Colonel Hawke Bakore was restless as he paced the officer’s briefing room. It had been several hours since Nathan and his team had boarded the Choyo, and since then all had been quiet. There had been no word from Nathan, nor from any member of the team. The last report he had received from the team was when Tasha had sent a databurst transmission, uploading the data she had retrieved from the Choyo. That had been two hours ago, and since then, there has been no word. In his gut, he knew Nathan and his team were in trouble. A soft beep came from the computer near his customary position at the head of the table, and he practically ran over to his desk, but then forced himself to wait a few moments before answering, not wanting to appear too worried or desperate to hear news of Nathan and his fire team.

“This is the Colonel.” Hawke said, after tapping a button on his display to answer the call.

“Sir, this is Communications specialist Roland. We have finished decrypting and compiling the data Lieutenant Commander Altihkova uploaded to us.” Roland said.

“Thank you. I’ll access it from the station in my quarters.” Hawke replied. Going to his quarters, Hawke sat down and brought up the communications package earmarked with Tasha’s last name, and that day’s date. Inside were several files, including the captain’s personal log, a fact that made Hawke smile. He had a feeling Tasha would do well, if given the opportunity, and he was glad that his expectations have been proven correct.

For the next couple of hours, Hawke perused the files, not finding anything particularly useful, but then sat bolt upright as he read the ship’s manifest. Switching back to the ship’s log he had just finished reading, he compared entries for the same date. After a moment, Hawke sat back in his chair, eyes wide in shock. Quickly transferring the data to his datapad, Hawke left his quarters and made his way to the ship’s science lab, where a scientist was busy watching a holovid that looked much like a documentary on amphibians. The ship’s science lab was small. In fact, it only took up a small corner of the much larger medical bay. There was only limited use for a science lab on a ship that was purely for combat. The only reason why it existed at all was on Hawke’s insistence that it be done.

“Doc, I need you to look at this.” Hawke said as he unceremoniously set his datapad down and slid it across the metal table in the Scientist’s direction. Doctor Dennis Hirsch looked askance at the Colonel as he pulled the datapad towards him, and began to read. After a few seconds, he stopped reading and then began to reread it again with a troubled look growing on his face. Going over to the workstation, the scientist pulled up what seemed to be information on some kind of chemical molecule, and shook his head. Doctor Hirsch seemed to check a few more facts before shaking his head again, though it seemed as if his suspicions were correct.

“I was hoping I was wrong, but here it is. This is what they are trying to make.” The scientist indicated his screen. “It’s an Organophosphorus compound. If I am reading this right, all the cargo transferred to the Choyo is needed to manufacture it.” Hawke felt the cold fingers of dread grasp him. He had a feeling that he knew where this conversation was going to lead.

“Are you sure? Couldn’t that cargo also be used to create other things?” Hawke asked. The scientist nodded, as he brought up a couple of other possibilities.

“They can be used to make two variants of the same compound, but all three together can only be used as a weapon. They have no other uses. At least, no other known uses.” The scientist answered.

“What can you tell me of how it is deployed, and its affects?” The scientist sighed, and then mumbled something under his breath, but brought up a technical readout of the first chemical. Hawke looked at the readout, which was also the grandfather of the other two. The original compound was created long ago, long before the earth’s resources were depleted, and the ozone layer was finally compromised, forcing humanity to take to the stars to survive. It would be another two hundred years after that before humanity returned to begin the "Earth Restoration Project," implementing newly discovered technology to repair the planet’s ozone layer, and diligently working to reseed and restore the cradle of humanity as a part of a historical preservation society’s efforts.

“All three compounds work the same way, the only difference is how effective they are. One has such a low density that it is easily deployed in an aerosol form. As I said before, all three are Organophosphorus compounds. That means it is a degradable, organic compound containing carbon-phosphorus bonds. It is a colorless, odorless liquid, and can easily be mixed in water. This compound can be inhaled, ingested, or absorbed through the skin. If you have enough of it, it can be deployed to cover entire continents.” The scientist swallowed nervously, his eyes taking on a haunted look. Momentarily forgetting himself, the scientist grabbed the front of Hawke’s shirt urgently.

“Colonel, if they are making this stuff they have to be stopped! They could kill all life on a planet within an hour of deploying this compound around the globe. Even at very low concentrations, this compound can be fatal! This monster is over five thousand times more toxic than cyanide.” Hawke’s mouth felt dry as he tried to swallow. Carefully keeping his composure, he firmly removed the scientist’s grasping hands. He buried the momentary flash of desire to punch the man for grabbing him like that. Realizing what he had done, the scientist jerked back his hands as if he had been burned.

“Sorry, Colonel.” He apologized, realizing he was walking a fine line “But if they are making any one of these compounds, they must be stopped.” Hawke nodded his understanding.

“What is this compound called?” Hawke asked, lifting a chin towards the holographic display, which was once again showing a three dimensional representation of the chemical molecule.

