All My Sins Remembered Page 8

  Tasha absently noted that Serms was no longer in the doorway to the server room, and Delgato automatically moved up to take his place. Commander Schultz was busy himself, but in a different way, as he sent schematics to each team member, which projected on their helmet HUD’s as small mini maps. Highlighted on the mini map, Tasha could see red dots that reflected the suspected size and disposition of the enemy. A scream punctuated an explosion, and Tasha gasped as the scream was also coming through the coms system.

  “Delgato, move up! “ Roared Schultz. Tasha wanted to cry as fear gripped her. Closing her eyes, she took a moment to steady herself before opening them again to continue her task. She had found the captain’s logs, and the sensor logs, but the ship’s manifest was being difficult to find. Tasha noted on her mini map that Delgato had moved up towards where Corporal Wittaker had been. Wittaker’s blue dot was gone.

  “Tasha, we’re running out of time!” the Commander growled in her ear. "Hurry it up!"

  “Almost there, Commander.” Tasha responded. To her surprise, her voice sounded calm and cool, which was odd, because she was anything but calm and cool.

  “Sir, I have more Special Forces on my side. We’re boxed in.” Delgato reported. His report was punctuated by the chatter of his gun in the background. “Corporal Wittaker is KIA. They threw a shredder at his feet.” Tasha shuddered. A shredder was a type of grenade commonly used in combat inside a ship. A shredder threw out thousands of fine steel slivers designed to find the spaces between the combat armor’s plates. If the slivers found purchase, any body part it hit was ground to hamburger meat, and the legs were the more difficult part of the body to protect, as there was usually a gap between your thigh plates and shin plates to allow for movement, as well as gaps between the thigh plates and the waist armor. Had they been wearing powered armor, a shredder would have been inconsequential, but with combat armor, a shredder thrown at your feet was pretty much a death sentence. Most of the time it would shred your femoral artery to ribbons. The lucky ones were killed quickly. The not so lucky ones died slowly as they bled to death.

  Tasha smiled as she finally found what she was looking for, the ship’s manifest, and transferred that file to the hard drive in her communications pack. Then, as an afterthought, sent the files as an encrypted databurst to the ship. In passing she took quick note that there were goods being transferred from the Guan Yu in addition to the Choyo providing ongoing supplies to the Guan Yu for continued operations. The goods the Guan Yu was bringing to the Choyo seemed to be of a chemical nature, or other compounds that she had never really seen used before in such quantities, presumably looted from their victims.

  “Done.” Tasha announced, as she unplugged from the server. She glanced at her mini map and saw that Grobnak and Serms were holding down what looked to be eight hostiles, while a small question mark showed down Delgato’s hall, reflecting an unknown number of hostiles.

  “Delgato, sitrep.” Commander Schultz said. Delgato’s breathing was heavy as he spoke.

  “Only seems to be one fire team, down a man.” Delgato reported. Delgato fired again, then reported, “Make that down two men.” After a moment, Schultz’s voice came back over the coms channel.

  “Serms, Grobnak, bounding withdrawal. Tasha, Delgato, and I will punch a hole down the other corridor.” Schultz ordered. Then drawing his mags, the Commander walked purposefully towards where PFC Delgato was positioned, firing down the corridor.

  “Delgato, do you have shredders?” Commander Schultz asked. Delgato barked a laugh as he stopped firing for a moment and detached a small pack attached to his leg and tossed it towards the Commander, who deftly caught it.

  “I have Shredders, flashbangs, boom sticks, and plasma incendiaries.” Delgato reported. Schultz whistled appreciatively and withdrew two orbs, pressed their arming buttons, and rolled them down the corridor, first one and then the other. In moments the shredder exploded, identified by a unique whirring sound it makes as thousands of steel slivers blanketed an area, punctuated by several screams. Moments later it was followed by a flashbang, a weapon that seemed to have weathered the test of time over the last few centuries, designed to blind and stagger hostiles.

