Space Brigade

The class-two Coalition space liner Pacificator cruised at sub-light speed through the Waii System. Her voyage so far had been uneventful, with the exception of being ordered to make a diversion from her arranged flight path to take on a dignitary from the planet Tanteee.

Although, the Pacificator didn’t go to Tanteee, instead the envoy was shuttled aboard from Waii, and immediately took refuge in his allotted cabin, where he’d spent the entire journey so far. The envoys arrival was kept quiet, even the Pacificators captain, Captain Jefferson didn’t make his usual welcome speech. His Tanteee aide and two officers of the DCO accompanied the dignitary.

The Pacificator was nearing the end of Waii space, when the helmsman noticed an

anomaly on the ships scanners. At first he ran a systems check to make sure his readings were correct, then reported his findings to the captain.

The Pacificator shuddered and rocked as a torpedo struck it. The timing of the helmsman’ report was too late. The torpedo had hit the engines; she had been instantly immobilized. Captain Jefferson ordered battle stations as a second torpedo destroyed her communications array.

“ Power up forward lasers!” Jefferson commanded.

The forward view-screen shimmered to life. Three Quat-tar battle cruisers appeared, their lasers firing. The deep green lances of burning energy streaked through space and bounced off the now raised Pacificator shields. All three Quat-tar cruisers concentrated their fire on the helpless Coalition liner.

Her shields were beginning to buckle under the intense barrage. She returned fire, her own bright red energy beams just bouncing off the Quat-tar’ more powerful military shields. For a short while she managed to hold her own, trading shot for shot, but being out gunned, her shields eventually failed.

The Quat-tar began to manoeuvre into boarding position, they were out to take prisoners, and otherwise they would have simply destroyed the Pacificator with their stronger weapons array. The Pacificator hung motionless as one of the Quat-tar’ ships extended its boarding tube.

On the Pacificator’ bridge, all hell had broken loose. The crew had panicked as the ships computer issued its audible warning.

“ EMERGENCY, hull breach immanent. EMERGENCY, EMERGENCY!”

Jefferson realized the situation was useless and issued the abandon ship order, giving priority to the evacuation and safety of the passengers.

“ Captain we are being hailed!” shouted the communications officer, and then added.

“ It’s on a low beta frequency.”

“ Let’s hear it.” Jefferson snapped in reply.

A low gurgling voice emanated from the bridges crackling communication speakers.

“ This is the Quat-tar flagship Rapacious. Surrender your vessel and prepare to be boarded. You have one standard coalition minute to comply!”

The speakers returned to static. Jefferson glanced round his now smoke filled bridge; sparks erupted from every computer terminal, and every workstation. The computers emergency breach warning was screaming in his ears. He looked at the communications officer as if waiting for some suggestion. The officer responded with a shrug.

“ OK, open a channel,” he said quietly as if it was his last words.

The Lieutenant complied. Jefferson cleared his throat, stiffened his back, and said.

“ Quat-tar ship, this is Captain Jefferson of the Coalition space liner Pacificator. You are in violation of Waii space, and have committed an outrageous act of war against the Coalition. I demand you reconsider your brash actions and turn about your ships!”

For a few moments all remained quiet. Jefferson allowed a glimmer of hope to creep into his mind, then his gut turned as another torpedo struck. Quickly, the strike was followed by the gurgling voice of the Quat-tar commander.

“ I know you did not have time to send a distress signal, nobody is coming to your aid. You will comply with our demand or your ship will be disintegrated along with all its occupants. Comply now!”

Jefferson gestured to the communications lieutenant, and the channel was re-opened.

“ Rapacious, I place this ship and crew at your mercy, we surrender.”

A loud hissing noise sounded as the Quat-tar boarding force opened their boarding tube hatch. The task force rushed out into the Pacificator’ wrecked corridors. Passengers were frantically fighting for position for the escape pods, crew were running in all directions. Fire was running rife making the scene of the invading Quat-tar look more harrowing as they charged through the walls of fire to get to the fleeing passengers.

They fired at anything and everything that moved, using their claws to capture and crush those who were too slow. The passengers knew of the Quat-tar’ cruelty and desperately tried to mount some form of defence but to no avail. The Quat-tar’ skills at fighting had been honed to perfection over generations; they feared no one and would fight until they drop if necessary to achieve their goal.

They moved through the ship at speed, splitting up at every corner, some heading for the state quarters, others for the bridge. They left many mutilated bodies in their wake.

A woman of Waii decent screamed; her screams were cut short as one Quat-tar reached out in passing and swiftly slit her throat with one swipe of his claw. The woman slid slowly to the deck, blood pumping profusely from the serrated gash.

The Rapacious’ gunners systematically destroyed any life-pods that had been jettisoned. Several passengers had managed to get hold of some energy weapon, and were held up in the ships spacious dining area. They managed to fend off the invaders for a short while, but when the Quat-tar broke through, they killed all of them in a most brutal way. All that remained of them was a pile of dismembered, blood soaked flesh and crumbled bone.

