As he stood on the quay, Hawke stared up at the Vulture class assault frigate he had just disembarked from and winced. Like its namesake, the ship looked a little like a vulture in flight, its wings swept back, and its neck outstretched. Black smoke billowed out from several gaping holes in its armor, exposing the internal structure of the ship. From several places on the exposed portions of the ship sparks showered anyone nearby as power relays tried to direct power through fused or destroyed power conduits. In a way, it looked like the docking arms were the only thing keeping the poor thing together. That last mission was more difficult that it should have been.
It was supposed to have been a fairly straight forward rescue of a mid-level Gadari diplomat, but what they met was ninety well-trained former military types that felt their government owed them something. They had been able to extract the diplomat, but one of his men was killed, and another severely wounded in a fighting withdrawal, which was just a fancy way of saying they were trying their best to get the heck out of Dodge while firing back as much as they could with a sweaty, fat, and wounded diplomat in tow. Once aboard the ship, their small frigate was hounded by a battlecruiser that had nearly destroyed them. It seemed its missiles had a penchant for hitting them with uncanny accuracy. It was amazing their ship held together at all, let alone survived the jump back home. As it was, they had to be pushed through the station’s giant airlocks and into the dock by a naval tug made just for that reason. The traffic controllers responsible for getting ships into the dock safely were worried that a tractor beam would stress the fragile structural integrity of the frigate past its tolerances. It would have been a shame to make it all the way back to the station, only to have their ship torn apart by the tractor beam right in front of the docking bay.
“It looks like you had a bit of a rough n’ tumble.” Commander Nathan Schultz said as he met him on the dock. Nathan was an older man with a gray-streaked black beard that was neatly trimmed. He was a fairly large, raw-boned man who was just a bit taller than Hawke. He was also the second in command of Hawke’s Talons, the private military company they started about twenty standard years ago.
Like Hawke, Nathan held two ranks, a Marine rank and a Naval rank, to avoid any questions regarding who was really in command at any given moment, but unlike Hawke, Nathan preferred the use of his Naval rank of Commander rather than his Marine rank of Lieutenant Colonel. Hawke still remembered asking Nathan about that, since Nathan had been a Republic Marine since he was old enough to enroll at seventeen standard years. Nathan just smiled, winked, and said that the rank of Commander was more dashing with the ladies. Now, twenty years after they had started the Hawke Talons, and no longer a young man, Nathan had given up chasing the ladies, though his preference of Commander had somehow remained.
Rubbing his hand over his buzz-cut salt and pepper scalp, Hawke nodded. “Navy messed up the intel on this one. We have one casualty, and one severely injured. We may have to give him a medical pension.” Hawke replied. “Funeral services will be at seventeen hundred.” Hawke could hear Nathan’s sad sigh.
“Alright. I’ll make the arrangements.” He said. As a part of the PMC Accord that regulated the operation of private military companies, or PMCs, Hawke’s Talons were responsible for paying for the funerals of its casualties, and executing the Last Will and Testament of the deceased, if they had one. That grim duty fell to Nathan.
With a glance towards the beleaguered frigate, Hawke grimaced, and was glad that he was finally done with it all. There would be no more missions, no more lunatic stunts that his men and women somehow manage to live through, no more guessing at what the Gadari Naval intelligence may have missed or left out in their briefing packet for the mission, and best of all, no more war. He was glad. Over the past twenty-eight solar years he had to do things that made him feel as if he had lost a piece of his soul.
