant again," Katz said swallowing, "I was thirteen, she hadn't expected... they felt it was best that I not be there with their real son, I was only supposed to keep her company."
Katz closed his eyes and swallowed at that rejection, the memory of his tears as she had turned her back on him, returning him to the cage she had taken him from. The slaver had licked his lips as he had offered up the prize of his auction, fetching such a high price for a well cared-for boy... a boy who had never been touched.
He pressed his forehead against Alessandro's shoulder. He couldn't cry. There had been years of tears, he was beyond that pain, he had thought that once he had settled into life aboard the Excalibur he could forget about it, forget about it and fly free. But it was still there, locked deep inside him. That small part of him that would always be just a slave, waiting for the next one to buy him.
"Ragazzo," Alessandro's voice was faint, "I'll tell you a secret, I want you to..." Murmuring something in Italian as he smiled that dazzling, happy smile of his.
"What does it mean?" Katz murmured as he began to drift off to sleep.
"One day you will show me," Alessandro replied, wrapping his arms tightly around Katz and watching as he drifted off to sleep.
* * *
The High Commander's personal guard, the elite core of the Hegemony naval forces:. Fifteen Battle cruisers, and a dozen Assault Transports bristling with Raptor class Frigates, a single Fleet Carrier laden with enhanced Predators,. and the Battleship Vengeance arrived in the Terran System.
For two years the Elite Corps had trained. Drilling on remote arctic worlds, preparing for the assault under the Amsus Battle Master, General T'miok Simin, the mastermind behind the Imperial invasion, and the being who had finally conquered Earth.
The assault transports were laden with Drop- Troopers, LIMs and HIMs battalions. Amsus officers reviewing the new procedure manuals that had been written by General Simin, ready and able, the Taskforce assembled at a marshal point above Mars, set to wait for the time at which they would be needed.
Simin, a fully-grown adult Amsus, rubbed his arched legs back across his wings as he tasted the air aboard his flagship. It had been years since he had last dined on Human flesh, and he was relishing the thought of eating his fill once the coming battle was done.
His multifaceted eyes swept about the bridge of the mighty battleship. His children were everywhere, from the drone troopers, to the worker technicians and fleet officers, right up to the warrior Praetorian who guarded him. He had sired them all, and would sire more after this was all over.
He raised a mandible and clicked over at one of the half-castes, his vocator matching the clicks and translating them into words the Inquisitor would be able to understand. "Send word to the High Commander that his loyal corps stand ready to do his bidding, and that we shall be victorious."