All My Sins Remembered (3 page)

“I have handled all your dirty work for the better part of twenty years!”  Hawke exploded.  "I've done enough!"  He slammed his fist on the top of Commander Spear’s desk, anger darkening his features.  Spears flinched back, surprised by the uncustomary explosion, but recovered quickly as he slowly, and very deliberately rose from his seat with his hands flat on his desk as he leaned over it.  The Commander’s eyes narrowed as anger sparked in them.  Hawke was just as surprised as the Commander was at his outburst, but refused to apologize for it.  Maybe after so many years, he was losing his touch, but he was tired of this crap.  Here he was, facing the one man responsible for brokering off pieces of his soul in service to the Gadari Republic, and now he wanted yet another piece of whatever was left.  He just wanted out.  He wanted peace.  He just wanted to get away from the four Empires altogether.  He wanted to explore, to see what else there was out there, what wonders the universe had waiting for him to discover.  It was a life preferable to the endless war and death from which he had made his living.  He wasn’t young any longer, and he had a lifetime of memories he wished he could get rid of, and only a few he would choose to keep.

“Gadari Navy officers are shuttling supplies onto the
Heaven’s Gaze
are they not?”  The Commander asked quietly.  Hawke did not miss the glint in the Commander’s eye, and cringed inside.  His outburst had just lost this argument for him.

“Yeah, so what?” Hawke answered defensively.

“It would be unfortunate if my men at the shipyards found themselves tied up with upgrading various other systems on this station, or perhaps they will realize that they should prepare supplies for their next construction order.  I can’t be certain when they might get back around to finishing shuttling supplies to your precious carrier.” The Commander said.  Silence descended over the two as Hawke’s stare locked with the Commander’s equally defiant gaze.  Hawke saw something there this time that was strange to him.  He saw a hint of desperation.  In all of the years Hawke had known him, he had never known Spears to resort to extortion.  On the other hand,
Spears was never that fond of mercenaries.  He looked at PMC's like one might look at...well, a shovel.  More importantly, Hawke knew that the Commander never liked the idea of any private military company having capital ships, and the Gadari Republic Navy had simply refused to build any for PMC's.  That is, until now.  Hawke’s Talons would be the first PMC in the Gadari Republic to actually be able to field a capital ship.  Hawke suspected that Spears would just love to put a wrench in his plans.  Still, he was surprised.  Usually the Commander danced around the subject.  He cajoled, persuaded, finessed, and finally you gave in.  This was the first time Hawke remembered him using such direct, and - by Commander Spear's way of thinking - brutish tactics.

“What’s going on, Adam?  What makes this so important that you can’t send someone else?” Hawke asked.

Commander Spears sat back in his chair, seeming to weigh his next words carefully before responding.  “I’ve already sent someone else,” he revealed.  “One standard month ago, I contracted a relatively new PMC named The Regulars to investigate the destruction of those ships.  As you already know, Vice Admiral Reardon was here yesterday.”  The Commander sighed and leaned back in his chair, making a steeple with his fingers.

“What you do not know is that he brought with him the only surviving crewmember of the ship The Regulars sent out there to investigate.  In fact, the only surviving member
of The Regulars.  Based on the debriefing, what she lived through may have mentally unhinged her, I think.  She kept talking about a ghost ship appearing out of nowhere and firing upon the ship, and then disappearing again only to return and repeat the process.” Spears winced, and shook his head disbelievingly.

“It gets worse from there, but from what I can guess, the fight was short and brutal.  The Captain ordered the crew to life pods, but as the life pods launched, the enemy ship began firing on them.  Our survivor hid herself in some of the slower moving debris and shut down all her systems as she floated away while playing dead.  She nearly froze to death!  When we found her, she was suffering from hypothermia.  She stated that the ship that had attacked them simply disappeared right before her eyes.” Commander Spears sighed, then added, “Myself, I find it impossible to believe.”

Hawke’s brow furrowed as he mulled over what the Commander had just told him. “Why is it so difficult to believe?” He asked, “Our covert ops ships have similar technology, as do some of our recon units.”  Commander Spears began shaking his head even before Hawke finished asking his question.

“The power requirements for cloaking a small covert ops frigate compared to a ship of the size being described to us are too large.  As it is, our covert ops frigates cannot mount any weapons because the cloaking device requires nearly the entire power plant of the ship to work effectively.  As you know, the bigger the object, the more power required to cloak it.” The Commander replied.

