Beyond Mars Crimson Fleet (24 page)

However, Earle’s threat
stirred something different in Tara’s mind: pure hatred. She
quickly walked around the metal pillar to face the man whom she
loathed the most.

Earle straightened as Tara
confronted him. The mutant’s mind pierced the security officer’s
soul and looked upon him with utter contempt. She saw a heartless
and cruel man, who had been a coward throughout his life. Wisdom
and compassion that should have filled his gray and balding head
was sourly lacking. Instead, twisted rules and regulations were all
that it served, as well as the readiness and desire to inflict his
pain, fear, and guilt upon others. For a man of sixty-three, he was
simply a childish bully that had been transformed with power into a
merciless tyrant.

“I have just about had it
with you!” Tara’s voice became harsh. “Who the hell do you think
you are? You call us monsters, and yet it’s you and your kind that
tortures and kills at merest provocation! And you do this not only
to prove your superiority—but for your own perverted
pleasure!”

Tara went
on. “I know the sorry truth about this world and the real reason
why the people were mutated! We would never consider doing what was
perpetrated on us! I know it was
The
Order
that exterminated the original
inhabitants of this planet so they could use this world as a living
laboratory. That’s why they unleashed the plague upon us. I watched
so many die while suffering the pain of transmutation. My own
husband and children among them! Others became so violent they had
to be destroyed! Tell me, what kind of creature can do that sort of
thing to innocent and helpless people?”

Earle snickered and then
laughed. “I wish I had a video of it! It must have been a real hoot
watching your family turn inside-out!”

Tara’s eyes narrowed in an
uncontrollable anger that fueled the darkest depths of her spirit.
“You think being like this is amusing, do you? Well then, since you
missed out on all the fun, maybe I can provide you with someone
else to laugh at!”

Nyland’s verbal hazing
dropped away into suspicion. The mutant’s dark ocular pits were
locked onto his eyes and he knew he had pushed her too far.
Suddenly, the middle Tara’s enlarged pupils began to softly glow,
which then spread to the rest of her eyes. The glow became and
aurora of increasingly brighter and brighter light, bathing the
man’s face in their afterglow. Nyland then felt himself becoming
uncomfortably hot.

Unexpectedly, the room
began to flutter, but he tried hard to hold his footing. In his
shoulder, however, Nyland began to feel a pain that increased with
every heartbeat. His neck began to throb, and he saw the flesh next
to it oscillating up and down. Suddenly, the pain became sharp and
unbearable. He gasped for great breaths of air as the pain got
worse. Finally, just when he could no longer stand it, a second
head bubbled and burst out of his body.

The security officer was
petrified as the head turned and glared into his eyes. It carried a
contorted distortion of his own face, but one more ragged,
primitive, toothy, and bestial. For a moment, it growled quietly
while it seemed to be studying him. Then without warning, the
head’s mouth opened wide and sunk its large sharp fangs repeatedly
into Earle’s face. He clearly felt the teeth rip into his head and
begin to tear it into pieces. Earle let out a horrific scream at
the top of his lungs.

Martin painfully viewed Earle go into frightful
convulsions, screaming and thrashing wildly about as he did.
Whatever traumatic illusion Tara had planted in the prisoner’s
mind, the first mate knew it had to be terrible, for blood soon
sprayed from Earle’s frothing mouth and splatter the deck in large
droplets. Within a minute, the man died in the throes of
unsurpassed mental agony. It was an appalling scene that could have
upset strongest stomach. Martin felt like retching himself and
turned away out of antipathy and pity.

As the security officer slumped dead against his
bonds, Tara’s head had drooped in self-disgust. She had just become
the thing she hated the most; she had become an Earle Nyland.

At first
it was total pleasure for Tara at watching him die, letting him
experience what
The Order
had done to her family. But somewhere it the midst
of his death, a sickening feeling over-powered her body in a giant
wave of remorse. The darkness of hate then vanished and Tara heard
herself softly crying out of sympathy. She was absolutely sorry for
the act she had committed against another human
being.