Within minutes they had reached the bridge. The crew were immediately rewarded with a painful death, making sure Jefferson suffered the most for his failure to comply instantly. His screams could be heard throughout the ship and above the explosions and laser blasts. They cut him limb from limb with their sharp claws. His bones crunching and snapping, his pitiful pleas for mercy fell on deaf ears. Jefferson took twenty nightmarish agonizing minutes to die; mercy is not a Quat-tar trait.

Once Jefferson was nothing more than a pile of bloodied mass they scoured the ship; anyone who didn’t obey immediately was put to death without question. Anyone they couldn’t make use of was considered expendable and cut up for their perverse gratification, taking only minimal prisoners.

Many thought death no matter how abhorrent, preferable to the living nightmare of Quat-tar Prime or Secunda. The fearsome tales of mass piles of rotting corpses left for those who were still alive to feed on, to sustain some futile resemblance of existence, burnt through the minds of several passengers, they ended their lives as painless and peaceful as they could.

In the Pacificators first class stateroom, on the fourth deck, Tanteee Imperial Ambassador Morka dictated an account of what was happening, as best he could, onto his personal log, and signed off saying.

“ Whoever finds this dispatch, please forward it to the Tanteee Empire or the Coalition. You will be rewarded.”

Finally he tapped in his personal code to encrypt his previous message and handed it to his aide. Idoo took the small device, bowed low and hurried away without speaking.

Morka had become increasingly fond of his aide; Idoo had served him and the house of Morka for many years; and although not pure Tanteee, one of his parents had been Vandrellian hence Idoo’ strange colour, he’d served as Morka’ secretary during Nortrell meetings, and had ingratiated himself with many of Morka’ closest friends.

Idoo made himself available for all state duties, and in the last few years had seldom left Morka’ side, he’d become a close confident and personal friend.

He held an exalted rank in the house of Morka, an honour bestowed on him for his relentless devotion to the ambassador and the Imperial realm. He would gladly give his life for his house and Emperor if called to do so. His loyalty held no bounds. Two other great houses had approached him in the past, asking for him to transfer his allegiance, offering immense wealth, status, and power, each time Idoo declined.

Morka began to remove all identification from his attire that would connect him to an Imperial house. If he were to be taken alive, then he would try to pass himself off as a simple but well healed trader, and Idoo his contract negotiator. Although not many Tanteee traders ventured outside Tanteee space, a few did, and that would lend plausibility to his story.

Suddenly the cabin door began to vibrate. The time had come, they were outside, soon the doors seal would collapse and they would enter. Morka realized for the first time, he was trembling, up until now he’d managed to sustain his composure, he’d told himself he’d have to be confident, strong to pull off his deception. He couldn’t expect Idoo to remain calm and carry out his tasks if he himself became a nervous wreck. But now, all alone with the devils at his door, he was afraid, not of death, but of what he might be forced to reveal.

The cabin seal hissed and collapsed. Morka smoothed down his silken robes and braced himself for the heat of the fatal lance of death he expected. It didn’t come. The Quat-tar warriors gathered round him, six of them, each clicking their blood stained claws wildly.

Morka squeezed his eyes shut tightly. He felt the cold clamminess as a claw scraped his neck. His heart pounded, his breath became spasmodic, and the sharpness of the claw broke his skin.

“STOP!” A voice shouted.

Morka cautiously opened his eyes as the claw was removed. When the warriors parted, a Quat-tar captain stepped forward. The others waited silently, obediently. Morka rubbed at the small incision on his neck, his mind frantically formed his trader story. He spoke in a hurry.

“ I am Morka, trader of fine goods. Why are you here? What do you want of me?”

The Quat-tar captain glared at him, looking him up and down, his claw clicking rhythmically.

“ I know who you are, Imperial Ambassador Morka, on his way to forge a treaty with the Coalition. Unfortunately you will not be fulfilling your mission!”

Morka held out his arms feigning surprisement.

“No, no, I assure you I am a humble trader. Yes it is true I am going to the Coalition planets, but only to strike a deal with the Gazeric for fine silk. You must have the wrong person!”

The captain glanced round the cabin, taking in the comfortable surroundings, and shook his head.

“ Take him!” he ordered.

Morka was dragged out into the smoke filled corridor. He continued to protest as the guards dragged him away. The corridors were now covered in dead bodies. Some still managing to cling to life, only to have in snuffed out as they were discovered. The carnage shocked Morka, his protests died as he took in the terrible scenes.

Turning a corner a young woman of Agarian blood lay in their path, her throat slit. One of Morka’ guards trod on her pretty face as they continued.

Further along, Morka suddenly froze. Before him, lying across a pile of debris, were the smouldering remains of Idoo. Idoo’ small frail body had been severed at the waist; his once shining eyes were now glazed and lifeless. His precious life’s blood was splattered up the walls and formed a puddle around his waist.

Morka became transfixed at the gruesome sight, his throat became dry, and his eyes blurred and began to fill. A sharp pain in his side forced him back to reality, one of the guards had punctured his side in an effort to get him moving. They dragged him away, his eyes remaining on Idoo’ colourless features until they rounded the next corner. The look of horror and disbelief on Idoo’ face will remain etched in Morka’ mind forever.

He couldn’t help himself, wondering if he was to face a similar fate, or something much more horrific. His mind then turned to something else, something urgent. Had Idoo managed to get the dispatch away?