Hawke started out as a Marine for the Gadari Republic. He served eight years and was thrown into hell on one piece of rock after another to fight for the interests of the Republic. Then there was The Reformation. That was when the Gadari Republic, the Multani Federation, and the Rejai Empire collectively created the PMC Accord and disbanded a majority of their state militaries, with the sole exception of the Marandi, who refused to be a participant of the PMC Accord, and continued to willfully isolate themselves from the other three Empires. Hawke continued his service to the Republic as the owner and operator of Hawke’s Talons, which grew to become one of the largest, most respected private military companies in the four empires, which contracted exclusively to the Gadari Republic. Now, twenty-eight years later, Hawke was a much harder, more calloused man. With each mission, he felt as if he had bartered away a piece of his humanity, and now there was not much left, save a healthy dose of cynicism, a scornful distrust of Naval intelligence, and a strong desire to see something unspoiled by human ambition and greed. That is why he was retiring. After years of taking on the Republic’s dirty work, he desired to rediscover his humanity before his life was over, and maybe even find some kind of redemption for all of the things he had done.
With a sigh and a shake of his head, Hawke put the damaged frigate out of his mind as he left the docks behind and made his way through the dock master’s office and into the station’s plaza. The plaza was lined with shops and places to eat for naval personnel and guests to visit at their convenience. Ignoring the quiet hustle and bustle of people busy eating, or visiting this shop or that, Hawke made his way to the Navy Contracts Office on the other side of the plaza. The Navy Contracts Office was responsible for initiating, administering, and paying out any contracts to PMC’s. This included filing claims for compensation of any costs the Gadari Republic had contractually agreed to pay. In this case, the repair or compensation of the Talon’s shot-up assault frigate.
The Navy Contracts Office was a simple affair. It was a rectangular room with double glass doors on one side, and a metal counter that extended from the wall on the right, and then wrapped around to terminate against the back wall. In the back left corner was the door to Commander’s office. Behind the counter sat a young lady wearing a Republic Naval uniform engaged in a conversation with someone on her console. Looking up from her console as Hawke stepped through glass doors and into the office, she nodded at him in recognition as she held up a finger signaling that she needed him to wait a moment. Hawke watched as she quickly ended her conversation, noticing the console had been secured so only she could see who was on the other end. Her headset with a microphone attached ensured no one could overhear what was being said to her. Bringing the conversation to a close, she went through the motions of navigating a menu or two on her console using a touch screen, and then briefly studied her screen before she grimaced, not liking what she saw.
“The Dockmaster’s preliminary report indicates your ship would be better off scrapped and replaced than fixed.” The assistant said.
“I am inclined to agree.” Hawke responded.
“How bad was it?” That last question gave Hawke pause. It was an odd question, out of place. The navy rarely wished to know the details of what happened on a mission. The only thing they cared about was results. They didn’t want to be soiled with the dirty details of war. It was much cleaner that way. At least, it was for them.
Hawke shrugged. “The Navy’s intel was wrong. That’s not usually news, but the degree of their error this time was…extraordinary.” That was putting it mildly. The briefing packet suggested four, maybe five kidnappers with small arms, and they named them simply as ’dissidents’. Yeah right. There were ninety of them with military grade gear and armor. The assistant gave Hawke a sympathetic look before it slid off her face to be replaced with a more business-like demeanor. Ah yes...there was the true face of the Navy.
“Colonel Bakore, funds for the frigate will be placed in your account, plus a small bonus for a job well done.” Hawke again nearly let his neutral demeanor slip as her words registered in his brain. A bonus? There was no stipulation in his contract for a bonus. Giving the assistant a grateful, if somewhat false smile, he nodded his thanks, but was suspicious. The Gadari Navy was not known for its generosity.
“Is he in?” Hawke asked, changing the subject as he waved a hand indicating the office door behind her and to her left. She shook her head.
“No. Vice Admiral Reardon docked a short while before you did, and ordered Commander Spears to come see him at his earliest convenience. He did not sound the least bit happy, so Commander Spears left right away.” Tiana answered. “But he asked me to tell you that he would be there tonight.” She said with a smile. Hawke nodded at her with what he hoped looked like a grateful expression, then slid his data pad towards her.
