* * * * *
It was over an hour since Paladin’s departure from the Mariner. As every second ticked by, Winslow’s mind sank further into despair, trapping him in a self-imposed prison that he could not escape from. Confusion beset him as well, as he saw no way out of the mess that was contrived from his own vanity and pride. Perhaps Paladin was totally right in denying the promotion of deputy commander to him, for even he now questioned his ability to lead.
Winslow readily showed his inadequacy as he ignored even the simplest of command requests from the bridge crew, preferring to flounder in the silence of self-pity. He was locked in his own purgatory, not able to think past his cowardice and disloyalty to Paladin and the fleet. However, the door to his cell was about to be sprung open.
“Captain Winslow!” the dark haired woman sitting at the communication’s position trumpeted out. “I’m receiving a transmission from the Crazy Horse on Secure Channel Three!”
For a moment, Winslow’s trance was broken. He thought he heard someone say something about the Crazy Horse, but he put it off to wishful thinking.
“Captain Winslow!” the woman repeated. “I’m receiving a transmission from the Crazy Horse!
“What?” Winslow managed, shaken from his stupor.
“I’m receiving a transmission from the Crazy Horse,” she toned down her excitement.
Winslow was mystified. “It can’t be? Are you sure?”
“Yes, Sir!” she passionately answered, “It’s Deputy Commander Wakinyan, himself!”
Winslow did not believe it, but he grasped at the hope like a rope thrown to a drowning man. “AUDIO ON!” he commanded.
After flicking a switch, the woman nodded an affirmative to the transceiver connection.
Angel Fire to Right Guard! We copy you!” Winslow was anxious, but still unsure. “We thought you were all dead! Over!”
“Hardly!” Wakinyan’s voice was unmistakable. “Where’s Commander Paladin?” the man pressed.
Winslow wavered for a moment, but then answered. “He went aboard the Morning Star about an hour ago to interrogate some saboteurs at the request of Mr. Damon.”
“DAMN IT!” swore Wakinyan over the loud speaker in a spurt of exasperation.
* * * * *
Chapter 19: The Deliverers
As Commander Paladin was “escorted” down a corridor of the Morning Star, the long hallway to the ship’s bridge became a gantlet of debasement for the elderly Martian fleet officer. Hard slaps struck his head a multitude of times, while pushing hands and punching fists staggered him forward in sporadic pain. Plasma rifle barrels were shoved and poked painfully deep into his back as a reminder to the handcuffed man of his helplessness. Yet, all this was done under the approving gaze of the smirking Colonel Galler.
However, as blood trickled from the mouth of Paladin’s bruised face, he still showed the pride and bravery that were apart of his spirit and long service. Even the sharpest tongues of his merciless captors, who mocked him with the foulest of insults, drew no response from the man, for he believed his spirit could never be destroyed.
But his humiliation began to digress beyond a tool to break him. It became a frenzy of hatred for the Earth loyalists who eagerly showed their contempt. One of his guards, seeing that the maltreatment was having little effect, became incensed. His boot quickly came up and drove hard into the aging officer’s stomach. Paladin crumpled to the floor in sudden agony. He was then rolled over and grabbed by his ankles as the guards laughed. The Earth loyalists then dragged their helpless prisoner the last hundred feet to the bridge’s hatch, and finally through it after it had opened.
“That’s enough of that!” Feoras Damon ordered as he watched Paladin hauled horizontally onto the bridge. “I want something left when that Earth fleet arrives.”
The guards then released Paladin’s ankles and pulled him to his feet. However, they held the man by his arms so he could not move. Damon regarded Paladin’s ruffled appearance and smiled. The two men’s eyes then locked.
“Why are you doing this? Paladin managed out. “Why are you betraying your own people?”
For a moment, Damon cocked his head back in thought. “Why indeed.” Feoras paused again. “Because I’m an Omni-Solarist!” the man stated bluntly. “Mankind’s survival depends upon an all-powerful central government. As a species, we face the threat of extinction by alien races and other forces in the universe. Breaking away from The Order would be—suicide.”