“The thought of such a large and obviously powerful ship not only being able to cloak, but also being able to mount weapons and use them is not only impossible, but terrifying if true.  It would mean that someone has managed to build ship power plants that far exceed the capabilities of our own by as much as four hundred percent, all while keeping a low enough power signature that it cannot be easily detected by a ship’s sensors!”  The Commander punctuated his last sentence by thumping a fist on his desk, then shook his head. “No.  It simply cannot be.”  Hawke gave the Commander an ‘if you say so’ look, as he finally sat down in the chair across from Adam.  He was quiet for a long time as he thought about what Adam had said and sighed.

“Fine.” Hawke said, finally agreeing, “But I want double our normal rate
."  The Commander grimaced, but nodded, having already expected the price hike.  The Talons were among the best PMC's, and their price reflected that on a normal mission.  Doubling it...well, the Talons would get a nice bonus, but Commander spears thought it was the least he could do for having his men stop loading supplies that needed to be kept refrigerated, leaving them to rot on the docks.  In retrospect, he regretted that decision, but now it was too little too late.

"..
and I would like to interview the survivor.”  Hawke added.

“Absolutely not!” Spears objected, “She is still in the Naval Medical Ward undergoing treatment for Acute Stress Disorder!”  Hawke glared at the Commander, folding his arms in front of him.

“Look, you called
us
.” Hawke reminded him. “And in order to do my job, I need intel.  This woman has intel.  Therefore, I need to talk to her, or I take my people and we walk.”  The commander pounded a fist on his desk in frustration.

“Don’t you understand, she’s is shock!” He yelled.

“She’ll get over it.” Hawke replied with a hard voice.

Tasha
Altihkova lurched upright in the hospital bed as she screamed, waking from a restless sleep.  It was a few moments before she was able to stop, before she was able to realize she was no longer floating in frozen space, watching through the porthole of her own life pod as the black ship’s lasers impaled the life pods of her friends and other crewmates.  Slowly, her surroundings sank in.  Steel floors painted a cold white shown in the dim light of the room, and she remembered that she was in the Naval Medical Ward on the space station orbiting Jingashi.  The room was cool, but she scarcely noticed as a thin film of sweat covered her body, making her tank top to cling to her.  Panic forced her breath to come to her in ragged gasps.  Pulling herself upright the rest of the way in the hospital bed, Tasha swung her feet to the floor to sit on the edge of her hospital bed with head bowed.  Closing her eyes, she tried to focus on slowing her breathing.  She both needed and hated her nightmares.  Though it robbed her of sleep, Tasha tried to hang on to that fear, if only to feel
something
for a little while longer.  They had found her in her life pod with the power set to low, which meant that the onboard environmental control systems did little to keep out the black coldness of space.  Since then, she had felt as if she were just going through the motions of life.  She ate when she was hungry, spoke when spoken to, and collapsed into a restless sleep when exhausted, but she found it difficult to care about anything, or to feel anything.  It was as if all the destruction she had seen was a distant event instead of a mere week or two ago.

She still remembered the screams of those around her as the ship began breaking apart while she ran towards the escape pods.  She remembered one poor soul, so panicked and afraid, unable to move, and then kicking and screaming at anyone who came too close to
her.  It took Tasha a moment, as she ran past, to realize that it was the ship's XO, and that something seemed to have simply broken inside, transforming her into a raving lunatic as the
Pripyat
broke apart around her.  Tasha didn't stop.  Oh, she wanted to, but her will to survive wouldn't let her.  Her legs continued to carry her past the screaming XO, burning lungs not even sparing a breath to say anything as she passed.  She remembered reaching her designated life pod and leaping inside, frantically closing it, and latching it shut.  The sound seemed so final, and it was strangely quiet inside the pod, save for the muffled explosions aboard the ship, but that lasted only a brief moment, perhaps only existed in her imagination as she powered up her pod.  She remembered fists beating a desperate drumbeat on the hatch, a staccato of desperation, but there was only room for one.  Fate favored her, and so she greedily took the hand she was dealt.  She paused, closed eyes brimming with tears, hesitated for all of two seconds, and then pressed the button that flung her quickly into space, and away from the dying ship.  She could remember everything, but only as if it were someone else, and she was merely an unwilling passenger forced to watch the horrific episode replay in her mind again and again.

She still wasn't sure how long she had been in that life pod before she had been found by
Vice Admiral Reardon and his battleship.  Much of what happened immediately after being rescued remained a blur, moments of faint lucidity punctuated by unconsciousness.  The most prominent thing she remembered was screaming wildly as they lifted her out of the life pod.  She thought for sure she was being sucked out of her life pod and into space, and it finally took a medic pumping her full of sedatives to get her to the point that they could finally carry her to one of the ship's med bays, or so she was told.  She was also told that she had improved the past few days.  Huh,  if only they knew.

