The Honour of the Knights (First Edition) (60 page)

* * *

A little while later, Meyers and
Ifrit
‘s
acting captain contacted him, confirming that they were ready
to leave. Parks concurred and requested Meyers open a jump point
back to Spirit. The route was formed and together the three
carriers started the long journey home.

XXVI

—
Too Little, Too Late —

N
atalia awoke, at first not
remembering where she was or what had happened, suffering a brief
period of morning amnesia. She became aware that she was lying on a
soft, padded beige bed of some kind. Another lay across from her.
It was then that she noticed that the acrylic glass cover of the
stasis capsule was open. Fear gripped her and she sat bolt
upright.

Looking
out the front windows of her escape pod, she saw that she was no
longer in space; the inky blackness now replaced by what appeared
to be the interior of a starship hanger. The light level was very
low, appearing intentionally so. Other vessels, including what
appeared to be starfighters, lined bays, with various pieces of
loading equipment and tools just visible. Whilst everything she saw
bore all the hallmarks as being of Independent design, her
experience told her not to trust anything; she could well have been
found by anyone.

She
leapt out of the stasis capsule and scrabbled around for a place to
hide. But where? It appeared nothing within the escape pod could
provide her with an adequate means to secrete herself. To attempt
to hide in the stasis capsule itself would only give her the option
of pulling a blanket over herself. Under them? No, there was barely
any gap between the capsule and the floor. The storage cabinet? Far
too small; only an infant could fit in there.

The tiny
cockpit area was her only option. There might be room to squeeze
into the recess at the front, between the control panel and the
chair. It became evident to her long before she started over and
had begun crawling into the gap that she would be hiding in plain
sight. But she really had no other choice. Her alternative would be
to await whomever had found her escape pod and attempt to fight her
way out, in which case she figured she would last maybe five or six
seconds at most. Less if she had been found by a hoard of
black-suited soldiers…

Natalia
sat, still and silent in the alcove under the control panel, her
back to the seat, unable to see the rest of the pod. As the seconds
ticked by, she found herself wishing she had some sort of weapon to
hand. For a moment, she considered jumping out and raiding the
storage cabinet, to see if there would be anything she could use.
There might be something she had overlooked, despite having dug
through them on a number of separate occasions.

My jacket! My reports!
Natalia
thought, remembering that she had thrown it over the back of the
cockpit chair. She turned around, seeing it hanging but an
arm
’
s reach from
where she was hidden. She leaned forward to retrieve them. The
sound of locks releasing made her pull her hand back
quickly.
No! Too late!

She
heard the door at the rear of the pod open and a number of
searchlights were shone into the dark interior. She watched as they
danced around the surfaces, holding her breath and wishing that she
could make herself even smaller. She imagined numerous pairs of
ruby-red eyes shining just behind them.

“
Come out,” a female voice called. “You; at the
front!”

Natalia
’
s
heart jumped at the sound, though she remained where she was,
desperately trying to work out what her next move would be. A short
period passed as Natalia’s mind raced.

The spokeswoman then issued a threat: “If you
don
’
t come out,
we will fire. I
’
m
going to give you to the count of ten. Seven…”

“
No, wait. I
’
m coming out,” Natalia protested as
she crawled out from the recess. The voice had never declared they
would start at
one
. “I
’
m
unarmed.” She walked towards the rear of the pod, hands held high
in surrender, at the same time shielding her eyes against the glare
of the light that was being shone right into them.

Ahead of
her stood five people, each armed with a rifle outfitted with a
touch strapped to the underside. They were dressed in military
fatigues, Natalia making out the light grey and brown colour
schemes of their shirts and trousers.

One of
the women lowered her rifle in surprise. “Natalia?”

“
Nel,” Natalia said. She felt tears start to well up in her
once more, her legs beginning to shake. She was safe; really was
home.

The woman named Nel raised her hand, looking all about her.
“We
’
re clear.
Passengers are friendly,” she called out. A couple of seconds
later, the lights rose to normal levels.

Natalia
noted gangways above her, where a number of men and women, now
visible in the restored light, were lowering weapons. It was a wise
and natural precaution to finding a pod drifting in space, the UNF
becoming wise to that Enemy tactic now. Nel then indicated to her
group that they no longer needed their weapons. The men and women
lowered their aim, though they still kept a watchful eye on the
woman before them.

“
Could someone get my clothes?” Natalia asked, dropping her
arms and wrapping them around herself. She was wearing nothing
except for the underwear she had on when she had stepped into the
stasis capsule. Though confronted with a half-naked woman, the
faces of the men in the group remained deadpan, as though they had,
and still were, expecting to be met by something far
worse.

“
Suresh,” Nel instructed a man who trotted past Natalia and
into the pod to retrieve her clothing, whilst Nel herself came
forward and embraced her friend. The two women hugged for a while,
then Natalia burst into floods of tears.

“
All right, all right,” Nel said, rubbing
Natalia’s back. “You’re safe. We saw your pod drifting and decided
to risk a pick-up. You’re aboard
Cratos
, so it’ll take something
sizeable before you need to worry again.”

“
Thank you,” Natalia sniffed, squeezing Nel in a tight
embrace.

A short time later, the man named Suresh returned with
Natalia
’
s clothes
and she gratefully began to pull them back on. The bay was not very
warm and already she had begun to shiver.

“
Where… where is everyone else?” Nel
asked, glancing behind the unkempt blonde woman and into the empty
pod; although from the look in Natalia
’
s eyes, she believed she already
knew the answer.

