Project Starfighter (25 page)

“And even if they didn’t, we
know for certain that Mal was nowhere near that base. The man is
powerful, and once we rid ourselves of the mercenaries, that man
could pose our next biggest problem. His cult is growing daily. We’re
discovering and eliminating recruiters far more frequently now than
ever before. Even people like Krass Tyler are scared of him.”

“I was just on my way to survey
the remains of the asteroid group,” Kethlan said, turning his back
on the drones and bots that were sifting through the remains of the
tower, and sorting materials. “I will report in as soon as I find
anything of significant interest.”

“I look forward to it,” Overlook
said, tapping more ash from his cigarette. He then turned and started
back towards the Fer-de-Lance, his body shimmering before it faded
out and vanished completely.

Kethlan boarded his fighter once
more and headed skyward.

~

Kethlan
steered his Fer-de-Lance carefully through the sea of tumbling rocks
that was the Alpaca Group. He had studied the history of the group
before he had arrived, finding it now a little different. There were
fewer large rocks, the most obvious omission being the asteroid that
had been home to New Chile. With it gone, there were many smaller
rocks and larger quantities of dust, the result of the asteroids
having smashed into one another when the nuclear missiles had gone
off and flung everything aside.

Kethlan glanced at his radar, seeing
the Talons that continued to act as his escort keeping up with him.
Other craft could be seen sifting through the debris, shuttling the
remains of the
Grand Vizier
and re-usable parts of the
mercenaries’ former stronghold back to a freighter. A corvette held
position nearby, as did a mixed squadron of other WEAPCO craft.

Kethlan spied a body being scooped
up by an astral drone, the machine taking it in its arms and
transporting it back to the freighter. The body was that of a small
girl. She would have somehow survived the nuclear attack on the
asteroid, only to have been spaced as the asteroid had come apart. He
felt no pity.

“Commander Kethlan,” a
mechanical voice came over his comms. His computer system identified
it as belonging to a drone by the name of XS-0067132, the clean-up
coordinator.

“Go ahead,” Kethlan answered it.

“We have found a survivor.”

A survivor? Kethlan was a little
surprised. “Give me more details.”

“A Wolf Pack mercenary, wearing a
space suit. Male. He possibly ejected from his spacecraft.”

“You are certain that he is
alive?” Kethlan asked.

“The subject is breathing but is
currently unconscious. Minor cranial trauma. His spacesuit appears to
have allowed for up to twenty-four hours’ worth of oxygen.”

“Good. Take him to the
Reliant
,”
Kethlan said. “I will talk to him myself.” He swung his fighter
around and started out of the asteroid field, the Talons clinging
close to his flight path as always. As he exited the cluster of
rocks, he tapped away at his fighter’s computer console, opening a
communication channel to Overlook.

“I have located a mercenary
survivor,” he told the man. “I will be interrogating him aboard
the
Reliant
shortly.”

“Good work, Commander,” Overlook
returned. “I will join you.”

~

The
medical bots had stripped the man almost naked. Much of his body,
including his face, was covered in tattoos. The inks were black and
red in colour, not unlike the rest of his body now, Kethlan mused.
After proving that the injury to the man’s head was not
life-threatening, and any other wounds he had sustained had been
patched up, the WEAPCO commander had ordered the machines to torture
him.

Ironic, perhaps, but there was a
methodology to torture, one that involved inflicting as much pain and
discomfort as one could, without threatening the subject’s life.
The man – locked in a chair, his hands restrained up by his head,
his legs and feet fixed in place – was remarkably resilient.
Kethlan was impressed. Most that were subjected to the commander’s
preferred method of information extraction caved within minutes. If
this kept up, they would need to hook the mercenary up to the mind
scanners and extract the details that way, instead.

But that took time, led to wildly
varying results (such as intentional misinformation and even blocking
in strong-willed individuals – Ursula Lexx was one, for sure), and
could even reduce the subject to a vegetative state. No, Kethlan
would prefer the man to turn over the details willingly.

Overlook was smoking another
cigarette. “It doesn’t have to be this way, you know,” he said
to the mercenary. “If you’ve had enough, just let us know. We’ll
stop, you can tell us what we want to know, and then you can leave.”

