War Angel: part seventy-five

2142- In Orbit Around Pluto

Wilma injected herself last. “You’ll all probably feel nauseous for an hour or so, but this will keep Kate’s little bug from killing you.”

“Excellent work, Doctor, Kate,” Jack replied. “And once this stuff does its business, are we contagious? Or just immune?”

“Immune. We won’t be carriers.”

“What would it take to change that?” He mulled it over for a second. “How could we spread it quickly if we needed to?”

Richard answered. “Aerosol. Or something like it. Something that moves it through the air quickly.”

“I have another way,” Sarah said, her voice dropping. “If your plan really gets us where we want to be, I think there’s a way to give it in a concentrated dose.”

Jack nodded. “Get to work.”

Richard attached the devices to everyone’s uniforms. “Okay, you guys. This is pretty simple. Press on the pip, and it releases a small mist carrying the bug. It’ll be so subtle that it’ll barely be noticeable. I hope. Probably ought to be careful, just in case.”

“I’m filled with confidence,” Ben said, rolling his eyes.

“Good work, Richard. When Omegans win a battle, it increases their standing in the ranks. M’isti will see that I’ve promoted you all and won’t think twice about it. He’ll think I’m just playing his game. He won’t expect the uniform itself to be a weapon. They’ll never see it coming.”

“Mine is essentially ready, too,” Sarah added. “They’ll rifle the hell out of the cargo bay, and this will be too tempting to pass up.”

“Time to put it all into motion, then,” Jack replied with a nod. “Let’s take the bastards out.”

2142- Aboard The Kan’Tar

T’reen strode down the corridor, his thoughts wrapped in anger. Those… humans… the enemy… being allowed on the Kan’Tar was almost more than he could stand. His entire life had been dedicated to the war arts, and his training had assured him that Earthmen were little more than slightly intelligent Idvall, ready to be led to slaughter.

But the Supreme Commander was instead showing them respect. Why? What did F’ath M’isti know that he did not? If he was to be next in line for this ship, it was a mystery he was going to have to solve.

Was it vengeance? Vengeance could have been served by simply blowing the War Angel to pieces once it arrived. Perhaps it went deeper than that. T’reen pondered what he knew of the Commander’s personal history. “Perhaps this is… nostalgia?” he wondered. “Whatever it is, I do not trust this man Keys. He is a slippery one.” Absently, he scratched his hand across his nose, and as he did, he felt moisture. Looking down, he saw his own blood smeared across his knuckles. “Odd,” he thought. He gave a cough, then entered the bridge.

“Status?” he barked, striding to the command chair as the door closed behind him. “I want an update on all ships in the fleet. Combat readiness, troop counts, all of it.”

The crewman at the comm. station spoke first. “We’re experiencing some tech difficulties, and comm. traffic is currently unreliable.”

T’reen whirled around. “Explain yourself!”

“Chatter on the comm. went quiet about an hour ago. This time of day, it tends to be quiet as it is, so it was not unusual. But after prolonged silence, I began running diagnostic scans of our equipment. There are no signs of equipment failure on the Kan’Tar. I was just about to start… sir?”

T’reen coughed and blood splattered across the floor. The warriors of the bridge crew jumped out of their seats. He coughed again, doubling over and spitting more blood onto the floor. “Fools…” he croaked out. “Fools. We are all fools!” The coughing began again, and T’reen’s blood spilled across the deck. One of the warriors flipped the internal comm. and began yelling for the ship’s physician. T’reen crawled to a nearby computer station and pulled himself to his feet. He rose unsteadily, slipping twice because of the blood coating his hands. He turned to look at the comm. officer. “We are being jammed you fool…” He then vomited, chunks of blood and Idvall spewing across the bridge floor. “It was… a trap… for us.”

The Omegan bridge crew stood around T’reen’s body, bewildered by what had just happened. They looked at each other in turn, noticing one by one that they had all started developing nosebleeds.

Jack tried with all his might to pry M’isti’s hands from around his throat. “What… do you… want?” he said, gasping for air. “Why… are you here?”

F’ath M’isti smiled. “You really believe, boy, that I will tell you that?” Jack squirmed and wriggled, trying to loosen the Omegan’s grip.

“Yes.”

The Omegan supreme commander turned and threw Jack across his desk, the War Angel commander bouncing off of the desk and into the inner hull of the Kan’Tar. “You aren’t going to survive our encounter, so why does it matter?” Jack started to reply, but M’isti cut him off. “No human has ever divined our purpose here. No human ever will.” He began a slow move around the desk and stood over Jack’s prone body. Keys looked up at him wide-eyed, then pushed himself backward across the floor slowly.

“Then why play along? Why bring us here?”

“Why waste resources hunting for you? Far easier to open the gate and let you in. You had nothing. You never did.”

“You son of a bitch.”

“You thought to outwit me, boy, and that amused me.” He watched Jack pick himself up and then brush at his Captain’s pip. Keys made his way to his feet, wobbling and trying to right himself. “I wanted to take your measure. I met your ancestor.” M’isti smiled. “I tortured your ancestor. For days. When I was a young warrior. I cut pieces off of his body, and he did not break. He was impressive, a true warrior. And then, I shot him down and crashed him into the moon, and he still survived.” The Omegan smiled in memory. “I wanted to see what the family lineage had produced. I was… curious.”

Jack stared in mute horror. “You… you…”

M’isti made a brushing motion with his hand. “Please spare me your outrage. This is war, boy, and it always has been.”

“Then let’s end it! Let us give you what you want!” Jack wiped sweat from his forehead, and fell backward into the wall.

The Omegan raised an eyebrow. “Can you give me the tomb of Prince S’agas T’horoth? Can you help me eradicate a genetic mistake that has haunted my world for centuries?” Jack opened his mouth, but said nothing. “Then I am afraid all you can do is die.”

A smile crossed Jack’s face. He righted himself, using the wall to stand up straight. “You first.”

M’isti let out a belly laugh. “Really? You are nowhere near my physical match, boy! I am stronger, faster, more experienced. You have no weapons. How do you expect to kill me?”

Jack saw a small trickle of blood form under the Omegan’s nose. “I don’t expect to, Supreme Commander…”

“I already have.”