A Taste Of Despair (The Humal Sequence) (26 page)

Everyone looked around at each other expectantly, seeing who would bite first. Hamilton already knew who was likely to volunteer, but he pointedly refused to make obvious eye contact with any of them.

“I guess I’m your pilot, then.” LeGault sighed. “Can’t say I’m thrilled about the idea. But I’ll do it.”

Jones sighed. “I suppose  I’m the security guy, then. I don’t see I’ll be much use on the array mission anyhow, since you intend to fry everything into submission. Williams and Marten can handle the data collection. I’m in.”

“Guess I could be some use if there’s trouble.” Carl offered. “All that bodyguard training has to pay off somehow.”

“I suppose I could be useful.” Johnson argued. “I’m crap at most things related to all this macho nonsense. But I am a capable scientist. I may come in useful when we get to the Institute.”

Hamilton had opened his mouth to say no but what she said made sense.

Besides
. He told himself.
You just don’t want to put her in any danger. That’s the real reason you don’t want her along.

So instead of saying no, he said. “Okay.”

Johnson looked surprised that he’d agreed but then beamed at him happily.

She won’t think it’s such a good idea if we get caught
. He thought.

“I think I’ll come along as well.” Klane stated. “I’m not terrible much use aboard a ship and I’d only get in the way of the Marines during the landing actions.”

Hamilton nodded. “You have a tendency to stand out in a crowd, though.”

She shrugged. “I’ll wear a hat. Nobody will notice me!”

“The eye?” Hamilton prompted.

She frowned. “Oh that! That’s not an issue.” Abruptly the baleful glow that had always been present faded away. “It’s only an effect, after all. It serves no useful purpose other than intimidation.”

Hamilton snorted. He hadn’t known she could turn off the glow. “Alright then. That’s six in total. More than enough.”

“Since we effectively have to make plans as we go along, I’ve taken the liberty of assembling all the relevant information from the database onto these data flakes.” Hamilton told them, indicating a bag of the tiny storage flakes on a table below the display panel. “Blue ones are for the array, red ones are for Sol system. I suggest everyone grabs them and makes themselves familiar with the data during our hyperspace transits.

“I know this isn’t the kind of in-depth briefing many of you are used to. But we simply can’t plan for every eventuality. We have access to the database on
Ulysses
, but that is hardly exhaustive. Plus we don’t have the ability to do any kind of reconnaissance other than when we actually arrive on mission. Our enemy has the ability to react almost instantly to what we do. Whilst I would like to think we can coordinate our missions, the reality is that the best we can do is set a time for the commencement of our twin objectives. After that, all is in the wind. Everyone needs to be on their toes and able to react to changing circumstances.

“Other than the objectives that I’ve given us, the actual steps to achieve those are as flexible as it is possible to get. Use your best judgment, but the objectives should come first. Other concerns are secondary. Destroy the array, capture an alien, recover any data for one team. Kidnap a scientist for mine. Remember, the fate of our entire species may hinge on our success or failure.”

Hamilton looked at the assembled faces and grinned. “No pressure!”

There were a few nervous releases of tension in the form of laughs and snorts, but there was little doubt that the men and women looking at him knew how dangerous their tasks would be.

“That is all.”

The meeting broke up slowly. As usual, Rames found Hamilton and took him aside.

“This is a hell of a thing we’re going to do.” The captain told him.

“You understood what I meant about the objectives being the most important thing?”

Rames nodded. “I heard you. We all did. This stunt at Aurica was lucky. We didn’t lose any people. No one got hurt. I have the feeling things won’t stay that way. We all understand the importance of what we’re doing. But understanding the importance means nothing when it comes to pulling the trigger, or pressing the button and consigning people to their deaths. There’s an automatic hesitation when it comes to that point. I just hope that hesitation is not what gets us all killed.”

Hamilton nodded but he had no words of wisdom for Rames. If the truth be told, Rames was more career military than Hamilton was. The Survey Corps were hardly militant and the few groups of mercs that Hamilton had run with had sometimes been less than disciplined themselves. Hamilton, though, would make the hard decisions if it came to it. It wasn’t military training that had made him that way. It was simply life. He had seen what happened when people hesitated, or thought too long about what they were doing, or the consequences. People got killed. Time enough to regret your actions later but, if you hesitated, later sometimes never came. But there was nothing he could say to Rames, or any of the others to make them understand that. Training was one thing. Experience was something else.

