Thorann Dert entered the briefing room. It also functioned as the observation deck of the ship they traveled on. The Collider. It was the largest of the fleet, under the direct control of Admiral Runish.
Runish stood to attention as he entered the room, extending a hand to one of the few empty seats. He was the youngest of everyone in the room, Thorann included. What he lacked in life experience, he made up for in cunning, or so the whispers said. Those same whispers, however, spoke of undeserved promotions due to political intrigue. That, and a heavy dose of nepotism. Those particular words were to remain concealed under hushed breath.
Behind him were two insectoids, who had become common among the ship. Each of them stood to attention with their rifles at the ready. Two hands gripped weapons, while their free hands rested at their sides. Ugly creatures, with large eyes. They made frequent head jerks, looking around the room. Mandibles chittered, and wings twitched occasionally.
"Thorann Dert," Runish's voice echoed, and caused some others at the table to look around.
All the faces of worn men and women. Reptile glares, and stone like expressions. One set of eyes seemed to still have light in them, and they belonged to General O'Heara.
"Admiral Runish," he said as he took a seat, followed by the man at the head of the long table. "It's my understanding that you have a mission for my squad." He shot a knowing look of acknowledgement at O'Heara, but his eyes quickly fell back to Runish.
"I trust you have heard of the utter failure of Admiral Yittias,"
"I have. His failure is why we find ourselves in this sector." Thorann replied.
"The man isn't fit to wear his title." One of the officers complained, and some others at the table began to murmur their contempt. "He failed The Confederation."
Runish raised a hand to silence them. A flash of his palm was all it took to regain order. "His loss is our gain. The Triskani will soon be shown the true might of The Confederation."
Thorann rested a hand on the table, as the room erupted in praise of Runish. The vast majority sounded desperate to be noticed; children looking for attention from their father. The irony of such acts were amusing. Not just to him, but to O'Heara as well, by the look in his eyes.
An irritating lot, these people of high value. It seemed the higher they climbed through the ranks, the harder it was to tolerate their company. Life is simpler on the lower decks. Getting off this ship would be a holiday in and of itself. Thorann and the others would gladly do anything to get on solid ground.
"What does this mission entail?" He asked.
"Your mission is simple really, and it's something that I'm sure your squad is capable of." Runish's tone made it apparent that those words were not meant as a compliment. "You are to find a man, Harvet Gnash. He has information concerning the war effort."
"A rescue mission then?"
"Simply put, yes. If the man cannot be saved, however, you must kill him." Runish said with the flick of his wrist, as if the death of the man was a minor annoyance.
"Kill him? If he is so important, why would I do that?"
"He is important, only by what he knows. He worked closely with our Rotchi allies and his knowledge is not ready to be revealed to Free Space."
"If he could just be killed, why not strike from orbit?" Thorann asked.
Runish stood up, and rested his palms on the table. "Because, he is out of reach of an orbital strike."
"Harvet has been taken deep beneath the mountains of their largest settlement." O'Heara interjected as he pressed a button at his station, a battle map flicked to life across the table. The mountains lay north of the city, wrapping around it like armour. "Life readings say that he is still alive, we seldomly loose our connection to him though. Lags The Eye has been patched in, so will be able to keep track of him."
"No better man for that job," Thorann stated. He then pointed to a small outpost south of the city. "Is that ours?"
"That'll be your first stop, our forward operations post, essentially the only good thing Admiral Yittias was able to achieve." O'Heara replied.
"Are you up to the task, Dert?" Runish asked, his voice dripping with venom.
"We'll get it done, don't you worry about that." Thorann said as he stood up.
"Good," Runish said as he sat down, leaning back into his seat. "There is one thing."
Thorann looked up from the map to Runish.
"This is a time intensive operation, you have precisely." Runish checked his console. "ninety-six hours," he said as his eyes narrowed. "By that stage, it doesn't matter if Harvet lives or dies."
Thorann didn't know what to say. It was one thing to carry out potentially dangerous missions, but doing so under a strict time constraint could always lead to mistakes. Mistakes in situations like this usually resulted in death.
"Come with me, Thorann, there was one more thing I have to run past you before you ship out." O'Heara said as he stood up and nudged him.
The doors closed behind them automatically. In the spotless hall of the ship O'Heara led the way. They passed many people as they walked in silence.
