Chapter Ten: Fall of 61 Cygni Part II

"The course of the essence sharpens the lines
Of the dimensions I am trembling between
The inner cause of the outer cause
Reflections within the core"

--Borknagar - Ad Noctum

As soon as Riptos stepped out of the infirmary into the corridor outside he was met with the sound of voices, footsteps, and the scraping of wheels against the ground. He looked over to the right and saw several medical technicians quickly wheeling a gurney towards the infirmary door. He stepped out of the way and watched them pass, and then his heart stopped when he saw the hedgehog on the gurney. A hedgehog in his late twenties with red fur lay on the gurney, unconscious, a rag wrapped around his head with blood soaking through and a breathing mask around his muzzle.

Oh, God, Riptos thought as he recognized Rex on the gurney. His friend was deathly still, his eyes closed. Was he even alive?

"Excuse me," he said as he followed the technicians.

"Sorry, this is an emergency, sir. Please don't interrupt us," said one of the medtechs, not even turning to look at him.

Riptos could do nothing but watch as they wheeled his friend into the emergency room. His blood had turned to ice inside his veins. All of his thoughts had shattered, leaving only fear and sorrow for his friend. He looked down at the floor for a few seconds before turning and walking back out of the infirmary. This was the first time he had seen one of his comrades wounded or killed. Why did it have to be Rex? he thought. It was unbearable to think about, but he could think of nothing else.

Now Riptos understood the full horror of war. It was worse than he had ever imagined. The casualties were not statistics. They were people, with lives, who loved and were loved. And they could even be his friends.

--

Fiz clicked on her flashlight as she entered the dark cargo hold. She had come to unchain her apprentice Dynamo. Dynamo was left manic and highly unstable after surviving a telepathic attack by Takeo Sekaro. His psychosis made it too dangerous to let him roam around. He only seemed to be calm when he was restrained in a dark room. When out in the open he would attack anything and anyone besides Fiz and Abbadon, her other apprentice. Despite his madness, he had his uses. He could connect with and manipulate electronics as if they were part of himself using the implants in his arms, and blades attached to his hands made him a deadly fighter. Plus, he made an excellent terror weapon and even more excellent diversion.

She saw a glint as the light reflected off Dynamo's eyes. His face was gaunt, stretched taut, a lust for death and brutality in his eyes. A killing machine through and through. He let out a bizarre sucking noise as he grinned widely.

"You're going to kill today, Dynamo," said Fiz as she walked over to him.

"Kill who?" Dynamo's voice was harsh and scraping, halfway between a growl and a shriek.

"Humans. Sound fun?"

Dynamo grinned again, spittle dribbling down his chin. Fiz pulled out a key and opened his shackles. The mad hedgehog stood up, his expression feral and savage. He was no threat to her, but to the humans she was about to be in combat with, he would be a terrifying sight. He followed her out of the cargo hold, hunched over like a gorilla. She scratched him behind the ears and listened to his weird, ragged purr.

Johan "Abbadon" Kessler stood waiting for her as she left the cargo hold, Dynamo in tow. He was a tall, massively built raccoon with a mechanical arm ending in six retractable edged and blunt weapons. Metal plates covered his chest, providing built-in armor, and moderate telepathic powers rounded out his deadly talents. Unlike Dynamo, he had a cold, calculating mind, just as vicious, but more restrained and rational. He delighted in devising inventive and excruciating ways to kill his enemies.

"It's showtime," said Fiz as she turned to face him.

"I'm more than ready," said Abbadon with a grim smile.

"Remember, Abbadon," she said. "No mutilations."

"Of course."

"We're going to be boarding the humans' asteroid base from space, so we'll be wearing stealth suits for this mission." Fiz led her two henchmen into her ship's staging room. Three black suits of powered armor with built-in thruster packs hung on the wall. Abbadon's suit featured a gasketed opening for the end of his mechanical arm to fit through so he could deploy his weapons.

