Chapter 8 : Bat out of hell
On the command carrier, the situation was good. Favourable conditions had allowed them to shave off several days travel time. Now only half a solar day away, the assault team were making final preparations. "If the Scarran base follows standard plans, we'll need to descend three levels or so to find the holding area for ships of the Harbringer's size. Half the team stays with the Harbringer, including our comrade here" the team leader briefed, gesturing at the intelligence officer "will stay with the Harbringer; the rest of us will make a quick sweep for survivors in the nearby holding cells. Then back to the Harbringer, which'll take us back to the carrier. Then we leave at flank speed for the intelligence base we came here from. Questions?" There were none. "Good. Get you gear stowed in the Marauders and grab some chow before the drop" she finished, heading for the canteen.
The base PA had just roared to life down in the Scarran base. "Now hear this, now hear this!" it boomed aout around the rooms and corridors. Everyone looked up for the unexpected announcement "All non-essential personnel reports to the training arena to witness an assault course competition between Nexus One and the base garrison. Refreshments will be laid on free of charge, and all duties will be suspended for the duration of the contest."
Base personnel flocked to the spectator seats surrounding the arena. A number of brawls broke out over who got the better seats; but those superior in rank forced the juniors aside and took the best seats for themselves. "Welcome to the arena!" exclaimed the commentator for the day, a supply clerk with a flair for the dramatic. "In the outermost lane is the Nexus One representative, a real giant of a man. In the inner lanes are representatives..." Everyone knew they were really 'volunteered' by their superiors for slackness and snickered at this call "...from all the other branches of the base. There'll be a real grudge match here today, fellow Scarrans! Not only will the competitors have to contend with each other, but the Commandant has decreed this to be a LIVE FIRE event! Soldiers will fire random shots over the course from rifles and heavy weapons at random intervals, plus concealed explosives are dotted at various places over the open areas and obstacles. Betting agents are nearby, ready to take your wager – already there has been one wager of nine hundred krepna that the supply division representative will not survive the course! Why not lay your own bets? Now the competitors approach the starting blocks. All bets stop now! The bookmakers are now closed! Ready, set,GO!" the commentator howled, firing the starter's gun. A loud BOOM! started the race.
Harrigan's physical strength soon became apparent as he hurled himself off the starting line, not even landing until fifteen feet down the course, bypassing one trap. The demolition training competitor should have known better, because she stepped right on it, blowing herself to smithereens. "Oh dear! We have our first casualty!" yelled the commentator "The demolition training corps representative has paid for her complacency with her life. I expect there are a number of you counting your winnings from that one. I KNOW there's one very dead demo instructor to be scraped off the wall later!"
---------------------------------------------------------------------------- --------------------------- "At least" the commentator added "as long as the sanitary engineering representative makes it though alive, anyway! Nexus One's man has powered ahead of the pack, and has appeared to step on one explosive surprise and continue on unharmed! What stamina, what strength!" What manner of nightmare experiments did they do to him to make that possible? he wondered, and then immediately tried to forget it had happened. "And the athletes approach the first climbing obstacle!" the commentator explained. Harrigan wasn't really pushing himself right now, but his enhanced vision was reporting some odd defects in the rope. Stuff it! he thought and jumped up.
He'd intended to give himself a few feet of boost to the top of the wall. What actually happened was that he flew straight over it, almost losing his footing in surprise when he landed on the other side.
The guards in the perimeter defences were not able to watch in person, but chose to violate regulations and watch it on the barrack-room briefing screens. They jeered and booed at the screen as the South Side Perimeter Watch representative grabbed at the rope. It let go when he was half way up, plunging him into a water trap with a carnivorous reptile in it. As the screams died away, the commentator's voice came out of the tinny speakers either side of the screen. "Well, that's one guard who won't be standing watch tonight!" screamed the commentator "The Commandant has just given the signal for live fire to begin!"
A flurry of bolts from a pulse cannon intercepted the course of the reconnaissance company athelete. The commentator howled "Well, that's one thing he didn't see coming! Recon is out!" One of the guards on the north side radar console laughed loudly, temporarily turning away from his screen. While he was collecting his winnings, the two Marauders dropped their cargo of troops and retreated to safe distance.from the complex.
Harrigan was approaching a bridge obstacle and wasn't sure if it could take his weight. Two of the gunners trained their cannons on him and let loose a long burst each straight at him. Both impacted dead centre and knocked him down. "Well there goes Nexus One!" started the commentator. But just as he was about to pronounce the death knell, Harrigan heaved himself off the steaming mud. "Right!" he growled "If that's the way the game's played..." and lunged for one of the gunners. The gunner was so surprised to see him still alive that he was unable to react in time to save himself; his hesitation earnt him a kick in the ribcage. The other nearby gunner cowered behind his sandbags, refusing to come out. "But he's back up!" the commentator exclaimed in stunned disbelief "And has neutralised two course gunners! He's just absorbed enough pulse fire to kill a squad of shock troopers, and he keeps on coming!"
The Commandant leant over to the science officer. "Your man is certainly performing well" he said approvingly. "He's the experimental subject, sir" the scientist reminded him "The program was designed to take this kind of punishment for short periods. So far he's well within expectations, sir"
---------------------------------------------------------------------------- --------------------------- The Peacekeeper retrieval team dodged from rock to rock using the landscape to maximum advantage. All largely superfluous – all the guards were watching the tournament instead of their consoles. The Peacekeepers snuck up to the wall door. "Up here, sir" called the team leader to the intelligence officer "We need a bypass"
The intelligence officer took only a few seconds to bypass the low-grade lock. The door swung aside to let them in, which they promptly did, passing only a few feet from the rearmost guard on their way to the flight control console in the next room. A muffled pulse blast took out the officer still at his console, and the team leader proceeded to to open the bay doors that needed to open for the retrieval to proceed. Another blast to the console ensured they'd stay open. Fifty more metras and they emerged into the flight bay, facing the Harbringer's nose. "Any guards about?" the intelligence officer asked. The team leader flipped a hand signal to her squad. One responded with another in return. "Not one, sir" she replied. The intelligence officer promptly marched up to the Harbringer's access hatch and entered a code. A harsh blat noise was the reply. "Hmm..." she replied and tried another code. Another blat noise followed. "We've got problems, L-T" she explained "The hatch is set for exclusive access to a specific crewman. If we can't find them, the ship goes nowhere, and we're forced to activate the auto-destruct. Check the cells, team!" she ordered her squad. They found two more Peacekeeper prisoners, but they couldn't open the door either.
