Even if he did let the ‘President’ and the remaining government live, it was a foregone conclusion, they’d go right on doing things the way they’d done before. With the same result, he suspected. No, it was time to end the old way of doing things as Penn had shown. If you want to be President, or the local dogcatcher you had to pass through the pyramid, the same as he and everyone else had done. Either you qualified for the position, or you died. He remembered one slick young man who’d applied for a seat on the council, thinking his carefully crafted words, and winning smile were all he needed. He didn’t know how the pyramid did it, but he failed. The white haired old man who’d stumbled out moments later was a mere shadow of the brawny, self-confident twenty something young man who’d walked through the archway with confidence a few moments before. The haunting look in his eyes told the story of the self-induced dream he’d locked himself into, until old age had made him realize his mistake. Clayborn remembered his rite of passage through the pyramid, and an involuntary shudder ran up his spine. How he’d survived he wasn’t sure to this day, as he’d become locked into an unrelenting battle of survival, first as a grunt again, and gradually working his way back up to General. It wasn’t until much later that he’d realized that he hadn’t even known it was a self-driven fantasy, believing from that first moment that it was all real.
“Let’s put an infiltration team together to get you inside, Richard.”
Chapter Twelve
Search and Destroy
Penn made the short trip home to Sigma Draconis, but the house felt empty without Ellis. His ‘children’ came rushing in the moment the word spread that he was home, crowding around, some hugging him, a few pulling him down so they could give him a kiss, while the two oldest boys hesitantly shook hands at first, before rushing in, and hugging him anyway. They all clamored for an answer.
“When is mommy coming home?” Penn felt something pulling at his heart, something he thought long dead, the feeling of love any parent has for his kids. Not that they were his actual children, just the human children stolen as sex slaves by the Empire and rescued by him and Ellis. Yes, in the short year they’d been with him, some indescribable magic had indelibly inscribed them on his heart and soul. From the youngest, a blonde, curly haired little girl who insisted on curling up on his lap each evening when he was home, to the oldest dark haired boy who’d rather fight than eat. They were all his children now, biology, or no, and he did what every parent had done since the beginning of time. When necessary, he lied.
“Mommy will be back home soon.” Knowing it for the lie it was. He knew where Ellis was, but there was no way he could promise to bring her home, knowing only that he was going to try, as he always did.
Never in his life before winning the ‘prize’ had he felt so exposed and vulnerable. Before, doubt had never assailed him. He’d go on a mission to kill Imperials, or on a mission for Director Markoff, after they’d captured him, and he would either complete the mission or die. No second guessing, no doubts, just the quiet certainty he’d do whatever it took to complete the task. But now, looking down at his children through blurry eyes, desperately trying to hide his tears from them, he didn’t know the answer to their question. The pleading look in their eyes tore at his heart in a way he thought impossible. At last he satisfied them enough and they reluctantly left so he could get changed. He walked to the door and watched for a moment as the last one left and watched them play, but the energy wasn’t there, nor the shouts of laughter, or the high pitched squeals from the younger girls as they played some complicated game only they knew the rules to.
After showering with a non-scented liquid soap, he carefully smoothed pheromone-blocking cream all over his body, even between the toes and cheeks of his butt, and under his arms. With the newer, more sophisticated detection systems, even his body odor, or pheromones could give him away. After that, he slipped into the light drinking, skin tight black cammo suit, feeling it constrict and form to his body. He pulled the hood over his head and checked the facemask to ensure the seal fit around his face. It did, and the HUD came to life and showed a different world around him. He now saw through walls, the building becoming a wire framed outline around him. In the room above and below, he saw two of the children moving around, another sitting, another sleeping. All of them outlined with a blue diamond, showing them as ‘friendly’s. If they’d been unknown they’d have had a yellow diamond around them, or if identified as enemies, they would be outlined in a red circle by the multi-targeting system.
