Nova (31 page)

On the far right were two Human and one Irdoi bodies, all
slumped together under the still running, sporadic spray of the tilted shower–head
above. It was hard to say where each individual ended and another began, so
mangled were torsos and limbs, with the slick–white of bone bursting through
viscous crimson, and melding with mud–colored blood and water soaked cloth.

Just a foot and a half or so away lay a Vosaia, face down in
the sweep of shallow water, her skull a concave of pale skin, delicate bone,
and oozing salmon–colored soft–tissue. With one arm draped over the Vosaia in
what resembled a cruel–parody of a lover’s embrace, was a red–uniformed
Karukai. The bent and bloodied rifle–haft that had caused the Vosaia’s skull–crushing
injury still in the Karukai’s fingers despite her riddled left collarbone and
death’s grip.

To the left and towards the drawers was a young Gorath, damp
chocolate–brown fur matted, right leg so shot up that only a ropy train of
sticky sinew still attached limb to body. Given the state of decay, Captain
Serros was immensely grateful for the helmets that the two Nova members wore. Gear
that provided contained air and protection from the smell of putrefying death
that she knew surrounded them like a persistent cancer, waiting to bleed into senses
and soul alike.

For a moment, Avara felt her vision go hazy with wrath and
grief for the fallen. She had witnessed similar atrocities before, during the
Battle of Arden Secundus and especially during the Margrom War. Entire colonies
attacked and sacked, Humans of all ages, from newborns still nursing to elders
in their twilight years, ripped from their homes and placed into labor and
Feeding Camps. Distributed to Karukai slave–contractors for sale to citizens
within the Eternal Imperium as the rightful spoils of war.

 Left or right, neither escape nor succor could be found
from the grizzly tableau. Captain Serros and Lieutenant Z’arr’s pistol–lights
created illuminated snap–shots of images frozen in place, vignettes of
desperate horror and unforgiving death that Avara knew would forever haunt them
both.

“Over here; look.” K’llan called a moment later, and Avara
could hear the choked repulsion in her voice.

Moving to where she was pointing, Serros caught sight of two
final corpses, these dressed in crimson–accented, ash gray uniforms. Moving
forward and bending over the still forms, the Captain caught a flash of
hairless gray skin and black–pooled, lifeless eyes. In form, they resembled
Karukai, thought slightly shorter than the race’s average height. Yet no muted
red swirls or patterns graced their delicate, stone–colored skin.

After a minute’s study, the Shield Operative verbally
confirmed what both women knew to be true.  “Karukai clones.”

Also pejoratively termed “Greys,” Karukai clones represented
yet another social and cultural practice that most within the Quorum Systems
found to be repugnant. Greys were mass–bred primarily from Karukai DNA, though
with Vosaia and Human as well on occasion, Irdoi and Mymren genetic codes also
utilized. All to create sturdier genetic variation and strains.

The clones served two key purposes in Karukai society.
First, such clones acted as valuable yet disposable shock troops, often forming
the front attack–line of Karukai actions, especially those dependent on numeric
superiority. Though not at all capable of original thought or strategic
application, Greys were unswervingly loyal, followed orders without question
and were also all but devoid of fear, making clone units a devastating device
on the field of battle.

The second function Greys served for the Karukai, was that
they acted as a portable food source, whether at home or, most importantly, in
the field. Though considered to be barely higher in satiation value and ratio
than the bland Vitani Serum that most non–bonded Vosaia existed upon on a daily
basis, Karukai clones acted as ever–ready, living field rations.

Of course, moral implications aside, the disadvantage to such
cloning was that their lifecycle was extremely short. Three years maximum, with
six months required for basic physical conditioning of fine motor control, as
well as military training and drilling. The encoding of data and skill can only
extend so far, after all. So in the end, the useful lifespan of clones tended
to be no more than a little over two years before complete physical and
neurological breakdown occurs.

Looking at the dead woman lying on the floor before her,
Avara felt a stab of rage almost equal to her fury over the other lifeless souls
they had already come across.

For most known races and cultures, the practice of cloning
to create fully self–aware sentients rather than individual organs or corporeal
materials for medical application, was considered to be utterly abhorrent and
lacking in basic decency. Indeed, such practice was outlawed within the Quorum
Aligned Systems.