Tasha took a deep breath,
pushing away the memories by force of will, and found that she was finally able to breathe normally again.  As sweat soaked clothes cooled to the chilly room temperature that all hospital rooms seem to be, they gave her goose bumps and she felt a shiver work its way up her spine.  She hated hospitals.  They were always too cold, and none of the furniture was ever the least bit comfortable, but she was required to stay here until she had 'recovered'.  They had told her she had 'acute stress disorder'.  Yeah, seeing everyone you ever cared about being picked off in their life pods, or sucked out into space through breaches in the ship's hull had a way of doing that.  Tasha massaged the back of her neck and sighed wearily before standing and walking to the bathroom, intent on taking a hot shower to rinse away the sweat and memories. 

Twenty minutes later, Tasha emerged from the bathroom in clean clothes feeling renewed, refreshed, and running a comb through her short brown hair. 
It was, perhaps, the best she had felt in awhile.  A part of her still felt as if she was just going through the motions, but she did not want to let herself go, either.  The nightmares had come a few days after her rescue.  At first, it was a welcome change from the numb, disconnected feeling that followed her wherever she went, but the novelty of it quickly wore off when exhaustion set in.  Night after night she would dream she was back in her life pod, watching the black ship destroy the other life pods, saving her life pod for last.  She would always wake up screaming, convinced she was floating, unprotected, in the vacuum of space.  Sometimes she wondered if she would ever sleep peacefully again.

T
he annoying buzz of the doorbell interrupted her thoughts as she threw her comb into the bathroom sink and walked over to look at the display screen in the console next to the door.  She immediately recognized Commander Spears and almost decided not to answer the door, but then caught sight of his companion.  The man was tall, at least a good three inches taller than the Commander, and looked to be in very good shape in spite of his salt-and-pepper, crew cut hair.  He also wore simple olive fatigues, a sharp contrast to Commander Spear’s Navy dress uniform he always seemed so fond of wearing.  She wondered if the man had any other kind of clothes.  Tasha’s gaze was drawn to the circular shoulder patch on the olive uniformed man.  It was a golden hawk that looked as if it were diving for its prey with talons extended, on a field of black, with a gold border.  She couldn't help but feel a brief moment of puzzlement and surprise as she stared at that unit patch.  Everyone in the known galaxy knew that unit insignia.  Some felt a sense of awe, while others were filled with dread, but everyone respected the legend that was Hawke’s Talons.  If this man was a Talon, then he was the best at whatever he did, and judging from his size, scarred knuckles, and a face that carried its fair share of scars, she could venture a guess at what this man's specialty might be.  Maybe it was some of her Russian superstition at work, but she felt as if death hung on the man like a cloak.  Curious, Tasha pushed the button that opened the door, then sauntered over to one of the chairs sitting by the table and settled into it.

“Good morning, Tasha.  How are you?” Commander Spears asked as he entered in from the corridor. 
His voice was cheery and light-hearted.  Fake.  Behind him, his companion took a couple of steps inside the room and then leaned against the wall by the door folding his arms, content with not saying or doing anything other than giving Tasha a nod of greeting.

“I am alive.” She replied in her thick Russian accent.  It was a gift from her heritage, back before old earth was lost, her family originated from a nation called Russia.  Tasha watched the Commander as he made himself comfortable in the chair across the table from her, and waited.  She didn’t like Commander Spears very much.  She felt as if he were trying to control her every movement ever since Vice Admiral Reardon deposited her here like a sack of potatoes being delivered.  Vice Admiral Reardon had spoken with Spears just outside of her hospital room, little realizing that she could hear every word they had said.  The fact that they discussed her as if she were a problem to be solved rather than a human being bothered her.  She may have been a lowly mercenary, but it hardly warranted such cold treatment.

“Of course you are!” Commander Spears replied with a grin.  “What I meant to ask was, are you well on the road to recovery?”  Tasha stared at the Commander blankly,
thinking that was just about the dumbest question she had heard, though he seemed oblivious to it.  She resisted the urge to slap him, if only just.

“I still have nightmares, if that is what you mean.” She answered with a shrug.  Spears nodded perfunctorily.  It was clear he was just observing the niceties, and was anxious to get to the matter at hand.