The senior shift officer finally restored some semblance of order. The first thing amiss was the doors. "Flight bays doors are open, sir" one guard reported "Won't shut". The officer responded with "Use the main console and shut them from there". The guard immediately ran back. "Door controller's dead!" he yelled. "Calm down!" the officer responded, and went to check it out himself. He saw the door controller with a fist-sized chunk of flesh missing where his heart should be, and blood soaking the floor. He yelled "RAISE THE ALARM!". The guard nearer the button said "There goes a nice, quiet shift" and slammed the big red button down.
Alarms hooted all over the base. This included the arena. The Commandant growled "Damn thing always goes off when I'm getting R&R!" Then he got on the PA. "Now hear this, now hear this! Intruders have been detected! The contest's off! Everyone to their battle stations! NOW!" he yelled. He pressed a button on his armrest that deactivated the traps.
Harrigan saw his chance. He slipped out in the confusion, following a guards squad to the hangar. The science officer caught up with him. "Going somewhere?" he asked. "Yes, actually" responded Harrigan "This place is getting on my nerves. I say, it's time to grab a ship and leave!". "I don't much like the place either. Feel up to taking a passenger?" the science officer put in. Harrigan turned around to face him. The science officer explained. "This place is a prison" Harrigan's face crinkled up as he tried to figure this out.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------- --------------------------- "Not a labour camp" the science officer clarified, sensing Harrigan's perplexed expression "A tech-prison. Most of the science staff hae been sent here for political offences, but their skills were enough to save them from the camps. This way High Command get to pick our brains, and we're stuck in some benighted hole gazillions of cycles travel from civilisation, and off the main shipping lanes. I'll just grab a core dump and we're ready to go." Harrigan tried to stop him, but he had activated a nearby console and was busily dumping the contents of his project into a data pod about the size of his fist. "Time remaining : 200 microts" displayed on the screen and started counting down.
With thirty microts remaining, an inquisitive guard rounded the corner and saw the science officer at the console. "So!" he crowed "a trai---awk!" as Harrigan appeared behind him and snapped his neck like a twig. Dumping the corpse on the floor, Harrigan urged "Come on!". Five microts later, he grabbed the pod and threw it to Harrigan, who caught it in surprise. "The only copy of the project that made you what you are" he explained "Once we're out of here, High Command can't get it! I have to make contact with the rest of my comrades, advise them of what happened here. You can drop me off at the nearest commerce planet – I can find my people from there. Let' s go!". Harrigan agreed there. The scientist picked up two pulse guns from the dead guard. He threw one to Harrigan, but when he grabbed it there was a bright blue field of sparks, and the gun blew out all over the floor. "Your transformation highly energised your nervous system, I forgot" the scientist explained again "One result of this is you can't use unshielded pulse weapons. Don't know if the other one will work yet..."
They had emerged into the hangar. Two things became apparent. One, there was a squad of Peacekeepers engaged in running battles with the Scarran guard force – and just winning overall, it seemed. The second was... "My ship!" yelled Harrigan gleefully "Come on, this thing's our ticket out of here!" They made their way underneath the hull to the combat drophatch. Harrigan stepped to cover the concealed keypad and entered the code given to him by Officer Leeuwin before her death. Harrigan muttered softly "They won't get our ship, dear" under his breath. The two of them rushed the short distance to the small bridge.
Harrigan had to spend precious microts readjusting the pilot's chair to fit his huge frame, but managed it eventually. "Right!" he muttered happily "Let's move! Strap yourself in, and DON"T TOUCH ANYTHING!". Harrigan quickly started up both engines and ran a quick preflight check. "All systems go, Lieutenant? Any orders?" responded the onboard computer. A flash of inspiration came to Harrigan. "Hack that Scarran science comp in Nexus Two and find out what happened to Mary!" he ordered anxiously. The answer came swiftly "Experimental subject Kappa-6. Dead – caused by massive genetic failure. Body incinerated"
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Harrigan bowed his head in shame. "I failed her too" he sniffled "All my crew are dead because I failed them". The science officer shut this off with "You can best honour their memory by getting out of here alive!". Harrigan perked up again "Yes, indeed!" he said animatedly "There's still our mission to fulfil!". "That's the spirit!" the science officer replied "Now give it some throttle and go!"
The Peacekeepers heard the Harbringer powering up for takeoff. "She's live!" the team leader screamed, scanning the cockpit window. "Looks to have one Sebacean flying" – this was Harrigan, who's face looked fairly normal from a distance – "and one other that I can't identify" – the science officer crouched in his seat. "FALL BACK!" the team leader yelled "BACK TO THE MARAUDERS! MOVE!" All surviving members of the team retreated in good order, covering their comrades as they followed the Harbringer out of the hangar on foot. Only one had died from enemy action – though almost all had some kind of injury. They had accounted for twenty Scarran casualties between them.
