Sigil of the Wolf - 32. Chapter 32

Command Bunker - Ordinance Depot A-IX, Amsus Hegemony

"Well, that makes four," Lauren said, looking over at General Riley.

"Four down, two to go," Riley responded, flipping through charts as he studied the Ordessus tactical situation, thankful that so far the Amsus High Command hadn't questioned their remote outpost about the four supply ships that had arrived and promptly suffered mechanical failures.

The mechanical failures were, of course, heavily-armed Kardiac soldiers storming aboard the supply ships and shooting anything that moved, but of course Riley wasn't about to report that to the Amsus Fleet Marshall who co-ordinated the sector.

"Do you think black on black suits me?" he asked, brushing down the stubborn tunic that refused to sit in any way remotely flattering. He looked up at Lauren again.

The Excalibur's first officer sat out of sight of the monitors, wearing her ball cap and a warm sweater, soldiers around her trying their best not to laugh at the older man ridiculously dressed like an Inquisitor.

"Right," Riley murmured as he checked the white makeup; he felt ridiculous, but so far it had worked. "Here we go again, contact High Command..."

Firlotte ducked past, running with one of the Amsus procedure manuals, flipping through pages to get to the right one and tapping it for the General to see. He frowned at the procedure and rolled his eyes; typically, it was...

"Report." The Amsus Fleet Marshal appeared on the screen.

"Ordinance Depot A Nine," Riley said, flattening his voice in his best imitation of an Inquisitor, "Supply ship T-seven-four-two-zero-one reports malfunction in main ion drive, I require a technical team to assist in repairs."

The Marshal lowered his head. "Of course Inquisitor, one will be dispatched within the hour..."

"Threaten him," Lauren mouthed.

Riley squared his shoulders. "Marshal, this is the fourth vessel to suffer a malfunction upon arrival to my outpost, you will in future ensure that..." he looked down at the procedure manual and back up, "All vessels conform to code one-ninety-four, section twenty-nine, paragraph thirty requiring all Amsus controlled vessels be in functioning order when dispatched to the battle front."

"Of course, Inquisitor," the Marshall said, bowing reverently, "It shall be done."

The screen went dark as Riley relaxed. "You have to love the rigid Amsus discipline. Fleet Marshal sees a Quiz, he obeys the Quiz..." He smiled, "Think I could start the next big craze in battle field fashion?"

"And you'd likely be shot with a PKD," Firlotte smiled as he closed the procedure manual.

"It wouldn't work anyway," Lauren said, the sad face again replacing her fleeting smile, "Amsus have these scent glands, makes them recognize one of their own. It's why we're never able to impersonate one..."

Riley accepted a towel Firlotte handed him and wiped off the white face paint, and tried to towel the slick black goo from his hair. "Too bad we can't get them to jack off in a cup and market it as bug repellent..."

The three of them fell silent, and stared at each other, the same idea occurring to each of them.

* * *

Professor Zahn had returned to his classroom. The students had the day off, too much celebrating freedom. Stupid, when they should be in class learning what to do with that freedom. What good was a future if you were simply going to squander it being happy?

He shook his massive head as he picked up textbooks and began to lay them out on the desks, readying for when they eventually did come back. Zahn was certain of that the parents were only going to put up with jubilant children for so long before they got sick of the noise, the tantrums, and the excitement, and packed them back to school.

He stopped short when he saw General Riley standing in the doorway to his classroom. Speaking of over excited and noisy...

"What you want?" Zahn rumbled testily.

"Hey, anyone ever tell you you're beautiful in the morning?" Riley grinned as he folded his arms and leaned on the doorframe, "I was wondering if we could just... uh... borrow your lab?"

"Lab not for explosives." Zahn replied.

"I don't want to build explosives," Riley replied shaking his head, "Why is it everyone always assumes I just want to blow things up? No, I have a chemical question."