“I have contracted someone else to complete the investigation The Regulars were contracted to complete.  As the last surviving member of The Regulars, you are its Colonel by default.  I need you to sign this document stating your acceptance of the termination of your contract.” Commander Spears slid a data pad across the table towards Tasha, and then held up a hand to forestall any comment, though Tasha had no intent on saying anything just yet. “Not to worry, the Navy will pay out the contract in full, including the cost of your lost ship.  Under such extreme and unexpected circumstances, it is the least we can do.”  Looking at the big man leaning against the wall, Tasha had a feeling she knew who Spears had contracted to finish the job. It must be a bigger deal than she thought if he had turned to the Talons.  The rumor was that they were retiring.  Not just one or two of them, which was typical of a PMC, but rather the entire company.  How Spears managed to get them involved was beyond her ability to comprehend.  Tasha glanced at the data pad.  The electronic document looked standard enough, and true to his word, Commander spears made sure that she was to receive the full amount of the contract, which was more credits than she had ever seen in her life.  Since she did not have to split it, and there were no costs associated with rearming and repairing the
Pripyat,
it would have made for a nice pay day, and yet…

“Why else are you here?” Tasha asked.  Commander Spears blinked, and then cleared his throat buying a moment or two to recover from the unexpected question.

“Colonel Bakore wanted to talk to you about your experiences, if you were willing.”  Spears replied, waving a hand in the direction of the man leaning against the wall.  This time it was Tasha’s turn to be surprised.  She had expected him to be a Talon marine, not the Colonel himself!  No wonder why she felt as if death draped over the man!  This was the Butcher of New Bombay, the man who single handedly stopped a coalition of four PMC fleets under the command of the Rejai Imperial Navy with a battleship, two cruisers, two battlecruisers, and three covert ops frigates!  There were also the bad things, the accidental destruction of innocent cities - and just how does one
accidentally
destroy entire cities - and of course there was that one time the Talons had been accused of poisoning an entire planet, making its entire atmosphere toxic.  For every four valiant tales surrounding Colonel Bakore and the Talons, there was at least one tale so horrible it would make anyone want to weep.

No one knew what had happened that had brought them to the point of committing these atrocities,
at least, no one that was willing to talk, but there were rumors that Colonel Bakore had to be restrained by his own Marines after returning from one such mission.  The story goes that he had single handedly stormed the Naval intelligence offices and nearly killed the officer in charge with his bare hands, while he screamed the name of one of his men killed in action for each blow that he landed on the officer, or the name of one of those innocents that had been killed.  He was still screaming names when they dragged him off the  beaten and bloody form of the intelligence officer.  As it was, he escaped a court martial only because the officer in question was too afraid to bring Colonel Bakore up on charges, and the Republic Navy didn’t want the embarrassment of having their intelligence failures put into the spotlight.  A year later, after the officer was finally released from the hospital from recuperating from his injuries, he was dishonorably discharged, though the reasons why were never known.  Few blamed the Talons for their actions, save the Talons themselves.

Failure in Naval intelligence is one of the things every empire in the known galaxy had in common.  The problem is, they Navy didn’t care.  They weren’t the ones in the trenches.  They didn’t have to see the horrors their failures resulted in, and that suited them just fine. 
It was one of the unforeseen results of the PMC Accord.  War was now fought by proxy, which was just another way of saying that governments didn't get their hands dirty, but rather paid to have someone else fight their battles for them.  Tasha gave Colonel Bakore a respectful nod, who in turn used his foot to push himself off the wall he had been leaning on and walked towards her, offering his hand.  Swallowing nervously, Tasha accepted it with a firm handshake.

“
Hello, Tasha.” Colonel Bakore said quietly.  Favoring the Colonel with a reserved expression, she motioned towards where Commander Spears was sitting.

“Please, have a seat Colonel.” Tasha offered.  Tasha caught a quickly suppressed grin on the Colonel’s face while the Commander blinked a couple of times before the meaning of her words sank in.  Embarrassed, and more than a little offended, the Commander cleared his throat and jumped out of his chair.

“Of course!  Where are my manners?” the Commander said, trying to salvage the situation with some measure of grace.  “I’ll wait in the lobby, Colonel.  Let me know when you are done.” Turning towards Tasha, he said, “Don’t forget to sign that document before we leave.”  Then he walked out.   Colonel Bakore settled into the metal chair just vacated by the Commander, which squeaked plaintively at having to support a man of his stature.  The silence seemed to drag on as the man studied her with grey eyes.  His gaze made her nervous, and the tension in the room grew before Colonel Bakore finally broke the silence.