The Serpents and the Skulls, Chapter 3.1
06 Apr 2017Michael Wolfe
“Damnit, Marra- you should have tried to take survivors.”
My mistress was sipping a glass of wine from the bridge of the Bucephalus, the first Core Dynamics Corvette that had ever been acquired by Black Omega. It had been, in Degginal’s view, symbolic of greater things to come for the firm- and even years later, still held sentimental value for him. Next to her was Victor Laius, the commander of the Black Omega fleet and Degginal’s “other” right hand. It was rumored by some that he was the true second-in-command of Black Omega, and rumored by others to be the rightful man for the job.
But whatever he was, he knew enough to keep his criticism of my mistress in a low hush. We three were standing on the bridge, away from the flight crew, surveying the wreckage of the Gold Crew ships as they floated around the canopy. The Bucephalus was at the head of a full battle group- one of the many roving mini-fleets that Marra had deployed in her hunger to find and destroy the hidden enclaves of Gold Hand. In the three weeks since Degginal’s heart attack, the strategy had failed to find their civilians but had at least resulted in more direct combat.
For her part, my mistress scowled and looked away from Victor. I could tell that she knew he was right, but was wrestling with her pride at admitting so. She surveyed the wreckage for a moment and made her decision.
“Form a perimeter,” she said. “And have the Taipans scan the wreckage. Prepare a boarding team. You’ve got twenty minutes to find something, and then we high wake.”
Victor didn’t reply, only gruffly nodding and turning to shout orders to the ship’s communications officer. Marra said nothing more, only continuing to sip her wine and stare out the canopy glass. It was no secret among the High Council that her and Victor clashed on matters of strategy. He believed that the fleet’s strength was best kept in reserve while the intelligence branch was given time and resources to find where the Gold Crew was hiding. My mistress was determined to take a more pro-active approach, not merely waiting for the snakes to hit us but actively seeking them out and engaging them.
Degginal was still in a hospital bed, only conscious for a few hours at a time. He’d insisted on being kept up to date, of course- but his heart was still weak, and couldn’t take the moment-to-moment stress of suppressing a guerilla war that spanned a dozen systems. Medical care hadn’t been a problem- new cloned organs were being grown for him, but it would take time before they were ready. Also, he’d stood by his decision to appoint Marra as acting head of Black Omega, not passing judgement on her new strategy but only nodding his head when informed of latest developments.
The engine glows of the tiny ship-launched fighters moved like fireflies in the wreckage of the Gold Crew ships. Though I dared not say it, I privately agreed with Victor. Marra’s personal leadership had inspired the men and women of Black Omega- but was that the same thing as winning the war?
Non, Apollonia! It is not your place to question your mistress, even privately.
I looked down at the deck and bit my lip, chastising myself for allowing the disloyal thought. Of course it was better for my mistress to conduct the war in her own style! She was at heart a woman of action, her charisma and ferocity utterly wasted behind a boardroom desk. Every time she led her personal task force into battle, the men and women of the task force knew that they fought for a leader who shared the danger with them. The snakes were fierce fighters and we took our share of casualties, but her ferocity had more than a few times given her forces the edge they needed to drive them away. I had seldom seen my mistress more alive than during these times, a carnal gleam in her eye and bloodlust driving her to ever more cruel tactics, but-
But knife fighting in an alley won’t open the doors to the neighborhood. And we need information more than we do combat victories, oui?
I bit my lip again, my teeth threatening to break the skin. So hard was I rebuking myself that I didn’t even notice my mistress handing me her finished glass of wine.
“One of the fighters has found something,” she said. “And it could be important.”
I nodded, taking the glass and keeping my gaze on the deck. After the disloyal thoughts I’d caught myself entertaining, it was difficult to even look at her. It would be better for me to be alone while Marra conducted the operation. I would need the time to-
“Well?”
My head snapped up, expecting to see my mistress beside me on the bridge. But she wasn’t. Instead, she was on the opposite end, about to enter the lift. I swallowed and strode across the deck to catch up to her.