“On earth, they called it Sarin. Since then, the chemical compound has been refined into Sarin-2, and Sarin-3. Each one is more deadly, more toxic, than the last.” The scientist replied.

“Is there any protection against this ‘Sarin’ stuff?” Hawke asked. The scientist shrugged.

“I assume so, but it has been at least two hundred years since anything like this was used, if not longer. I’d have to do some research.” He told Hawke.

“Then get started.” Hawke ordered. “Just in case.” As Hawke left the lab. He still felt like punching something, or someone. This ‘one last mission’ had now turned into a full blown operation, and he was woefully unprepared for an operation of this size. He needed to talk to his senior officers.

***

Lieutenant James ‘Gordy’ Gordon and Second Lieutenant Raijan Kemai arrived at the officer’s briefing room quickly, sensing that something had changed. As they entered, they saw the Colonel staring at what looked to be a three dimensional molecule of some sort slowly rotating on the holographic display in the center of the briefing room table. He had a troubled expression on his face when he looked up at his two officers.

“We have trouble. Sit.” Hawke invited. Both officers sat, Gordy leaning back while Raijan simply folded his hands and rested them calmly on the table in front of him. Briefly, Hawke told them about Sarin, and how he now believed that the Guan Yu was targeting ships with cargo carrying ingredients needed to manufacture it. As he informed them of its uses and effects, both officers remained in shocked silence.

“So there you have it. Nathan and his team are still MIA, and, as you know, the Guan Yu is due to arrive sometime today.” Hawke finished, and then added, “As I see it, the mission has changed. Destroying the Guan Yu is now a secondary objective. Destroying the Choyo and its cargo, and then destroying whatever manufacturing facilities they have managed to build is now our primary objective. Questions? Suggestions?”

Raijan, ever the soul of courtesy, cleared his throat before speaking. “I would say, Sir, that our next move should be to retrieve our team from the Choyo, and to destroy the Choyo and its cargo before the Guan Yu arrives. Should we wait until the Guan Yu arrives, there may be too many for us to fight at once. If we wait until after the Guan Yu leaves, the Choyo may undock before we can make our move.”

“What if we follow the Choyo to its base of operations? After it receives delivery from the Guan Yu, I’m guessing it will head there to drop off the materials.” Gordy asked. Raijan shook his head, disagreeing.

“We have only one squad of Marines. The base could be quite formidable. While one Marine in powered armor is worth several of any other military force we could encounter, who is to say they would not have more than we are capable of taking on at any one time, and let us not forget about whatever force is inside the Choyo. We could easily face two thousand troops on their base, as unlikely as that sounds.” Raijan responded. Hawke stared at the table top, weighing his options, and then came to a decision.

“Alright. This is what we’re going to do. I am going to draw up a plan of attack. After that, Raijan, you and I are going to lead the two remaining Marine fire teams on board the Choyo. Our objectives are to destroy the Choyo, and retrieve our team members.” Raijan nodded once, his face impassive. Turning to Gordy, Hawke said, “Gordy, get a message out to the Jingashi Naval station where the rest of our people are stationed. Tell them to load up all of the Marines on the Fury that can fit on her, and meet us on the far side of Amazon, where we’ll be holding orbit, keeping the planet between us and Gitmo. I’m guessing we’ll have to hide there by the time everything is said and done.” Gordy nodded, and both men rose to their feet and walked out to see to their tasks. A feral grin spread across Hawke’s face as he began laying plans for the assault.

***

The metallic taste in her mouth was bitterly sweet as she sucked the blood that flowed from her split lip. It should hurt, but it didn’t. It was obscured by the pain from other injuries. She couldn’t see out of her right eye, and even if she could, it wouldn’t help her against the light that blinded her left eye. Add that to the strangulation bruises on her neck, the sharp pain in her ribs every time she took a breath, and the sloppily dressed puncture wounds on her body, and suddenly her split lip was just a distraction.

“I must congratulate you,” complimented a man’s voice with an Asian accent. “for resisting so long.” Behind the light, she could barely make out the silhouette of her interrogator. Summoning what saliva she had left, she weakly spit in his direction. Blood and saliva made a small glob on the metal floor of the room, and she weakly noted how little spit she had left, but she didn’t care. She would not give him the satisfaction of breaking her.

“Surely it does not matter if you tell me who you work for, or what empire your company is contracted to.” The Asian man’s voice seemed friendly, but then it always did. His voice was friendly when he calmly used a rope to choke her. It was friendly when he quite slowly and deliberately slid a knife into her bound body, expertly positioning the blade so as to not puncture any major organs or arteries. It was friendly when he threw her on the floor and kicked her in the ribs, and it was friendly now as he sipped his tea, sitting in the shadows. She had not had anything to drink since...since…Tasha didn’t know how long she had been there. She did not say anything. Instead, she just let her head hang limply, letting her hair help obscure the brightness of the lights. She imagined him sitting there, leering at her from behind the lights. She hated him, truly hated him. She wished she could get up and kick him in the groin, or perhaps gave him the same treatment with a knife she had been given, but then she would likely hit something major and accidentally kill him. As if that would be a bad thing, she thought.