Once clear of the immediate base area, the intelligence officer called their Marauders in to pick them and the rescued crewmen up. When they arrived, the Peacekeepers bolted aboard. "Where's the Harbringer?" asked the Marauder pilot. "Not that it's any business of yours" snapped the team leader "but another Sebacean prisoner managed to fly it out. You should have see it going past you on the way in ". "Oh, yeah" he replied. Then he came to his senses and commed his colleague in the other Marauder "Let's get back to the carrier for a drink" he suggested. "I'm with you there" came the reply, and both Marauders boosted for orbit and their mothership at maximum speed.
The Harbringer had already reached orbit. The computer had detected the carrier a long way off, and advised Harrigan to make for an alternate exit point; an option which Harrigan heartily agreed with. "We've had enough trouble for an entire cycle" he muttered "Plot course to the nearest..." Harrigan turned to the ex-science officer. "Commerce planet" he added. "Yes, commerce planet. Call us when we get there"
When they were well clear, Harrigan beckoned the science officer aft. "Let's grab some food, if those loonies back there left anything lying around" They checked out the tiny galley. All that was available was combat rations, but everything was as he'd left it before his capture half a cycle ago. The pair of them wolfed down a pack each, Harrigan munching down two more. "The bunkroom's in there" he explained. "Grab some sleep while you can. If your mates are there when we arrive, you'll be more use well-rested. I'll sleep up-front" he finished, heading for his pilot's chair after grabbing the biggest blanket he could find, which turned out to be an insulated groundsheet for an emergency tent. Then the two refugees fell asleep, dreaming of what would happen next.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------- --------------------------- Back at the Scarran base, the Commandant was positively fulminating. "How in the frell does one escaped test subject and his turncoat sidekick manage to get past the whole base, and out to freedom?!" he yelled "Tell me that, hmm?!". He marched up and down if front of a sea of dejected guards. He zeroed in on the hapless flight control guards "Perhaps you shower can tell me WHAT THE HEZMANA WENT WRONG?!?"
The junior surviving crewman tentatively raised his hand. "Yes?" the Commandant queried, dangerously quiet "You have something to say?". "Now that I come to think about it..." he thought aloud, mulling over the events of the past arn. A trace on the radar screen jumps to the forefront of his mind "...there was a faint trace...about a couple of hundred microts after the tournament started". "And..?" prompted the Commandant, looming over him. "I'm not exactly sure, sir..." the crewman said diffidently. The commandant howled with rage. His crewmates buried their heads in their hands. "But..." he finally continued "If I had to make a guess...I'd say that there were two transport Marauders, coming in low, on a stealth trajectory. A retrieval squad could have infitrated the complex and made off with the Harbringer, and our test subject and his ally"
"Scour the system!" the Commandant yelled. He resumed pacing up and down infront of his captive audience. "I want evey craft that can fly out there looking for them!" But he'd failed to take into account the Harbringer's superior stealth capabilities and staggering speed. Thirty-six arns later the search parties returned, with no results. "All we know" explained the dreadnaught Captain currently on-base "Is that they left the system at high speed, as soon as they could. Engine trail traces suggests no attempt at stealth, they left at approximately hetch 9, but those traces can only give a vague indication of which direction they went. Three frontier-class planets lie along that path, but so do at least seven commerce planets". He cringed at the thought of that. "You are aware" asked the Commandant "that if they make planetfall on any of those, we'll probably lose them, are you not?"
"Not entirely true, Commandant" responded the Captain, who had spent some time on frontier planets "With your permission, I'll send out scout craft with wanted beacons to all systems within a quarter-cycle. The news will spread from there by itself. Just tell me how much of a reward you're prepared to offer and it's done" The Commandant mulled this over for a while. Expensive, yes, he thought; but effective, and less draining of my own perosnnel reserves, such as they are. "15,000 krepnas. Alive. They're no use to me dead. We have to find out what they know".
The Nexus Two team leader came running back. "You really won't like this, sir" he gasped "But it looks as though they pulled a full core dump of Nexus One before they left. I've just checked the records, but the entire databank there's empty". The Commandant let off another howl of rage. "Twenty three thousand!" he yelled at the Captain "Twenty three thousand krepna for the return, alive, of the test subject and his traitorous ally! Plus an additional twelve thousand, IF they provide the core dump datapod. Content will be checked to verify it's authentic before that money is paid. Go, Captain!" he yelled "You have you orders!"
---------------------------------------------------------------------------- --------------------------- The dreadnaught Captain turned to leave. Good luck to him, he said in the privacy of his own thoughts, I hope he gets to wherever he's going and sings like a skrat-bird colony to anyone who'll listen. Even if no one in authority believes him, he could easily earn 30,000 krepna from a major planetary or interplanetary media outlet. That'll double easily if he provides a copy of that datapod. Once that gets out, High Command will feed the Commandant to the mobs and wash their hands of the whole situation. Rogue op, nothing to do with us, that kind of thing. I might even help him out myself. Stranger things have happened. Can't possibly be worse than serving under this power-obsessed maniac. Yes, that's what I'll do, he decided. My first officer says he knows some people who could use our services – we'll check them out.