"I don't show you have to build bigger explosives," Zahn grumbled, coming to the front of his classroom, his whiskers twitching in annoyance. Riley always had a one-track mind.

"No, no," Riley shook his head and gestured for Zahn to follow him into the corridor, "I want you to show us how to milk that..." he pointed to the Amsus trooper held firmly by a pair of large Kardiac soldiers.

The pale white vaguely-humanoid creature looked so different without its dark visored helmet or its ballistic armour. To Zahn it resembled some kind of larval-stage creature, maggot white flesh covered by a pale, almost translucent skin, its small dark eyes looking to and fro as it tried to seek escape.

"Zat's a big bug," Zahn murmured.

"Can you do it?" Riley pressed, "They have some kind of pheromone gland or something... that lets them identify each other."

Zahn tramped forward, his big hand probing the soft flesh, searching, feeling the boneless creature, marvelling at the simplicity. There was no evolutionary explanation for a larva to have adopted humanoid form, no solid bone structure... Darwin was probably somewhere pitching a fit; it had to be artificial, another of the old Empire's experiments.

"I no Biologist," Zahn murmured, "Am school teacher..."

"You're the best we have. We can get a couple of doctors in here to help, but most are busy tending to the injured after the battle." Riley shrugged.

"Bring it." Zahn commanded, leading the way down the corridor and into the chemistry lab, clearing off one of the student's tables, and motioning for the creature to be pinned down on it as Zahn fetched a couple of text books.

"Cockroach not like regular bug," Zahn murmured, turning pages to try to find something, anything even close to the Amsus lying on the table before him. He pointed, "Stroke there!"

Riley looked at the two soldiers busy restraining the Amsus trooper, and he realized Zahn was talking to him. He shuddered as he reached out to touch the rubbery flesh, fighting the urge to vomit realizing he was touching a very large maggot, and he gently probed around to find a tight knot of something.

He drew back his hand, flexed it, steeling his nerves as he reached down to start massaging it. "You sure this is it?" he asked.

Zahn turned the book over in his hand. "I not know, could be sex organ..."

Riley jumped back. "Oh god!" he yelled waving his hand in disgust, the two soldiers doing their best not to laugh as he glowered at Zahn, "You're a sick, sick man!"

Zahn looked up from his book. "That teach you not to cut power in middle of poetry class."

Riley shuddered as he ran his hand under water, reaching for soap.

* * *

R-403 was beginning to look like his old self. The technical crews from the city had extensive experience working on Raptors, and they worked hurriedly to repair the structural damage done to the ship. The temporary scaffolding they had set up around the ship had lifted him up to level, and allowed them to get underneath and survey how bad the crash had been.

Darien sat in his cabin, working on his plan for Ordessus. It was going to require a whole new level of creativity from him, and he wrapped his brain around the problem while chewing on the end of a pencil, ignoring the sounds of power tools and arc welders as people put his small ship back together.

He leaned back into his chair putting his hands behind his head as he looked up at the bulkhead above him, spinning the chair lazily, blowing out a sigh, stopping as he noticed Katz standing in the doorway.

"Can I come in?" Katz asked uncomfortably.

Darien tossed his pen down onto the small desk and gestured to the edge of the bed. "What's up?" he asked.

Katz sat down, shifting and unzipping his flight jacket. "I..." He chewed his lip, starting again, "I'm..."

"You're...?" Darien asked, leaning on the arm of his chair.

Katz turned a little red as he shifted. "Look, I feel stupid, but you're like... well... I never... and..." he fell silent again, turning redder.

"Right..." Darien said, nodding despite the fact he had no idea what the young fighter ace was going on about.

"Okay," Katz said, bouncing forward on the end of the bed, leaning in, and gesturing with his hand, "I'm not much of an emotional guy, right..."

"Right..." Darien nodded, knowing full well that that was bullshit.

"And I like to keep things pretty cool, calm you know..." Katz said, obviously believing what he was saying.

