For the next while we'll be uploading rough draft chapters of the novel in production, The Spies of Pangea. I would love to hear your feedback of what you think, as well as any editing issues you may spot. Again, these are first drafts, okay, the first chapter is actually a third draft, but I can't promise you future chapters will be that far along. Again, please enjoy the first chapter of The Spies of Pangea.
Chapter 1 - Eliar Meine
Eliar
Meine was the most wanted man in the Galactic Republic Alliance, and they
didn’t even know what he looked like. Eliar ran a hand through his short cut
dark hair and his green eyes studied the control panel of his attack shuttle.
The blur of hyperspace filled the view screen in front of him. He was comforted
by the swirls of energy that passed. Not long to go before his pilgrimage would
be complete. He would pay final respects to his slain comrades and family on his
home planet of Minus Tenu which had been scorched with no survivors. Eliar
would make sure that they received the vengeance they deserved.
The
countdown timer beeped and Eliar pulled the lever bringing the ship back into
its proper dimension, right on target. A blackened planet with boiling red
clouds hung directly in front of the ship, nothing like the vast forests which
had once grown. The proximity alarms sounded and Eliar reacted by reflex born
of years of experience raising shields and powering up weapons. A glance at the
screen revealed six Socialist Battle Cruisers in an attack formation on the
port side. The communication panel came to life. “This is restricted space,
identify yourself or be destroyed.”
Eliar
wondered if his rogue status had spread through the ranks of the Socialist
fleet yet or if his id code was still good. It was worth a try, no sense in
being taken out by six capital ships against his one shuttle; although he would
make a good accounting of himself. “This is Stryker-18. Identification code
Gamma, Bravo, Echo oh seven five five. Security clearance code: how lovely was
the morning.”
There
was a long pause at the other end of the connection and then the young voice of
the communications officer came back. “Your clearance checks out Stryker-18.
Please dock your shuttle on board the flagship Burning Moon. Admiral Nielsen would like to speak with you.”
“Copy
that.” Eliar responded while he powered down his weapons, kept his shields up
and turned his ship towards the directed Battle Cruiser. What did the Admiral
know? Was this a trap or just the respect due to his status? He waited for his
system to be taken over by the dock controls of the cruiser and headed back
into the main section. Eliar checked his armor and opened the storage locker
where he kept his weapons. Rifle and clips on his right thigh, pistol strapped
to his chest, knives across his body in select housings and within the soft
pack on his left leg he placed his med kit. He tested his gauntlets for the
blades hidden within them and they extended without sound before returning to
their housings. He went through the routine each time he went on a mission. No
sense in going unprepared. The Admiral was probably either going to praise him
or kill him, best to be ready for either scenario. The last thing to check was
his helmet. Scratched and having seen better days, it still felt better to keep
it close by for the many benefits a helmet could give. He adorned the helmet
and let the seal pressurize before running a quick check on its systems.
The
shuttle settled smoothly into the docking bay clamps and Eliar watched the
digital displays reporting the atmospheric changes outside the shuttle. When
they reported that the condition was livable he popped the seal on his ship and
stepped out. The docking bay was frigid having been exposed to the vacuum of
space and the ceiling heaters were blasting out hot air to warm the deck. Being
enclosed in armor that could handle most environments had no effect on a
Stryker but he also realized most Socialist envoys were those dressed in
uniforms ill-suited for cold temperatures. The docking crew looked on and
whispered to themselves at seeing a Stryker in person having only heard rumors
before. He marched with confidence to the airlock that separated the docking
bay from the ship and slipped through into the pressurized zone.
As the
inner airlock door opened Eliar enjoyed the look of surprise that crossed the
three officers and six marines’ faces when he stepped inside. It was the V slit
visor that put people on edge. It gave away no emotion, and one could never
tell where the user was looking. Eliar simply waited for them to make the next
move, his muscles tensed in case he needed to defend himself.
The
Marine lieutenant forced a smile, “Welcome aboard sir, please follow me. The
Admiral is looking forward to meeting you.”
“Lead
the way Lieutenant,” Eliar stated blandly. He admired the crisp turn of the
Marines and he fell in step with them as they made their way down the corridor,
boots clicking on the corrugated steel floor panels. The ship was built for
durability and functionality, very little had gone into aesthetics. Steel
girders lined the walls and conduits full of the essential cabling followed the
corridors. Intense white lights were
hard mounted on the ceiling just often enough to create slight shadows followed
by blinding brightness as one made their way through the ship.
They
stopped in front of a lift and Eliar’s sense of direction told him that they
were near the front of the ship. The Lieutenant swiped a badge against a card
reader and the doors slid open.
