The breaching pod was little more than a heavily modified lifeboat, equipped with maneuvering thrusters, magnetic seals, and automated fusion torches. Launched like a lifeboat, the pod would attach to a target's surface and the torches would burn through the hull, thus giving the soldiers within the pod entry into the target. Against stationary targets, they were ideal transport platforms.
Major Talok hated them.
Inside the pod, there was remarkably little free space available; two acceleration "couches" consumed most of the interior volume and the rudimentary flight controls took up much of the rest, leaving very little leg room for the soldiers being transported. The couches themselves were actually poorly cushioned impact seats, equipped with shock-gel and inertial dampeners. Military theory stated that the gel would prevent any internal hemorrhaging should the dampeners fail, but Talok had his doubts.
Four centurions were secured to their impact seats, dressed in the standard-issue battle uniform, complete with an enclosing helmet to conceal their faces. The armor itself was virtually useless against most energy weapons but protection was hardly the primary reason it was worn; though it was difficult, Talok tried to avoid thinking about the highly acidic compound that was even now coursing through the body glove he wore under the armor. As he maneuvered the pod toward the station, the silence that filled it was deafening. He frowned once before speaking.
"The Tal Shiar," Talok said softly, his tone dark and his expression darker, "has extensive files on every member of the Fleet." He paused to let that bit of information sink in; it was a lie, but an eminently believable one. Everyone in the Empire rightfully feared the Tal Shiar and the hushed horror stories about the sinister organization's reach and power were legion. "They know everything about your parents, your siblings, your mates, and your offspring." The four soldiers shifted uncomfortably under his unblinking gaze and he infused his next words with as much coldness as he could manage. "If I die," he growled, "so do they." He speared them with a dark look. "In terrible, agonizing pain." Talok half-turned away, confident that none of them would act against him now.
He was wrong.
In a blur of motion, one of the centurions drew his sidearm and leveled at Talok before the major could react. The sound of a disruptor pistol being discharged echoed loudly in the cramped breaching pod and Talok braced himself for pain.
It did not come.
Gasping in surprise, the centurion shuddered, his fingers going limp as he stared at the smoking hole in his chest. The disruptor pistol clattered loudly on the deck as it slipped from his hand and, had he not been secured on the acceleration couch, he would have toppled forward; instead, he sagged against the restraints, his breath coming in ragged gasps as the life faded from his eyes. In a dangerously smooth motion, Centurion Jarok holstered his weapon and gave Talok a steady look.
"He was the commander's creature, sir," Jarok said calmly, and Talok noted the other two soldiers nodding in agreement. Neither of them seemed overly concerned at the action.
"And whom do you serve?" Talok asked, masking his tension behind a practiced expression of indifference. His time among the Vulcans had helped him perfect the illusion of calm.
"I serve the Empire, Major," came the confident reply and, once more, the two other centurions nodded. A smile briefly touched Talok's face as the breaching pod abruptly shuddered; the hiss of metal being seared by lasers was a glorious sound.
"Then let us serve the Empire together," he declared as their restraints released, dropping the corpse to the deck with a loud thump. Already, the dead centurion's warsuit had begun to hiss as the concentrated acids contained within it began to break down his body, a final solution to prevent the Humans from learning of their physical appearance. The ability to walk among the Vulcans without attracting notice was an intelligence asset that they could not afford to lose.
"Glory to the Empire," the three centurions said in unison as they lowered the concealing faceplates on their helmets. Talok did the same, blinking his eyes rapidly to adjust to the twin laser pulses that blinded him for a microsecond; opening his eyes, he noted the activation of the built-in heads-up display that appeared before him a moment later with a sense of wonder. The warsuit was a technological marvel that never ceased to amaze him no matter how many times he wore it. Once the faceplate was lowered and locked into place, a pair of extremely low-powered lasers would activate and beam the appropriate information directly onto the lens of the wearer's eye, giving the illusion of a near-holographic interface set approximately ten to twelve centimeters beyond his face. Information flickered quickly across his line of sight and he took a moment to study it; integrated into the warsuit were a number of features intended to optimize a soldier's combat capability, which ranged from a built-in motion sensor with a range of fifty meters to an internal compass to a bio-monitor that allowed the team leader - in this case, the major himself - to keep track of the health of his team.
Toggling a command on his wrist comp, Talok activated an internal schematic of the station as the hissing of the pod's breaching torches abruptly ceased; semi-transparent, the schematic appeared upon the HUD with probable hostiles beyond the hatchway already highlighted. At the major's gesture, Jarok depressed the button on the side of the hatchway; almost at once, a hollow boom echoed through the pod as the explosive charges on the mating tube detonated. Exploding outward from the pod, they hurled the newly sliced segment of the hull into the station corridor with crushing force. The three centurions sent a trio of grenades through the gaping hole at once. Almost instantly, the three explosives detonated with flashes of light and hollow thumps. Jarok led the way, his heavy disruptor rifle held at the ready, and the two other centurions followed, covering the left and right. Four steps behind them, Talok followed, his own weapon primed.
Smoke filled the corridor beyond, limiting their vision, and Talok was once more glad for the armor. Hard-sealed, it could double as an environment suit in emergency situations and bore a two-hour oxygen supply. In the unlikely event that the humans would resort to biological or chemical warfare, the suit was rated to protect him against those threats as well.
Talok didn't want to think about how the suits had been tested.
