CHAPTER FIVE
1.
Captain Barre Kerns stood silently before a panoramic view
of the
The old man saw the serenity of the outer world, but he couldn’t share the sentiments, considering all that he had witnessed in the last four month cycles of his life. His reward for losing a close comrade in battle, for failure of the utmost in protecting an item that he knew could cause galaxy wide destruction? A new Captain’s bar on his uniform, resting comfortably above an empty void that once held a Platinum Star. He had begrudgingly accepted the promotion, yet he had made a statement by returning the medal to the Military. He no longer deserved the award, and while most beings would be elated by the promotion, Kerns bore his new rank as a mark of shame.
And now here he was, waiting in the office of the most powerful person in the entire galaxy, Stefan Aldroan, President of the Galactic Senate. At this moment Aldroan was in yet another room, further inside the presidential complex, debriefing a select group of Senators and Military Intelligence. Soon they would call upon Kerns to give his first person account of the incident aboard the Vehpad. And then they would ask about Planet Coda. Afterwards, maybe, his role in this tale may finally be over.
Kerns watched uninterested as a transport made its way past the view screen, traveling down a level of traffic to pick up or drop off passengers. But his thoughts were still on his former captain and friend Janus Millways. There was a torrent of emotions just beneath the surface of this man, emotions that took every once of personal energy just to keep hidden from everyone whom he met. He admitted to himself soon after the defeat of the Vehpad that he had loved Janus. Not as a woman but as a daughter. She may have been another man’s child, but he had been with her for over 27 years, and she had attached herself to him. There had been a need of a father figure in her life ever since her own was killed in Skeether ambush. Though he initially may have treated her as any other officer, the two of them quickly bonded. And then he saved her life.
It had happened nearly 14 years before. She had become the lead pilot aboard the cruiser he seconded. There was a malfunction aboard, explosions began to rip through the ship, and containment was lost on multiple decks. The ship was dead, and within minutes most of the crew would be as well. If it weren’t for one man, a man who put aside his own fear and self preserving instinct to just rescue as many as he could. He told himself at the time that he was just trying to save everyone. That when he helped lost and confused conscripts towards the escape pods that he was helping out. When he lifted a steel support beam off of a fallen officer that he was just doing his duty. But afterwards, when the clouds of smoke and the screams were long gone it didn’t take him long to realize that the entire time he was forcing his way to the fighter bay, that he was just trying to save her.
And when he finally did arrive in the bay, he found that he was not the only one with a clear head, trying to get others to safety. Janus herself, already scorched and bleeding, was directing the rescue crews to fallen pilots and mechs. He remembered just standing there in the entry, watching with pride how she carried herself in her darkest of hours. The moment didn’t last long. A series of explosions came through the bay, tossing people, equipment and ships like paper. A concussion blast lifted Janus off of her feet and sent her flying into the deck wall, knocking her out of the fight. Battling his own light-headedness, Kerns ran towards his fallen friend, lifted her light form and ran from the bay. Soon he found a pod and the two of them escaped the death trap.
Afterwards Kerns had received his Platinum Star for his efforts that had saved the lives of over seventy people, a good number of those Officers of the Fleet. That may have been what it had said on the plaque, but Kerns felt that the Star had been awarded for saving just one life, that of Janus Millways. And so during his promotional ceremony after the Vehpad, as the Admiral pinned the Captain’s bar to his breast, Kerns handed back the Platinum Star and walked away without a word.
Behind him a portion of wall slid aside behind the President’s desk. He continued to stare out the window as a voice chimed in overhead.
“Captain Kerns,” The voice was mechanical, there were no sentient beings employed anywhere within the Galactic Senate save for the Senators, the President and assorted armed guards. Sentients were too easy to bribe, and spies too hard to catch. “The President awaits your briefing. Please follow the hall to the White Room.”
Slowly Kerns turned. He pulled in a large breath and straightened his uniform, then slowly made his way across the room and entered the doorway. Behind him the door closed.
2.