“Mistress?”
The lift doors shut, and Marra reached out to gently squeeze a nipple through my flightsuit, grinning. Despite my earlier self-remonstration, I felt a wave of heat settle in my belly. She knew that I liked being touched that way. But in the middle of a combat aftermath?
“Their lead Anaconda is showing multiple life forms and a scan-shielded cargo bay. Time to have a look for ourselves.”
I gulped, uncomfortable at the thought of my mistress taking such risks. But who could tell her no? I gripped her hand and held it against my chest.
“Ma cheri, please let the away team do their work! I couldn’t bare it if you were taken from me because of some trap.”
Her hand slid from my breast to around my waist, pulling me to her. “Of course we won’t be separated, my sweet.”
I exhaled. Mon dieu, what a relief.
Her mouth travelled to my ear, her voice low. “Because you’ll be with me. We’re making history. Time to stop being such a wallflower.”
The lift doors opened to the equipment room, and my mistress released me and strode to her personal squadron of enforcers, Idris standing tall among them. I watched her walk away and reluctantly followed. To the last, they knelt for their consiglieri, a few of them throwing dirty glances at me, the civilian outsider.
Gulping, I followed Marra into the crowd of roughnecks. I think that being a wallflower suits me just fine.
The tactical gear was bulky, heavy, and uncomfortable- until it wasn’t. The Bucephalis’s airlock cycled and sealed itself, the endless black void stretching before my face as the bay door opened and the ship’s air escaped in a puff of white gas. The sudden feeling of weightlessness lifted me a few inches until my magboots activated, dropping me back down to the deck. It was an experience that might almost have been fun- until I saw the still-burning wreck ahead of us.
My mistress was doing much better. Rather than trepidation, her eyes were filled with savage anticipation. It was only a matter of seconds before she ordered the team into action. Still, I worried for her safety.
She must have seen the look in my eye, because a private commas channel to me opened even as she held up her fist to give the signal.
“You knew me before I was even out of my grungy old Cobra. This is what I do. Just stay close and keep alert.”
“Yes, mistress.”
A grin spread across her face as the damaged side of the Anaconda slowly came into view. “And relax. You may even enjoy yourself.”
I gulped as the thought of stepping away from the safety of the Bucephalus and into the debris-strewn dangers of a dying ship played out in my mind.
Not likely, I thought.
The private channel closed as Marra thrust her fist toward the stricken Gold Crew vessel.
“Enforcers! Loose!”
“Enjoy myself”? In a place like this? I think not.
The Anaconda was dark, with no gravity and flickering emergency lights down long, deserted corridors. The team of enforcers and I had made our way into the ship through a gash in its hull and had proceeded inward. So far, there had been no signs of life even as other Black Omega ships and fighters kept constant vigil outside. The old vessel was stubbornly refusing to die, with most of it kept functional by emergency power and redundant life support systems that made the ship’s air breathable.
I was at my mistress’s side, well protected all around by enforcers and Idris in front of us. We had only secured a few decks, but hadn't run into any crew members, alive or deceased.
Probably sucked out into space with only the air in their suits. I shivered, the thought of being along the outer decks as the hull was torn open filling my mind with terrible images.
A poor way to go, even if you survive the blast.
The point man crouched and held up his arm. “We’re at the cargo bay access. I’m reading life support and movement. Orders, Council?”
Marra nodded. “Set breaching charges and gas canisters. Let's take some friends home for father to meet.”
Without a word, the team busied themselves with placing the explosive charges that would destroy the bay door with the push of a button. A few others loaded canisters of concentrated tear gas into their weapons. One breath of the stuff would reduce even Idris to a writhing, helpless mess. A sustained dose was known to cause paralysis.
“Ready.”
Marra nodded and ducked with the others behind a corner. “Do it.”
“Fire in the hole!”