First of all, he turned up at the Commandant's quarters. Moving carefully, as capture in this next part of the venture would be punishable by death, he jimmied the door and slipped in. Quickly putting to use skills he thought he'd never use again, he pried the Commandant's private safe open. Inside was eighty thousand krepna worth of precious metals, gemstones, and negotiable securities. Into his private loadout bag it all went, under his spare uniforms and personal sidearms. The bag was considerably heavier after it was filled, but he was a Scarran; hefting this load convincingly in one hand may be impossible for any of the weaker races, but most Scarrans could managed it easily, given a little practice. He shut the safe door and slipped out of the Commandant's quarters before anyone thought to come looking for him. When he entered the landing bay, he stashed the bag under the pilot's chair in his personal Intruder, slammed the canopy down, and boosted for the dreadnaught in a cloud of dust
When he got to his ship, his first officer was waiting in the landing bay. "We await your command" he stated formally. Then he added "Those contacts will still accept us, sir. I only await your order to set this up" and bowed before his Captain. He was struck by the loyalty shown by those under his command. He pondered the why's and wherefore's of the both sides of the situation, and turned to his first Officer. "Make it so" he said bleakly. There, he was committed. The first officer replied "Shall I set the correct course, sir?". "Yes. I've ordered you to make it so. The fine detail I leave to you". He hefted his heavier-than-usual bag and walked off to his quarters, and slept the troubled sleep of one whose conscience has made its presence felt later in life.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------- --------------------------- Three days after the Scarran Captain's change of loyalty, the Harbringer arrived in-system at the commerce planet selected as their target. Low orbit was chock full of shuttles and transport pods from space vessels of all major space-going races going between the planet, their mothership, and other ships almost constantly. A comm call came through on an open frequency. "Unidentified vessel, please state your craft's name or number, planet of origin, and the name of the Captain or master of the vessel. Also state the purpose of your visit to this planet" crackled the voice, accompanied by a low-quality visual image of someone who appeared to be a traffic controller or customs officer. Harrigan pondered this for a while,and came up with a solution he liked.
"Spaceport command, this is the Earth Space Vessel 'Black Manta'" replied Harrigan, holding back a grin "Planet of manafacture, unknown. I, Lieutenant Harrigan, command and pilot this ship. Purpose of this visit : exploration, resupply, and some personal matters". The controller seized on one part of Harrigan's reply and sought clarification "Exploration?" she asked, surprised "This is a commerce planet. People come here to buy,sell, and trade; not look at the scenery. Please explain". Harrigan unleashed his grin, and did indeed explain "First contact, ma'am.!" he exclaimed happily "This is the furthest out anyone from my planet has been. I salvaged this craft from it's previous owners, who being dead didn't have a use for it any more, and it has served me well ever since! The personal matter is finding a transport for my ship to hitch a lift on, and assist in the location of an old friend. I'd like to know if he came out this far before me". The controller was surprised. "Since this is your first visit here, I'm required to give you a short orientation on local ettiquette. Much of it applies on all commerce planets. I hope you brought plenty of money. How large is your vessel? I can't let you down without knowing at least the approximate mass or crew and/or cargo capacity; larger blast pits are reserved for larger ships, and my sensors can't detect your vessel".
Harrigan consulted the ship's computer. "It's approximately four point five times the size of the extended-range model Marauder. Can hold ten passengers and five crew at max rated capacity. Currently holding two". The controller consulted her spaceport map and selected a small bay by one of the better ship supply emporia. "Set your landing system for Bay Fifteen. There's a resupply shop next to your pit – meet me there. Control out". Harrigan ordered the computer to land them at the designated bay, and turned towards the ex-science officer. "Well, we're at the commerce planet. You'll be able to find your friends. Do you need any money?". The Scarran turned towards Harrigan. "You have money in here?" he asked in surprise. "Well, precious metals and stones anyway, at least if no-one's nicked them" Harrigan replied. The Scarran added "No one could even get in here, let alone shift anything". Harrigan liked that, and decided one more thing. "I'm getting my guns from the armoury, then. This is a strange new world, and I won't go out in it would some means to defend myself against those idiots who think it's fun to part newcomers from their money"
---------------------------------------------------------------------------- --------------------------- They walked back to the storeroom opposite the armoury. Harrigan unlocked the door and peered inside. "Ah, good" he replied to the Scarran's mystified glance "My guns are in here as well. He pulled open the crate containing his G8 and ammo. He slung the G8 over his shoulder, and stuffed all the ammo drums in his huge-sized backpack. "G8...ammo...frags?...yep, them too...CS grenades...oh, may as well" muttered Harrigan as he stashed his gear in various parts of his backpack and trouser pockets.
Then Harrigan started checking the other crates for tradeable items. Selecting several bags of gemstones and a couple of bars of gold, he stashed them in the upper pocket of his backpack. Then he threw two more small bags of gemstones to the ex-science officer, saying "That ought to sort you out for a while. Oh, I forgot something!" he remembered, rummmaging around through half a dozen crates. Several hundred microts later, Harrigan returned with the last remaining FiveSeven. After some extensive jury-rigging on the shoulder holster, they marched out to meet the customs officer.
She was standing just outside the edge of the blast pit with an annoyed snarl on her face, tapping her foot on the floor. She stopped tapping her foot, the snarl disappearing with astonishing rapidity as well, when she saw just how big Harrigan was. "Frell me dead!" she gasped "Is everyone from your planet that huge?". Harrigan laughed out loud at that, which broke the tension perfectly. "No, no!" he laughed "I'm very much the exception rather than the rule. This happened...after...I got out here" Harrigan finished in a more reserved tone. He didn't think it wise to reveal any more of his immediate past to anyone, especially as they might spill the beans if encouraged by sufficient money, pain, or blackmail.
The customs officer noticed his reticence, but wasn't too bothered by that. "OK" she continued, checking the first item on her clipboard "As you're a first-timer to our little haven to greed and riches..." she started "...there are a few things you need to know. Most commerce planets aren't aligned with any of the major powers. The reason for that's simple – we can't get any of the others, or their allies, to spend money if we do. Plus no independent planets will come if they know Peacekeepers or Scarrans, to name but two, base out of here". Harrigan cut in with "Sounds just like Switzerland back home. They'll take anyone's money. They aren't too concerned where it's been or how you got it, just as long as you're giving it to, or banking it with, them". The customs officer didn't recognise this 'Switzerland' the newcomer spoke of, but ploughed on regardless.