As Rames walked away to talk with his men, Klane wandered up, her eye now restored to its full menacing glory.

“Nice speech.” She smirked. “Not that it makes a lot of difference. I just hope people understand what’s at stake.”

“Well, if they don’t now, they soon will.” He replied.

She nodded. “You appreciate that you and I, and perhaps the Marines, are the only ones with any kind of battle experience in this group?”

Hamilton nodded. “I’ve reviewed the Marines files. Mostly it’s just skirmish work against smugglers and pirates. Some riot control, that sort of thing. Only Harvan has actually been in a proper battle.”

She shook her head. “Perhaps I should have stayed with them.”

“I don’t think it’ll make that much difference. Most of their troubles will be space-born ones. An extra pair of boots on the ground there won’t matter much.” He replied.

She nodded. “Oh well, I suppose I should go see what sorts of weaponry they have aboard
Ulysses
. We can’t go around kidnapping people unarmed, now can we?”

“We’re supposed to be doing this quietly!” Hamilton reiterated. “I don’t intend to go in guns blazing!”

She snorted. “Since when did anything we planned ever go as we intended? I’m just thinking ahead for when it all goes to rat shit!”

Hamilton frowned. “I suppose you’re right. I doubt they’ll have anything too heavy aboard, anyhow. Probably just stunners and light arms. A few stun grenades and blinders. Nothing major.”

“Every little helps.” Klane advised. “Plus it’ll keep me happy during the journey.”

Hamilton nodded. “You deal with outfitting, then.”

She grinned and walked off to talk to Harvan. Hamilton was lost in thought for a moment until a familiar hand snaked around his waist.

“Hey!” Johnson smiled at him.

“Hey yourself.” He smiled back.

“Thanks.” She said.

He sighed. “I suspect you’ll regret volunteering once the fun begins but, you’re welcome.”

She shrugged. “I expect I will as well. But I can hardly just wait aboard the
Morebaeus
whilst everyone else disappears off to do battle!”

Hamilton wanted to try and dissuade her. To get her to change her mind. There was much she didn’t know about their mission. Much that none of them knew. But it was her decision. She had as much right as anyone else to risk her life. Whatever feelings he might have for her, he had no right to let those feelings dictate what she could and couldn’t do.

“Well,” He told her. “Klane and I will give you, Jones, LeGault and Carl what basic hand-to-hand and weapons training we can during the trip to Sol. But it won’t be a lot, given the time available. If we’re lucky, we’ll get in, grab our expert, then be gone without being noticed, so you won’t need any of it.”

“But it’s better to be safe than sorry, right?” She nodded.

He agreed. “Absolutely. But that can wait until we’re underway tomorrow. Tonight, I believe I’ll train you in ‘undercover’ work.”

She gave out a snorting laugh. “Seriously? That’s the best line you could come up with? Boy are we in trouble!”

Hamilton looked sheepish. “I thought it was pretty good, for a spur of the moment comment!”

She shook her head. “Noooo. Not really!”

“So, you’re not interested in a private one-on-one session, then?”

She glanced at him wickedly. “I didn’t say that!”

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

The
Morebaeus
and
Ulysses
made the jump for Sol system a few hours later without incident.

As promised, the journey was filled with what training Klane and Hamilton could give the others. Carl already had some pretty good hand-to-hand skills, so he quickly began helping out with the training sessions, rather than being trained, which meant that everyone was getting one-on-one training in hand-to-hand.

As far as weapons training went they were limited to what Klane had scrounged from aboard the
Ulysses
. As they had surmised, this consisted of stun pistols and grenades. In an uncharacteristic fit of common sense, Klane had left the stun rifles aboard the
Ulysses
, citing that they weren’t exactly concealable and that the pistols would turn someone into a quivering heap on the floor just as well as the rifles did.

So they trained with the pistols they had. It was hardly an exhaustive course. Stun pistols were very short on range and rather indiscriminate when it came to aiming, having a fairly wide angle of effect. They were designed to be as easy to use as possible, since they were often the weapon of choice for civilian guards and police forces. There was little or no maintenance requirements and the only moving part was the trigger assembly. Klane had brought back a charging station from
Ulysses
, so they could actually fire the weapons in the training and not worry about discharging them before the mission even started.

