Victory's Defeat Read online

  “Might not need to be. Going to see how far Asuras is willing to sacrifice.”

  “My life is meaningless in all of this,” he stated.

  “Not talking about yours, Commander. I’m talking about all those engineers and technicians you have aboard the Guardian right now.”

  “I’m listening,” I said.

  “Asuras, right now the Dreadnaught is anchored to the Guardian; half of your personnel is aboard getting her repaired. What if I told you that right here in my hand I hold a switch that will blow that ship and everything around it to space junk?”

  “Do it, Paul, just do it,” I urged, looking at the remote. In the back of my head, I was wondering if this was maybe a bluff of epic proportions.

  “I do not believe you, General. We are not conditioned to lying, but your kind has made it your life’s mission to say one thing and do another.”

  Asuras said the words but his mouth opened wider—oh yeah, he was freaking out a bit. Maybe his home world was against our little friendship, but they hated failure even more and he was about to become the centerpiece in one of their worst disasters.

  “I have a thermonuclear weapon strategically housed underneath the Buckle Drive. I press this button…”

  “Your guys broke the coupling,” I reasoned out. “On one side I’m pretty pissed off about that. On the other…holy fuck, General. Good for you. Wait…so that was what was in that box on the shuttle, I sat next to that fucking thing!”

  “I knew at some point someone was going to go rogue; mostly figured it would be the Stryvers, followed secondly by you, Mike, and then the Progs.”

  “Yeah, I could see that,” I agreed with him.

  “I needed an insurance policy, and this is it.”

  “We need to get our people armed and ready.”

  “Already being done.”

  “Wow, look at you at the top of your game and shit.”

  “Been taking lessons from my colonel.”

  “What about him?” I motioned with my gun.

  “He won’t yield.”

  “Commander?” I asked, raising the handgun so it was level with his head.

  “I promised you safe passage to your homes!” he raged.

  “Unless you’re taking your ships home too, all you did was promise us our extinction,” I replied.

  “You evolutionary mis….”

  I drilled him. My barrel was still smoking as his head fell onto his desktop.

  “Shit, Mike! What did you shoot him for?” Paul had stepped back.

  “What about him led you to believe he was going to change his stance?”

  “We were allies.”

  “Yeah, until we weren’t. I would think you, of all people, wouldn’t be questioning my actions.”

  “You’re…you’re right. Just caught me off guard.”

  “I need to know something, Paul.” I hadn’t quite put my weapon down. “When I came in here you two looked mighty chummy. Like maybe I was the third wheel in your plans.”

  “What’s your question?” Paul looked to my weapon.

  “Nothing yet, just a feeling. Did you know he was going to set us down on Earth?”

  “Are you kidding? As far as I knew everything was fine. I was going to promote you; that was what was going on, and Asuras knew. I had no idea about the Guardian.”

  “Fair enough.” I holstered my gun. “What about the nuke? That real?”

  “It is.”

  “And you can blow it from here?”

  “So I’ve been told. Jesus, Mike.” A pool of blood was running off the desk and flowing at my feet. “Even fully armed, we don’t have the personnel to take this ship over.”

  “Our hand has been forced.”

  “Yeah, Mike, because you forced it! We could have used him as leverage!”

  “Bullshit. Keeping him alive would have been a mistake. He would have told his people to just kill us then spilled every bit of our intel. Now we have time to get into an advantageous position. That asshole was literally going to plop us onto the planet like everything was all cool. Then what the fuck were we going to do? Take a plane up here and storm the gates? We’re here now—we take this ship, now.”

  “You are officially the most dangerous person I have ever known, and I’m married to Beth.”

  “Not sure how I should feel about that. We need to get in touch with Dee and the rest.”

  “And what about him?”

  I looked over my shoulder. “Him? I’m pretty sure he’s not going anywhere.”

  “That’s not what I meant, they’re going to find him soon.”

  “I’d say we should hide the body but we’d need a pretty big trash bin.”

  “Colonel!” Paul was more than a little pissed.

  “I thought I was a general now.”

  “You’re lucky I don’t make you a private.”