The White Room was just that. A mid-sized room with a boomerang shaped table set in the middle, chairs lined all along the angled side with the President seated at the apex. Everything from the floor to the table to the walls was painted in a neutral white. It made the room feel very sterile and clean. The lack of colors allowed everyone to focus more intently on whomever was speaking; it also made it incredibly difficult for anyone to plant any sort of listening or recording devices. It was in this room that wars were started and concluded. This was a place of death, and no amount of paint could cover that up.
There were currently twenty three sentients in the room. The President of course, but there were also fifteen of the most loyal members of the Senate, four members of the Galactic Military: Jonothan Lartch, Admiral of the Navy, Willhelm Antangst, Commander of the Armies, Harrius Potts, Antangst’s Second, and Commandant David Carriager, Director of Galactic Intelligence. The latter three men were old, well into the later stages of their lives; Carriager on the other hand was a youngish looking man, whose real age couldn’t be properly divined from his face. The three other men in the room were as anonymous as a stranger passed in the street. Two of them guarded the door, the third stood close behind the President. They were bodyguards of sorts; elite trained individuals whose only job was to protect the beings in this room.
President Stefan Aldroan was currently standing behind his chair, leaning on it to give him support in this gravest of times. Aldroan was of Terran descent, 64 years old, and looking only a little better than his age. In his youth he had dark black hair, which was now salted thoroughly with white; his face had fared better however, with only a couple wrinkles to show for his life. He was a stocky man, one more prone to food than exercise, but this only helped endear him to his followers. At the last Presidential elections he had resoundedly won the seat, even with the small scandal that had come out of his private life. Stefan Aldroan might not have been the smartest man to hold the office; he was doing a damn good job of it while he was there. His advisors were always quick to point out that the Zayas situation would have existed whether or not he was President, that it wasn’t a personal vendetta, just a blaze of glory that would have to burn itself out. There were nights when Aldroan worried to himself that this particular blaze may just set the universe alight before it was extinguished, but that was just another reason to do his job as best he could. While it was true that the Senate was ripe with corruption and money-dealings, Stefan had always pledged to expunge that cancer from government. So far with no luck.
On the wall opposite the table was a view screen showing dozens of different files and videos. There were star charts for unknown regions of space, and a couple different charts of the space currently occupied by Warlord Zayas, along with a very out of focus and decades old photograph of the man himself. In the center of the chaos of information were two distinct files. One of them showed the aftermath of the destruction of the Vehpad, a video recording of the salvage efforts. The other was a planetary system chart that was labeled simply “Coda”.
“As you will come to see,” The President continued, his voice betraying a slight accent, “This situation is far graver than any of the preliminary reports that have been issued by this office. I hope you will understand that this slight attempt to mislead was for the good of the Galactic Society.”
At that moment the door nearest the view screen chimed. Stefan nodded to one of the guards who hit the release button opening the door, through which a man entered.
“Ladies, Gentlemen, Ascrotts,” The President said, nodding to the Senator from Ascrotia, “allow me to introduce Captain Barre Kerns, former Commander of the Vehpad.”
Kerns saluted the Officers and President, and then nodded to the civilian Senators. He came to a stop directly opposite the table from Aldroan, standing at attention until called upon to deliver his briefing.
“Captain Kerns,” Aldroan went on, “is one of only two survivors of the attack on the Vehpad. Captain, please tell your accounts of that evening.”
Kerns related to the assemblage all that he remembered. Millways ever fast braveness even against odds she knew were too great, the final dogfight that left him and his wingman crippled in space, even watching the cruiser explode after the attacking force had fled. He kept his detail as strict as he could remember it, and for a man with military training his memory was supreme. Kerns was careful to keep his personal feelings and observations out of the recitation. It was only after he finished the shouting began.
An older, dark skinned man stood up. “How dare Zayas make such a daring and open attack against our forces? This requires swift and definite retribution!”
President Aldroan began to calm this Senator when another stood. “The people of Balustrude demand an immediate investigation into this attack! There were dozens of Balus men and women aboard the Vehpad, and we demand justice from this body!”