It was debatable as to which was more cruel: the practice of
slavery of once free or captive–born individuals, or the genetic farming of
people whose only purpose that they could even comprehend, was to spend their
brief existence in servitude and as sustenance before the unmourned flame of
their life’s–light was extinguished.

Fucking Vamps
.

The pejorative phrase scorched across Captain Serros’s mind like
a forest–blaze as she considered how very appropriate the Old–Terran
mythological appellation was.

“We need to be sure to record everything we find; the Human
Ministry and the Quorum will need to know.” Avara finally spoke into the
silence, her voice harsh even to her own ears within the confines of her helm.

“Yes.” K’llan agreed, her soprano steel–touched. The two quickly
and efficiently scanned every hateful scene and scrap of evidence before
exiting the showers. They then moved down Deck 6’s main corridor to continue
their increasingly futile search for survivors and gather any more useful
intelligence. Unfortunately, there was no relief to be found beyond the
remaining doors of the hallway.

It quickly became apparent that the other entryways, about a
dozen in total, were all prison cells where slaves were held captive for
transport. And all along the thoroughfare itself were scores of corpses, many
clearly prisoners, but several also Karukai and Greys.

From the body count as well as the severe damage that the
walls, ceilings, and floors had sustained, it was obvious that a vicious and
bloody battle had taken place here. There was hardly a span greater than a foot
in length that was untouched by bullet fire.

Avara found that a sucking sound accompanied each lift of
booted feet as the two walked, their soles half–sticking to the viscous blood that
basted the dusky floors. Male, female, youth and elder; Human, Vosaia, Gorath,
Irdoi, Braxien, and even a single gold–green scaled Shiraneth. All were present.
Each taken captive by the Karukai raiding ship that so observably focused on
the reaping of slaves.

Making their way to the second to last cell on their right,
Serros and Z’arr came upon a particularly chilling spectacle. Eight or so
individuals, primarily Human, all lying on the cell’s floor and set into
positions of what could only be described as extreme agony.

One pale man’s hands were swollen with bruising, and dried
blood covered knuckles, fingers, wrists and forearms as well as being licked
along the wall directly next to the cell door. The wounds were inflicted from
punching the surface of the cell’s door and adjacent wall over and over again
in an effort to escape.

A younger woman, no more than twenty years in age, sported
bloody tracks along her cheeks and neck, clearly self–inflicted. Her face was
marked with an expression of passionate desperation that unless directly
experienced, the imagination can only barely grasp. The extremely blood–shot
state of each prisoner’s eyes gave unwelcome answer to the mystery.

Faced with an outbreak, the Karukai had vented the cell to
prevent escape and the slaves had spent their last minutes in a struggle as
desperate as it was futile: to capture life–giving oxygen.

Again fighting a vision–blackening swell of fury, Serros
felt the firm grip of K’llan’s armored hand on her shoulder. For just a moment,
Avara was swept up within the Vosaia’s own feelings of life–rending rage and
deep pain from all that they had witnessed in a matter of hours. Yet the
sentiment was soon submerged within the very real, life–sustaining balm of
gentle yet enduring support and affection that embraced Serros’s heart and
mind. With a deliberate offering, Avara extended her own feelings of care and
regard, sustaining the Vosaia in turn as she herself was buoyed.

After the passage of several weighted seconds, Avara found
herself able to nod an affirmative, and the two continued their exploration. Finally,
Avara and K’llan had completed their circuit through the horror–filled hallway
and Serros keyed Nova’s Comm channel.     

 “This is Captain Serros. We’ve completed our sweep of Deck
6. We’ve located thirty–six bodies. Twenty–seven prisoners of various races,
nine Karukai and Karukai Clones. No survivors.” It was hard, but Serros managed
to keep her voice steady during the report, if barely.

“Acknowledged, Captain.” Commander Perez replied a moment
later. “No survivors here either. Nine dead, all Karukai. We’ve found a record
of what occurred, a Captain S’val’s log. Apparently a group of recently captured
Humans from the merchantman
Baton Rouge
organized an escape. Two became
or pretended to be extremely ill, and so were removed to Med Bay. They then
orchestrated the escape by infiltrating Engineering, spliced into Systems, and
cut power. The cut opened up some of the cells. Apparently, the on–ship battle
went back and forth for close to three days.” Marcus spoke in his
"Commander’s" voice; professional and precise, yet Avara could hear
the carefully managed strain.