“Step in
please. This lift goes directly to the Admiral’s briefing room. He is waiting
for you.”
Interesting,
Eliar thought as he stepped into the lift. The guards were not coming with him
for his meeting with the Admiral. The doors closed behind him and the lift
quickly accelerated, he felt the pull in his stomach and enjoyed the sensation
as it settled again. The speed of the lift disguised just how many floors above
the docking bay the Admiral’s briefing room was but Eliar was sure it was near
the top. The lift came to a jarring stop and Eliar had to bend his knees to
keep his balance.
The
doors slid open and Eliar stepped into one of the few rooms on the ship where
decor mattered. The room’s walls were cherry wood panels and fine art hung
around the room. There was even a stand with a glowing purple plant growing in
one corner. An intricately carved wood desk filled the back of the room with a
long table connecting it with the rest of the room. The grain detailing in the
wood was impressive even to Eliar. Luxuriously padded chairs were neatly
organized before terminal screens embedded in the table that glowed dimly
showing they were on. The one thing in the room that was missing was the
Admiral. That arrogance brought anger to Eliar’s face and was glad he had kept
his helmet on; he quickly composed himself, no sense in letting the Admiral get
the upper hand in whatever was coming.
The
temptation to use one of the terminals to gather intelligence was severe, but
Eliar refrained. There was no sense in getting caught here, he was sure the
Admiral was watching from somewhere waiting to see what the fabled Stryker-18
was doing. The Admiral technically outranked him, but the whole Stryker program
reported directly to General Kayne. And General Kayne reported directly to
Director D’or.
Eliar
moved away from the lift door and continued to take in all the details that he
could from his position. He didn’t need to tilt his head because his helmet
gave him a complete view around him and could analyze whatever of interest came
up. The Admiral clearly had a love of art. Eliar was sure that the various
famous paintings on the wall were the originals. Most commanding officers
simply had a screen that displayed art and then would become an active monitor
of need. These pieces were canvas and the frames were nearly works of art
themselves.
There
was a hiss of pressure and out of the corner of his visual feed Eliar saw that
one of the wood panels had recessed and was now sliding open. Admiral Craig
Nielson stepped through in full uniform from whatever hidden room he had behind
his ready room. Eliar turned and gave him a sharp salute.
“At ease
Stryker 18.” The Admiral stated with authority while returning the salute.
Eliar returned to his relaxed demeanor but watched the Admiral make his way around
the desk like a predator. “Why don’t you take a seat.” The Admiral gestured to
one of the chairs aside of the desk and then sat down himself at the head.
Eliar took the offered chair warily. The support groaned under the weight of
the armored Stryker but didn’t break. He still wasn’t sure if he was in danger
yet, but he did not want to raise any flags with the Admiral. “So Stryker, what
brings you home to Minus Tenu?”
“I came
to pay final respects before setting out on my next mission.” Eliar watched the
expressions on Admiral Neilson’s face carefully. “Director D’or has approved my
request to bring justice for the destruction of my home, family and comrades.”
The
Admiral’s lips tightened almost imperceptibly and he blinked before responding.
“I am very sorry for your loss. I read reports that your comrades were
practically brothers to you. I can’t allow you onto the planet though. The
toxicity of the atmosphere would eat away at your ship and kill you instantly
if you were exposed to it, even with that impressive armor of yours.”
Eliar’s
suspicion’s had been confirmed. For reasons he did not yet understand the
Socialist Alliance had taken it on themselves to destroy the planet and frame
the Galactic Republic. He had made a mistake in killing the Republic High
Commander Boronaught for the crime. He learned a long time ago that thinking of
the past would get him nowhere and Boronaught was certainly guilty of plenty of
other crimes because most people of such high ranks were. The question now was
how high up the line did the conspiracy go, and why would they authorize it.
Fontana D’or did not press his initial mission to enter Republic space to go
after Boronaught and Eliar had taken that at face value. Did she know the truth
and was just certain that he would never link her to it, that he would be
killed, or did it stop short of her. Eliar had great respect for General Kayne,
but certainly as the head of the military he knew what really happened here.
Eliar
focused his attention back on the Admiral. “Tell me sir, what happened down
there?”
The
Admiral nodded sternly and composed himself. “As far as we can tell the
Republic found out about the Stryker program and decided that it was too much
of a threat to them. A fleet of six ships exited hyperspace near the planet and
began an immediate bombardment. The planet’s defenses were crippled before
there was even time to react to the attack. The ships were gone before my fleet
was able to respond to the distress calls.”