"Yes, that's right. You catch on fast" she added. "Our planet is fairly relaxed when it comes to carrying weapons, but you might get a bit of extra attention carrying that around" she explained, pointing at Harrigan's G8 "from the police, not to mention the locals and any representatives of First Command or High Command. Pistols, and even pulse-rifles, usually pass unnoticed; but heavy support weapons like that stick out"
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On the command carrier, the situation was good. Favourable conditions had allowed them to shave off several days travel time. Now only half a solar day away, the assault team were making final preparations. "If the Scarran base follows standard plans, we'll need to descend three levels or so to find the holding area for ships of the Harbringer's size. Half the team stays with the Harbringer, including our comrade here" the team leader briefed, gesturing at the intelligence officer "will stay with the Harbringer; the rest of us will make a quick sweep for survivors in the nearby holding cells. Then back to the Harbringer, which'll take us back to the carrier. Then we leave at flank speed for the intelligence base we came here from. Questions?" There were none. "Good. Get you gear stowed in the Marauders and grab some chow before the drop" she finished, heading for the canteen.
The base PA had just roared to life down in the Scarran base. "Now hear this, now hear this!" it boomed aout around the rooms and corridors. Everyone looked up for the unexpected announcement "All non-essential personnel reports to the training arena to witness an assault course competition between Nexus One and the base garrison. Refreshments will be laid on free of charge, and all duties will be suspended for the duration of the contest."
Base personnel flocked to the spectator seats surrounding the arena. A number of brawls broke out over who got the better seats; but those superior in rank forced the juniors aside and took the best seats for themselves. "Welcome to the arena!" exclaimed the commentator for the day, a supply clerk with a flair for the dramatic. "In the outermost lane is the Nexus One representative, a real giant of a man. In the inner lanes are representatives..." Everyone knew they were really 'volunteered' by their superiors for slackness and snickered at this call "...from all the other branches of the base. There'll be a real grudge match here today, fellow Scarrans! Not only will the competitors have to contend with each other, but the Commandant has decreed this to be a LIVE FIRE event! Soldiers will fire random shots over the course from rifles and heavy weapons at random intervals, plus concealed explosives are dotted at various places over the open areas and obstacles. Betting agents are nearby, ready to take your wager – already there has been one wager of nine hundred krepna that the supply division representative will not survive the course! Why not lay your own bets? Now the competitors approach the starting blocks. All bets stop now! The bookmakers are now closed! Ready, set,GO!" the commentator howled, firing the starter's gun. A loud BOOM! started the race.
Harrigan's physical strength soon became apparent as he hurled himself off the starting line, not even landing until fifteen feet down the course, bypassing one trap. The demolition training competitor should have known better, because she stepped right on it, blowing herself to smithereens. "Oh dear! We have our first casualty!" yelled the commentator "The demolition training corps representative has paid for her complacency with her life. I expect there are a number of you counting your winnings from that one. I KNOW there's one very dead demo instructor to be scraped off the wall later!"
---------------------------------------------------------------------------- --------------------------- "At least" the commentator added "as long as the sanitary engineering representative makes it though alive, anyway! Nexus One's man has powered ahead of the pack, and has appeared to step on one explosive surprise and continue on unharmed! What stamina, what strength!" What manner of nightmare experiments did they do to him to make that possible? he wondered, and then immediately tried to forget it had happened. "And the athletes approach the first climbing obstacle!" the commentator explained. Harrigan wasn't really pushing himself right now, but his enhanced vision was reporting some odd defects in the rope. Stuff it! he thought and jumped up.
He'd intended to give himself a few feet of boost to the top of the wall. What actually happened was that he flew straight over it, almost losing his footing in surprise when he landed on the other side.
The guards in the perimeter defences were not able to watch in person, but chose to violate regulations and watch it on the barrack-room briefing screens. They jeered and booed at the screen as the South Side Perimeter Watch representative grabbed at the rope. It let go when he was half way up, plunging him into a water trap with a carnivorous reptile in it. As the screams died away, the commentator's voice came out of the tinny speakers either side of the screen. "Well, that's one guard who won't be standing watch tonight!" screamed the commentator "The Commandant has just given the signal for live fire to begin!"
A flurry of bolts from a pulse cannon intercepted the course of the reconnaissance company athelete. The commentator howled "Well, that's one thing he didn't see coming! Recon is out!" One of the guards on the north side radar console laughed loudly, temporarily turning away from his screen. While he was collecting his winnings, the two Marauders dropped their cargo of troops and retreated to safe distance.from the complex.
Harrigan was approaching a bridge obstacle and wasn't sure if it could take his weight. Two of the gunners trained their cannons on him and let loose a long burst each straight at him. Both impacted dead centre and knocked him down. "Well there goes Nexus One!" started the commentator. But just as he was about to pronounce the death knell, Harrigan heaved himself off the steaming mud. "Right!" he growled "If that's the way the game's played..." and lunged for one of the gunners. The gunner was so surprised to see him still alive that he was unable to react in time to save himself; his hesitation earnt him a kick in the ribcage. The other nearby gunner cowered behind his sandbags, refusing to come out. "But he's back up!" the commentator exclaimed in stunned disbelief "And has neutralised two course gunners! He's just absorbed enough pulse fire to kill a squad of shock troopers, and he keeps on coming!"
The Commandant leant over to the science officer. "Your man is certainly performing well" he said approvingly. "He's the experimental subject, sir" the scientist reminded him "The program was designed to take this kind of punishment for short periods. So far he's well within expectations, sir"
---------------------------------------------------------------------------- --------------------------- The Peacekeeper retrieval team dodged from rock to rock using the landscape to maximum advantage. All largely superfluous – all the guards were watching the tournament instead of their consoles. The Peacekeepers snuck up to the wall door. "Up here, sir" called the team leader to the intelligence officer "We need a bypass"
The intelligence officer took only a few seconds to bypass the low-grade lock. The door swung aside to let them in, which they promptly did, passing only a few feet from the rearmost guard on their way to the flight control console in the next room. A muffled pulse blast took out the officer still at his console, and the team leader proceeded to to open the bay doors that needed to open for the retrieval to proceed. Another blast to the console ensured they'd stay open. Fifty more metras and they emerged into the flight bay, facing the Harbringer's nose. "Any guards about?" the intelligence officer asked. The team leader flipped a hand signal to her squad. One responded with another in return. "Not one, sir" she replied. The intelligence officer promptly marched up to the Harbringer's access hatch and entered a code. A harsh blat noise was the reply. "Hmm..." she replied and tried another code. Another blat noise followed. "We've got problems, L-T" she explained "The hatch is set for exclusive access to a specific crewman. If we can't find them, the ship goes nowhere, and we're forced to activate the auto-destruct. Check the cells, team!" she ordered her squad. They found two more Peacekeeper prisoners, but they couldn't open the door either.