  “We’re moving! Grobnak, Serms bring up the rear!” Schultz roared as he launched himself past a surprised PFC Delgato and down the corridor with his Mags in one hand, and a rather large combat knife in the other. Recovering, Delgato followed the Commander, firing at anything that moved. Tasha steeled herself as she tried to keep up, but being unaccustomed to moving in heavy armor and carrying a heavy pack, she was hard pressed. As it was, the firefight between Grobnak and Serms had reached a rather sudden crescendo. Glancing back, she could see Serms scrambling backwards as fast as he could, firing his weapon down the corridor they had just left behind with one hand while pulling Grobnak across the deck flooring with another. Grobnak, obviously wounded, had his right arm tightly curled against his chest, his face fixed in snarl as he fired his mags back down the corridor with his left hand. While she was watching them, she did not notice the Commander and Delgato run to the right, nor did she realize what hit her when she turned left and was promptly clubbed senseless by a Special Forces soldier wearing powered armor.

  Chapter 7

  Colonel Hawke Bakore was restless as he paced the officer’s briefing room. It had been several hours since Nathan and his team had boarded the Choyo, and since then all had been quiet. There had been no word from Nathan, nor from any member of the team. The last report he had received from the team was when Tasha had sent a databurst transmission, uploading the data she had retrieved from the Choyo. That had been two hours ago, and since then, there has been no word. In his gut, he knew Nathan and his team were in trouble. A soft beep came from the computer near his customary position at the head of the table, and he practically ran over to his desk, but then forced himself to wait a few moments before answering, not wanting to appear too worried or desperate to hear news of Nathan and his fire team.

  “This is the Colonel.” Hawke said, after tapping a button on his display to answer the call.

  “Sir, this is Communications specialist Roland. We have finished decrypting and compiling the data Lieutenant Commander Altihkova uploaded to us.” Roland said.

  “Thank you. I’ll access it from the station in my quarters.” Hawke replied. Going to his quarters, Hawke sat down and brought up the communications package earmarked with Tasha’s last name, and that day’s date. Inside were several files, including even the captain’s personal log, a fact that made Hawke smile. He had a feeling Tasha would do well, if given the opportunity. For the next couple of hours, Hawke perused the files, not finding anything particularly useful, but then sat bolt upright as he read the ship’s manifest. Switching back to the ship’s log he had just finished reading, he compared entries for the same date. After a moment, Hawke sat back in his chair, eyes wide in shock. Quickly transferring the data to his datapad, Hawke left his quarters and made his way to the ship’s science lab, where a scientist was waiting, watching a holovid that looked much like a documentary on amphibians. The ship’s science lab was small. In fact, it only took up a small corner of the much larger medical bay. There was only limited use for a science lab on a ship that was purely for combat. The only reason why it existed at all was on Hawke’s insistence that it be done.

  “Doc, I need you to look at this.” Hawke said as he unceremoniously set his datapad down and slid it across the metal table in the Scientist’s direction. Doctor Dennis Hirsch looked askance at the Colonel as he pulled the datapad towards him, and began to read. After a few seconds, he stopped reading and then began to reread it again with a troubled look growing on his face. Going over to the workstation, the scientist pulled up what seemed to be information on some kind of chemical molecule, and shook his head. Doctor Hirsch seemed to check a few more facts before shaking his head again, though it seemed as if his suspicions were correct.

  “I was hoping I was wrong, but here it is. Th
is is what they are trying to make.” The scientist indicated his screen. “It’s an Organophosphorus compound. If I am reading this right, all the cargo transferred to the Choyo is needed to manufacture it.” Hawke felt the cold fingers of dread grasp him. He had a feeling that he knew where this conversation was going to lead.

  “Are you sure? Couldn’t that cargo also be used to create other things?” Hawke asked. The scientist nodded, as he brought up a couple of other possibilities.

  “They can be used to make two variants of the same compound, but all three can only be used as a weapon. They have no other uses. At least, no other known uses.” The scientist answered.