As part of the training, Hamilton had the others allow themselves to be shot with a stunner, so that they would understand what the effects were. These typically included uncontrollable muscle spasms and a complete inability to consciously do anything. The victim was aware that something had happened, but it wasn’t until the effects began to wear off that they were able to make any sense of what had happened at all. It was not a pleasant experience.

As far as grenades were concerned the main thrust of the training boiled down to “Throw them away from you!” Klane wanted to practice with processed food tins rather the actual grenades when it came to throwing techniques, but Hamilton felt it was more important that the others get used to the feel of the actual grenade in their hand. In his experience, grenades needed to be treated with respect but, typically, those who had never handled one before found them a little frightening. Getting comfortable with them in your hand, or pocket, was all part and parcel of not being afraid of them.

So they practiced lobbing the live grenades about, much to Klane’s disgust. But, as Hamilton pointed out, the worst that could happen was that they’d stun or gas themselves. That in itself would prove to be an object lesson.

As it happened, there were no mishaps and the combat training was concluded to the satisfaction of all concerned.

In between the weapon and hand-to-hand, they learned basic tactics. It was easy enough to grasp the concepts for all concerned. The reality was a little harder. Moving as a unit, for example, rather than individuals, required everyone to know what their role was and to carry it out regardless of what went on around them. There was a tendency for the others to watch what each other was doing rather than what they themselves should be doing.

They were no worse, though, than any other set of green recruits Klane or Hamilton had come across. Better, in many instances, since they all had a certain maturity that straight-out-of-school kids lacked. They still laughed at each other when they did dumb things, but they appreciated the seriousness of the task ahead, unlike raw recruits.

They also received some training with the concealable body armor Klane had liberated from the Marines on
Ulysses
. It wasn’t especially good, but it could be worn under normal clothing without being obvious and gave some protection against small arms fire due to its ballistic fiber weave. More often than not, Hamilton knew, being shot with a projectile whilst wearing it resulted in the cloth itself being pushed into the wearer’s body. But the cloth retained the bullet and prevented fragmentation and often simply pulling on the cloth material removed the bullet from the wearer’s body without recourse to surgery. Additionally, the cloth made a pretty effective bung in the bullet hole, preventing excess bleeding. Of course, it hurt like hell to be shot, but the survivability was far higher than not wearing it.

The armor also helped protect from stunners and bladed weapons to a certain degree. However, it was singularly useless against anything like a laser or plasma weapon, melting almost immediately. Likewise, any heavy caliber or high velocity slugs would overwhelm the weave totally, punching through as if it wasn’t there. It was strictly in the light armor class.

There was also some training in using the comms gear and a few other bits and pieces that Klane had scavenged. If they’d had the time, and resources, they would have resorted to implanted comms units. But that was a luxury they didn’t have access to. Instead they had tiny earpieces and an equally small voice transmitter that fitted inside the mouth of the user in the space between the gum of the lower jaw and the cheek. Inbuilt software made the distinction between actual words and noises such as swallowing or sucking. So their ears weren’t treated to the sounds of six people’s mouths doing their usual routines. The units were military spec, however, so once they had them set up properly, encryption ensured no one else could listen in on their conversations.

The final thing they learned was using the spacesuits the Marines had recommended to them. The suits were modern, containing all the latest software and technology at the Empire’s disposal. Jones in particular was happy when he found out the software could emulate many of the purely electronic tools at his disposal for defeating security measures. It meant he would be able to work on things like airlocks from outside, if it was necessary. The suits were designated as non-combat gear by the Marines but were far more robust than most civilian equivalents.

The training went on throughout the trip to Sol, even once Klane and Hamilton were reasonably satisfied with their progress. Practice, they both knew, led to automatic responses. Reacting without having to make a conscious decision might make the difference between life and death.

*****

Ulysses
, predictably, had arrived at Sol well before
Morebaeus
emerged from hyperspace. As the pair of vessels drew alongside and docked once again, the customs vessel transmitted the data it had gathered over the previous two days whilst it had waited for the freighter to show up.

Sol was quiet. There was no unusual activity in the system at all. The heart of the Empire was going about its business like clockwork.
Ulysses
had quickly been able to tap into news feeds from Earth and Mars and ascertain that everything was normal.

The main news story, of course, was the horrifying activities of the Righteous Flame terror group. The story, at least as far as the news outlets were reporting it, was that the organization had escaped from a secure holding facility on Tantalus Station. There had, apparently, been a number of fatalities amongst civilians and the terrorists had tried to destroy the station with a bomb. Eventually the terrorists had escaped aboard a number of vessels they hijacked. It was presumed the crews of these ships had been executed. There was talk of military ships being destroyed or damaged.