The three of them disrobed and put on their stealth suits. The black visors concealed their faces, making them identifable only as malevolent black shapes bent on slaughter and pain. They made their way to the air lock. In their mission they would save lives by taking others. Death for death. It was beautifully symmetrical.

They entered the airlock, the heavy pressure door closing behind them. Their stealth suits only had enough fuel to reach the asteroid base. The return trip would be via teleporter. The outer airlock door, opened, revealing the vacuum of space. The asteroid base loomed below them, completely unsuspecting. They would be in for a rude awakening indeed. Fiz activated her ion rockets and blasted out of the airlock, Abbadon and Dynamo following close behind.

--

Skitz followed closely behind Lt. Commander Anastasio, hitting his afterburners in unison with the leader. He had been assigned as Anastasio's wingman after Rex was shot down. He had been able to do nothing but watch helplessly as the recovery craft towed away Rex's damaged cockpit module. They had said nothing other than that he had been taken to the infirmary. He knew nothing of how badly injured Rex was or even whether he was alive or dead. He fought the urge to shed a tear as he thought of the man with whom he had trained, the rising star of his squadron. In sheer talent, if not skill, Rex outshined even Riptos himself.

To fly a mission with neither Rex nor Riptos was almost unbearable. This upstart Anastasio clearly and constantly expressed his contempt for everyone in the squadron. He could not fathom how such a total asshole could even be considered for the post of squadron leader. Riptos treated the members of his squadron like sons. Gedalio Anastasio treated them as burdens.

The Mobian defense of Titus II was falling apart. The Mobian fleet had lost a quarter of its ships and they were being pushed closer and closer to the planet. The Earthers left a gap to allow the Mobians to retreat or send back dead or wounded, but they were otherwise surrounded.

Skitz watched dozens of Earth fighters whiz by as he entered the combat zone. Space was criss-crossed with dozens of particle beams slicing across the cosmos to slam into armored panels and shields. He rolled his ship sideways as a missile flashed by. He retaliated with a missile of his own, destroying his attacker. A Mobian cruiser crumbled beneath his ship as it was hit by six particle beams at once.

He fired his guns, yellow beams stabbing at the void to hopefully tear through Earth ships' shields and armor. The scene was that of pure chaos as hundreds of ships swerved, juked, and slid in a chaotic dance of death. He watch an Earth fighter tumble end over end after one of his shots clipped one of its gun pods. A blast from a capital ship finished it off.

He looked on as the ends of the main cannons of the Earth cruisers glowed blue, ready to release another massive strike on the Mobian fleet. It was as if space itself brightened from the light of hundreds of particle beams. As he looked back, he saw in horror that they were not firing at the Mobian ships, but past them, at the planet. His guts twisted as he watched the Earth ships bomb Titus II relentlessly, destroying infrastructure and defensive positions with the precision of a surgeon. He could almost hear the cries of thousands of dead in his mind.

He snarled and tore into an Earth bomber before it could fire its warheads at a Mobian ship. It exploded violently, the shockwaves from its bombs throwing his ship off course. He quickly got his fighter back under control and redirected power from areas of his shields that were weakened. He saw a Mobian cruiser break up out of the corner of his eye, flames gouting from numerous breaches in its hull.

The Earth ships opened flaps on their prows, unleashing hundreds of nuclear missiles at the Mobian fleet. Some of the missiles were shot down, but others found their targets, blasting apart capital ships and any fighters that were too close to the capships targeted. Just as he looked back upon his leader, an incandescent blue beam lanced out from an enemy corvette and skewered Anastasio's fighter. His erstwhile superior died instantly, his ship disintegrating within moments.

Skitz was now at the top of his squadron's chain of command. He had never been a leader of anything before, but he had no choice but to be one now.

"Dude, Anastasio's dead!" said Pinky. "Holy shit!"

"Don't tell me," said Skitz. "I saw it happen with my own eyes. All right, Deathwish, you're my wingman. Everyone else, carry out whatever orders you already have."