“Please!” The President shouted, quickly quieting the few others who had begun to raise their voices. “Please. I understand your sentiments, believe me I do. However this is more complicated than a simple hit and run attack by an enemy force. We must lead carefully, or all could be lost.”
The Ascrotian Senator turned to the President, its red scaled skin fluctuating as it breathed. “We fear there is more to this briefing.”
Stefan took a moment’s pause before continuing. “I’m afraid Senator k-Jeav is right. Captain Kerns, tell us about the events on Planet Coda.”
Quite beyond his ability to control Kerns shuddered at the mention of Coda. The assembled group all saw his reaction to the word as well, several of them started to whisper to themselves.
“Planet Coda,” Kerns began, “is a place I have tried to forget. But so far have been unable to.”
3.
The transport ship Patriot broke through the heavy, brown cloud-cover, its ion drives leaving a wake through the otherwise calm skies. Barre Kerns leaned forward in his co-pilots seat to get a better view of the horizon. Scans of the planets surface aboard the Vehpad had been difficult to view; there was some sort of electron interference in the atmosphere. What Kerns saw out the viewport wasn’t much. The brown clouds had given way to a darker brown surface, a wasteland of dunes and craggy mountains. Violent winds ripped across the surface, sending dirt and debris into the air.
“Kerns to the Vehpad,” he spoke into his communicator, “we have broken through the cloud cover. Over.”
The reply was broken up by bursts of static. He turned to the communications officer. “Tweak the signal, I’m not getting them.” Kerns held his hand to the earpiece. “Vehpad, we are experiencing audio problems, your signal is not coming through. Repeat last.”
After another brief blast of static, Captain Millways’ voice came through, though the signal was still weak. “crrck – atmosphere, transmission interference. Are you receiving now? Crrrrk”
Kerns smiled. “Barely. We are currently 100 kilometers off of target destination. Turbulence is minimal, though we’ve lost four minor systems.”
“ccrrrrrk – Do you have a visual on the city? And life readings?”
“Negative, Captain. There is nothing down there but rock.”
“There are supposed to be 4000 colonists there Commander. We only lost communication four standard days ago.”
Kerns stood and leaned closer to the viewport. Like before there was nothing visible but sand and rock. Even from this distance he should have been able to see some sign of the colonists’ village.
“We’ll find them Janus. Kerns out.” He removed the communicator from his ear, placing it on the console. He turned to the pilot, Ag-17. “Do a fly-by of the coordinates, scan for life.”
The mechanical voice that replied was devoid of emotion. “Yes Commander.”
Ahead of the Patriot was a large mountain ridge, beyond the ridge Kerns could see an atmospheric disturbance, a wind funnel was sending mass amounts of dirt and debris into the sky. As their approach took them closer a number of alarm warnings began to sound inside the transport.
Kerns turned to the Agnost piloting. “Try and navigate around the storm if you would.”
“Negative, Commander.” The bot came back, “Landing coordinates are located within the center of the anomaly.”
“Son of a -,” Kerns tightened his restraints and hit the switch for the in-ship intercom. “Commandos! Strap in, we’re in for a hard flight!”
The Patriot cleared the mountain ridge, revealing the colonist city to its passengers, or rather what was left of it. Below them there was nothing but ruins, buildings that had once stood up to four stories were now crumbled masses of stone and duracrete tumbled across each other. Some structures still stood, but bore the distinctive signs of recent fires; soot and scorch tattooed the walls, windows blown out from intense heat. Scattered throughout the city there were remains of vehicles, most of them beyond any repair, a few still smoldering. Before Kerns could see more the transport slammed directly into the cyclone.
Winds
buffeted the ship causing it to tip and sway violently. The passengers were
thrown against their harnesses; loose equipment began to fly dangerously around
the cabin. Behind him Kerns heard seasoned war veterans begin to shout, whether
in fear or not he could not tell. Truth be told he didn’t feel particularly
comfortable with the situation either. Another dip in the ship threw his head
against the seat, causing stars to blur his vision.