“One of my men was KIA. Here is the information for his pay, and where it needs to go. Commander Schultz will contact you if any other arrangements need to be made. The assistant glanced at the data pad, and nodded once more as she touched a button on her console that initiated a data transfer between Hawke’s pad and the station’s computer, which in turn authorized payment directly into the appropriate accounts.
“Very well, is that all?” Tiana asked, though her tone of voice was clearly indicating that she believed their business to be at an end. Hawke picked up his data pad.
“Yes. That about covers it.” Hawke said. With a parting nod in her direction, Hawke saw himself out the door as he left to get ready for the night’s event. Hopefully, a hour or so of sleep and a shower would be involved. If it were his own choice, he would just stay in with a good book and a glass or two of scotch or bourbon, but, as Nathan often reminded him, these events are often more about those who attend them than those who are the guest of honor. Hawke took that to simply mean that everyone needs an excuse to party now and again, and this was as good a time as any. Oh well.
***
That evening found Colonel Hawke Bakore sitting at the head table, looking around at the people in the banquet hall of Dugan’s Bar and Grille. A sudden lump of emotion began to rise that he had to swallow down, roughly clearing his throat. They were all there, those that were like family to him. The Talon Marines were made up of some of the toughest leathernecks that he could afford to recruit. These men and women were sent in when a landing force was required to kick in some teeth, and over the years, their ability to do so has become well known and respected throughout the four empires. Every one of them were trained in the tradition of a Marine. In fact, it was Hawke’s intention to make them into the spiritual successors to old Earth’s Marines of the United States or Britain, two of the premiere fighting forces of their age.
Then there were the covert ops crews. Hawke saw their commanding officers grouped around a table, playing a drinking game that involved knocking back shots of some dark liquid, and a knife. Hawke chuckled. They were always a little crazy. Then again, they had to be. It took a special kind of crazy for a crew of men and women to pilot a small frigate behind enemy lines armed only with a cloaking device and a sensor suite, often in advance of a strike group, to feed intel to the fleet.
Of course the only ones crazier than soldiers in Covert Ops were the Black Ops crews. They were not sitting far from the Covert Ops table. He was surprised to find them all quiet, and simply looking around. Then again, it fit their natures. Their motto was “Death on silent wings.” Crewing battlecruiser class ships, those who made up the Talon’s Black Ops units were typically tasked with sneaking behind enemy lines and operating away from the main fleet for an extended duration, often carrying out sabotage, or other surgical strikes, with each Black Ops battlecruiser carrying one Platoon of Marines that had additional training above and beyond the training they give all their Marines. Sometimes the Talons avoided direct confrontation that would have cost thousands of lives by a few well-placed surgical strikes by their Black Ops teams.
Then there was the bulk of the rest of the Talon fleet. Nearly one hundred ship captains, and a few of their officers, all here to help him celebrate a day he has been looking forward to for quite some time now. For today, Colonel Hawke Bakore officially removed Hawke’s Talons from the rolls of the Gadari Republic Navy as one of the premiere private military companies that has served the Gadari Republic faithfully since The Reformation, and retire.
“ATTEN-SHUN!” Commander Nathan Schultz’s voice blared across the large banquet hall without the aid of a microphone, cutting through the din of conversation. From years of habit, everyone in the room rose as one to stand at attention.
“At ease” Commander Schultz said as he grabbed his beer. Everyone chuckled when they realized that Nathan merely wanted silence. Some even followed the Commander’s example, picking up beers from their tables.
“We’re here today to give honor where honor is due. For twenty years Hawke has guided the Talons through one combat operation after another in service to the Gadari Republic. Through that time, we have gained many new members of the Talon family, and have lost some as well. Through the years, Colonel Hawke Bakore has instilled in us the kind of teamwork, tenacity, courage, and skill that has made the Talons one of the best, most respected private military company in the Gadari Republic, if not the galaxy!” Nathan paused to wait for the cheers and shouts of approval to quiet before he continued.