“Ever person has the right to make their own decisions—to choose their own destiny!” Paladin became angry. “They’re not some damn inanimate object to be used for your will—or pleasure!”
Damon became annoyed at the Martian officer’s ideals. “Don’t give me any of that individual rights bullshit, or that all men are created equal. The masses have only the rights that we give them. As individuals, their lives are mundane and meaningless. Only when they serve a true political purpose does their existence have any significance.”
”You talk about people as if they’re lower than the dirt on your shoes, and yet, you couldn’t subsist without them, could you? What kind of rationale does your superior mind come to about that?” Paladin was unwavering. “Every ascending being has the ability to transcend the circumstances of their life. It is their link to the Divine. And make no mistake about it, rights—come from God!”
“Don’t make me laugh! There is no God!” Feoras amusingly confided his lack of belief. If he did, he wouldn’t make men like me,” he chuckled with a sneer. “One day, a man like me will rule this universe!” Damon outstretched his arms to emphasize his point.
Paladin, however, was unshakeable. “Who made you this way—is yourself! And your future is no question. It’s going to be a sure one-way trip to hell!”
Damon’s face went back to a smile. “Perhaps, but the road to hell is paved with gold—and built with power! And I, for one, will enjoy the ride!”
Unexpectedly, however, the hatch to the bridge slid open and Captain Omar Khalid then strode in.
“Ah, I see our party is complete,” Damon said as he spied the captain of the Mir. “Are you ready to assume command of the fleet, Captain—or should I say—Commander Khalid?”
“Ready, Mr. Damon!” Khalid announced happily. “By the way, I’ve been listening on our communication’s net. Wakinyan is dead!” he announced with a chuckle. “Denko reported that the Crazy Horse was destroyed in battle!” his mind misinterpreted Denko’s actual words.
“Excellent!” Damon was pleased.
“I’ve waited for a long time for that savage to die!” Khalid confessed. “I can just imagine his body out there—floating in space!”
* * * * *
As the Crazy Horse sped up to engage its hyper-engines, a space-suited Wakinyan, Major Franks, and two platoons of Martian Marines strapped themselves in a compartment where the hull was thoroughly breached and opened to space with impact harnesses that were hastily mounted to its bulkhead. This was their jump-off point after they reached the Morning Star. It was a major part of the rescue plan. The position was chosen to afford maximum protection for the raiders as well as concealment.
Franks was in awe of Wakinyan’s audacity and tactical mind. “You know something, Wakinyan? You’re crazy enough to be a marine,” he said as he watched objects in space zipping by.
“I assume you meant that as a compliment, Major,” Richard responded through his microphone.
“Yes, Sir, it was,” Franks’ face sported a huge grin. “It’s a good plan. I just hope Winslow gave us the exact coordinates of the Morning Star.”
“Try not to think about it,” Wakinyan reassured.
“Somehow that’s not going to help the lump in my throat,” Franks nervously remarked. “I just don’t under stand why we don’t use boarding pods.”
Suddenly, a small piece of rock punched a hole through a raised hull plate above the two men.
“With the shie
lds occasionally malfunctioning, I think the pods are a little safer than this!”
“If it means anything—I agree. But regardless of how close we get to them in a pod, they’ll still detect us. This way, the bastards won’t know that we’re aboard their ship—until it’s too late. It will give Paladin and the others a chance before Damon and his lot can act.”
“I’ve always hated that political scumbag. If he’s hurt Commander Paladin, I’ll cut his heart out!”
“Not if I do it first!”
Without warning, a fluid, medium blue haze began to form around perimeter of the Martian destroyer. The mist of energy became more intense and swiftly advanced closer to the ship with every passing second.
“What the hell is that?” an unrecognizable voice cried out over the intercom as the signal began to break up.
“Hang on!” Wakinyan warned all, “We’re about to jump into hyperspace!”
Finally, both the compartment and the marines took up the glow of the man-made aurora. In a flash of bursting energy, the Crazy Horse vanished into the swirling fields of a dimensional wormhole.