As nausea agitated her
stomach, Tara fought the urge to throw-up. It was unforgivable, and
found herself feeling faint. However, after a few minutes and many
deep breaths later, Tara steadied her mind and body. After calming
herself down, she stepped back around the pillar to face Janis once
again.

For a moment, there was nothing said between the
two, but their eyes were locked together in an unbreakable tearful
stare. Tara, however, finally broke her silence.

“I’m sorry!” Tara’s voice was apologetically soft
and trembling, “I didn’t mean to do that! Please, Miss Avery, there
is no more time left! Please, give me the codes!” Tara begged.

* * * * *

The
corridors of the
Quinton
were of a rough-finished resin that poorly
reflected its grayish charcoal color. Only the numerous instrument
panels and recessed lighting illuminated the passages somewhat, but
it seemed that it just wasn’t enough. Long dark shadows were cast
throughout its entirety. This was due to the deficient lighting
being blocked intermittently by various equipment, hydraulic lines,
and mechanisms at irregular intervals. They seemed to haunt the dim
corridors in weird and unfamiliar shapes.

Yet, there was more to this
ghostly quality than was seen. Technological specters sensed,
probed, and identified any thing that moved through the course
ways. Although invisible, their presence was felt as one move about
the ship. They filled the air with a chilling uneasiness that touch
the very essence of one’s being.

Not even Commander Trager, with his vast years of
experience, was immune to this. As he marched to Admiral Darius
quarters, an apprehensive feeling followed him. He was glad that
recent fleet doctrines had segregated the real humans from the rest
of the ship’s compliment. The section where he was quartered
sponsored some feeling of life and warmth. But here it was
different; it was cold and ominous—like walking into an underground
crypt.

With haste, he approached the cabin of
Admiral Darius. Two huge androids blocked the way, however,
allowing entry by her invitation only. With some uneasiness, he
stopped before the shiny black anodized guards.

“Commander Trager reporting to Admiral Darius by her
request,” he announced.

“You are expected, Commander. You may proceed,” the
closest metal sentinel dispassionately replied in a heavy male
voice.

The huge android stepped aside, and the Earth office
walked into the hatchway. It opened automatically without him
breaking stride. As soon as he stepped in, it closed just as
fast.

Darius’ office was dimmer than the corridors that
lead to it—and she liked it that way. Only the dancing auras of
hyperspace travel brightened the office with any effect, streaming
through a large window as they did. Still they quickly came and
passed, allowing one a small interrupted glimpse of the
ultra-modern, industrial décor of the room before they faded back
into blackness. Trager thought that the chamber’s mechanized look
was most befitting for his cruel and ruthless commanding
officer.

Selena herself sat in a huge swivel chair facing the
window. Only her hands and part of her legs were visible. They both
knew, however, that she simply did not want to look upon him—a
lowly human beneath her dignity.

“What do you have to report?” she questioned in her
usual irritated tone.

“Admiral O’Donald has tracked the Martian
fleet to Apoapsis Three: a system once used as a supply station and
transit facility,” Trager dispassionately replied. “It has since
been abandoned. He has now, however, new coordinates that indicate
that the Martians are heading for a small binary star cluster
located at the very outer rim of our galaxy’s corona. He requests
further instructions on how you wish to proceed.”

“Excellent!” Selena’s mood swiftly became uplifted.
“Have Admiral O’Donald rendezvous with us a Cramer’s World. I want
to bring the entire weight of our fleet against Paladin when we
move. This way there will be no possibility of any of his ships
escaping. Is there anything else?”

“Yes, Ma’am. We will be coming out of hyperspace in
a few minutes, behind the farthest moon of Cramer’s World. It
should provide us with ample surprise.” For a moment, Trager
paused. “Your orders?”

Selena smirked. “Bring all ships to general quarters
before we make the jump.”