  “What can you tell me of how it is deployed, and its affects?” The scientist sighed, and then mumbled something under his breath, but brought up a technical readout of the first chemical. Hawke looked at the readout, which was also the grandfather of the other two. The original compound was created long ago, long before the earth's resources were depleted, and the ozone layer was finally compromised, forcing humanity to take to the stars to survive. It would be another two hundred years after that before humanity returned to begin the "Earth Restoration Project," implementing newly discovered technology to repair the planet's ozone layer, and diligently working to reseed and restore the cradle of humanity as a part of a historical preservation society's efforts.

  “All three compounds work the same way, the only difference is how effective they are. One has such a low density that it is easily deployed in an aerosol form. As I said before, all three are Organophosphorus compounds. That means it is a degradable, organic compound containing carbon-phosphorus bonds. It is a colorless, odorless liquid, and can easily be mixed in water. This compound can be inhaled, ingested, or absorbed through the skin. If you have enough of it, it can be deployed to cover entire continents.” The scientist swallowed nervously, his eyes taking on a haunted look. Momentarily forgetting himself, the scientist grabbed the front of Hawke’s shirt urgently.

  “Colonel, if they are making this stuff they have to be stopped! They could kill all life on a planet within an hour of deploying this compound around the globe. Even at very low concentrations, this compound can be fatal! This monster is over five thousand times more toxic than cyanide.” Hawke’s mouth felt dry as he tried to swallow. Carefully keeping his composure, he firmly removed the scientist’s grasping hands. He buried the momentary flash of desire to punch the man for grabbing him like that. Realizing what he had done, the scientist jerked back his hands as if he had been burned.

  “Sorry, Colonel.” He apologized, realizing he was walking a fine line “But if they are making any one of these compounds, they must be stopped.” Hawke nodded his understanding.

  “What is this compound called?” Hawke asked, lifting a chin towards the holographic display, which was once again showing a three dimensional representation of the chemical molecule.

  “On earth, they called it Sarin. Since then, the chemical compound has been refined into Sarin-2, and Sarin-3. Each one is more deadly, more toxic, than the last.” The scientist replied.

  “Is there any protection against this ‘Sarin’ stuff?” Hawke asked. The scientist shrugged.

  “I assume so, but it has been at least two hundred years since anything like this was used, if not longer. I’d have to do some research.” He told Hawke.

  “Then get started.” Hawke ordered. “Just in case.” As Hawke left the lab. He still felt like punching something, or someone. This ‘one last mission’ had now turned into a full blown operation, and he was woefully unprepared for an operation of this size. He needed to talk to his senior officers.

  ***

  Lieutenant James ‘Gordy’ Gordon and Second Lieutenant Raijan Kemai arrived at the officer's briefing room quickly, sensing that something had changed. As they entered, they saw the Colonel staring at what looked to be a three dimensional molecule of some sort slowly rotating on the holographic display in the center of the briefing room table. He had a troubled expression on his face when he looked up at his two officers.

  “We have trouble. Sit.” Hawke invited. Both officers sat, Gordy leaning back while Raijan simply folded his hands and rested them calmly on the table in front of him. Briefly, Hawke told them about Sarin, and how he now believed that the Guan Yu was targeting ships with cargo carrying ingredients needed to manufacture it. As he informed them of its uses and effects, both officers remained in shocked silence.

  “So there you have it. Nathan and his team are still MIA, and, as you know, the Guan Yu is due to arrive sometime today.” Hawke finished, and then added, “As I see it, the mission has changed. Destroying the Guan Yu is now a secondary objective. Destroying the Choyo and its cargo, and then destroying whatever manufacturing facilities they have managed to build is now our primary objective. The Guan Yu is secondary. Questions? Suggestions?”

  Raijan, ever the soul of courtesy, cleared his throat before speaking. “I would say, Sir, that our next move should be to retrieve our team from the Choyo, and to destroy the Choyo and its cargo before the Guan Yu arrives. Should we wait until the Guan Yu arrives, there may be too many for us to fight at once. If we wait until after the Guan Yu leaves, the Choyo may undock before we can make our move.”

  “What if we follow the Choyo to its base of operations? After it receives delivery from the Guan Yu, I’m guessing it will head there to drop off the materials.” Gordy asked. Raijan shook his head, disagreeing.