* * * * *
The bridge crew of the Morning Star went about their normal routines as Damon, Khalid, and Galler held a whispered conversation. Paladin, now seated and tended by a single guard, tried to listen in, but the hum and chatter of operating equipment and instruments drown out their scheming. The more they talked, however, the more his curiosity intensified. It seemed that nothing out of the ordinary was happening, let alone a large-scale mutiny.
“I thought you were taking over the fleet?” Paladin called out to the three traitors.
The somewhat startled men turned and paused to the voice that taunted them. But Damon mouth’s sprung to a grin.
“All things in their proper time, Commander,” the administrator answered. “We’re quietly positioning our ships throughout the fleet, along with disabling as many of the transports’ hyper-drives as we can. We’d prefer minimal bloodshed when we take complete control.”
“Minimal bloodshed?” Paladin repeated in disbelief.
“Of course,” Damon was more than happy to divulge their plans. “We’ll have to destroy any ship that will not follow orders, and regretfully that includes civilian.”
“And when will that happen?” Paladin’s inquiry was toned in anger.
“Why just as soon as the Earth fleet arrives. We would be vastly outnumbered otherwise,” Damon edified.
Paladin glared at the trio with total contempt. “You murdering bastards!”
Although Damon snickered at the remark, Khalid, however, was less forgiving of the insult. Instead, he broke away quickly from his fellow co-conspirators, and in great strides, reached Paladin in a few seconds. Omar lifted his hand onto an arch and then struck the older officer across the face as hard as he could with his palm. The sound of the blow crackled loudly. Paladin’s head jerked to the violent impact of Omar’s hand, while blood from an earlier facial wound sprayed the air in small droplets.
Paladin slowly turned his head back. Blood once again was running from his mouth, but he ignored it along with the new pain. “Why don’t you have a couple of your goons hold me down so you can do a proper job!” the defiant Martian officer dared his tormentor in his electronic voice. “You were never much on guts or a real fight, Omar!”
Khalid venomously glared at Paladin. His lips disappeared into a narrow slit and were locked tight by the tenseness of the traitor’s jaw. The words of the old Martian officer were filled with truth, and Omar hated him for it.
Coldly Khalid raised his hand to strike the bound and sitting man with a harder blow, however; the ship’s warning lights began to pulse hurriedly in ominously red, while a collision alarm sounded an urgent wail of distress.
“CAPTAIN, THERE’S A SHIP COMING OUT OF HYPERSPACE!” the Morning Star’s sensor crewman cried out. “IT’S GOING TO OPEN UP RIGHT ON TOP OF US!”
Captain Jacobs dashed to the crewman’s position to have a look for himself. As both men eyed the instruments, the looming threat now became quite clear.
In a dazzling display of swirling neon colors, the hyper dimensional jump-point opened a short distance from the anchored cruise ship. The wormhole then shot out a blurry silhouette that transformed into the reality of a battered Dolphin class Martian destroyer. She was charred, dented, and breached. Her atmosphere was slowly draining away in streams of particles of crystallized ice, which accented her fast acceleration.
“CAPTAIN, SHE’S IN A COLLISION COURSE WITH US!” the crewman yelled.
“WARN HER OFF!” Jacobs barked in return.
“I’M TRYING TO HAIL HER, BUT SHE’S NOT RESPONDING! HER COMMUNICATIONS MUST BE DAMAGED!”
“SOUND GENERAL QUARTERS!” Jacobs frantically ordered.
There was no time, however, for the anchored ship to fire up her engines as the death of the Morning Star appeared immanent. Frozen in fear, no one uttered a single word as the seemingly out-of-control and speeding Martian destroyer drew closer to the Morning Star’s portside. All were consumed by a starfarer’s worst nightmare as they waited for the massive impact and explosion that was sure to follow.
But the warship unexpectedly veered slightly away from the suicidal course while its braking thrusters burned exceedingly bright. The destroyer swerved back and forth fighting for its survival, as its velocity rapidly slowed.
Still, an impact came. It sent the Morning Star’s entire bridge crew sprawling to the floor, as a portion of the ship’s outer metal hull was crushed and bent in a long and disharmonious howling vibration. Some screamed as lights flickered on and off, loose pieces of ceiling and walling flew in different directions, and a surge of power burned up some equipment in smoke and flame. Yet surprisingly—no one died.