Eliar
kept still as he listened. It was always best to use as much truth as possible
in your story. He wondered if he would get the same story out of the junior
officers if he had them in an interrogation room and no rules on what he could
do to them. The intel that Eliar had found was that the fleet around Minus Tenu
was the same fleet that had scorched the planet. The man sitting before him was
a murderer of millions even if there had been some good reason to want the
Stryker program taken out. It was time to do what he had to do and in one swift
motion Eliar pulled his pistol from its holster and fired twice. Two neat holes
appeared in Neilson’s chest and stained red immediately. A look of surprise
crossed the Admiral’s face as he gulped in a fit of air and touched the sticky
fluid spreading across his uniform. Eliar waited as Neilson’s eyes glassed over
the he stood up and moved over to the body. He felt the vibration of the deck,
listened for the lift or for secret doors to open spilling out marines but
nothing had changed. Eliar was truly alone with the Admiral.
Eliar
dumped the Admiral off his chair and stood over the holographic keyboard. Fortunately
the Admiral was still logged in and had been keeping a file of the conversation
the entire time. He opened the ships logs and began scrolling over the dates of
the fleet. The order for the attack was easily found on the Admiral’s computer.
It was simple but confusing. “Genetic and biological experiment with Stryker
program gone wrong. Entire planet infected. Quarantine and implement scorched
earth procedures.” The order was issued from General Kayne’s office. His mentor
General Kayne had ordered the death of everyone he loved and Eliar too if he had
been home.
Eliar paused at the final order and clenched
his fists against the desk. This was not the time for emotions he reminded
himself. He must keep himself in control and take his revenge on everyone.
Exactly who ‘everyone’ was would be determined as time moved on. The time and
place for General Kayne would come, but not today. Today though was the time to
seek vengeance on those who had carried out the order. Using the
Admiral’s terminal he sent instructions to the rest of the ship. He informed
them that the biological contaminate on the planet was spreading to the other
ships. He ordered a lock down of the ship and ordered an open fire on the other
five ships of the fleet. It was imperative that the contagion be exterminated.
Waves of
destructive energy fired into the fleet without warning. Without shields and
with the close proximity they were quickly turned into space scrap. Eliar
watched the fireworks show from the Admiral’s desk. Five down, one to go. There
would be marines coming soon he was sure. He typed in commands to give himself
full access to the ships systems while on route to leave and placed the ship in
lock down. Blood red light switched on as regular power was cut, casting the
isolated room in shadows. Eliar blended in well before moving to the lift
doors. Pity to destroy the art, but there was no way he could get it back to
his shuttle and still take out the battle ship. The door to the lift slid open
and Eliar stepped inside. He pushed the button for level three and double
checked his weapons as the lift started shooting downwards. There would be
guards and technicians in the torpedo rooms. He wondered how many he was going
to have to take out before getting where he needed to be.
The lift
slowed to a stop and the indicator light showed that he was on level three, but
the door did not open. Eliar felt his face muscles twitch into a smile but knew
that engineers were working hard on lifting the Admirals lock down command. He
typed into the lift command board and the doors parted silently to reveal two
marines standing out front the lift with their backs turned. Panels on his
thigh armor lifted away to show knife housings and with a practiced motion
Eliar pulled both and lurched forward, driving the blades into the marines and
casting them back into the lift before they had a chance to defend themselves.
The adrenaline ebbed and he moved into the hall in a low crouch keeping an eye
on the environment for traps. He passed an armory and a floor plan map to the
Weapons Bay and had yet to encounter any hostility.
Eliar
was running short on time. It was not going to take long before someone found
the Admiral dead.
The rest
of this corridor was clear of personnel and Eliar quickly made his way down it.
He passed several doors, mostly labeled mechanical rooms, one soldier ready
room, escape pod hatches; finally he saw what he was looking for at the end,
torpedo room. He pictured the usual setup in his head. Everyone would be at
their stations. All weapons had just been fired. There would be some clean up
happening and everyone would be on edge waiting to find out what happened next.
Eliar took a deep breath and keyed in his code at the door. It slid silently
open to reveal six men and two more on the catwalk above.
Eliar
flung two knives, two of eight men dropped instantly. The rest were just
registering that the door had opened when Eliar pulled his rifle from its
holster. He fired twice and two gunnery officers dropped. Three marines and a
tech dove for cover and returned fire. A lucky shot or skill from a marine had
one of his bolts smash into Eliar’s chest and they all looked to see the
Stryker fall. He didn’t. The crackle of charged energy danced over the personal
shield of the armor, illuminating in gold light the frightened V slit visor
before the shield absorbed the energy and Eliar moved behind a support beam as
the marines checked their weapons, cursing at their bad luck.
The tech
yelled at him, “Don’t hit one of the torpedoes or we’re all dead.”