As they reached the large elevator he had used to get here, Thorann noticed one of the large screens flicked from The Confederation insignia, to that of a live feed. Yittias, stripped of rank and uniform, hands and feet tied to posts. The camera panned over endless crowds watching stoically. No cheers. No laughter. Just silent, dead faced observers.
"There is a plan for this world, some plot Runish thought up in order to gain recognition, and fame." O'Heara said, barely taking his eyes off the screen. He ran a hand over the console beside it, and fetched the elevator.
"Some plot?" Thorann repeated.
"With world ending ramifications. His will is to be carried out, regardless of how many Confederation personnel are on it when the Rotchi arrive."
"Why even bother sending us then, why not just wait?" Thorann asked, his voice filled with frustration he could hardly mask. It was one thing to go into something with eyes open and no constraint. But, bringing his squad along for a death journey was something he didn't like the sound of.
"A lot can happen in 96 hours," O'Heara replied coldly. "Many conversations can take place in that time. His main fear is that Free Space musters an offensive that could destroy not only our now combined fleets, but this weapon the Rotchi have produced." O'Heara continued to watch the screen. "The entire Free Space campaign could fall into jeopardy if word leaks. We can't have that, can we?"
Thorann watched the old white flesh of Yittias made red. His face concealing the pain of each strike, while turning purple in his attempt to hold back screams.
"Don't scream!" O'Heara shouted, as he hit the wall. "I have money on you, you old cretin! Don't..." Yittias maintained his composure, and soon the purple disipated as he took in a deep breath.
"You won?" Thorann asked.
"So far, so good, but that was only the first round. Death will not be easy for him."
"Big failure, big punishment." Thorann stated as he stared at the man. "Anyway, what was it you wanted to tell me? Or was that just an excuse for you to catch this execution?"
O'Heara shook his head, snapping away from the screen. His once gritted teeth gave way to a loose jaw. "Oh, that. No, there was something else, a gift, of sorts." He said as his eyes raised beyond Thorann.
“Thorann! I’ve followed your story for a long time, you’re a big inspiration to me!” A voice called out from behind.
Thorann turned to see the fresh smiling face of what seemed to be a raw recruit. “Oh," he let slip. "An adoring fan?” Thorann said sarcastically. “I don’t want it.” He shot a glare at O’Heara while shaking his head.
“Not a request.” O’Heara replied, as he turned back to the screen. He then hit the button again in frustration. "Where is this bloody platform!" He quietly complained.
“It’s an order?”
“Damn right it’s an order,” O’Heara barked. “You may be in charge of the squad now, but that doesn’t mean you’re above trials. Or, public punishment.”
“Trials." Thorann repeated, as he stared at the screen. "Punishment?" His eyes moved to meet O'Heara's. "You’re really going to push this runt on me and expect me to be happy about it?”
“Yes, and I don’t care if you’re happy about it or not. Our joy means nothing for the betterment of The Confederation.” O'Heara sighed. "Besides, a replacement is past due."
Thorann sighed. “What if the kid gets killed?”
“He knows what he signed up for. Death is an honor when serving a greater purpose.” O’Heara said firmly. “You have a good record, I’m not worried.”
“You’ve really bought fully into The Confederation crap since gaining rank." Thorann said, and as the words fell from his mouth he felt a hand at the back of his neck.
“Careful now.” O'Heara leaned in, his breath warm to the ear. "On the lower decks, say as you like." He shook him lightly. "Not here." He shook once more to emphasize the point. "Like it or not. Agree or not. We say as we must, and try to believe we mean it." He let go. "Failure is but one way to end up there. Nobody is above that." He pointed at the screen.
"Thanks for the lesson." Thorann said as he rubbed the back of his neck. His eyes darted to the recruit who looked away as they landed. Eyes then fell back to O'Heara.
"You're never beyond learning, and always remember that." O'Heara said as the doors opened.
Some exited the elevator, and as the last left, Thorann stepped on, followed by the recruit. He turned back around to watch O'Heara through the opening.
"Good luck down there, and I mean that sincerely. You and yours are going to need it."
"Appreciated. Do me a favour though, try not to get fully absurbed."
"Don't worry, I still find myself on the lower decks occasionally." O'Heara said with a knowing smile. "Communications may be spotty while you're down there, but I'll try and keep in touch."
The doors closed as O'Heara finished. He remained behind glass, his eyes stayed on them for a moment, but quickly moved back to the screen.