Being machine, the Agnost kept its wits, and only after a minute or two had piloted the Patriot out of the disturbance. Yet even out of the storm the ride was still rough, turbulence made the transport shudder.
“Situation report!” Kerns barked at his pilot.
The Agnost turned it cylindrical head towards the Commander. “Four rear stabilizers lost or damaged. Communications array destroyed. Making emergency landing procedures now.”
From the pot to the flame. Again Kerns hit the intercom. “Ride isn’t over quite yet, troops. But it will be soon. Hang on.”
The Patriot, trailing a billowing cloud of black smoke, descended into the city square. Ruined structures blurred past the viewport. As the ground grew closer their approach slowed, from under the ship came the familiar sound of landing struts lowering. Kerns could see that they were still coming in hard, but the landing may not be as bad as he feared. Just as he thought this, the Patriot slammed into the ground, shock absorbers taking the brunt of the hit, but everyone aboard felt the landing smack them in the gut. As the ship came to ground Kerns finally noticed the alarm klaxons that had been sounding the entire time.
Shaking his head to clear it, Kerns began to un-strap. “Get the Diagnosts out there to repair the damage.” He turned to the Com officer. “See if you can raise the Vehpad.”
The officer leaned forward, a small trickle of blood running down his scalp. He sat back in his seat. “Sorry Commander, without the Com Array we won’t be raising anyone off planet.”
“Stay with the ship. The second the Diagnosts repair the array contact Millways, tell her we’ve landed. Report the situation on-ground.”
“And you sir?” The young man asked.
“I’ve got colonists to find.” With that he turned and left the cockpit.
4.
The rear hold of the Patriot was chaos. Troops were running here and there, attending to the wounded, trying to clean up gear that had come loose. Kerns was standing still, looking down on a young private who wouldn’t be helping, a large piece of steel coming out of his chest, stained red with his blood. Kerns closed his eyes a moment, giving the solider his respects. When he opened them he saw his Captain standing at attention before him.
“Report.” Kerns walked passed the dead man, the Captain following.
“Two dead sir, five more injured. Of those; three are not going to be able to contribute much for at least a week or two sir.”
“Status on equipment?”
The officer kept pace with the Commander, both of them stepping around fellow troops who were working, getting the problem back under control. “Most equipment undamaged sir. The crawler is in perfect working condition. Green across the board.”
Kerns turned to the solider. “Get the men armed and ready. I witnessed blaster scoring on approach. Tell the men to expect a hostile environment.”
“After that landing sir? I never would’ve guessed.”
The Commander smiled. Other officers may have punished such outbursts, Kerns on the other hand believed in the value of humor in stressful situations. “We leave in five. Foot patrols first to establish a perimeter, and then we’ll haul out the crawler.”
“Yes sir.” The Captain saluted Kerns and turned to relay the orders.
Precisely five minutes later the outer hatch of the Patriot grinded open, sending a blast of wind driven sand into the hold. Kerns squinted against it, peering into the square for any signs of inhabitants their crash may have brought out. Aside from the wind though, nothing moved. Kerns made a gesture with his hand, and seven commandos stepped out of the ship, their weapons tracking, Kerns followed. As trained the men broke off into pairs, each pair heading in a different direction in a search and rescue pattern. Soon Kerns began to hear reports in his ear.
“Clear.” Came the voice of Blue team. Then Red, then Green. All with the same message. “All clear.”
A second wave of troops came out of the Patriot, all carrying various equipment and gear. They immediately began to set up ground control, activating scanners and communicators. Kerns watched it all, noting the efficiency.
“Commander,” This was Yellow team. “There is something here you should see.”
Kerns centered on the beacon for Yellow and double-timed it towards them. Yellow had entered one of the still standing structures, what appeared to have been a community store. He pushed past the ruined mess that had been a doorway and entered. There were shelves around the store, most of them fallen. Foodstuffs were scattered, some of the open and molding. A thin layer of brown sand covered everything. Yellow-2 was scanning the area with his weapon, looking nervous. Yellow-1 was standing in the center of the store amid the debris.