“We’ve
got a Stryker shooting at us, we’re pretty much dead anyway.” one marine said
as he shifted from cover to shoot but was taken down with a burst from Eliar’s
rifle. His body hit the floor with a thud and he didn’t move. The other two
marines huddled down by the tech. They were going to wait Eliar out until backup
arrived.
Time for
a new strategy. Eliar holstered his rifle and called out, “I don’t want to kill
you. I just need the room. I’ll let you live if you drop your weapon and exit.”
“How do
I know you won’t shoot us in the back?” the tech called before being hushed by
a marine.
“I give
you my word. You will leave this room alive if you drop your weapons.”
“Let’s
take the risk.” The tech said to the marines, “I think it’s our best chance.”
“Fine.”
The marines dropped their guns and started walking to the door with the tech
right on their heels. They quickened their pace past Eliar who simply watched
them go.
Right as
the door slid open a siren went off blaring loudly with a flashing red light. A
stressed voice came over the intercom. “This is the Captain speaking. Admiral
Neilson is dead, killed by the Stryker. If you have eyes on him, shoot him.
We’re trying to fix the damage but know this. He is responsible for our fleet’s
destruction” The marines turned to look back at Eliar and the door started to
slide shut in another lock down mode. Eliar jumped forward and shoved them out
the door. It sealed behind them with a hiss. He smashed the control panel and
turned back to the task at hand.
Time was
up, the whole ship was about to know where Eliar was, but he had given his
word, they would leave that room alive. He didn’t promise they would live out
the day. How he was going to live was now a mystery though.
Eliar
quickly went over the dead in the torpedo bay, leaving the two on the cat walk
to drip blood. He pocketed I.D. cards,
credits and little tokens before checking the charges of their rifles, still
full. Good. Next Eliar turned to one of the long torpedoes lining the wall
ready to get shot out the tube. He began the meticulous act of unscrewing an
access panel labeled danger, explosives. In just a few minutes Eliar had
exposed the explosive ordinance in the torpedo and rigged the marine’s weapons
to overload their battery packs and explode causing a chain reaction taking out
the first torpedo which in turn should force every torpedo in the room to blow.
To ensure that he moved to the Weapons terminal and pulled up the inventory.
This room housed 30 torpedoes and by removing their safeties with his command
code there would be no stopping the detonation. Explosions that size from
inside the ship should send a reaction clear to the engine room and destroy the
entire vessel.
Pounding
echoed against the door to the corridor. He watched as a focused beam of light
burned into the door and started cutting upwards. The problem was that there
was now no way back to his ship. Eliar sighed and looked around the room taking
in his resources. He nodded and grabbed his communicator and placed a call to
his ship board computer.
“Computer,
record this message and relay it to Allena Dartin. I don’t have time to wait
for a return message. Begin recording. “Allena, this is Eliar Meine. I need an
emergency pick up. I’ll be in orbit of the planet Minus Tenu. Track my
communicators signal once you are in system. End record, begin transmission. If
someone attempts to board, self destruct”
The
computer acknowledged the request and Eliar went back to work. He had spied one
of the torpedo chutes down for maintenance. He checked the board and said the
locking hatch wouldn’t guarantee a seal. He could make it out through the tube
if he could re-engage the firing mechanism and even suck out a few marines and
techs into the void. Hopefully Allena would get his message and pick him up
before he used up all the air. He guessed even in a meditative trance he would
only have a day, maybe a day and half.
The
cutting beam was already on the downward angle and the alarms had been shut
off. Eliar could feel the anticipation and excitement behind the door and any
second a whole lot of marines would be coming in at him guns blazing. Eliar
ensured the feedback loop in the torpedo was set to explode and quickly jumped
up to the shell he had loaded into the firing tube rack. He slapped the button
that would start the conveyor belt that loaded the tube and hoped that his
quick little computer program would work with the firing of the tube once
loaded. The belt began moving and Eliar saw the door break open, weapons fire
spraying out through the smoke with no target.
He
entered the tube and the airlock door clanged closed automatically behind it
but didn’t seal. He started running down
the dark chute as the countdown appeared on his HUD before the outer doors
opened into space and he was flung out into the cold. A blast of flame was the
last thing anyone on the ship saw as the overloaded rifles exploded and the
chain reaction breached out. The ship had been destroyed in a spectacular event
of fire and energy.
Twenty
hours later, just as Eliar’s air was running out a custom shuttle exited
hyperspace. It was painted black and difficult to see against the backdrop of space.
No markings identified it. The ship quickly arrowed in on Eliar’s position and
pulled him inside. The pilot wasted no time and quickly made the jump back into
hyperspace. Eliar would live to fight another day.