Skitz made a brief prayer as he steadied his shaking hand. He did not dare close his eyes. Did he have the makings of a leader? He would find out. Sighing through his nostrils, he hit his afterburners a few seconds after Deathwish assumed formation behind him, the chaos of war surrounding him.

--

Rex felt a terrible, raw pain in his forehead as he regained consciousness. He felt someone's hand resting between his ears and a bandage around his head. He opened his eyes and saw a blur of black, yellow, flesh color, and olive green. "Riptos?" he groaned.

"I'm here." Rex's eyes focused and he saw Riptos standing over him, smiling warmly.

"Where am I?"

"You're in the infirmary. You had a concussion when your fighter exploded just as you ejected. You have a cut on your head, which the doctors closed with stitches."

"I feel horrible."

"That's a combination of post-concussion digestive upset and the drugs you're being given. There's a bucket on the nightstand if you need it."

"I guess I must've been in a battle then, but I don't remember. The last thing I remember was being in the briefing room with the substitute squadron leader."

"Some memory loss is normal after a concussion."

"Oh, shit." Rex grabbed the bucket from the nightstand and threw up into it, retching and gagging for a few seconds afterward.

"You can wash your mouth out with this." Riptos put a straw in Rex's mouth. "Be careful not to drink too fast."

Rex eagerly gulped down water until the straw was removed. "Thanks," he said.

"You're welcome. The doctors performed a CAT scan of your head. There's no permanent damage. However, you won't be able to fly again for two weeks."

"Two weeks? Christ. The war might be over by then at the rate we're going."

"Maybe. But with a head injury we can't take chances. Oh, by the way, I have something for you." Riptos pulled out two medals. One was an Ace pin, awarded to a pilot for having five kills in a campaign, and the other was the Blood Cross, an award for wounds or death in combat.

"Two medals at once. How often does that happen? Granted, one of them is one I'd rather have gone without."

Riptos scratched Rex behind the ears. "I'll take them to your quarters later. The nurses would have a fit if I pinned them to your hospital gown."

Rex chuckled as Riptos sat down in a chair by his bedside. "You had me worried sick, Rex," said Riptos as he stroked Rex's brow with his thumb. "I left the infirmary after my back exam just in time for me to see them bring you in."

"So what about whatever battle I was in before I got knocked out?"

"They're not saying anything about how we're faring. My guess is that we're losing, as usual."

"I'm glad you're here, Riptos."

"And I'm glad you're alive." Riptos rubbed Rex behind the ears again. "Until now, I'd never really thought of me or someone close to me being hurt or killed in this war. And now, I can't stop thinking about it."

Rex smiled and closed his eyes, enjoying Riptos' company. As much as he wished to sleep, thoughts of the battle waging in 61 Cygni kept him awake. He had narrowly escaped death. He could not help but dread that the Mobian Federation would not be so lucky.

--

Fiz landed lightly as the artificial gravity systems in the floor of the docking bay pulled her down. Abbadon and Dynamo soon followed. She motioned to Dynamo. "Hack the airlock control panel for us," she said.

"Sure," rasped Dynamo as he connected his prosthetic manipulators to the control panel. Within seconds, the airlock's outer door opened. The three of them entered the airlock, waiting as the airlock filled with air and the inner door opened, granting them access to the station.

The three of them removed the outer layers of their stealth suits, leaving them in the neoprene undersuits. Walking around a space station in a bulky spacesuit would be impractical. They stuffed the discarded outer suits into a nearby closet.

/All right/ she said to Abbadon and Dynamo telepathically. /Let's split up. Dynamo, you go find the station's power center and take control. Abbadon, you kill people, blow things up, and generally get everyone's attention while I head towards the control center. I'll keep a telepathic link open beteen the three of us./

Abbadon and Dynamo nodded in unison. The three of them went off in different directions. Fiz crawled into an air vent and began to make her way through the ventilation system. She had memorized the base layout obtained from scans before beginning the mission. She knew exactly where she was going. Soon she could hear shouts and gunfire in the distance. Abbadon was already at work.