“Without further delay, let me present our commander, comrade, councilor, and brother, Colonel Hawke Bakore.” Nathan stepped back from the podium and held out an arm towards Hawke who reluctantly stood to his feet amidst shouts of approval, applause, and cheers. One enterprising Marine, obviously already a bit under the influence of the liquor that had been flowing freely since before Hawke arrived, even climbed on a table, to nearly fall flat on his face, if it hadn’t been for a couple of the other Marines who showed more sense and pulled the staggering man down off the table before he could hurt himself. Stepping up to the podium, Hawke smiled, and held up a hand. After a moment, the room grew silent once again.
“Thank you. I appreciate everyone coming here tonight in my honor, but it is I who must honor each of you.” Hawke began. “I will not keep you all listening to the droning of my voice. I’m a Marine, and we tend to make our points rather concisely.” The Marines in the room laughed loudly, and ‘hoo-rahed’.
“We’ve all kicked some serious tail in the name of the Gadari Republic. We have shown ourselves to be more loyal to the ideal that the Gadari Republic represents than to the paycheck it gives us, and I think that is what separates us from most PMC’s out there. Yet we have all had to do some things that made us lose a piece of our soul.” Hawke paused as memory threatened to choke him up. Roughly clearing his throat, he took a sip of his scotch.
“Now, that chapter in my life is complete, and a new one has begun. For those of you who have chosen to join me, you too are beginning a new journey.” Hawke held up his glass of scotch in a toast. “So I say this to you tonight, ‘To new beginnings. May our road be long and amazing.’” In solemn toast, the officers in the room lifted up their glasses and joined in the toast.
The sounds of the retirement party faded a little as Hawke walked into the viewing room attached to the banquet hall a little over an hour later. It was one of the main attractions of a restaurant like Dugan’s. He had always enjoyed coming here to look out the station windows that overlooked the planet below while he enjoyed a cigar and a glass of scotch. There are some sights you never get tired of seeing, such as gorgeous waterfalls, colorful nebulas...and yes, something as common as the sight of a planet from a window. This was part of the reason why he had commissioned the construction of the Heaven’s Gaze. It was a capital class ship, based upon the Gadari Republic’s Starfury carrier design. All of Heaven’s Gaze’s systems were designed to be somewhat modular so that they would be adaptable to changing situations, but the systems being installed on her now were primarily geared towards exploration. After years of killing, destroying, and doing distasteful things that gave him nightmares, Hawke felt that peaceful exploration may be the one way he could contribute something positive to humankind. While he was aware that he was both feared and respected as a product of his past actions, he did not want to be remembered for his sins. He wanted to be remembered for something, he hoped, that would be far more meaningful.
Hawke reminisced about his company, Hawke’s Talons, and about how difficult the transition had been. His so-called retirement caused no small amount of controversy among the other private military companies. So-called, because in a brief press conference he announced that the Hawke’s Talons would no longer be a PMC, but rather would be repurposed towards exploration. The moments directly after the press conference were troublesome as many investors sold off mass quantities of Talon stock, while other investors clamored to purchase stock in droves, heralding Hawke as a true visionary who saw that the future of mankind was not in warfare, but in exploration. Meanwhile, the Gadari Republic began making inroads towards transitioning the Talons out, as they had been their most actively utilized PMC for any action requiring more than a platoon of Men or a single ship, because Hawke’s Talons was one of the few PCMs that had an entire fleet at its disposal, as well as nearly three hundred thousand employees ranging from research and development to nearly forty thousand well trained and well equipped Marines.