Trager’s eyes narrowed in anger as he fought to keep
control of himself. “Another massacre, Admiral?” his voice toned
with some ridicule.

Selena quickly wheeled about in her chair to face
her subordinate. For a brief time, she gazed hatefully at the man,
but it soon changed to satisfaction. “If I didn’t know you better,
I say you were trying to be sarcastic. Yes, the mad Martians are
going to commit another massacre. They are going to destroy a
civilian fleet trying to escape their evil clutches. That will make
another nice headline for our galactic news service. What do you
think?” she returned his mockery.

“I don’t, Admiral. I just follow orders,” the man
admitted.

“Very good,” Selena smiled. “It’s the best way to
stay out of trouble.”

“Yes, Ma’am,” Trager mechanically agreed. “Will
there be anything else?”

Selena slowly turned back to face the window again.
“No. Just call me as soon as we make the jump. Now, leave!”

Without another word, Trager left the office without
delay, finding his loathing of Darius reaching new depths. But as
he departed, he pressed a small keyboard button on his wrist
communicator. There were other things to do

* * * * *

The
Quinton’s
Chief Engineer, Abner Strephon, quickly boarded the sparsely
occupied shuttle car that ran the length of the mighty ship. The
man knew, however, that there was no privacy from the vessel’s
security AI’s. Even here, within the small car, there was no
solitude. Every word was recorded and every gesture monitored for
any signs of disloyalty. It was like living in a prison of an
unimaginable hell, where the harshest punishment was doled out for
a loose or careless tongue.

Abner was more than just a mere engineer, however.
His tall wiry frame held a man of the greatest technological
genius: an inventor and scientist who thought beyond all boundaries
of confinement and convention. Laboring in secret, he constructed a
transmitting device that supplanted the real electronic monitoring
signals with phony ones. And now, he merely waited to activate
it.

As the car rolled to a stop, all of its cyborg
passengers stood up and waited for the hatch to open. Only Abner
remained seated with his arms crossed. Finally, the entry fissured
wide apart, and the cyborgs departed through the hatch. After the
last of the technological monstrosities had left, a single human
casually strode in and seated himself directly in front of Abner.
The two stared at each other as they patiently waited for the car
to get underway. It wasn’t long before the car was encased and
lurched forward into motion again.

Commander Trager watched as Abner activated his
security override device by simply looking at his wrist
communicator and blinking twice. Several LED’s flashed and then
remained in a steady on state. Abner then smiled.

Sure that their conversation wasn’t being monitor,
Trager spoke in urgency. “What happened?” he quizzed unhappily.

“One of
those
things
on the
bridge started running a routine diagnostic before I had a chance
to totally connect the bypass circuits,” Abner explained. “They’re
now watching the engine room very closely. The good news is that
the main power converters are hooked-up. All you have to do is key
3-7-7 on your communicator and they’ll blow. The ship will lose all
of its weapons, communications, and sensors for about ten minutes
before they can reroute the power. That should be enough
time.”

Trager sighed. “Did you pick up and hide those ion
pistols yet?”

“Yes. Everyone’s waiting for your signal. I just
pray the Martians arrive soon. Any chance of knowing when?” Abner
voiced his anxiousness.

Trager shook his head slightly. “No. We’ll just have
to play it by ear.”

Abner’s thoughts then turned to another subject—one
dearer to his heart. “By the way, where’s Laura?” he asked
worriedly.

For a moment Trager held his breath as he bit his
lip. “She dead!” he spoke in a low grieving tone. “She was found
guilty of sabotage!”

Abner was stunned as the death of Laura Jillian sunk
into his reality. “How? Why?” he questioned regarding the trial
that should have found her totally innocent.

Trager’s eyes were filled with sympathy, knowing of
the budding romance between Abner and the murdered woman. “Abe, I
know what Laura meant to you. I tried to intervene, but the bitch
spaced her before I could do anything. Apparently, she’s the one
who tampered with the evidence. Darius decided to execute her
because—she was too pretty!”