Darien tried his best to keep a straight face. "Yes..."

"Well," he coughed, "This is gonna sound so lame," Katz shifted again uncomfortably, "You're like as close to a father... type... figure... I've ever had..."

Darien scratched his head, confused by where this was going. "Right..."

"I know, you're only like ten years older than me... big brother then..." Katz was on a roll and he didn't want to lose it, "So I... well that is... there's this... person..."

"Engineer's Mate Firlotte?" Darien offered helpfully.

"Right...' Katz blushed again, "So... uhhh... yeah..."

Darien leaned his chin on his hand. "You're coming to me for love advice?"

"It's not love," Katz lied, a kind of lie that turned his face a bright shade of tomato red.

"Right, sorry," Darien murmured, "You're coming to me for 'not love' advice."

"Shut up," Katz flushed again, "It's just you with Elias... I figured... you know, you'd have some advice to give."

Darien drew a deep breath, feeling that ache beginning again. He buried it deep but it was always there. That longing to just be near to the person he was in love with, like some kind of drug addiction that needed a fix. He stared a moment at the confused young man in front of him, and Darien thought about how he'd been at his age.

Repressed and dull, he hadn't dated much coming out of a high school on Amsus-held Earth, eyes set on the TER-SEC academy. His parents had been stuck in a loveless marriage because divorce was prohibited under the morality code. That had probably been what soured him to the whole dating experience, the pair of them going on as if nothing was wrong, the picture of the perfect family in suburban San Francisco, while their hate for one another simmered beneath the surface.

Katz had never had that; a slave wasn't permitted family ties, as soon as he was old enough he would have been sold off. And Darien just had to look into Katz's when he thought no one was looking, those quiet moments when the bravado wasn't up and the sad young man showed through, all alone even though he was the centre of attention.

"He's my world," Darien said after a moment of silence between them, "Everything I am, and want to be. I miss him."

Katz looked up at the grief written in Darien's eyes, and reached out a hand to touch Darien's leg. "I didn't mean to..."

Darien shook his head. "It's okay, we're family huh, that means the good and the bad."

Katz smiled. "That was a dumb thing for me to say."

"No," Darien shook his head, "You're an annoying punk kid most of the time, with a mischievous streak in you a mile wide," he shrugged, "Good qualifications for bratty little brothers."

"Does that mean I get to go to Christmas dinner at your place?" Katz smirked, his eyes glittering.

"Now, that would be funny," Darien said. "So mom, dad, while I was out saving the Galaxy I found a little brother, and by the way I'm in love with the resurrected Prince of the Empire..."

"Pass the beets?" Katz added, grinning.

"Yep, that would be entertaining," Darien murmured, "My mom would pull the 'are you sure, dear?' routine, and my dad would go back to watching the game." He shook his head, looking over at the pilot. "You know, this little heart-to-heart thing doesn't change anything, I still give the orders."

"And I'll go on ignoring them and doing things my way," Katz laughed, "Sounds ideal."

"So you're 'not in love' with Ashley?" Darien asked, realizing how much he needed to think about something other than the war, other than all the death, "I think there's stuff there you need to get off your chest."

* * *

Shale lit a candle, sitting cross-legged in the Raptor's cargo hold, the black case with Nazzien's body in it before him. He reached out for his sewing, returning to piecing together the makeshift Orion flag, fiddling to get it just right as he squinted down at his handiwork.

Lauren climbed the small ladder and joined him, bringing with her a flask of coffee. She looked back towards the new ramp they were preparing to install and shook her head as she joined the Taïrian before the casket.

"Still at it?" she asked, sitting down beside him and unscrewing the top of the flask, pouring herself a mug as she fumbled in her pocket for a scrap of sky-blue cloth, "It's not the right colour, but it was all they had."

Shale took it, lifting it up for a careful inspection before he set about cutting it to the shape he wanted with an oversized pair of scissors.