“Go to hell,” the man said,
before spitting a great globule of saliva in the direction of the two
men, which splattered to the ground at Kethlan’s feet. Kethlan gave
Overlook a look that suggested they leave the mercenary to the bots
for another ten minutes. Overlook ignored him for now. He clearly
didn’t want to do that just yet.

“I have only a handful of simple
questions for you,” Overlook said. “Answer them, and the pain
will end.”

The mercenary simply spat again,
this time more forcefully, Kethlan had to lean out of the way of the
spittle. The mercenary grinned. “So, at least one of you is real,”
he said. “I thought I was seeing things when that one materialized
in the room, like some sort of goddamn magician.” He nodded at
Overlook.

Kethlan was growing bored. “Talk!”
he commanded.

“No.”

“I said start talking!”

The mercenary simply smirked his
response, and Kethlan appealed again to Overlook to allow him to go
to the next level. Overlook gave him the nod he wanted.

“Cut off his left toes,” Kethlan
instructed the bots. “One at a time.”

The machines did as ordered, using
saws and hammer-like implements, rather than laser cutting tools. A
laser would end the process far sooner than was desired. The
mercenary cried out as each of his toes were systemically crushed and
removed, the wounds being cauterized soon after. To his credit, the
mercenary did not lose consciousness, only breathing hard, sweat
appearing on his brow, and running down his face.

“This fun for you?” the
mercenary asked, once the bots had completed their task.

“I will ask you one question,”
Kethlan said. “If you answer it truthfully, we will take some of
the pain away. If you lie, we will do the same to your right foot.
Understand?”

The mercenary gave a short,
detectable nod of understanding.

“Good. What is your name?”
Kethlan asked.

“Jerri Tapper,” the man said.

Kethlan motioned to one of the bots
hovering close to the mercenary. The machine administered the man
with a mild sedative, and his tense facial expression immediately
began to relax. The pain had lifted a little. It would still be
there, as a dull ache, but not nearly as full on as before.

“See? That wasn’t so hard, was
it, Jerri?” Kethlan said. “Now, who do you work for?”

“The Wolf Pack,” Jerri said.

“
Specifically
,” Kethlan
emphasised. “What is the name of your boss?”

Jerri remained mute.

“It’s no skin off my nose,”
Kethlan said. “Could be plenty off yours, though. And more
besides.” The WEAPCO commander repeated the question, despite
actually already knowing the answer, and still the man refused to
indulge them. Kethlan looked again at Overlook, who, after a pause,
gave him the nod.
Not going soft on me, are you, Erik?

“Cut off his right toes,”
Kethlan instructed the bots. “Skill level one,” he added.

“Krass Tyler! Krass Tyler!”
Jerri screamed halfway through the procedure. The bots had been
rougher with their work this time, spilling a great deal more blood
and intentionally making a botch job of removing the toes. They
stopped as soon as they were told, leaving the mercenary with just
his little toe and the one next to it.

“Good. Where is he?” Kethlan
asked.

“I don’t know,” the mercenary
shook his head. His hands were shaking a little in their restraints.

“Cut—” Kethlan began.

“Wait,” Overlook interrupted. He
looked back at the mercenary. “Why won’t you tell us where he
is?”

“Because I don’t know,” Jerri
said, sweat continuing to bead on his forehead. “And that’s the
honest-to-God truth. Last time I saw him was when I was fighting the
Grand Vizier
, to defend New Chile. I ejected when the damn
thing took aim at me. I never saw the Pack after the battle. I think
they abandoned me, even though I radioed to them for help.”

Overlook and Kethlan exchanged
looks. The explanation was fair. No other mercenaries had been
sighted around Ceradse since their base had gone up. They had clearly
fled the system.

“Where might he have gone?”
Kethlan asked. “Hail? Hinstag? Joldar? Moebo? Another system
altogether? Eyananth?” he added, as the man said nothing. “If you
are worried about what Tyler might do to you if you betray him, I can
promise you that it is nothing compared to what will happen here if
you don’t cooperate.”

No more words from Jerri, and so the
bots finished off the last of his toes.