“We found it during our search sir.” Yellow-1 reported as Kerns came closer.
He knelt beside the body and took it all in. In life it had been Terran female, probably in her late twenties. The body had been mutilated, her stomach ripped open with a sharp weapon of some kind, her guts lying across the ground. Someone or something had torn her eyes from their sockets, nothing left but dried blood. There was a shred of clothing on her arm, the remains of a shirt. Even the body had a light dusting of sand. Kerns put a hand to his mouth.
“I’ve got another one!” Yellow-2 shouted a trace of panic in his voice.
Kerns stood and leaned in towards Yellow-1. “Get him out of here,” he whispered. “Before he does something stupid with that weapon.”
Yellow-1 saluted. “Yes sir.”
The Commander watched as the older solider escorted the other out of the building. After they had vacated he walked to the second body. This one was male, also Terran, maybe 40 years. He was sitting in a corner, far from the door. In his hand was a long knife maroon with dried blood. His body was shirtless, revealing a series of carvings along his chest and torso, deep cuts slashing across his body. Whatever messages or designs this man was trying to get across was lost in the mess dried body fluids. There were several deep stab wounds, a few in the abdomen, one into his left chest. The most disturbing aspect of the man however, weren’t the wounds, but rather the disconcerting and mocking smile that played across his face. This man had done all the damage to his-self, but had done it all laughing.
“What in all that is good happened here?” Kerns spoke to the air.
A burst of static rang in his ear, followed by the voice of one of his men. “Commander, we’ve got life signs.”
“Life signs?” Kerns repeated.
“Affirmative sir. There are at least a dozen distinct signals coming from the north. Possibly more, the electron interference is making it difficult to get an accurate reading.”
Kerns turned from the grisly scene and made his way to the door. “Prepare the crawler, we’re moving out.”
5.
The crawler’s large metallic wheels crunched over the fallen remains of a stone structure, leaving the limits of the settlement. Ahead there was nothing in view, save for the brown dunes that covered the entire planet. Kerns occupied the navigator’s seat, sitting elbow to elbow with the driver. Behind them in the passenger compartment 12 soldiers held their weapons at the ready.
The Commander turned to the driver. “Jake, what’s out here?”
The pilot replied, keeping his attention on the path ahead, following the signal from the scanners. “There isn’t really much, sir. The colonists sent a report a week ago about finding some sort of archeological site. Last message received indicated that they found an underground temple.”
Kerns nodded, he had learned all of this in his pre-mission briefings. “Let me guess, the life signs are coming from the temple.”
“It is looking that way, sir.”
The crawler reached the apex of yet another dune, revealing the dig site. From their vantage point they could see remains of tents, machines that had been destroyed by unknown means, and in the center of it all a dark hole carved into a rock formation large enough for a man to walk into. Looking deeper Kerns could make out several shapes in the sand that could have been bodies.
“Stop here.” Kerns stated. “Keep the engines hot, something just doesn’t feel right.”
“It’s a ghost planet.” The driver stated in a whisper.
Kerns patted the young man on the back as he made his way to the passenger compartment. As he passed by them, soldiers got to their feet and followed him, making their way to the exit hatch. The Commander slapped the door release, sending the hatch sliding open, and the troops exited the vehicle in standard hostile environment procedures. Six men went left, the other six to the right, all of them scanning the area for any signs of danger. Barre had his own weapon at the ready waiting inside the crawler doors for the all clear; in a moment it came and he stepped out onto the hot sand.
With hand signals Kerns moved the men into position just outside the temple opening. According to hand scanners the life signals were coming from inside the structure. Even this close they were unable to get an accurate count. Looking around the destruction Kerns held his weapon closer. Something in the pit of his stomach was tensing. It was a feeling that he knew all too well. It usually preceded a battle. Kerns held two fingers up, pointing into his eyes then pointing to the doorway. His two lead troopers nodded and went inside. After a ten count, Kerns and the remaining soldiers followed.