  “Whatever we do needs to happen before he’s discovered.”

  “No shit.”

  “Why do you think I’m leaving? We’ll just lock his door and say he’s busy.”

  “Fuck.” Paul dragged his hand over his face. “This is insane. They’re not just going to let us walk onto the bridge.”

  “We’re still friends as far as any of them are concerned.”

  “Yeah, until they see their ventilated commander.”

  “Like I said, time is of the essence.”

  We weren’t exactly running through those halls, but close. I was happy to note that my people were subtly on high alert. They were all armed but acting as casually as they could, sitting on bunks or pretending to play cards. It was Tracy that greeted me first.

  “What’s going on?”

  “We are officially in a hostile situation. The Progs have pulled up the welcome mat—assuming it was ever down to begin with.”

  Dee had come up next to her.

  “Mike, I need facts, not your take.”

  “Allow me, Tracy,” Paul stepped in. “Mike here put a hole in the commander’s head after he told us that the Progerian home world would not recognize the truce. They intended to repair and retake the Guardian then drop us off on Earth.”

  “That’s it? They were just going to drop us off on Earth?” she asked

  “Yup. Then the shooting gallery would have opened up in earnest,” I added. “I want to make sure everyone is clear that they weren’t just planning on leaving, and even if they were, there’s still a couple of Stryver ships out there looking for a fair measure of revenge.”

  “Commander Asuras is dead?” Dee asked. I was having a hard time gauging what he thought of this by his reaction when I nodded. “In cold blood?”

  “This is war, Dee. It's all cold blooded. How many options do you think were presented to me?”

  “He is a legendary warrior among the Progerians. They will not take his death lightly.”

  “And where do you stand on this?” I asked pointedly.

  “I do not agree in the manner with which he met his ultimate demise, but in times of great peril it is necessary to do what is needed no matter how distasteful. I must ask, Michael, how has killing him affected you? From where I stand, it appears that it did not influence you very much, and that in and of itself is very telling.”

  “Are you asking if I’ll have nightmares, or does my conscience feel dirtied? I don’t think so, Dee. He handed me, my wife, my child, each and every one of us here a death sentence. Should I have just bowed my head and humbly accepted that harsh penalty hoping he could be trusted to allow us to survive for the time being on our own planet? His word put us in our present predicament, for better or worse. Then he broke it. At that very moment, Dee, I said “fuck that” in the most pointed way I could—with a bullet to his fucking brain. Do I care he’s dead? No man, I really don’t. With us or against us he was always just a means to an end. An end that sees peace on Earth.”

  “At what cost?”

  “I’d trade my soul for it.”

  “You may already have.” Dee tu
rned and walked away.

  “Are you really going all existential on me, Dee?” I said to his back. “This isn’t the top of a mountain in Katmandu, I’m not trying to find myself, I’m trying to win a war and save our lives.”

  My friend stopped and looked back at me. “I am in agreement with that, Michael. I am merely going to get my weapon.”

  I flipped him off and in a very uncharacteristic manner, he returned the gesture over his shoulder. It was the first smile I think I had that day.

  “What the fuck did you do that warranted that large of a finger?” BT asked as he approached.

  “I killed the commander of the ship,” I told him truthfully.

  “See, that’s funny shit.”

  “I’m serious.”

  “What the fuck, Mike? Is that why we’re gearing up?”

  “You could say that.”

  “So, I’m taking it that we and the Progs aren’t friends anymore?”

  “You could say that. But before you go and give me the finger, they started it.”

  “That’s all I needed to know, man. What now?”

  “I really don’t know. We’re outnumbered and they have better position.”

  “I suppose it was too much to ask that you would actually have a plan,” he lamented.

  Dee came back all decked out in his battle gear. It bears repeating that he was easily the most intimidating warrior I had ever seen in my life. The Stryvers were terrifying to look upon on a primordial level, Dee was just fucking scary.

  “Michael, did you happen to grab the commander’s access badge before you laid him to rest?” Dee asked.

  “Is that sarcasm?” I had to ask.

  “I did not intend it to be, it was merely a matter of tactical practicality resulting in a question.”