The senior shift officer finally restored some semblance of order. The first thing amiss was the doors. "Flight bays doors are open, sir" one guard reported "Won't shut". The officer responded with "Use the main console and shut them from there". The guard immediately ran back. "Door controller's dead!" he yelled. "Calm down!" the officer responded, and went to check it out himself. He saw the door controller with a fist-sized chunk of flesh missing where his heart should be, and blood soaking the floor. He yelled "RAISE THE ALARM!". The guard nearer the button said "There goes a nice, quiet shift" and slammed the big red button down.
Alarms hooted all over the base. This included the arena. The Commandant growled "Damn thing always goes off when I'm getting R&R!" Then he got on the PA. "Now hear this, now hear this! Intruders have been detected! The contest's off! Everyone to their battle stations! NOW!" he yelled. He pressed a button on his armrest that deactivated the traps.
Harrigan saw his chance. He slipped out in the confusion, following a guards squad to the hangar. The science officer caught up with him. "Going somewhere?" he asked. "Yes, actually" responded Harrigan "This place is getting on my nerves. I say, it's time to grab a ship and leave!". "I don't much like the place either. Feel up to taking a passenger?" the science officer put in. Harrigan turned around to face him. The science officer explained. "This place is a prison" Harrigan's face crinkled up as he tried to figure this out.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------- --------------------------- "Not a labour camp" the science officer clarified, sensing Harrigan's perplexed expression "A tech-prison. Most of the science staff hae been sent here for political offences, but their skills were enough to save them from the camps. This way High Command get to pick our brains, and we're stuck in some benighted hole gazillions of cycles travel from civilisation, and off the main shipping lanes. I'll just grab a core dump and we're ready to go." Harrigan tried to stop him, but he had activated a nearby console and was busily dumping the contents of his project into a data pod about the size of his fist. "Time remaining : 200 microts" displayed on the screen and started counting down.
With thirty microts remaining, an inquisitive guard rounded the corner and saw the science officer at the console. "So!" he crowed "a trai---awk!" as Harrigan appeared behind him and snapped his neck like a twig. Dumping the corpse on the floor, Harrigan urged "Come on!". Five microts later, he grabbed the pod and threw it to Harrigan, who caught it in surprise. "The only copy of the project that made you what you are" he explained "Once we're out of here, High Command can't get it! I have to make contact with the rest of my comrades, advise them of what happened here. You can drop me off at the nearest commerce planet – I can find my people from there. Let' s go!". Harrigan agreed there. The scientist picked up two pulse guns from the dead guard. He threw one to Harrigan, but when he grabbed it there was a bright blue field of sparks, and the gun blew out all over the floor. "Your transformation highly energised your nervous system, I forgot" the scientist explained again "One result of this is you can't use unshielded pulse weapons. Don't know if the other one will work yet..."
They had emerged into the hangar. Two things became apparent. One, there was a squad of Peacekeepers engaged in running battles with the Scarran guard force – and just winning overall, it seemed. The second was... "My ship!" yelled Harrigan gleefully "Come on, this thing's our ticket out of here!" They made their way underneath the hull to the combat drophatch. Harrigan stepped to cover the concealed keypad and entered the code given to him by Officer Leeuwin before her death. Harrigan muttered softly "They won't get our ship, dear" under his breath. The two of them rushed the short distance to the small bridge.
Harrigan had to spend precious microts readjusting the pilot's chair to fit his huge frame, but managed it eventually. "Right!" he muttered happily "Let's move! Strap yourself in, and DON"T TOUCH ANYTHING!". Harrigan quickly started up both engines and ran a quick preflight check. "All systems go, Lieutenant? Any orders?" responded the onboard computer. A flash of inspiration came to Harrigan. "Hack that Scarran science comp in Nexus Two and find out what happened to Mary!" he ordered anxiously. The answer came swiftly "Experimental subject Kappa-6. Dead – caused by massive genetic failure. Body incinerated"
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Harrigan bowed his head in shame. "I failed her too" he sniffled "All my crew are dead because I failed them". The science officer shut this off with "You can best honour their memory by getting out of here alive!". Harrigan perked up again "Yes, indeed!" he said animatedly "There's still our mission to fulfil!". "That's the spirit!" the science officer replied "Now give it some throttle and go!"
The Peacekeepers heard the Harbringer powering up for takeoff. "She's live!" the team leader screamed, scanning the cockpit window. "Looks to have one Sebacean flying" – this was Harrigan, who's face looked fairly normal from a distance – "and one other that I can't identify" – the science officer crouched in his seat. "FALL BACK!" the team leader yelled "BACK TO THE MARAUDERS! MOVE!" All surviving members of the team retreated in good order, covering their comrades as they followed the Harbringer out of the hangar on foot. Only one had died from enemy action – though almost all had some kind of injury. They had accounted for twenty Scarran casualties between them.
Once clear of the immediate base area, the intelligence officer called their Marauders in to pick them and the rescued crewmen up. When they arrived, the Peacekeepers bolted aboard. "Where's the Harbringer?" asked the Marauder pilot. "Not that it's any business of yours" snapped the team leader "but another Sebacean prisoner managed to fly it out. You should have see it going past you on the way in ". "Oh, yeah" he replied. Then he came to his senses and commed his colleague in the other Marauder "Let's get back to the carrier for a drink" he suggested. "I'm with you there" came the reply, and both Marauders boosted for orbit and their mothership at maximum speed.