There was a ritual to it, just like the uniforms the Taïrians wore, all homemade and lovingly stitched. There was a pride in hand-made things; a tunic or a battle standard meant more when you knew every stitch had been sewn by your own hands.

He went to work fitting the blue section to the flag reverently; this was for the honoured dead, for his friend.

Lauren sat beside him, watching him work, feeling the loss herself. Nazzien had been a sarcastic, methodical pain in the ass on a good day. But he did what needed to be done, even if he did complain about it loudly.

"Remember when he flew the EV-II?" She asked, looking over at Shale.

Shale gwuffed, his lips pulling back into a smile.

"I'm gonna die!!!" she imitated Nazzien's scream.

Shale lifted the flag again and pointed to a piece of cloth by her feet. She picked it up and handed it to him.

"I miss him," she commented sadly, reaching out to touch the casket, "I miss Elias too..." she looked back at Shale, "We're losing so many people." She fought back tears. "Kendrick..."

Shale reached out a paw and touched her arm, gently pulling her back from the casket and tucking her against his side as he went back to working. Gentle with her, as he would have been with a cub. Letting her lean on him while her grief took hold.

She curled against his soft side, resting her head against the coarse material of Shale's uniform, tracing the intricate brocading of his dark green Taïrian trim. The three claw marks on forest green: the symbol of the House of Taïr.

He waited for her sobs to ease, adjusting to stay comfortable, cutting the last thread as he lifted the flag to inspect it. It was a rough job, the rampant Harcorians battling one another for dominance above the sea and beneath the sky.

"That's beautiful," Lauren murmured, wiping her eyes as she looked at it. Shale nodded as he motioned towards the casket.

She got up and took the flag from him, draping it over the black polished surface, pulling it neatly and straightening out the folds. Feeling the cold wood beneath, she realised that she was saying good-bye to one of her friends. That was it, she wasn't going to see him again, and the wave of pain washed over her once more as she laid her head against it and cried, cried for him, for Elias and for Kendrick.

* * *

Kit stood on the surface of his memory core looking up at Highlord Taine. "It should be done in a few minutes," he reported, looking down to where his core was connected into the Amsus computers.

He ran through the program one last time, ready to upload it directly into the Amsus communication network; it was set to create a series of entries for R-403 and the Hope of the Dawn as well as the newly captured Amsus supply ships. It had taken the technicians and Military Intelligence officers a long time, but they had finally cracked the Amsus transponder network and could manipulate it at will.

Darien was proud of their work, it gave his plan a small sliver of a chance.

"I have been reviewing all the directives coming out of Ordessus," the holographic commander continued pacing across the large table, walking around Darien's coffee mug to sit on the edge of a book of procedures, "It appears that the Amsus have a new Commander, Sephradon. She has issued orders that all front line refugees be directed to Ordessus to work in production."

"Slave labour?" Darien inquired, as he flipped open one of the Imperial laptops, accessing the appropriate files and scanned over the orders.

"It appears so, Highlord," Kit responded, "Millions of refugees are being diverted to that world, and there are standing orders to bring more."

Darien chewed his lip, looking around him. "What would happen if we took an armed strike team, dressed them up as slaves, and attempted to infiltrate the Command Facility?"

"It would be a good way to slip them inside," Kit replied, pacing the top of his computer core, "If we attempted to land an entire army the Amsus would mobilize, that many troops in one place we'd be overrun. A smaller force might be more effective, especially if we were to somehow divert the Amsus fleet's attention..."

"I have an idea for that as well," Darien said, smiling, "We have access to the Amsus transponder codes," he turned to look up at the technicians working away on the transponder database, "Could we write a virus, upload it into the Amsus Communications net and alter their code registries?" He murmured looking up at the transponder codes scrawling across the screen before him.

"They would figure it out pretty quickly," Kit sounded dubious.