  “I mean because I didn’t really lay him to rest.”

  “The access badge, Michael. That is the cogent point,” he said.

  “Yet, you added the part about laying to rest.”

  “I did indeed.”

  “I didn’t get it.”

  “Then we must go.”

  “Tell me where it is—I’ll get it. You go walking around like that and alarms are going to start going off.”

  “I am quite imposing, am I not?”

  “And modest, too.”

  “We’ll go get this card. What are we looking for?” BT asked.

  “It is part of his rank insignia, near his chest,” Dee pointed.

  “Should we all go?” Tracy asked nervously. It would be obvious to anyone that came in contact with the commander that he had not died of natural causes and as soon as that happened we would be at war.

  “Major, get your people ready. It will look more natural if it is me and the colonel,” Paul said to Tracy.

  Personally, I wanted her by my side. This war had already seen us separated too many times. Even though BT had not been mentioned, he came anyway. Paul did not dissuade him, though I don’t think he could have even if he’d wanted to. We walked through those halls like it was the most natural thing ever; I don’t know about the two I was with, but my heart was hitting so hard on all cylinders it was hurting inside my ribcage. I had a feeling this was what a heart attack felt like. It wasn’t the upcoming battle that had my insides twisted in knots, it was the dreaded anticipation. That was always the worst; the worrying about the thousand different outcomes that were possible and being at the mercy of so many circumstances that were completely beyond my control. If you ask me, this was one of mankind’s greatest weaknesses; worrying, I mean. Maybe somewhere along the evolutionary path, it was a good thing. To me, it was a hindrance. Wow, now that I wrote that, I guess it really isn’t surprising that I feel that way.

  Everything seemed normal enough, but, in my bones, I swore that every Prog we passed had accusatory eyes.

  Paul and BT were making small talk. I had my hand resting comfortably on the pommel of my pistol. Didn’t look exactly natural, I mean, unless I was about to duel, then it looked plausible.

  “Isn’t that right, Colonel?” Paul elbowed me.

  “What…huh? Yeah, I suppose.”

  “You need to relax, Mike,” Paul said quietly.

  “They know,” I answered.

  “You’re just being paranoid.”

  “I’m a lot of things Paul; paranoid isn’t one of them. Well, shit, maybe it is, but it isn’t right now. I know the Progs, they’re…looking at us differently.”

  “Look around Colonel; no soldiers running around, no alarms. We’re fine.”

  “No, think about it, they know a good number of their people aren’t aboard and if they pull the alarms then we know they know and a fight ensues. My guess is that they’re going to wait until they are at full strength.”

  “You might want to look into some tinfoil hats or something.” BT was joking about my particular train of thought, right up until the doors opened up into the commander’s antechamber. There were a half dozen Progs there, and there was no doubt in any of our minds that they knew. There was a couple of seconds of awkward silence, and then the concussive force of an explosion pushed us all to the far right. I’d had the great fortune to have my progress stopped by the relatively soft body of a Progerian, he, on the other hand, had broken a slew of bones contacting the far wall. I’m sure me hitting him like a tackle dummy hadn’t helped matters. Now alarms were going. Paul was either unconscious or dead, I couldn’t tell. BT was shaking off the after-effects of his short, crash-landing trajectory.

  That left me and four dazed and confused Progs, two of which I disposed of quickly. The first had been my personal cushion, I shoved my gun up under its chin and fired, the second, like Paul, was out. I reached over placing the muzzle against his head and pulled the trigger. The third was standing up slowly. He may have been suffering from a concussion, but he was with it enough to realize what was going on. He looked toward the door as he dove for the cover of a large table. I took a quick shot, missing wildly. I was reacquainted with the idea of why it wasn’t a good thing to shoot high-speed projectiles in metal rooms. That bullet whined around for a good seven seconds before it ran out of steam. I think it passed in front of my eyes more than a couple of times.