“You’ve lost your toes,”
Overlook said. “If you want to keep your fingers, your ears, your
nose, and your eyes, you will answer the rest of our questions. We
are looking for three people in particular – Chris Bainfield, Sid
Wilson, and Phoebe Lexx. We know that you were harbouring Bainfield
and Wilson for a number of weeks, and that they played a part in the
attack on the Spire, and the destruction of the
Grand Vizier
.
Where did they go?”

“
I told you
,” Jerri said,
sweat rolling down his face, forming drops on his chin. “I don’t
know. I was
unconscious
! Where everyone went, I have no idea.
They could have flown down to hell itself, for all I know.” The man
was quivering a little from the pain.

It seemed to Overlook that Jerri
truly did have nothing more to tell them. Kethlan, however, wasn’t
satisfied. He ordered the bots to continue their work, removing
Jerri’s fingers, his ears, and finally his nose. Overlook did not
stop him, although the man was clearly struggling with his desire to.
Jerri lost consciousness at one point. The bots brought him back
around, and continued. Finally finished, Overlook had the man cast
out into space, to finish what Kethlan had started.

~

Before
he died, Jerri revealed a few snatches of useful information.
Bainfield had been piloting the Firefly, the fighter stolen from
WEAPCO. He had apparently requested its recovery specifically. Wilson
had hacked the missing drone, XS-0017811, which was how the
mercenaries had learned about Mission 3412. The leads were small, but
it was good enough for Overlook.

“It is possible that Bainfield and
Wilson have taken refuge around Hail,” Overlook opined. “Apparently
they were both keen to know what has become of their precious little
Resistance, and we know that there was activity around that planet
that can be traced back to the beginnings of the uprising. You are to
look for the two men there, Commander.

“When you find them, you are to
show them no mercy. Tyler, neither. They are a threat to our
continued existence and must be eliminated as soon as possible.”

“Yes, sir,” Kethlan said. “I
will investigate Hail immediately. If they are not there, I will
extend the search to Eyananth. If Bainfield is keen to reinvigorate
the Resistance and start another uprising, I may be able to set a
trap for him.”

“Just make sure both of them are
killed. A man capable of taking down a squadron of Talons and a Star
Killer-class frigate should not be underestimated,” Overlook said.
“I will report back to the CEO. Contact me again when you know
more.”

Overlook’s image flickered out of
existence, leaving Kethlan alone with the bots. He started back to
his Fer-de-Lance, certain that at some point he would have to kill
Chris Bainfield. But not immediately. Something about the man
intrigued him. While Kethlan had enjoyed his time playing with Jerri
and finding out just how hard he could push him, destroying his body
as well as his mind, he did not quite see himself doing the same to
Bainfield. He would seek the young pilot out first, test him, and
find out what made him tick.

For Kline Kethlan, worthy opponents
were rare, hard to find. Human ones even less so.

“
C
hris,
you might want to see this,” Sid called.

“What is it?” Chris asked,
entering the bridge. “Trouble?” It had taken the
Dodger
four hours to complete the jump from Spirit to Eyananth. They had
been in Eyananth for barely twenty minutes now. Chris couldn’t
believe that WEAPCO had come after them so soon. The freighter wasn’t
even a quarter of the way done with its covert transformation
process, either.

“Not trouble, no,” Sid said,
without looking up from the console he was hunched over. “A
distress call.”

“Was it directed at us?”

“No, it’s being broadcast
globally. It’s coming from a woman called Phoebe Lexx, who is
claiming to be being pursued by WEAPCO fighters. She’s calling for
someone to help her.” Sid looked up at Chris, appearing somewhat
unconvinced. Clearly, he was thinking the same thing as Chris –
this was a trap.

Chris folded his arms. Lexx. Why did
that name sound familiar? Had he heard it mentioned somewhere before?
Whatever it was, WEAPCO would be after him and Sid, that was for
sure. They had stolen a starfighter and freighter, and had also
assisted a band of mercenaries in taking down one of the
Corporation’s most prized warships. He would bet anyone a beer that
his name would be near the top of their Most Wanted list. Actually,
two beers. He was likely Public Enemy Number One by now.