“Captain, the report is consistent with what we’ve found in
Engineering.” Lieutenant Rygel’s shell–shocked voice broke in. “Fifteen dead. Half
the systems have been sliced to Hell and back. Drives were deliberately torn
apart; my guess, to keep her from going anywhere. No survivors.”

“And there’s more. We found the body of Captain Mayweather;
it appears she led the initiative here.” Ca’rrakk growled.

“S’val’s log also identifies Dantis as the cargo drop–off
point. Specifically, a location titled Outpost J2.” Naxos reported.

“There are no coordinates listed for this outpost; appears that
they were deliberately wiped.” Marcus supplemented.

“Understood. Rygel, how close are you to bandaging the
ship’s systems?”

“I’m sorry to say it, Captain, but there’s no bandage big
enough to bring the
Ardent
fully on–line; there’s just been too much
damage. It would take a tow and two month’s dry dock.” Dane answered,
frustration clear.

“Okay. Do what you can to get the basics stabilized so she
doesn’t blow or crash to the planet’s surface. We’re going to call in to get
this boat tugged for scrutiny.” Captain Serros answered in a cool tone of
reassurance. “Marcus, I want you to retrieve every scrap of data you…”

Serros’s sentence was interrupted by an ear exploding
gah–boom
that sounded throughout the ship and was accompanied by a bone–rattling quake
that knocked both Avara and K’llan off their feet. The former slammed into the
deck’s port wall only to be crashed into a split–second later by K’llan.

Shaking her head, Serros was certain the only reason her
brains weren’t dribbling out of her ears at the impact was her helmet. With a
skidding–stumble, she forced herself to her feet even as successive detonations
threatened to tear away the floor once more.

With one hand bodily lifting Z’arr from the quaking ground,
Serros snapped out, “Nova, report!”

“Captain… we’re alright… systems are totally off–line.”
Marcus’s voice answered seconds later, tone vibrating with the shaking tremors
rocking the
Ardent
.

“Acknowledged. Lieutenant Rygel, report. Dane… Ca’rrakk!”
Serros repeated, still not receiving an answer.

Finally, the Gorath’s husky voice rasped over the Comm.
“Here, Captain. Some kind of timed explosion… Rygel identified the trap a
moment before detonation. Everything is completely out of commission here. He’s
unconscious, but I have him.”

“Avara, the explosion seems to have initiated at the docking
tube. It’s completely blown!” Perez chimed in. “I’m getting no answer from
Avernus
Corp
.”

“Okay team,” Avara began, K’llan and she already moving
towards the maintenance shaft and ladder. “Get to Deck 2 and the escape pods
immediately
.
K’llan said they just needed a quick repair. Unless I miss my guess, we’re
running out of time.”

“Got it!” Marcus answered.

“Acknowledged and moving.” Ca’rrakk seconded.

“Captain Serros, what’s your status, please?” Lieutenant
Commander Adeline’s voice cut in over the channel.

“Here, A. Ship’s half–torn to Hell; docking tube’s gone and
we’re making for the escape pods. How’s
Excalibur
?” Serros asked the last
as she and the Vosaia began their journey up through the dying ship’s arteries.

“We have taken a significant amount of damage. The hull is
ruptured on Decks 1 and 12, though emergency shields have locked.
Communications and Sensors are down and Batteries 1 and 2 are blown. Still
assessing casualties.” Ever the professional, Diana’s voice was as measured as was
typical, but Serros could detect the contained strain behind her careful
pronunciation.

“Focus on the hull–breach and sensors, Diana; communication
is secondary since we don’t want the wrong people listening if we’re not up to
greeting hostiles. The ship is definitely Karukai and military; slavers. There
were no survivors.”

Avara said the last just seconds before both she and Z’arr
slipped several feet down the ladder they were climbing, due to yet
another
explosion–initiated toss of the
Ardent
. Catching first herself with her right
hand and then the Vosaia’s in a bone–mashing left handed grip, Avara slammed
into the back wall of the narrow shaft with crushing force. Hands numb with the
effort, the Shield Operative was able to maintain her dual–hold and then swing K’llan
back to the metal rungs.