The Harbringer had already reached orbit. The computer had detected the carrier a long way off, and advised Harrigan to make for an alternate exit point; an option which Harrigan heartily agreed with. "We've had enough trouble for an entire cycle" he muttered "Plot course to the nearest..." Harrigan turned to the ex-science officer. "Commerce planet" he added. "Yes, commerce planet. Call us when we get there"
When they were well clear, Harrigan beckoned the science officer aft. "Let's grab some food, if those loonies back there left anything lying around" They checked out the tiny galley. All that was available was combat rations, but everything was as he'd left it before his capture half a cycle ago. The pair of them wolfed down a pack each, Harrigan munching down two more. "The bunkroom's in there" he explained. "Grab some sleep while you can. If your mates are there when we arrive, you'll be more use well-rested. I'll sleep up-front" he finished, heading for his pilot's chair after grabbing the biggest blanket he could find, which turned out to be an insulated groundsheet for an emergency tent. Then the two refugees fell asleep, dreaming of what would happen next.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------- --------------------------- Back at the Scarran base, the Commandant was positively fulminating. "How in the frell does one escaped test subject and his turncoat sidekick manage to get past the whole base, and out to freedom?!" he yelled "Tell me that, hmm?!". He marched up and down if front of a sea of dejected guards. He zeroed in on the hapless flight control guards "Perhaps you shower can tell me WHAT THE HEZMANA WENT WRONG?!?"
The junior surviving crewman tentatively raised his hand. "Yes?" the Commandant queried, dangerously quiet "You have something to say?". "Now that I come to think about it..." he thought aloud, mulling over the events of the past arn. A trace on the radar screen jumps to the forefront of his mind "...there was a faint trace...about a couple of hundred microts after the tournament started". "And..?" prompted the Commandant, looming over him. "I'm not exactly sure, sir..." the crewman said diffidently. The commandant howled with rage. His crewmates buried their heads in their hands. "But..." he finally continued "If I had to make a guess...I'd say that there were two transport Marauders, coming in low, on a stealth trajectory. A retrieval squad could have infitrated the complex and made off with the Harbringer, and our test subject and his ally"
"Scour the system!" the Commandant yelled. He resumed pacing up and down infront of his captive audience. "I want evey craft that can fly out there looking for them!" But he'd failed to take into account the Harbringer's superior stealth capabilities and staggering speed. Thirty-six arns later the search parties returned, with no results. "All we know" explained the dreadnaught Captain currently on-base "Is that they left the system at high speed, as soon as they could. Engine trail traces suggests no attempt at stealth, they left at approximately hetch 9, but those traces can only give a vague indication of which direction they went. Three frontier-class planets lie along that path, but so do at least seven commerce planets". He cringed at the thought of that. "You are aware" asked the Commandant "that if they make planetfall on any of those, we'll probably lose them, are you not?"
"Not entirely true, Commandant" responded the Captain, who had spent some time on frontier planets "With your permission, I'll send out scout craft with wanted beacons to all systems within a quarter-cycle. The news will spread from there by itself. Just tell me how much of a reward you're prepared to offer and it's done" The Commandant mulled this over for a while. Expensive, yes, he thought; but effective, and less draining of my own perosnnel reserves, such as they are. "15,000 krepnas. Alive. They're no use to me dead. We have to find out what they know".
The Nexus Two team leader came running back. "You really won't like this, sir" he gasped "But it looks as though they pulled a full core dump of Nexus One before they left. I've just checked the records, but the entire databank there's empty". The Commandant let off another howl of rage. "Twenty three thousand!" he yelled at the Captain "Twenty three thousand krepna for the return, alive, of the test subject and his traitorous ally! Plus an additional twelve thousand, IF they provide the core dump datapod. Content will be checked to verify it's authentic before that money is paid. Go, Captain!" he yelled "You have you orders!"
---------------------------------------------------------------------------- --------------------------- The dreadnaught Captain turned to leave. Good luck to him, he said in the privacy of his own thoughts, I hope he gets to wherever he's going and sings like a skrat-bird colony to anyone who'll listen. Even if no one in authority believes him, he could easily earn 30,000 krepna from a major planetary or interplanetary media outlet. That'll double easily if he provides a copy of that datapod. Once that gets out, High Command will feed the Commandant to the mobs and wash their hands of the whole situation. Rogue op, nothing to do with us, that kind of thing. I might even help him out myself. Stranger things have happened. Can't possibly be worse than serving under this power-obsessed maniac. Yes, that's what I'll do, he decided. My first officer says he knows some people who could use our services – we'll check them out.