“
They… didn
’
t make it,” Natalia said. She
reached into the jacket she was in the process of zipping up and
handed over the id card that had belonged to Porter, along with a
few others.

“
I
’
m sorry,” Nel said, shaking her
head.

“
We did manage to complete our mission. We
hit and destroyed all the targets,” Natalia announced, and once
more handed over a number of small data cards, containing her own
and other peoples
’
mission reports.

“
You mean you hit all the targets that we
knew about,” Nel said. “The situation is far more dire than any of
us could ever have imagined. We
’
ve essentially shut the gate after
the horse has bolted,” she added at the sight of
Natalia
’
s
face.

“
How many more…” Natalia began.

“
We
’
ll discuss that later,” Nel said,
gesturing for Natalia to follow her. “Let
’
s get you cleaned up and checked
out first.”

At the news that her mission had only been a partial success,
Natalia felt her world collapsing around her. She had been through
so much, had lost so many friends and risked everything to
accomplish her goals. And now it seemed to have all been for
nothing. A sense of despair washed over her and she felt as though
she might vomit and pass out. Sensing Natalia
’
s anguish growing, Nel attempted to
comfort her and then, after taking one last look back at the escape
pod, the pair left the hanger.

* * *

The Grace Report - Summary

The galactic state that was once known as the Mitikas Empire
is no more. All that remains of their once glorious empire are many
crumbling, dead and lifeless cities. All of these cities displayed
the same characteristics: signs of intense battles, with bodies and
other human remains left to litter and rot in the streets. All
manner of vehicles have been stripped for parts and the bodies of
the dead looted for their weaponry, ammunition and other
consumables. The destruction ranges from street level combat
involving troops and tanks, to mass destruction from nuclear
strikes. The only life that appeared to be present in previously
human-occupied areas were stray animals. Most ran away from us, but
every so often we would be attacked by a former
resident
’
s pet;
the animal either very distressed and confused, or having turned
feral.

Extermination has occurred on a planet-wide scale, even the
smallest of towns and settlements in the most remote of areas being
thoroughly cleansed. If there are any survivors, I did not see them
and it is doubtful that they would survive very long without core
dependencies.

Although my mission priorities prevented me from approaching
the Imperial home world of Kethlan, I have been able to determine
that the bulk of the Pandoran
’
s force is still concentrated in
and around the adjoining star systems. They appear to now be
executing a mop-up operation before, I suspect, moving on to their
next target of Independent World space.

With the information I have gathered from studying the
movements and behaviour of the Pandoran forces, I now feel I can
build an accurate picture of what we are facing. Unlike traditional
military systems, there does not appear to be anything in the way
of a chain of command or ranking scheme within the Enemy, aside
from the notable exception of Admiral Zackaria and Commodore
Rissard. Command is assumed within smaller detachments of personnel
on either an ad-hoc or best-fit situation. They all cooperate and
mutually agree with this arrangement, with no challenges ever made
for leadership. Lower-ranking personnel (that is to say, anyone
below Zackaria and Rissard) could be described as being ant-like,
since they work very much as a team for the overall benefit of the
entire structure. No task is too big, too small or too demeaning
for any of them. They all go about their duties in a very uniform,
regimented and almost mechanical way. They do not slouch, swagger
or ever slack off.

To add further to this structure, there does not appear to be
any kind of law (military or otherwise) at work. One does not seem
needed since, as already stated, everyone works together as one
cohesive unit. There is no stepping out of line and no misbehaviour
apparent. No-one acts out of personal gain, but only to benefit the
whole. Having said that, there is neither punishment for failure
nor reward for success. There is no apparent social structure -
They do not make friends or enemies within their own ranks, and
both men and women, young and old are equal in all
circumstances.

Physiologically, the Pandoran soldiers are nothing short of
incredible. Damage to skin and tissue is repaired with amazing
speed; seconds rather than days. Broken limbs can be mended within
a matter of minutes. Even small imperfections in the skin are
repaired, leaving all the soldiers with perfect features. They
could almost be described as beautiful. This miraculous healing
ability does not, however, extend to extreme conditions. Severed
limbs, for example, cannot be re-grown. Severed body parts such as
fingers, noses, ears, etc. are repaired as well as can be, and the
affected area is then grafted. The reason for this has not been
determined, however it is the Enemy
’
s one Achilles Heel. A shot to the
head, through the brain, or even a well-placed shot into the heart
is enough to stop them. It is my current belief that, whilst
repairable, the accuracy of repair may be within doubt and
therefore not within the scope of the Enemy
’
s healing abilities.

I have also been able to confirm that all Pandoran soldiers
benefit from physical argumentation. In hand-to-hand combat all
combatants display incredible strength, far greater than normal.
Their outward appearance is deceptive of this strength, with all
soldiers appearing to be no better built than ordinary ones. This
incredible power is present within both men and women, with little
to no difference in ability. They also display unbelievable
dexterity and exceptionally fast reflexes. In addition, all
Pandoran soldiers benefit from greatly increased height - six foot
five inches being the approximate average. At this time, I cannot
offer an explanation for this and can only assume it is a
psychological attribute aimed at intimidating the opposition. I can
confirm firsthand that if this is the case, then it is truly
effective. A charging, hundred-strong regiment of these soldiers,
fully armed, would strike a degree of unease into even the most
hardened of opponents.