"Not necessarily," Darien said, reaching beneath the situations table and pulling out a volume of Amsus procedure. He slipped his glasses on and flipped pages, absently rubbing a stiff muscle in his arm "First thing they do when they come under attack is activate their IFF."

"Right," Kit nodded, "But if they all show up as enemies, they are going to switch them off and look to the nearest Fleet Marshall to figure out what to do."

"Mmhmm, so we don't change them all, we change half the fleet to one set, half their fleet to another," Darien remarked, "And if we switch the Amsus command ship identifier with that of, say, Hope of the Dawn?"

Kit took off his glasses and polished them thoughtfully. "You'd have two individual fleets all calling the same ship for orders."

"And if that ship were to order them to open fire on one another?" Darien pressed.

"You intend to have the Amsus fleet attack itself?" Kit murmured.

"I intend to use their own paranoia against them," Darien closed the book of procedure. "It'll keep them busy, hopefully too busy to stop us from sabotaging the production facilities and hitting the Propylons."

"There's a problem with your plan," General Riley said as he entered the command centre. He bobbed his head to a couple of the Kardiac Officers as he came over to join the discussion at the situation table, "You have no provision for getting your men off of Ordessus."

Darien nodded slowly. "I know," He turned back to the screens, "we're backed into a corner, if they keep the Propylons then nothing we can do will matter, they will send their troops past our lines, onto our ships, and they will not stop until we are beaten."

"Yes," Riley said calmly, "But this is tantamount to suicide, any team sent down to Ordessus won't be able to get out again. Once the Amsus realize what is happening they are going to throw everything they have."

"He is correct, Highlord," Kit added in, "There are millions of Amsus troops on Ordessus, without some means of extraction..."

"Which is why I am sending the Fida'i," Darien said calmly, turning his head to look at James standing slightly off to one side looking inconspicuous, shadowing his Aga-Khan protectively. Darien turned back to his officers, a look in his eyes said he knew exactly what the cost of going to Ordessus would entail. "We are going to Ordessus because we must," he said calmly, "I am going to lead the mission because no one else can."

His words hung in the air as Riley folded his arms and the Commander looked distant, "Highlord, without meaning, this time, to sound like a wiseass, were you dropped as a baby? They have these great specialists, do wonders with brain damage..." Riley leaned around eyeing Darien's head suspiciously.

Darien smiled, shaking his head at the General, "Never order your men to do anything you wouldn't be willing to do yourself." He replied calmly, "Aside from Commander Durnham I am the only one who knows what the Propylons look like. Besides, I have a plan..."

"Right go in, get shot," Riley folded his arms, "Bad plan."

"The Propylons," Darien ventured, "If we can move in and secure the chamber they are operated from, it shouldn't take very long to work out their operation." He flipped the manual he had been reading closed and held it up. "They must have a manual for operation, and from what I can figure out from the orders in the communications network, it is capable of two way transportation. If we equip the Fida'i with GPS transponders, have them activate it once they hit their targets, and use the Propylons to whisk them up to the Excalibur, or to the Hope of the Dawn... Or even back to Karin."

Riley looked up. "Karin?"

"Why not?" Kit agreed pacing, "If the device is capable of it, why not send our own troops back to Karin and stop General Iver cold?"

"Killing two birds with one stone," Riley nodded, "So you're planning to sneak into one of the most heavily fortified systems in the Amsus Hegemony, sabotage its operations, seize control of their super weapon and use it to send our troops to Karin, in time to stop General Iver from throwing the biggest blow out sale of the year?"

"We'd have to get the Propylons first, and hold them long enough to..." Darien nodded, "If we have the Kardiac forces standing by we can use the Propylons to send the whole damn army onto Iver's doorstep."

He lifted his TAC-link and called for the senior officers. There was a lot to plan.

"Hey," Riley languished on the far edge of the situations table, "I was just going to send in a bunch of Commandos using Amsus pheromones," he shook his head as he shuddered, "Don't ask what I had to do to get it."