“You know, your Commander was not nearly as resistant.” the Rejaian officer offered conversationally, then she heard him chuckle. “Oh, he cussed and spit, and hollered, but in the end he wept and even licked my boots.” Tasha could not help herself as a laugh weakly bubbled up from she knew not where, though it agitated bruised – probably broken – ribs. Her laugh ended in a painful gasp. She knew right away that was a lie. She could never see Commander Schultz break in such a manner.

She was in her cell when they came to take him to interrogation for the first time. He had stripped one of the steel support frames from his cot in his room somehow, and drove it through the faceplate of one of his guards, killing him instantly. He got as far as the door to the brig in his effort to escape before another guard in combat armor stepped in and cracked him in the face with the butt of his assault rifle. Shortly thereafter they took the cot out of his cell, forcing the Commander to sleep on the floor. No, he would not have broken in such a short time.

“Unfortunately, your Marine friends were killed. I’m afraid we were a little too-“ The officer’s smooth voice cut off as the door to the room slid open, and another man stepped in.

“Do you know anything yet?” The new man asked. Tasha’s eyes strained to see behind the light trained on her face, to see the room’s new occupant, but only saw a faint outline in the shadows.

“I asked not to be interrupted! I will inform you the moment I learn anything!” her interrogator angrily replied.

“The security of our mission takes precedence.” The new man said.

“The Rejai Empire is far away. I-“ The interrogator broke off, and then sighed, realizing he may have given some tidbit of information away inadvertently. “Well that’s it then. We are done for the day.” With that, Tasha felt her bonds slacken as they came off, and hands roughly picking her up by her arms and escorting her away. She wasn’t sure how long it had been. Likely, it had been mere hours since being knocked unconscious by the powered armor, but the interrogators lost no time in trying to quickly force intel out of her. It was the most painful experience of her life, and she knew it was not going to end soon. Having a sudden bout of nausea, Tasha stumbled, only to be roughly held up under her arms and dragged down the corridor. She weakly tried to regain her feet, but she lacked the strength, and instead just limply allowed the soldiers to drag her on, and dump her unceremoniously on the floor of her cell in the ship’s brig, just down the hall.

She lay there quietly, enjoying the feel of the cool metal on her body, ignoring the fact that some blood from her lip was marring it. She didn’t care. She just wanted to die. Maybe if she just closed her eyes, and held her breath…but no. She was not that kind of person. She could not just give up.

From a long distance away, or at least it seemed like it came from a distance away, came a tap, tap, tapping sound. With a soft groan, Tasha tried to ignore it, but the tapping continued, insistent. Pushing herself to hands and knees, she crawled stiffly towards the sound. It came from the pipe that came from the wall and was attached to a sink in her cell. Finally reaching the wall, Tasha lowered herself back to the floor, and wrapped a hand around the pipe, muffling the sound.

“Hello!” Hearing a voice caused Tasha to stir, and eventually brought her out of her near comatose state. She tried to focus on the voice, and realized it was coming from somewhere above her. Slowly, she forced her eyes open, and looked around, spotting a vent near the ceiling. Of course. It had to be near the ceiling, she thought. With a stifled groan, she steadied herself with a hand on the wall as she slowly and wearily climbed to her feet. Once on her feet, she stood on tiptoes and cocked her head.

“Hello, can anyone hear me?” The voice sounded as if someone were speaking into a tin can as it echoed through the vent. Clearing her voice, Tasha tried to respond.

“Privyet.” Tasha said, her voice weak and raspy from thirst. A chuckle could be heard echoing through the vent, a deep rumble of a voice that sparked recognition somewhere in Tasha’s brain.

“I should’ve known it would have been you, Altihkova. What is your physical condition?” Tasha started to reply in Russian, her exhaustion making her forget to speak English.

“English, girl! I can only speak a smattering of Russian.” The rumbling voice demanded. Stopping to reorganize her thoughts, Tasha began again, slowly.

“Mostly cuts and bruises, but maybe cracked rib or two. Punctures to body, but bleeding stopped and no organs or arteries injured.” Tasha replied. Her English was horribly broken and her Russian accent thick, being too exhausted to speak properly.

From the vent, the voice replied, “Well hang in there. We’ll figure out how to make our exit sooner or later, and if not, well…Talons never leave their own behind.” Tasha finally recognized the voice, as distorted as it was. It was Commander Schultz in the cell next to her.

“We leave together.” Tasha mumbled in reply. Then, her strength at an end, she collapsed to the floor, and passed out. Tasha did not hear Nathan’s ragged chuckle.

Next Chapter: Chapter 8