--

Holding a fallen guard's rifle in one hand, Abbadon shot a human in the stomach while stabbing another one with a blade in his mechanical arm. While the officer was wearing an Earth naval uniform, the men serving him were wearing a different, black leather uniform bearing an emblem of a black gloved fist in a white circle. It did not match any known Earth uniform. They carried a motley assortment of weapons from several manufacturers, some modified beyond factory specifications.

He lunged at one of the leather-clad soldiers and stabbed him in the groin, bringing the man to his knees, before shooting him in the head and jumping out of the way as another soldier fired at him. He could read the soldiers' intentions with telepathy before they acted. and combined with telepathic confusion, he was able to render the enemy soldiers completely impotent to stop him. Some of them were even shooting each other.

He dashed away down the hall as the enemy guards were overcome by chaos. They would be back soon, and would again be driven mad and slaughtered. The body count would be glorious.

--

Dynamo shambled through the corridors vacated by the diversion Abbadon had created, trying his best to be silent. He stepped lightly and quieted his normally loud, raspy breathing. He kept his hand-blades out, ready to stab anyone who came in his path, or fry someone with an electrical discharge from the blades. He turned around the corner and saw a human technician working at a control panel. He shocked the man's brain, killing him instantly. The smell of burning flesh made him salivate. He loved the smell, the sound, everything about people dying. He grinned like a lunatic as he stepped over the technician's corpse.

He connected his manipulators to the control panel, viewing a map of the base, taking note of where enemy patrols were. He might have been psychotic, but he wasn't stupid. He watched the panel for about a minute to memorize the panel and then slinked away, pausing briefly to stab the human's corpse and lick the blood off his hand-blades. He savored the metallic flavor, better than any wine.

He ducked into a corner as a guard walked past, leaving when the coast is clear. He fought off the temptation to kill one of the guards and drain his blood. He could spill blood later.

--

Adrian checked his email on the computer installed in his room. As usual, they all seemed to be unsolicited advertisements, scams, and messages with bizarre subjects whose contents were better left unknown. As he looked through the new messages, one of the sender names caught his eye: "Rex Christensen". Rex had sent him a message? He opened it quickly and began to read.

"Hey Adrian:

Sorry I couldn't talk to you these past few days. Riptos was really upset after I woke up with a hangover and he's pretty much watching me constantly now. Hopefully I should get a free day soon and we'll be able to meet up. No drinks this time, though. I already got punished with a day confined to quarters and forfeiture of three days' pay for getting all shitfaced the last time.

"As you probably know thanks to the gloom and doom crew in the news media, we're losing the battle in 61 Cygni. The Earthers are getting ready to attack Titus II and I seriously doubt we'll be able to hold the planet. Riptos is getting his back looked at by Bookshire today--he's been having backaches for a long time, probably because he's getting older--so we have a substitute squadron leader who's an arrogant little dirtbag and has some ridiculous Italian name--Gedalio Anastasio. The first thing he did this morning was berate us for several minutes. And he's the same rank I am, so I had to take a temporary demotion for the little cowfucker. I hope he never gets a permanent command.

"If Mobius gets bombed and you lose your home, you're welcome to stay with me and my wife until you can find a new place to live. I don't think Connie would mind at all. I told her about you and she's eager to meet you.

"Well, I'm about to go on a combat sortie, so I'll have to wrap it up here. Please respond as soon as it is convenient for you. I hope your day is better than mine is shaping up to me. See you around.

--Rex"

Adrian smiled. He was wondering why Rex hadn't talked to him recently, and it made him happy to know that his new friend was still concerned about him. His eyes flicked over "combat sortie" again, and he suddenly felt a vague dread. Had anything happened to him on that mission?