  BT had swung his elbow hard into the Prog he was next to and blood was flowing from its snout. The Prog, in turn, had struck out, narrowly missing BT’s head. BT had a large, wicked-looking knife in his hand; he plunged that thing nearly hilt deep into the Prog’s chest. His teeth were clenched together as he put all of his weight into the strike. The Prog had attempted to repel him, but when all the air is forced from your lungs and the arteries from your heart are no longer circulating blood, it makes it exceedingly difficult to mount a defense.

  “You alright?” I shouted over the din.

  “Yep, not mine.” His hands and front of his chest were coated in blood.

  I pointed to the table off to our left. I inwardly winced when BT pulled out his weapon and there was a loud sucking sound followed immediately by a whooshing of escaping air.

  “There is no need for this!” the Prog shouted out.

  “We’re of a different mind; convince me otherwise,” I yelled back. Something was most definitely going on outside this ship and odds were she would not survive an attack from inside as well.

  “I am Sub-Commander Naridead.”

  I racked my brain trying to figure out who that was. Came up exceedingly empty—although, that’s not unusual.

  “Stand up Naridead, I’m not going to negotiate with someone I cannot see,” I said loudly.

  He did, too, without even asking if it was safe to do so. I mean, not even waiting for a disingenuous voicing that we wouldn’t harm him. BT looked over to me wondering if he should just send the bullet from the gun he pulled along so we could be on our way.

  “Do you know what happened here?” I asked.

  “I do. I was in the briefing when we received word from the home world that they would not honor the truce. I had told the commander
that the truce was a bad idea—not because I have a fundamental dislike for Humans, but rather because I correctly predicted that the home world would not agree with his stance and it would hurt his career aspirations.”

  “That's an understatement,” BT said aside to me.

  “Yeah, no one wants to elect a leader that’s collaborating with the enemy.” I sneered. “Get to the point, Naridead. Your kind don’t generally grovel, so I’m going to assume you have something to offer here.”

  “You have killed the three sub-commanders ahead of me, which now puts me in charge of this ship.”

  “I wouldn’t get too excited, life expectancy for commanders is pretty short,” BT said as he got into better position.

  “I can promise your safety,” Naridead said.

  “Yeah, we already turned that one down. Safety is a relative term at best, Naridead. That isn’t going to cut it. Setting us back down on our planet while you summon forces just doesn’t work out for us. I have a better idea. How about I promise your troops their safety? I’ll gladly put you all down on the surface, won’t harm a hair on your head, and I mean ever…as long as you don’t raise a hand against us, that is. But that’s not really your style, is it, Sub-Commander? You’ve been fucking up galaxies for so long I don’t think you know another way. Not really sure who I am to talk though, Man is a pretty hostile beast himself. Lord knows, if we had the ability to travel the stars I’m sure we’d be raining shit down on just about everyone we came into contact with, I mean, unless we came across a planet of Amazonian goddesses or some shit.”

  “Mike!” BT shouted. “You’re rambling.”

  “You wish us to leave?” Naridead seemed incredulous at the suggestion. “We easily have triple your numbers.”

  “Let’s get some facts straight before we start spewing them, okay? It makes us look ignorant when we start talking and we don’t know shit,” I stated. “First off, a good third of your ship’s crew is over at the Guardian. So that means it’s more like you have double our numbers. But here’s the tricky part, Naridead, your crew may be the best damned crew in the entire known universe, having won every space fight they’ve ever encountered, destroying dozens, if not hundreds of enemy ships—hell, you probably even have a huge trophy room displaying all your triumphs and that’s admirable, it really is. The problem, Naridead, is that this isn’t a space fight, this is a ground war. I mean sure, technically we’re in space, but we’re going to be fighting all up close and personal. I’ll bet you all the Drakkar you want that you don’t have half a dozen Progs on this ship that have ever done any serious hand to hand combat, whereas each and every one of my people is very skilled at the ways of war and death. So there’s the rub, Naridead. You can keep your numbers, for the little they’re worth. We will take this ship and it will be a bloodbath but it will be all your blood. If you need convincing, there are four of yours dead right here and now; don’t see one of us going with them into the afterlife.” Paul had grumbled something about not liking chalk filled pop-tarts earlier, I was fairly certain he was still alive.