They came under fire the moment they entered. Ten humans, all crouched behind hastily erected barricades and armed with little more than obsolete pulse weapons, began to spray fire wildly as Centurion Jarok darted through the breach and into the smoke-filled corridor. With almost casual ease, Jarok knelt and began returning fire, not even seeking cover; unlike the humans, he took the extra half-second to actually aim at his target and the results were instantly obvious. One of the Terrans fell, his face a smoking ruin, followed by a second and a third. Jarok was quickly joined by the two other centurions and together, the trio sent a lethal barrage at the defenders that sliced through the flimsy barricade and into the unprotected flesh beyond. Panic set in among the humans as their number rapidly dwindled, and their already questionable accuracy deteriorated even more quickly. Two of the defenders turned to flee and Talok, from his kneeling position just beyond the breach, dropped them both with well-placed shots. The last of the human defenders threw up his arms, shouting in his barbaric tongue that he was surrendering; incredibly, he discarded his weapon and began to stand, arms held high.
Jarok waited until the fool was on his feet before shooting him in the throat.
"The command deck is that way," Talok announced, gesturing in the direction that the two runners had taken. He was unconcerned about speaking aloud; air tight, the helmets were equipped with comms that would allow the teams to communicate without fear of being overheard.
"These were not soldiers," one of the centurions stated flatly as he nudged one of the dead humans with a boot.
"The soldiers," Jarok pointed out as he began advancing, "are on the Starfleet vessel."
"Then these Humans were ... civilians," the centurion said, raw contempt in his voice as he fell into step with Jarok. "They would leave civilians to defend this installation?" He sounded incredulous.
"The Humans are retreating from this system," Talok replied calmly, studying the tactical display on his HUD. The other three teams were reporting minimal resistance as they progressed toward their targets. "In the face of a superior enemy," the major continued, "retreat is the logical course of action."
Almost at once, he wished that he could take the words back as the three centurions gave him quick sidelong glances. From the moment that he had returned from Vulcan space following the failure with V'Las, Talok had been forced to deal with accusations of having spent far too much time amongst their distant cousins. In many circles within the Infiltrator Corps of the Tal Shiar, he was now mockingly referred to as "the Vulcan," and was often treated little better than a Reman shocktrooper. Espousing logic as he had in the past - even when the situation called for it - only seemed to exacerbate the problem. Frowning, he focused on the mission; redeeming his reputation was a problem to be dealt with at a later date.
They advanced through the corridors at a pace quicker than a walk but not quite a run. Seizure of the station required capture of three key locations: the command center, the central computer, and the power core. The major had decided that seizure of the command center, the highest priority target, would be his team's goal, and he had dispatched two teams to secure the core. Already, the other three teams were beginning to report sporadic engagements over the comm; three soldiers had fallen to sniper fire or improvised explosives. Long minutes passed in near-silence.
On point, Jarok abruptly halted and dropped to a knee; without hesitation, Talok followed suit, swiveling to face behind them to protect their flank. Peeking around the corner of the corridor, the senior centurion grunted before speaking.
"Command center in sight," he reported coolly and quickly transferred the data he was seeing to Talok's HUD. It was momentarily jarring to suddenly be seeing what another sentient was seeing, but the major barely reacted as he studied the data stream. Over a dozen humans were busy hastily erecting a barricade outside the command center. Several of them were armed with large rifles and at least two were carrying handheld sensor packages. "Recommend grenades, followed by a forward assault," Jarok continued.
"Agreed," the major quickly replied, and Jarok's data stream dropped from his HUD. Pulling a grenade from the tactical array on his battle armor, he quickly primed it and turned back toward the command center. With precise aim, the four of them sent their grenades tumbling around the corner and into the barricade; the two men with sensor gear shouted suddenly as the fist-sized explosives struck their targets. A half-second later, the grenades detonated in rapid succession.
Jarok led the way in a brisk walk, his disruptor rifle barking a steady stream of fire. He was flanked on either side by the two junior centurions, both of whom easily kept pace and were no less lethal with their weapons. A half step behind them, Talok was more judicious with his aim, targeting any of the Terrans who seemed more inclined toward accuracy or patience. Pulses of laser fire flashed by them, some narrowly missing, but the rapid rush and the overwhelming rate of fire from Talok's team almost completely overwhelmed the humans and cut them down with casual brutality. As they reached the doorway to the command center, one of the centurions abruptly cried out in pain and toppled, his left arm half-blown apart by a pulse rifle wielded by a hidden human; as if they were of a single mind, three disruptors sought the Terran out and cut him apart.
Into the command center they went, Centurion Jarok still on point; he took a lethal shot to his throat from another concealed human as he stepped through the doorway. Talok speared the human with a rapid burst of fire that sliced into the man's chest and dropped him. All at once, the command center went silent. There were no more targets.
Taking a step forward, the major kicked the pulse rifle away from the human that he had just shot. With eyes concealed behind the battle helmet, he studied the dying Terran, recognizing him from intelligence reports as the station administrator. These humans were not particularly impressive, especially in this state, and Talok could not help but think that the scarlet color of their blood was unnatural.
"Com..." the human wheezed, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he struggled to suck oxygen into his seared lungs. It was almost admirable that a human this damaged could still cling to life, but contempt outweighed any other emotion; there was nothing admirable about dying in a pool of one's own blood and whimpering. "Comma..."
Talok studied him for a moment later before turning away. The human would be dead very soon and he had work to do. The sole surviving centurion had already taken up a defensive position at the doorway, his rifle still primed for combat. The major had taken three steps away when the human's words rang out once more, words that he recognized at once.
"Command..."
Talok spun around, his disruptor coming to a ready position, but it was too late. The whimpering human had not been whimpering after all. Even as the major was leveling the weapon and taking aim, the human spat out a word that was totally foreign. A word that meant death.
"...Ragnarok."
Around them, the command center came to life with a flare of sudden light and a disembodied voice echoed off the walls.
"Command Ragnarok acknowledged. Five seconds. Four. Three. Two."
Talok closed his eyes.