The worst thing about the news hype, Hamilton was certain, was that it hadn’t been exaggerated by Walsh and his alien friends. This was exactly the kind of media hype he had come to know and loathe over the years. It wasn’t to say the news outfits had made it all up. No doubt the authorities on Tantalus had put their own spin on things. But the tendency to ‘jazz’ things up a little to make it more exciting or shocking was an age old problem with the media.

However, they all got a certain amount of amusement from looking at the images of Hamilton, Klane, Rames et al that the news outlets transmitted as part of their stories. The images had been doctored to make them appear more menacing and evil. In reality, it made them look cartoonish and ridiculous. Klane, for example, was depicted as having a laser weapon bolted to the side of her head. Hamilton had an eye patch and a scurvy-looking beard, like some pirate out of the olden days. Lewis had some kind of mental force emanating from her head and the gold contacts were depicted as sharp little horns. The rest all had exaggerated leers or wicked looking eyes. All of them were depicted with a variety of nasty, but entirely impractical, hand weapons. If it wasn’t so serious, they might have even laughed.

The only good thing to come out of it was that there was almost no chance of anyone recognizing them from the images. They’d still have to avoid security cameras and checkpoints, but at least no one was going to point them out in the streets.

There was no mention of the incident at Aurica. Hamilton and the others hadn’t really expected there to be. Aurica was almost entirely a military system. The few civilian contractors were kept under tight reign and the military would not want it known generally that they had lost so many small craft, not to mention the theft of so many warheads. By now, over a week later, they would have discovered the role of the maintenance craft in the theft and be searching for it diligently. But what the military did and what the public got to know about were two entirely different things. There would be no admission of loss by the brass.

The maintenance craft was checked and re-checked. They had already unloaded it of its cargo of EMP and nuclear warheads. Now they loaded in the EVA suits, weapons and a single EMP warhead.

The latter was intended as a distraction, rigged with a receiver for which only Klane and Hamilton had the transmission codes. Although designed to generate an EM pulse, the weapon was comprised of a fair amount of conventional explosive, more than enough to blow the maintenance craft to pieces at the same time as it generated its pulse. So they couldn’t use it whilst aboard, obviously. It was a getaway helper. Hamilton hoped to use it to distract the authorities once their mission was done, allowing them to make an escape.

In addition, the craft’s transponder was disabled. It wouldn’t do to announce that a maintenance craft from Aurica was insystem of Sol. That would spell instant disaster. However, there was no reliable way of spoofing the transponder signals to represent another ship. The challenge and reveal protocols were too complex and heavily encrypted for even the engineers to unravel. The best they might manage was to imitate a damaged transponder, and that would draw attention as swiftly as the craft’s genuine signal would. Better overall to not have a signal, and rely on not being detected at all.

Rames and Hamilton had agreed on a rendezvous point after their respective missions were done and a date beyond which it was pointless waiting any longer for the other vessel. A date and time had also been set for the active parts of their respective missions to commence. It was the point at which Rames would commence any necessary hostilities in the system holding the array and when Hamilton and his team would commence kidnap operations on Mars.

Eventually, all was in readiness. They prevaricated a few hours longer, neither of the two groups willing to say what might well turn out to be their final goodbyes. But, ultimately, they did so.

Hamilton and his team boarded the maintenance vessel and LeGault flew them out of the loading hangar it had been berthed in. The small repair craft had excellent visibility all around due to the nature of its duties, so they were all able to take a good look at the
Morebaeus
and the
Ulysses
as those two starships undocked from one another.

Marten Janes and a couple of the Marines had gone aboard the
Morebaeus
to keep Lewis company on the trip to the array. It had been made to look like an offer, but the truth was that Hamilton himself had requested it of Rames. Although Lewis had been almost pleasant since they had rescued her from Tantalus Station’s medical community, Hamilton didn’t fully trust her. The Marines, at least, were there to keep an eye on her as much as help her out with the ship.

Once their small craft was clear, the
Morebaeus
jumped without fanfare, disappearing in a flash of light and a burst of neutrinos and tachyons. This far out from Sol and its sensor network, though, there was no chance of anything being detected.

Ulysses
hung around long enough to wish them a very low-power transmission, ‘Good luck’, then jumped away amid its own burst of exotic particles.