He downloaded the latest casualty reports for the war, which by government policy were open to the public. He entered "Christensen" into the search box. What he saw next turned his blood to ice:

"CHRISTENSEN, REX. LIEUTENANT COMMANDER. WOUNDED IN ACTION."

He felt a lump in his throat. Rex was hurt, but there was no information on how he was injured, what injuries he had, or how seriously he was hurt. For all he knew, Rex could be near death. He quickly stood up and made for the door. He had to check up on him. He just made a friend. Losing him so quickly would be beyond terrible.

--

Riptos picked up the phone in his quarters. As the squadron leader, it was his duty to report injuries or deaths in his squadron to family members. Rex's parents were on Earth, which was unreachable due to the war, but he could call his wife. He dialed Connie Christensen's phone number and waited for her to respond.

He heard the click as the phone on the other end was taken off the hook. "Hello?" said Connie.

"Hello, this is Riptos. Remember me? I'm Rex's squadron leader. We had dinner last Christmas."

"Of course."

"I need to talk to you about your husband."

"Rex? Did something happen to him?"

Riptos closed his eyes briefly, trying to find the best words to say to her. "He was wounded in action. His fighter was destroyed, and he ejected late, so he was caught in the blast wave."

He heard Connie gasp. "Oh my God!" She sounded as if she was on the edge of tears.

"He suffered a concussion and a laceration on his forehead. He lost consciousness for about an hour. He'll be OK, but he won't be able to fly for a week. He's currently in the infirmary. I can bring the phone to him if you want."

"Please. Oh, God, I hope he'll be all right. Head injuries have a way of being worse than they seem."

"Sure. I'll call you back when I get to his hospital room and let him talk to you."

"Thank you so much, Riptos."

"You're welcome." He pressed the "off" button on the phone and walked briskly out of his room.

--

When Riptos entered Rex's room in the infirmary, he saw him chatting avidly with the youth with whom he had gotten drunk with a week ago. "Move aside, kid," he said to the young man. I've got Rex's wife on the phone and she wants to talk to him."

Adrian nodded and leaned against the wall near the foot of Rex's bed. Riptos handed the phone to Rex, who put it to his ear.

"Hey, Connie. It's me, Rex," he said. "Yeah, I got shot down in combat today and got my head bashed in by a piece of equipment in the cockpit. I've got a splitting headache and stitches in my head, but other than that I'm fine. The doctors don't want me on duty for a week in case any hidden problems crop up. They're going to keep me in the hospital for observation tonight, but after that I can go back to my quarters."

"Oh, Rex, sweetie, I'm so glad to know that you're not seriously hurt. I almost jumped out of my skin when I heard that you had gotten shot down. I was afraid you were going to die."

"Riptos pretty much said the same thing to me. He got to see me wheeled into the emergency room. I'm probably very lucky to be alive, but luck has always seemed to be on my side." Rex laughed briefly.

"I see you've still got your sense of humor. I spend every day worrying about you. I know you'd never want to quit the navy, but sometimes I wish you would. It's so dangerous out there."

"Oh, don't worry. It's not as bad as people say it is." Rex had a feeling that this would soon change in a big way, but he didn't say it to Connie. "And I got two medals for my trouble."

"Please take care of yourself. I don't want you to get hurt again, sweetie."

"Of course. I didn't get the rank of Lieutenant Commander by being reckless. I'm feeling pretty tired. Can we talk again tomorrow?"

"Sure. I love you, Rexy."

"I love you too. Bye, Connie."

"Goodbye. Be careful out there." Rex pressed the "off" button and handed the phone to Riptos before pulling the covers over his shoulders.

"I guess we'd better leave then," said Adrian. "I don't want to disturb your sleep."

"All right. See you tomorrow."

"Bye, Rex," said Adrian as he walked out.

Riptos patted Rex on the head. "Good night, kiddo," said Riptos. "I hope you can stomach the hospital food. It's pretty nasty."