While he dressed, Penn pushed the fear of failure to the back of his mind. He couldn’t fail Ellis. She knew he would come for her, no matter where she was or what stood in his way. He was Penn, once Director Markoff’s pet assassin and genetically engineered by a long defunct Earth Government to be the perfect killing machine. Never before had any mission for Markoff been as important as this one, not even killing Emperor Cytec. Ellis was his life, his way back to being the human being he once was. Without her, life meant nothing. The weapon status bar was blank, as he wasn’t yet holding a weapon, and to ensure it was working, he strapped on the hip holster with the 1 cm needle pistol. The bar lit, showing he had one thousand rounds of ammo in the clip, and the six additional magazines on his belt were full. He strapped on his knives, one on his thigh, another, larger one down the middle of his back, the hilt within easy reach just by putting his hand behind him, and lastly an eighteen inch double ended stun rod of his own design to his right thigh. All registered correctly on his HUD.
Lifting the visor, Penn looked around, wondering what else to take. His usual method of fighting was up close and personal with one of his blades, but seeing what he was going into, he wanted to take something with a little more punch. A .50 caliber assault cannon would be preferable, especially with an unknown number of Thrakee and Esterians in the building. The trouble was, it was slow, and he’d have to carry a lot of heavy ammo with him. It also didn’t work well in tight corners, like room-to-room fighting. In the end, he reluctantly settled on the all-purpose human redesigned version of the Imperial assault rifle, with the pulse grenade launcher underneath. Twenty-five rounds of small, densely packed explosive were good up to fifty yards. That should do to take out doors, or defense points if needed. A small belt pouch contained ten, one-inch cubes of tri-glycerin C-10 explosive, just in case he ran into any blast doors.
Walking to the door of the arms locker, he was about switch the light off when he looked over at the wall behind his work bench. On it hung the Thrakee fighting knife the cohort leader had presented him just before he died at the end of their battle. He looked at it, and the Thrakee harness that hung with it, biting his lower lips in contemplation. Something told him to take it, intuition telling him he should wear it, and take the knife with him. Slipping it on over his skin suit, he adjusted to for a proper fit before slipping the knife into the sheath. As an afterthought, he took his traditional, long synth-leather top coat off the hook by the door and slipped it on. Now he was ready for war. As he walked to the transport gate, he looked out the window at the pyramid shaped mountain, remembering all the trials he and Ellis had endured to get to the ‘Prize’. Had he known beforehand what the prize was, and that he’d be the de facto leader of the planet Earth, he would have run away as fast as he could. But the prize was more than that, he was now endowed with the ability to ‘know’ everything he touched. Its form, function, purpose and how it fitted into everything else. That included people. One touch and he knew who they were, their abilities, shortcoming, desires, fears and truthfulness. That ability felt more like a curse than a gift, yet he understood that, as a leader it was paramount that he understand people and their motives. In a way, he was the ultimate lie detector. The one ability he had he was unaware of was the ability to inspire people to be greater than they thought they were. It radiated from him like heat, warming even the bitterest of souls to be more than what they thought they were. Passing through the gateway he walking to the main conference room and entered. The moment he did, everyone stood. He immediately waved them back to their seats. Penn always thought of himself as a loner, and having people stand just because he walked into a room still took some getting use too.
“At ease, people. I just wanted to say a few words before we move out.” The tough looking group took their seats again, some with a look of awe on their face seeing their supreme commander face to face for the first time, others pretending to look bored, as if to say they knew were the shit was coming from.
“Our spider recon drones only managed to penetrate the surface level of this compound, and for security reasons we have not attempted to go deeper.” Penn could see the slightly puzzled looks the team gave him. “If we tried penetrating and one of the bots were discovered, the people inside would know very quickly that there were people on the outside with some very sophisticated tech they really shouldn’t have.” The team nodded in understanding. As far as ninety percent of the world knew, most of the planet was still back in the dark ages where the Empire had kicked them after the invasion.
“It was much to my surprise that I recently discovered two unexpected alien species on Earth.” Behind him, a side-by-side photo of the Thrakee and the Esterians popped up on the screen. He watched their reaction, seeing some nod, others frowning.
