The Honour of the Knights (First Edition) (46 page)

“
Lower shields,” Hawke ordered.

“
Bow quadrant?” came the reluctant answer.

“
All
shields,” Hawke said.

The
image of Zackaria remained patient and still in the hologram,
waiting for the acknowledgement that the Confederation carrier had
complied with his request.

“
Shields lowered,” Cox heard, his heartbeat starting to
increase. He fingered the screwdriver he still held, his grip
tightening on it.

“
You
’
re free to come aboard, Admiral,”
Hawke prompted to Zackaria, who terminated the communication
without another word.

Moments later, from out the frontal viewport, Cox saw
transport craft begin to depart
Dragon
, swinging themselves around
from the launch bays running along the side of the battleship, and
heading towards
Ifrit
. At first, it appeared that only three shuttles were making
their way over. It then became apparent that the enemy forces
intended to fill every last inch of the carrier with their ranks;
the three becoming five, then seven, then ten, as the numbers built
up.

Out of the corners of the bridge
’
s thick glass window, Cox spied two
Imperial frigates, hovering closed by. He looked to a display
further up the bridge:
Ifrit
‘s
radar told the whole story, indicating that the carrier was
surrounded by a total of six frigates; three on each side. Not that
their presence was required.
Dragon
needed no assistance. He swallowed and felt a
chill run down his spine.

Hawke
turned his back on the crew, to instead follow the progress of the
transports that were streaming from the former Confederation
flagship. As he did so, Cox glanced down the aisle of the bridge.
He noticed that Short had begun to whisper with two others sitting
close to him, peeking at the commodore who was staring out at the
enormous battleship, that rested so close to them. He assumed they
had come to the same conclusion as he: this was no ruse. Whatever
the man was planning, it did not appear to involve the capture of
Zackaria. Whether he intended to bargain with him, whether it be
with the crew or the carrier, matters could not be allowed to
progress any further. He watched as they conferred for some time
before they all nodded in agreement and prepared to make their
move.

Short rose from his seat.
“Commodore
Hawke, it is my belief that you are no longer functioning with the
best interests of
Ifrit
, her crew or the Confederation at heart.” He started towards
the front. “It is also my belief that your judgement have been
adversely affected by recent events and that you are no longer
capable of making rational decisions. As second-in-command
of
Ifrit
, I am
exercising my authority to hereby relieve you of your
post.”

Hawke turned from his admiration of
Dragon
,
wearing a tired expression, as though his crew had now become
a bother unto him. The two others that Short had been speaking with
stood up with him, flanking his sides as they strode towards the
carrier
’
s
captain.

Hawke
’
s
face darkened, his expression became quite grim, and in a cold
voice he said, “Return to your seat, Commander.”

Short
continued as though not hearing the words. “Lieutenant Lee,
Lieutenant Dawes, please escort Commodore Hawke from the bridge and
confine him to quarters,” he said to the man and woman who walked
by his sides.

Hawke
said nothing more. With lightning relaxes, he reached into his
jacket and produced a laser pistol. He trained the weapon on both
Lee and Dawes and, before either of them could react, shot them
both neatly in the foreheads. Their limp bodies slumped to the
floor.

Cox
jumped back. The need to escape the bridge was now very urgent. He
saw that the rest of the bridge crew appeared to share his
thoughts, many having left their seats and now standing. Cox was
unable to comprehend what had just happened: the speed at which
Hawke had not only produced the weapon, but then dispatched Lee and
Dawes, had left him in a state of total shock and
confusion.

As Lee and Dawes dropped down beside him, Lieutenant
Short
’
s eyes grew
wide with fear and he started to back away from Hawke, looking
behind him to two men stood by the bridge’s lift doors. Hawke then
trained the pistol on Short himself.

“
Security…” Short started, before Hawke pulled the trigger
and he, too, collapsed in a heap on the ground, blood from all
three of the dead beginning to seep from the wounds in their
heads.

Hawke
’
s
eyes darted over the others occupying the bridge, marking out all
the men and women who, though standing, remained rooted in shock.
Movement at the other end of the aisle grabbed his attention and he
focused the pistol to meet the new threat. “Drop them!” he called
to the two security guards who stood at the far end of the long
bridge, next to the lift, who had just broken into a run towards
him. “Drop them now!”

The two
men obeyed without question, throwing their guns aside and raising
their hands in surrender. Even though they were a great deal
further away than Short had been, the two security personnel were
clearly not prepared to test just how fast or accurate Hawke could
be.

“
Everyone, down on your knees, hands on heads,” Hawke spat to
his entire bridge.

No-one
moved.

“
KNEES! NOW!” Hawke shouted, waving the laser pistol about. It
passed in Cox’s direction and the man found himself dropping to the
floor as his legs gave way, his hands flying to the top of his
head. The tone in Hawke’s voice told him that the man was in no
mood to be trifled with. In the floor’s dim reflection, Cox saw the
engineer lower down next to him. A few moments later, he gingerly
raised his eyes from the floor to look at Hawke.

Behind him, the transports continued to stream from
D
ragon
, making their way towards the
main launch bay of
Ifrit
. Hawke continued to mark the
crew as they got down on the floor, watching each and every one of
them for the slightest attempt at escape or attack. In the face of
what had just happened, however, none of them were about to dare,
some preferring to stare down at the floor than at
Hawke
’
s
rage-twisted expression.