  “We have only one squad of Marines. The base could be quite formidable. While one Marine in powered armor is worth ten of any other military force we could encounter, who is to say they would not have more than we are capable of taking on at any one time, and let us not forget about whatever force is inside the Choyo. We could easily face two thousand troops on their base, as unlikely as that sounds.” Raijan responded. Hawke stared at the table top, weighing his options, and then came to a decision.

  “Alright. This is what we’re going to do. I am going to draw up a plan of attack. After that, Raijan, you and I are going to lead the two remaining Marine fire teams on board the Choyo. Our objectives are to destroy the Choyo, and retrieve our team members.” Raijan nodded once, his face impassive. Turning to Gordy, Hawke said, “Gordy, get a message out to the Jingashi Naval station where the rest of our people are stationed. Tell them to load up all of the Marines on the Fury that can fit on her, and meet us on the far side of Amazon, where we’ll be holding orbit, keeping the planet between us and Gitmo. I’m guessing we’ll have to hide there by the time everything is said and done.” Gordy nodded, and both men rose to their feet and walked out to see to their tasks. A feral grin spread across Hawke’s face as he began laying plans for the assault.

  ***

  The metallic taste in her mouth was bitterly sweet as she sucked the blood that flowed from her split lip. It should hurt, but it didn’t. It was obscured by the pain from other injuries. She couldn’t see out of her right eye, and even if she could, it wouldn’t help her against the light that blinded her left eye. Add that to the strangulation bruises on her neck, the sharp pain in her ribs every time she took a breath, and the sloppily dressed puncture wounds on her body, and suddenly her split lip was just a distraction.

  “I must congratulate you,” complimented a man’s voice with an Asian accent. “for resisting so long.” Behind the light, she could barely make out the silhouette of her interrogator. Summoning what saliva she had left, she weakly spit in his direction. Blood and saliva made a small glob on the metal floor of the room, and she weakly noted how little spit she had left, but she didn't care. She would not give him the satisfaction of breaking her.

  “Surely it does not matter if you tell me who you work for, or what empire your company is contracted to.” The Asian man’s voice seemed friendly, but then it always did. His voice was friendly when he calmly used a rope to choke her. It was friendly when he quite slowly and deliberately slid a knife into her bound body, expertly positioning the blade so as to not
puncture any major organs or arteries. It was friendly when he threw her on the floor and kicked her in the ribs, and it was friendly now as he sipped his tea, sitting in the shadows. She had not had anything to drink since...since…Tasha didn’t know how long she had been there. She did not say anything. Instead, she just let her head hang limply, letting her hair help obscure the brightness of the lights. She imagined him sitting there, leering at her from behind the lights. She hated him, truly hated him. She wished she could get up and kick him in the groin, or perhaps gave him the same treatment with a knife she had been given, but then she would likely hit something major and accidentally kill him. As if that would be a bad thing, she thought.

  “You know, your Commander was not nearly as resistant.” the Rejaian officer offered conversationally, then she heard him chuckle. “Oh, he cussed and spit, and hollered, but in the end he wept and even licked my boots.” Tasha could not help herself as a laugh weakly bubbled up from she knew not where, though it agitated bruised – probably broken – ribs. Her laugh ended in a painful gasp. She knew right away that was a lie. She could never see Commander Schultz break in such a manner.

  She was in her cell when they came to take him to interrogation for the first time. He had stripped one of the steel support frames from his cot in his room somehow, and drove it through the faceplate of one of his guards, killing him instantly. He got as far as the door to the brig in his effort to escape before another guard in combat armor stepped in and cracked him in the face with the butt of his assault rifle. Shortly thereafter they took the cot out of his cell, forcing the Commander to sleep on the floor. No, he would not have broken in such a short time.

  “Unfortunately, your Marine friends were killed. I’m afraid we were a little too-“ The officer’s smooth voice cut off as the door to the room slid open, and another man stepped in.

  “Do you know anything yet?” The new man asked. Tasha's eyes strained to see behind the light trained on her face, to see the room’s new occupant, but only saw a faint outline in the shadows.