In another shocking move announced scarcely a month later, Hawke announced that the company was drastically downsizing, reducing its workforce by nearly two hundred and fifty thousand, leaving the company with only fifty thousand employees, most of which were experts in all manner of scientific fields. This left only twenty thousand personnel that were made up of pilots, Marines, and other support personnel. Also announced was the commissioning of Heaven’s Gaze, one of the few privately owned capital class ships, a carrier, which would be heavily modified to be used specifically for the purposes of research and exploration. Again the Company’s stocks were bought and sold frantically as nervous investors sold, and excited ones bought, but after it was all said and done, Hawke didn’t care. Not one of the remaining Talons was worried about getting paid. Every last one of them wanted nothing more than to see what was out there, beyond the confines of the four empires, which had all but given up on space exploration, content on their border disputes and petty bickering. They too longed for a better future for mankind.
“You’re missing your party.” Nathan’s gruff voice interrupted his thoughts. Hawke glanced at Nathan, giving him a weak smile, though he really didn’t feel like smiling. “And you are thinking of both past and future, unless I miss my guess.” Nathan added, holding out a glass of scotch towards Hawke in one hand while he took a sip from his own glass. Hawke took a deep breath, and let it out with a soft sigh as he accepted the offered glass.
“Maybe.” Hawke allowed, then added, “I am just...thinking.” Nathan joined Hawke in gazing out the window. Nathan nodded as he let his gaze drift out towards the planet on the other side of the window. He had been with Hawke since the beginning. He was one of Hawke’s drill instructors during boot camp in the Republic Marines, then met up again with Hawke as his commanding officer nearly a year later during some fierce action against the Rejai Empire. Soon Hawke’s rank equaled his own, and Hawke had already made it clear he was a Marine for life. Then there was The Reformation. All four empires disbanded a majority of their standing military forces in favor of private military contractors. Of those military forces that were outright disbanded were the Gadari Republic Marines. Hawke did not deal with it well, drinking himself into a drunken stupor for nearly six months until Nathan smacked some sense into him. After that particular brawl, a bruised Hawke Bakore created the Talons, and an equally bruised Nathan Schultz was its first member.
“You think too much.” Nathan accused. Hawke chuckled, his faint smile genuine this time.
“And you never think enough.” Hawke replied, finishing one of the many friendly rituals they had built between them over the years. Nathan grunted, then finished off his glass of scotch.
“Don’t be long. It’s your party, you should be there.” Nathan said. Hawke nodded once as Nathan turned to leave.
“Ah! There you are!” Commander Adam Spears smiled as he saw the two by the window. “Congratulations on a long and illustrious career, my friend. I, for one, will not be happy to see you go, nor will the Gadari Navy.” Hawke’s thoughtful expression was replaced by a smile, though anyone that knew him recognized it as him trying to exhibit at least a little social grace. The Commander, after all, had been the Talon’s handler for nearly as long as they had been in business. The professional relationship between Spears and Hawke had grown rocky sometimes, but Spears always handed out the choicest, and usually the most critical, assignments to Hawke’s Talons. Hawke, for his part, always got the job done.
“I am honored you could make it.” Hawke lied. In truth, he thought Commander Spears was a fake. He always put on a facade so obvious it was irritating. Sometimes he wished he could just yell at the man to be himself, but he knew his words would be lost on him.
“I would not have missed it. After all, the Talons have been at the forefront of every military action for the last twenty years. You, and your company, will be sorely missed.” Spears replied. “Are you sure I cannot get you to reconsider?” Hawke smiled politely, and shook his head.
“I am afraid not, my friend. The Heaven’s Gaze is being loaded with supplies even now. It is my intent to launch her by the end of this week, and be on our way to begin our explorations after a one month shakedown cruise.” Hawke said.
“Ah...well, I had to try.” Spears said. “But can you stop by my office in the morning? I have one last thing I have to talk to you about.” Hawke’s grin became a little more forced as he nodded.
“Sure, Adam. I’ll be there first thing.” Hawke promised. Spears nodded once, satisfied with Hawke’s reply, and then sighed as he saw his empty glass, and held it up.
“Well, I suppose I should go get a refill. Congratulations again!” Spears said.
“Thank you.” Hawke said. Extricating himself, Commander Spears made his exit, and Nathan gave his customary snort.