It was not long before the first wing of transports started
to enter
Ifrit
‘s
launch bay, setting themselves
down inside. Even as they did so, more could be seen
departing
Dragon
,
forming a huge caravan reminiscent of those departing Spirit
earlier that day. The image of the transports streaming towards the
Confederation carrier, no doubt carrying with them scores of
Imperial soldiers, deadly weaponry and God only knew whatever else,
did nothing but fill all its witnesses with a sense of dread and
terrible unease.

What
would happen when they arrived? Why was this happening? What did
Hawke plan to do? The questions raced through Cox’s mind. Though,
for some reason he felt fear starting to pass, being edged out by a
new feeling: anger. He looked down the bridge, along the rows of
crew that were on their knees. He noted one young man who he could
see was trembling. The man made a quick snap look at the lift. Cox
wished he could tell the man to stay where he was, but he had
already made up his mind. Cox saw him leap to his feet and start
towards the lift, arm outstretched, reaching for the call
button.

He managed but a few feet before Hawke felled him, the thin
red beam of the laser cutting its way through the back of his head.
The young man crashed forward across the floor, legs giving way
beneath him, his arms splayed out as he went down. Like the others
that had fallen to the shots, he gave no cry as he fell, but those
who continued to comply with Hawke
’
s command flinched at the sound of
his body slamming down. Still they kept their hands on their heads,
facing the floor, looking down at the dim reflections of their own
worried faces staring back at them.

* * *

The occupants of
Ifrit
‘s
flight deck stood by powerless as the first of the transports
opened up, the passengers like none they had ever seen before: they
were clad almost entirely in black, save for a strange white emblem
on their left breast and right arm, and a pair of scowling ruby-red
eyes, affixed into their helmets.

The soldiers spilled out of the craft, rifles raised to
secure the area. They spoke no words, but gestured to the
deck
’
s occupants
that they should, like those on the bridge, place their hands on
their heads and get down on their knees. The various maintenance
workers, pilots and other service personnel did as they were
ordered, terrified by the sight before them.

It did
not take long for the soldiers to secure the area, and before long
they were beginning to permeate through into the other areas of the
carrier.

* * *

“
Sir, the admiral…” Cox heard a
woman
’
s
voice come over the carrier
’
s PA system.

“
Escort him up to the bridge,” Hawke said without waiting for
her to finish.

After a time, the bridge
’
s lift doors opened and Cox turned
to see who was entering the bridge. Four figures stood within the
elevator car as the doors parted, one of them a member of
Ifrit
‘s
security team. The woman was being held under the
arms by two tall soldiers, who stepped out of the lift and tossed
her body down on the floor, bringing the bridge
’
s body count up to five. She had
been shot in the back of the head, her blonde hair wet, sticky and
matted with the blood that had poured from the wound. He guessed
she had attempted to get to the man whom the two soldiers were
escorting.

Now on
the bridge, the two soldiers stood to attention either side of the
lift doors, presenting their rifles and making way for the last
person to depart.

Zackaria
strode down the long aisle towards Hawke, the commodore returning
the laser pistol to the inside of his jacket. He was clothed in
formal Imperial naval dress, the condition of his uniform verging
on perfection: crease free and decorated to great spender. A long,
blood red cloak rippled gently behind him as he walked, falling
about a foot clear of the floor and fastened about the shoulders by
a gold chain that ran just under his neck. Though surrounded by his
enemies, he walked with calm down the bridge’s central aisle, the
soles of his dark gleaming shoes clopping on the floor as he went.
They seemed to perfectly punctuate his entrance, being now the only
sound besides the tense breathing of the crew.

Hawke
remained where he was, waiting for the admiral to approach,
whereupon he saluted.

Cox was
shocked; even more so when the two men began to speak. The language
was strange and he could not understand a single word, yet Hawke’s
command of the dialect appeared perfect. It rolled off his tongue
effortlessly, and sounded nothing like the Imperial dialects he was
expecting, even with the admiral’s accent. And there was something
else there, something that did not quite sound like normal human
speech.

* * *

The two men spoke at length, Hawke detailing much of what he
knew and what his plans were: t
hey would
take
Ifrit
to
Phylent, draw
Griffin
into a false sense of security and then destroy it. When the
ATAFs returned from their errand, they would be met by
Ifrit
and the remains
of
Griffin
, the
former having arrived too late to save the carrier from its fate.
The
Knights
would
then return to
Ifrit,
giving the admiral everything: the ATAFs, the pilots and the
means to study, reverse-engineer and construct more. They would
then be unstoppable; and finally Zackaria would be able to complete
his Mission.

* * *

The discussion over, Hawke readdressed the bridge
crew.
“I have negotiated the surrender
of
I
frit
.
From
here on out, I alone will fall under the command of Fleet Admiral
Zackaria. The Empire no longer has need for any of you; you are all
now redundant.”

Heads
looked up in shock, eyes darting from the two men that stood at the
front of the bridge, to the two black-clad soldiers that marked the
lift doors. Cox met many eyes as he looked to those knelt on the
floor, and they all said the same thing: their worst fear was upon
them, they were going die. Even if they could escape the bridge and
make it down to the flight deck, there was no telling just how many
soldiers would be waiting for them down there.