Five meters in, the smell of decay hit them. The farther they proceeded, the worse the smell became. Since most of the planet of Coda was a desert the dry heat would halt the process of rot, in most cases the body fluids would merely dry and the body would mummify. The smell of decay meant that whatever had died in here had died recently. The troops followed the narrow hall the only sounds were the boots slapping the rock. The hallway came to an end at a cavernous room lit only by the lights mounted to the soldiers’ weapons, but it was enough to reveal the pile of bodies in the center.
Kerns approached the horror, one hand covering his mouth and nose from the smell. Just from a casual observation he could see that all of them had died violently, similar to the two bodies they had found at the general store in town. Men, women, children, all of them covered in blood and gashes. As he was studying the mess, he saw a fresh line of blood running down the pile. Kerns’ eyes followed the trail, and saw a woman lying at the top of the pile, her mouth moving with silent words, her hand slowly moving towards the Commander.
“Medic!” Kerns shouted. “We have a live one here!”
Barre reached up and grabbed the woman’s hand, alarmed at how cold she felt. As gently as he could he pulled her down from the grisly stack. He lay her down on the stone the medical trooper rushed over, his hands already digging in a pouch for supplies. Close up, Kerns could see that there was little chance of saving the woman. He stomach had been eviscerated, its contents visible. There were long hideous gashes on her arms and legs, blood filling her mouth. Still the medic worked hard, patching wounds, giving shots of painkillers. He didn’t stop until she did.
As the young man sat back from the woman, his face white, there came a cackling laugh that echoed through the room.
Kerns snapped at the sound, his gun rising. The other troops had reacted the same. All of them focused towards the other end of the chamber, beyond the bodies. The soldiers walked around the pile, revealing the end of the chamber. On the wall was some sort of sculpture, its shape and form long since lost in time. In the center of the sculpture was an empty hollow where something had once rested. And kneeling before the statue, facing away from the troops, was a man. The man was naked, covered in dried blood and sand. Without needing orders the troops formed a semi-circle perimeter around the survivor, all weapons focused on his back. Kerns stepped forward.
“I am Commander Barre Kerns of the Galactic Navy,” he said, his own voice echoing, “What the frack happened here?”
“Toys,” the kneeling man laughed, “everyone is toys.”
Kerns looked to his troops, confused. He focused back on the man. “Sir, I am ordering you to stand and face me.”
For a moment he thought the being wasn’t going to comply, but with a speed that caused Kerns to fall back a step the man was on his feet. With slow determination the man turned, facing them. Almost to a man they all flinched back at the sight. The man’s body was mutilated, carved. There was some sort of pattern cut into his torso, something that Kerns found slightly familiar but couldn’t place. The skin was removed from his thighs, revealing bare muscle. One of the men to Kerns’ left made retching sounds, obviously trying to not get sick. His face was the worse, the lower lip ripped off, one of his eyes was gouged out. The naked man stood before them, his arms rising to the air, something glowing in his right hand.
“Everything is toys!” The man screeched, small drops of blood coming from his mouth.
Suddenly from all around them came in-human screams. Kerns’ men turned to see other similarly mutilated persons emerging from the pile of corpses. There were men and women, all of them looking like monsters, coming straight for them.
“Take them down!” Kerns shouted above the wails. He depressed the trigger on his gun, the weapon instantly erupting into a stream of plasma bullets. Within seconds the room was filled in the strobing light of plasma fire, the sounds of exploding rounds reaching deafening levels. Before the troops the attackers fell, but more came, dozens and dozens of scarred persons, each one looking more and more insane. The entire assault lasted less than a handful of minutes, but it felt like hours. Kerns shouted to his men to hold fire as the last attacker fell.
“Those were mine!” Came the screeching voice of the man behind them. Kerns turned to see the man still standing in the same position. His arms raised, the red glowing item in his hand. “Mine!”
Kerns brought his weapon up. “Whatever it is you have in your hand, I suggest you drop it now.”
The man brought his one eye to bear on Kerns. Suddenly Kerns became filled with the feelings of fear and anguish. He shook his head, trying to clear it.
“You took what was mine.” The man spoke calmly. “My toys. My playthings. I take you.”