“Sycophant.” Nathan grunted. Hawke could not disagree. As much as he liked Spears, he was very much motivated by his own ambitions, a fact which had gotten the Talons into more than one scrape with poor intel, not enough men or ships, and often lower than usual pay. Those were usually the times Hawke and Spears went head to head afterwards, and Hawke found he had to help Nathan write letters to the next of kin of way too many dead Talons. Hawke sighed, and glanced distastefully at his scotch.
“I wonder what he wants.” Hawke said before gulping down the remainder of his glass.
“I wouldn’t trust him. We’re too close to being done with him.” Nathan cautioned. Hawke nodded absently in acknowledgement as he stared out the window.
“I know, but you know me.” Hawke said. “I don’t like to burn too many bridges unless I have to.”
“This is one bridge you can afford to burn.” Nathan remarked. He never thought too much of Commander Spears, yet he knew Hawke was right. It would not be professional not to show up in the morning. Plus, Commander Spears could still cause them no small amount of difficulty so long as the Heaven’s Gaze remained in her berth at the nearby shipyard.
“Well my friend, shall we?” Hawke said, giving Nathan a hearty slap on his shoulder. Nathan nodded, and motioned for his friend to lead the way back to the party.
***
Hawke rubbed the heel of his palm into aching eyes, as he tried to ignore an aching head. It was 09:00 standard time, and he found himself wishing he would have just rolled over and gone back to sleep. If it weren’t for his promise to visit Spears this morning, he would have. He still considered it, even going so far as to hit the snooze button twice, which was a very rare occurrence for him, but then his sense of responsibility kicked in as he grudgingly forced himself out of bed and into the shower. After twenty minutes and a short ride on train, Hawke was stepping into the Naval Contracts Office once again. The Naval officer sitting behind the desk made brief eye contact with Hawke and held up a finger, indicating she would only be a moment as she talked to someone on a vidcam, which was blurred out to protect the identity of the person on the other end, a routine practice for anyone actively in the field working intel, Hawke noted. He also noted that the background told him that the person was on a ship. Ending her conversation, the woman behind the desk took note of a bleary-eyed Hawke standing before her. Oddly, it was the same woman he had seen the day before. He idly wondered if she ever was not talking to someone.
“He’s expecting you, Sir. Go on in.” She said as she pressed a button on her console. With an audible click, the magnetic locks to the Commander’s office disengaged, letting Hawke in. The office was well appointed, with a dark navy blue carpet complimented by walnut-paneled walls. The use of wood was a rarity in space, where most things were made of naked steel, or other more durable metals. Spears sat behind a massive desk with the Gadari Republic flag standing in the right corner of the room, and a flag with the Gadari Navy emblem on it sitting in the left corner of the room.
The meeting began well enough. Commander Spears was even cordial as he smiled and waved Hawke to a seat across the desk from him, but after a few minutes of exchanging pleasantries, Hawke finally fell silent as he suddenly realized what was going on. This had an all too familiar feel to it, and he didn’t like where this meeting seemed to be heading. There they stood, with Spears shoveling the verbal crap Hawke’s way, and Hawke waiting for Spears to drop his proverbial shovel and finally speak his mind. They both knew it, but it was almost tradition by now. Thankfully, the tradition was cut short when Commander Spears let his smile drop as he sat down heavily in his office chair with a defeated sigh.
“I need you to go to Farstar Sector. Ships are being destroyed all through the systems there, and we don’t know why.” He said without preamble.
“I Can’t. I’m out, remember? I’m retiring. You were at the party.” Hawke replied. Spears held up a hand, warding off Hawke’s comments.
“I know, I know, and I wouldn’t ask if this weren’t important. Vice Admiral Caldwell has asked me to make sure this gets done, and quite frankly, you’re the only one I trust with this.” Spears said. “I need you on this, Hawke.”
“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.