I closed my eyes, expecting to hear a loud explosion- but the tactical suit’s dampeners reduced it to a fraction of its actual level. All around me, the team burst into action. From where I hid, I saw the flashes of weapons fire as a few stray laser blasts melted the bulkhead near me. My ears filled with the commands of both the squad leader and Marra. The staccato sound of handheld kinetic weapons mixed with the low hum of beam lasers.
As much as my mistress had urged me to not be a wallflower, I cowered around the corner and slid down the bulkhead, eyes squeezed shut and filled with worry about my mistress. After what seemed like an eternity, I heard the squad leader call out over the general comms.
“All clear. No survivors. They resisted to the last.”
I reluctantly stepped around the corridor and into the cargo bay. In it, several jumpsuited crew members were squirming on the deck, dying from their wounds. A few of the team were down too, wounded but alive from their armor having absorbed the brunt of the punishment.
Standing in their midst was Marra, weapon over her shoulder and Idris with a watchful eye on her. All around us, cargo containers were stacked clear to the bay’s ceiling. Curious, I walked up to my mistress and activated the manifests on a few of them. Ever the pirate, her eyes lit up in curiosity.
“Anything worth our time?”
My eyes widened as I read the screens. “Palladium, battle weapons, armor- I think that this was a shipment of some importance, mon ami!”
A sly grin spread across her face as she pulled up the readouts on a few others. “Looks like that Great Serpent of theirs had better come through for those savages, because these supplies certainly won't!”
Looking around her, my mistress commed the Bucephalus. “Ready the cargo bay. We’ve got some loot from this one.”
I stepped up to her, astonished. “We're taking the cargo?”
Marra smiled, her hands on her hips. “Taking it, selling it, and spreading the credits to the crew. We’ll log it as a hazard bonus.”
All around us, I heard the low laughter of the away team, no doubt already sizing up what their cut of the loot would be. Relieved at my mistress’s good mood, I walked over to a small stack of canisters to check their readouts.
I wonder if that includes me? Almost certainly not. I want for nothing, and all I did was hide behind the-
The man’s attack was fierce and sudden. In one swift motion, he had emerged from behind the container and thrown me down. Even with no gravity, I hit the deck hard and screamed as I saw the pistol leveled at me, a look of hatred in his eyes. Just as I started to float back up, a heavy boot slammed down on my chest and pinned me in place. In the background, I was vaguely aware of a rapid stomping.
“Fucking Skulls,” the man said behind his face mask. “All are in the coils of the Gre-”
He never finished his statement, as a massive black figure seized him from behind and slammed him face-first into the nearest container. The first blow shattered his Remlock mask. The second shattered his face. The third embedded his skull into the side of the container, tiny bits of blood and bone floating away from the twitching corpse.
I gulped my suit’s air, having forgotten to breathe during the ordeal. My heart was beating hard under my chest, and already my body was slick with sweat. Idris took a step towards me and offered a massive, gauntleted hand.
Swallowing, I was pulled effortlessly to my feet. I was just opening my mouth to thank the brute when I heard another noise from behind the stack of containers. Curious, I took a careful step towards it- and gasped.
There, in a shivering, terrified fetal position was a young girl. She couldn't have been older than seven or eight years old, and was clearly traumatized. Over her mouth and nose had been an adult-sized Remlock mask, her eyes red from having been exposed to only a small amount of the tear gas. It had fallen to the deck when she saw me and suppressed a scream. My heart ached as she looked up at me with terror.
I found myself unable to tear my gaze away from the child. This is the first time that anyone has ever been afraid of you, Apollonia.
My mistress rushed to the commotion, flanked by two enforcers. She surveyed the situation and gave a satisfied nod to Idris’s bloody handiwork- but didn't look truly engaged until she saw the quivering figure at my feet. My mistress removed her mask and knelt down before the child. An affectionate, gentle smile lifted Marra’s lips as she stroked the child’s hair and cupped her cheek in her gloved palm. She spoke slowly and sweetly, as one without much experience around children is apt to do.
“Tell me,” she said. “Where have you been?”