Rex chuckled. "I'll try. Good night." He rolled over and closed his eyes as Riptos left the room. At least he could get some free time until he was fit for combat again. Perhaps he could even get away with getting drunk this time. The fuzzy feeling in his head created by the painkillers the doctors had given him grew stronger and stronger until he finally fell asleep.

--

Admiral Townswell smirked as she watched the last of the Mobian fleet leave 61 Cygni, abandoning the planet Titus II to its fate. Over two million Earth troops were already on the planet, mopping up any remaining resistance. The blood of over 1.5 million humans had secured 61 Cygni for the Earth Republic. The Mobians would never recover from such a decisive blow. Almost 30 of their naval forces had been neutralized. Five million Mobians were dead, and another 800,000 had been taken prisoner.

Already the pirates were doing their work across Mobian space. Supply lines were being disrupted, space traffic had been restricted, and some particularly bold pirates were even attacking Mobian space colonies. But the main purpose of hiring the pirates--dispersing Mobian military forces--was not being accomplished. The Mobians just refused to take the bait even when it was thrown at their feet. Kryche Akwarus must have been even cleverer than she realized. It would make it all the more satisfying to see him hang.

--

Fiz saw the station commander turn around as she dropped out of the vent shaft into his office. Hello, she said telepathically before paralyzing him from head to toe.

The commander was sprawled on the ground, his face frozen in an expression of shock. /Why are you so shocked, commander/ she taunted. /Have you not seen a telepath before. Don't try to call out. The only way you can communicate is through my telepathic link./

/You bitch./

/That's not a nice thing to call a lady./

The commander's face contortred even more as Fiz caused his pain receptors to fire telepathically. She could only imagine the screams he would make if he was not paralyzed.

/What do you want from me/

/I want to know the combination to your safe and the security codes to the station's computers./

/I won't tell you anything./

/Wrong answer./ She flooded him with pain again, hearing him cry out in his mind, even though his vocal cords were paralyzed. She was the only one who could hear his agony.

/Please! Stop! Make it stop/

/Then answer my questions./

/The security code to my safe is 2-16-38-4./

Fiz grinned and entered the combination into the safe, opening it. She removed the papers inside.

/Good man./

/Who do you work for/

/Figure it out. And you still have to tell me the security codes to the computers. Cough them up now if you want to survive./

As he told her the security codes, she relayed them telepathically to Dynamo, who was now cracking the station's computer system, downloading files into the memory chips implanted in his brain.

/Whoever the hell you are, you won't get away with this/ said the commander through the telepathic link.

/Yes I will. I've faced far more difficult missions than this./

/I've got it all downloaded, Fiz/ said Dynamo. /We've got everything we need./

/Thank you, Dynamo. Now I will take care of the sniveling wretch on the floor before me./

Fiz walked over to the stiff but still living body of the commander and put her hands around his neck, but didn't squeeze yet. She grinned, showing her fangs. /Now, my friend, you will die./

/You said you wouldn't kill me if I told you want you wanted to know/

/I lied. Goodbye./ She pressed two fingers against his topmost vertebra. The bone split with a sickening wet crack. A further push severed the spinal cord. Now the nerves controlling his heartbeat and respiration were destroyed. He would be dead within minutes. She stood over the doomed man and admired her handiwork before pulling out her communicator.

"Big Bad Wolf to Little Red Riding Hood," she spoke into the communicator. "Elvis has left the building."

"Affirmative," said her ship's captain.

Within seconds whe found herself standing in the ship's transporter room, flanked by Abbadon and Dynamo. Their mission was complete. They now had part of the enemy's plan, had discovered the identity of the "puppet masters" controlling the war, and possibly gathered information that could be used to stop the war before it was too late. How ironic it would be for this bloody and pointless war to be ended by natural born killers such as herself, and equally ironic that hardly anyone in the Mobian Federation would be aware of their great debt.

And, really, she greatly preferred them never knowing.