After a minute, the bridge crew of the Morning Star picked themselves up and began to ascertain what had happened. However, Wakinyan and his marines did not hesitate for an instant. Although shakened, the rescuers were already out of their harnesses and moving down the blind side of the Crazy Horse to where the two ships had merged as one. They brought with them welding equipment, modified repair plates, and long thick air hoses that were attached to the destroyer’s air pumps.
A frightened, but composed Captain Khalid rose to his feet and stumbled to the sensor crewman’s position along with Jacobs, Damon, and Galler.
“What the status of our ship?” a calmer Captain Jacobs questioned the crewman.
“We’ve taken some hull damage in the bow, near the third contour line. Some systems are down because of cut cables, but otherwise we’re intact!” the crewman answered.
“Thank God!” Jacobs sighed in relief.
Khalid, however, was not as forgiving. “I have that captain executed for this!” he angrily bellowed. “What’s the ID of that ship?” he demanded to know.
The sensor crewman glanced at his readout. “The I-F-F identifies her as the Lee, and she’s badly shot up!”
“The Lee,” Galler was in disbelief. “I thought Denko reported her destroyed with the Crazy Horse?”
“I don’t care!” Khalid asserted. “Who’s ever responsible is going to pay dearly for this!”
As an inspection of the Morning Star’s systems and integrity began in earnest as all minds forgot about the prisoner they carried. None of the traitors paid Paladin any attention as he stared out the porthole at the shot up destroyer that was impaled into the liner.
His eyes roamed the damaged ship as he gave a prayer of thanks for its safe return. And then he spotted something surprising. A smile slowly grew on Paladin’s lips, as his eyes locked on two faded and slightly dirty large blue squares that were painted on the starboard side of the warship. The squares were opened on the bottom and symbolized an ancient American Indian prayer: for God to let the destroyer fall upon its enemies like hailstones. He also knew that the red arrow emboldened on the other side of the Crazy Horse, was an accompanying appeal
for swiftness in battle. Paladin happily recalled Wakinyan’s explanation of the lore of his heritage—and Paladin’s smile broadened. He then came to agree with Khalid, someone was about to pay dearly for this.
* * * * *
Chapter 20: Beaten into the Dust
The boarding of the Morning Star not only went completely unobserved as planned, but the progression through the ship was going faster than anticipated. As the Martian raiding party rapidly flowed through the darkness in single file, Sergeant Gagarin—pointman—kept them moving at a brisk stride.
The raiders entered the ship in the collision’s breach and found the duct they knew was there from records located in Crazy Horse’s data base. Using repair panels and welding equipment, the marines quickly sealed themselves in, leaving only two squads to secure the outer entrance. A massive hose line was mounted to one of the panels. Through it, the air pumps of the Crazy Horse began to supply air for the pressurization of the maintenance channel. This was necessary not only for a fast exit out of the shaft and into the ship, but to ensure that sealed integrity of the space liner was not jeopardized. There were still many innocent people aboard, and Wakinyan wanted to give them every chance for survival.
Wakinyan’s thoughts, however, were transfixed in the fire of hate as he and the Martian Marines hustled through the maintenance shaft. The appalling act of betrayal by Damon and his followers infuriated the Lakota warrior beyond his capacity. To Wakinyan, it was nothing less than the worse kind of cowardice camouflaged by treachery. In his mind, there was only one answer for it.
After a few minutes, Gagarin reached the second waypoint of their march. He then threw up a hand to halt the column, which was quickly followed by two upheld fingers as an indication of achieving the route point.
On his signal, each marine check a gauge on their space suit that tested the density and content of the atmosphere around them. In hurried gesture, each marine motioned with a “thumbs up” to let the next person behind them know that it was breathable.
“Ground it!” commanded Major Franks’ voice over each headset. With the order, each marine began to shed their cumbersome space suit down to their tight fitting and pocketed battle fatigues. Once freed from the suit, the heavily armed and equipped raiders then began moving forward at a faster pace.