To his right the trooper closest to him raised his weapon and aimed it at Kerns’ head, the Commander could see smoke still rising from the hot barrel. He turned to his soldier.
“What the hell are you doing private!” Kerns shouted. As he looked he could see the trooper shuddering, his eyes spinning in their sockets. Kerns could tell that the man was trying to fight what was happening.
“Now I have new toys.” The naked man stated.
“Oh frack that!” Kerns said, turned and shot one round directly into the man skull, exploding it. Beside him the trooper dropped his weapon and collapsed to the ground. As the naked man’s corpse fell the item he was holding rolled from his fingers, coming to rest in a pile of sand. Kerns walked up to it, seeing that it was some sort crystal, red in color, about the size of a fist. Even as he watched he could see the glow begin to fade.
“Search the area, find any other survivors.” He spoke to his soldiers without turning from the crystal. “Someone bring me a containment case from the crawler.”
6.
The Captain stood in silence before the assembled group, behind him images and videos of the investigation played on the holo-wall. Throughout the entire telling he had kept his voice level and even, removing the emotion from the tale. There was a full minute of silence as the senators viewed the images if the destruction of Coda. Kerns turned his head slightly, seeing a corpse out of the corner of his eye.
“After two
weeks of investigation, the Vehpad left orbit of Planet Coda. The remaining
structures were obliterated from orbit, per orders. Our investigations only
raised more questions. We do know that two standard
months prior to our arrival the temple chamber was opened by Colonist
scientists. Inside the chamber was the
Kerns began pacing. “Three days after leaving Coda, four members of the landing party had committed suicide. Four highly trained men, with rigorous detachment training. After a week there were seven separate outbreaks of violence amongst the crew, out of those seven, three incidents involved crew members who had not stepped foot on the surface of Coda. We began to fear that we had brought some sort of contagion aboard the cruiser. Captain Millways ordered an immediate quarantine of everyone who had been to the planet, and others we may have “infected”. It wasn’t until some crew developed a form of telepathy that our science officer began to suspect the crystal itself.
“By this point our science officer, Lucas, had researched the crystal thoroughly, naming it after a mythical item, the ‘Blood Crystal’. He made several interesting discoveries about the crystal. Most important amongst his findings was the fact that the crystal had a power source within it. Somehow the stone was producing a measurable amount of energy. After this discovery the crystal was placed inside a Level 5 Biohazard containment case.”
Kerns paused in his telling. “Less than 24 hours after the Blood Crystal was sealed away we found Lucas dead, from apparent self mutilation. His last recorded log entry stated once sentence over and over again: ‘Its too quiet now.’ Lucas was the last death after the incident on Coda. We sent our findings over a secured transmission to President Aldroan and Commandant Carriager of Intelligence. Unfortunately the transmission was intercepted by Warlord Zayas, which in turn lead to the destruction of the Vehpad and the loss of the Blood Crystal.”
“Thank you Captain,” Aldroan stood. “You may be excused.”
Kerns saluted the President and offered him a slight bow. He turned on his heels and made for the exit. The large door slid shut behind him, leaving the White Room in silence. Aldroan let the information settle for a moment. Finally one of the senators spoke up.
“What is being done to retrieve this ‘Blood Crystal’?” Senator Seanus was an older dark skinned man. His home planet of Jetta was a climate similar to Coda, sand and heat.
President Aldroan nodded to the man next to him. “Commandant Carriager.”
Carriager stood
and nodded to the President as he sat. He looked at each person seated before
starting. “We have just recently launched an operation that involves a small
invasion force getting into Zayas’ base of operations. Of course this is merely
a diversionary tactic. As we speak the Galactic Navy is gathering its forces
for a full frontal invasion.
Seanus spoke up again. “And what of the members of your ‘invasion force’?”
Carriager bowed his head. “Unfortunately Senator, it may turn out to be a suicide mission. We do not expect them to survive. Fortunately they will be doing their government a great service. They shall be remembered as heroes.”
END CHAPTER FIVE