First of all, he turned up at the Commandant's quarters. Moving carefully, as capture in this next part of the venture would be punishable by death, he jimmied the door and slipped in. Quickly putting to use skills he thought he'd never use again, he pried the Commandant's private safe open. Inside was eighty thousand krepna worth of precious metals, gemstones, and negotiable securities. Into his private loadout bag it all went, under his spare uniforms and personal sidearms. The bag was considerably heavier after it was filled, but he was a Scarran; hefting this load convincingly in one hand may be impossible for any of the weaker races, but most Scarrans could managed it easily, given a little practice. He shut the safe door and slipped out of the Commandant's quarters before anyone thought to come looking for him. When he entered the landing bay, he stashed the bag under the pilot's chair in his personal Intruder, slammed the canopy down, and boosted for the dreadnaught in a cloud of dust
When he got to his ship, his first officer was waiting in the landing bay. "We await your command" he stated formally. Then he added "Those contacts will still accept us, sir. I only await your order to set this up" and bowed before his Captain. He was struck by the loyalty shown by those under his command. He pondered the why's and wherefore's of the both sides of the situation, and turned to his first Officer. "Make it so" he said bleakly. There, he was committed. The first officer replied "Shall I set the correct course, sir?". "Yes. I've ordered you to make it so. The fine detail I leave to you". He hefted his heavier-than-usual bag and walked off to his quarters, and slept the troubled sleep of one whose conscience has made its presence felt later in life.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------- --------------------------- Three days after the Scarran Captain's change of loyalty, the Harbringer arrived in-system at the commerce planet selected as their target. Low orbit was chock full of shuttles and transport pods from space vessels of all major space-going races going between the planet, their mothership, and other ships almost constantly. A comm call came through on an open frequency. "Unidentified vessel, please state your craft's name or number, planet of origin, and the name of the Captain or master of the vessel. Also state the purpose of your visit to this planet" crackled the voice, accompanied by a low-quality visual image of someone who appeared to be a traffic controller or customs officer. Harrigan pondered this for a while,and came up with a solution he liked.
"Spaceport command, this is the Earth Space Vessel 'Black Manta'" replied Harrigan, holding back a grin "Planet of manafacture, unknown. I, Lieutenant Harrigan, command and pilot this ship. Purpose of this visit : exploration, resupply, and some personal matters". The controller seized on one part of Harrigan's reply and sought clarification "Exploration?" she asked, surprised "This is a commerce planet. People come here to buy,sell, and trade; not look at the scenery. Please explain". Harrigan unleashed his grin, and did indeed explain "First contact, ma'am.!" he exclaimed happily "This is the furthest out anyone from my planet has been. I salvaged this craft from it's previous owners, who being dead didn't have a use for it any more, and it has served me well ever since! The personal matter is finding a transport for my ship to hitch a lift on, and assist in the location of an old friend. I'd like to know if he came out this far before me". The controller was surprised. "Since this is your first visit here, I'm required to give you a short orientation on local ettiquette. Much of it applies on all commerce planets. I hope you brought plenty of money. How large is your vessel? I can't let you down without knowing at least the approximate mass or crew and/or cargo capacity; larger blast pits are reserved for larger ships, and my sensors can't detect your vessel".
Harrigan consulted the ship's computer. "It's approximately four point five times the size of the extended-range model Marauder. Can hold ten passengers and five crew at max rated capacity. Currently holding two". The controller consulted her spaceport map and selected a small bay by one of the better ship supply emporia. "Set your landing system for Bay Fifteen. There's a resupply shop next to your pit – meet me there. Control out". Harrigan ordered the computer to land them at the designated bay, and turned towards the ex-science officer. "Well, we're at the commerce planet. You'll be able to find your friends. Do you need any money?". The Scarran turned towards Harrigan. "You have money in here?" he asked in surprise. "Well, precious metals and stones anyway, at least if no-one's nicked them" Harrigan replied. The Scarran added "No one could even get in here, let alone shift anything". Harrigan liked that, and decided one more thing. "I'm getting my guns from the armoury, then. This is a strange new world, and I won't go out in it would some means to defend myself against those idiots who think it's fun to part newcomers from their money"
---------------------------------------------------------------------------- --------------------------- They walked back to the storeroom opposite the armoury. Harrigan unlocked the door and peered inside. "Ah, good" he replied to the Scarran's mystified glance "My guns are in here as well. He pulled open the crate containing his G8 and ammo. He slung the G8 over his shoulder, and stuffed all the ammo drums in his huge-sized backpack. "G8...ammo...frags?...yep, them too...CS grenades...oh, may as well" muttered Harrigan as he stashed his gear in various parts of his backpack and trouser pockets.
Then Harrigan started checking the other crates for tradeable items. Selecting several bags of gemstones and a couple of bars of gold, he stashed them in the upper pocket of his backpack. Then he threw two more small bags of gemstones to the ex-science officer, saying "That ought to sort you out for a while. Oh, I forgot something!" he remembered, rummmaging around through half a dozen crates. Several hundred microts later, Harrigan returned with the last remaining FiveSeven. After some extensive jury-rigging on the shoulder holster, they marched out to meet the customs officer.
She was standing just outside the edge of the blast pit with an annoyed snarl on her face, tapping her foot on the floor. She stopped tapping her foot, the snarl disappearing with astonishing rapidity as well, when she saw just how big Harrigan was. "Frell me dead!" she gasped "Is everyone from your planet that huge?". Harrigan laughed out loud at that, which broke the tension perfectly. "No, no!" he laughed "I'm very much the exception rather than the rule. This happened...after...I got out here" Harrigan finished in a more reserved tone. He didn't think it wise to reveal any more of his immediate past to anyone, especially as they might spill the beans if encouraged by sufficient money, pain, or blackmail.
The customs officer noticed his reticence, but wasn't too bothered by that. "OK" she continued, checking the first item on her clipboard "As you're a first-timer to our little haven to greed and riches..." she started "...there are a few things you need to know. Most commerce planets aren't aligned with any of the major powers. The reason for that's simple – we can't get any of the others, or their allies, to spend money if we do. Plus no independent planets will come if they know Peacekeepers or Scarrans, to name but two, base out of here". Harrigan cut in with "Sounds just like Switzerland back home. They'll take anyone's money. They aren't too concerned where it's been or how you got it, just as long as you're giving it to, or banking it with, them". The customs officer didn't recognise this 'Switzerland' the newcomer spoke of, but ploughed on regardless.
"Yes, that's right. You catch on fast" she added. "Our planet is fairly relaxed when it comes to carrying weapons, but you might get a bit of extra attention carrying that around" she explained, pointing at Harrigan's G8 "from the police, not to mention the locals and any representatives of First Command or High Command. Pistols, and even pulse-rifles, usually pass unnoticed; but heavy support weapons like that stick out"
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