The green skinned one is a Thrakee, a seven-foot tall lizard, bad tempered assholes that hate other species on sight. They also love hurting anyone smaller or weaker than themselves, and slicing them up for lunch.” Now he had their attention.
“To add to the fun of any first contact with them, know this, they are almost twice as strong as a normal human, and faster than you’d think a seven-foot angry lizard can move. Do not, I repeat, do not under any circumstance underestimate them. If you find yourself face to face with one, attack and kill it. If you don’t, it will kill you, usually very slowly.”
“In what way um… sir?”
“Get rid of the sir for a start. If you need a form of address, call me Skipper, or just Penn. As to how they like to kill you. For a start, they’ll break your arms and legs, then slowly peel the flesh from your bones and eat it in front of you. If you’re lucky they might beat or kick you to death before eating you.”
“I take it you have met them before… Skipper.”
“Yes, a few times. The one thing you must never do is underestimate them. They are highly intelligent and ruthless, but their one weakness, if you can call it that, is that they like to fight in packs. Take out their leader, and for a few moments, until another one moves into his place, they are a little confused and therefore vulnerable. The only other true weakness is their lack of tolerance to cold. They become lethargic as their bodies go into hibernation mode.”
“So, we get them in a freezer, or fight them at the North Pole.” A dark faced trooper put in.
“You wish,” Penn laughed, “no, if possible take them out at long range. Whatever you do, don’t get into a hand-to-hand battle with them unless you are wearing a combat exosuit. With one of those, you will be on equal terms.”
“What about the other handsome chap, Skipper?” Obviously a Brit by his accent. Penn looked for and found his name tag.
“Rogers, isn’t it?”
“Yes, Skipper.”
“I’m glad you asked that question, Rogers. That handsome chap as you put it,” he looked over his shoulder at the screen, “is an Esterian, the mainstay of the Empire military. They make excellent soldiers, loyal, obedient, and as tough as nails. Think of a three hundred pound gorilla with an attitude and a sore tooth and you get the picture.”
“Tough to take down?”
“Not if you pump sufficient rounds into him.” Penn smiled slightly. They got the picture, but refrained from telling them the whole story about his encounters with the Esterians.
“I take it you’ve run unto them a few times, Skipper.”
“Yes, a few times.” He didn’t add that he’d had to kill four of them for Director Markoff. For a moment, the scene in the prison flashed across him mind.
* * * * * *
With the sound of the heavy steel door to the prison receiving area crashing shut behind them, the Tellurian transports guards let out a collective sigh of relief as they stepped down from the vehicles. The Esterian reception staff watched on their monitoring screens, and heard the sigh, eyeing one another and shaking their heads in disbelief. They had an equal disdain for the prisoner and escort alike as the transport guards pulled the shackled prisoner out of the armored van. To their way of thinking, the precautions the transport team was taking seemed like overkill for such a pathetic little criminal. Smirking and muttering to each other, the reception guards watched the parade walk the prisoner through the double gate, and come to a halt in the center of the reception area, viewing the proceedings with a certain degree of smug superiority.
The prisoner meanwhile stood motionless as one guard carefully unshackled his wrists and ankles while the remainder stood by in close support. After that, they electronically released the restraint collar and quickly stood back as if expecting an attack, yet the prisoner did nothing. Even so, his very stillness as they went through the usual ritual of transferring him to his new masters was discomforting. If any of them heard the insulting comments the reception guards made about them, none chose to dispute it as they hurriedly exited and put the armored steel door between them and the prisoner. The moment the steel door closed the prison guards laughed openly at the absurdity of the precautions for such a small, inconsequential prisoner like this. Now it was their turn, and they would soon show this pile of brak shit who ruled the roost. To the prisoner's ears, the sound of relief in the squad leader's voice was easy to detect as they quickly turned him over and departed. It wasn't surprising really, considering what it took to capture and bring him here in the first place. Crashing his damaged shuttlecraft into the Imperial military barracks only accounted for half the body count. The other half was due to his personal 'touch' once he’d climbed out of the wreckage.