|
b]Chapter 9: The Batavia[/b]
It was 2152, a few weeks from 2153, and Hakim stood at the brink of completion. What he had sought for these long years, to end that fear gnawing at the back of his mind incessantly, some critical information which might put that creature and its possible ilk to rest. At least, that’s what Hakim thought.
Through the Corporation, he had hired a somewhat renown freighter under the command of an equally renowned Dutchman. The ship was the Batavia, a heavily modified bulk transport which now more resembled a warship, which was exactly what Hakim and the company needed. The planet which Hakim had been notified about by his French contact was their destination, with any collection of information; books, tablets, computers (if they had such things), whatever could be crammed into the Batavia’s considerable cargo hold and taken back for interpretation. While results certainly wouldn’t be instantaneous, there was no greater potential source of information. Hakim would get what he desired, and could go back to what he excelled most at; destruction.
Currently, the ship was several hours overdue for a check in, but that was largely expected given the great distance in which it was operating. Hakim simply spent the time musing over his potential future as a businessman once he had this one, final personal contract dealt with. He was in good spirits, and regularly checked in with the corporate structure directly behind his small island estate.
At least he was in good spirits for the first week.
The ship grew steadily more overdue, and with each passing day, Hakim grew more and more agitated. A simple system had been put in place; several code words were to be used depending on the situation discovered by the Batavia; these could be easily transmitted without fear of interception due to their indecipherable nature, yet none had been received. There was even a backup long-range communicator that the Blackstone team on board the ship could use in the even their “hosts” became problematic. Yet not a whisper came from beyond the Zone.
Eventually, Hakim became concerned, rather than annoyed. What happened? Scinfaxi, Raiders, the Federation? Damnit, I need to know what’s happened to that ship, otherwise, well, it could mean anything. I could end up attacked by the DF for violating the Zone, or I could just be down one rogue trader and a couple of somewhat expendable personnel. Tomasz might be a little difficult to replace, but not impossible-
Hakim’s thoughts were rudely interrupted that day by an alert call from Achillus back in the corporate HQ, “Sir, the local militia have detected a ship entering the system at high speeds. The vessel’s transponder matches the Batavia, and they’re not responding to hails.”
“You’re sure about this?” Hakim responded, quite surprised.
“Absolutely, the Administration contacted us due to the fact we chartered them, and our own sensors confirm it. They’ll be in orbit in a matter of minutes at their present, unusually high velocity.”
“What’s the Phalanx going to do?”
“Damned if I know, probably try to repeatedly hail them, I’d hate to see them open fire, as that ship could probably tear through that old corvette squadron they call a fleet.”
Hakim paused, and tried to think of a suitable course of action, but came up with nothing. He eventually responded to Achillus, “Keep me informed, I don’t think there’s anything we can do other than wait and see at the moment.”
“Aye sir,” and the link went dead. Hakim was left unable to do anything except look up at the sky in some vain attempt to see into near orbit.
Minutes ticked by, and once more the comm link demanded Hakim’s attention, “Sir, bad news,” came Achillus’s gravelly voice.
“Yes?” Hakim said impatiently.
“The ship is currently about a minute out, ignoring all hails and damn near rammed through another bulk freighter which was taking its time getting out of the way. I don’t like the look of this at all sir.”
“Neither do I, see if you can convince the locals to board the ship, I’d rather not find out what it’s trying to do.”
“Sir,” again, the link went dead. Hakim took this time to return to hopelessly gazing at the darkening sky, the spectacular sunset holding no appeal for him. This time, however, he was fairly sure he saw something; a little dot moving across the sky, not unlike a too-bright star. A common sight on developed worlds and it shared the sky with several others, but this one felt different.
Before he could ponder the subject any further, he was thrown onto the tile surface of his estate’s deck with a massive wash of heat pouring over his back and the sound of every window in his home shattering.
Time stopped.
Hakim came to, groggy and sore, forgetting who he was, where he was, or what had happened. Then, not unlike a starship crashing into a moon, it hit him, Explosion.
He turned from the pristine ocean, now some time past sunset, before him, and saw his shattered home. Every window and glass fixture had detonated, leaving a film of broken glass over everything, and many of the smaller objects in his home lay scattered or shattered as well across the wide living room and kitchen that were visible. This, however, was not the alarming sight. That was reserved for the massive billowing black tower of smoke visible behind Hakim’s estate. The source couldn’t be seen yet, but Hakim had a sick, gut wrenching feeling that he knew what it was.
With a panicked run through the refuse of his home, Hakim rushed to the rear entrance of his home, the entrance facing the Blackstone building. The burning ruins he expected did not greet him, nor the reassuring sight of an intact building. The only thing where the structure once stood on a nearby island was a maelstrom of blackened, burning water, lumps of debris and the occasional jutting spear of steel which once marked the building’s foundations. The very island itself had been obliterated, with only the toughest reinforcements and supports surviving, barely seen in the burning refuse pouring from the now shattered pipes and holding tanks.
That’s...it then. Everything gone, a sixth of my natural life, gone in an instant. Hakim sank slowly to his knees, gazing dumbly into the pillar of smoke and fire before him. He didn’t wonder who, what why or how, it didn’t really matter. His work, his obsession, lay completely annihilated. No safe, vault or blackbox that company had would survive such a monumental piece of focused destruction. No, there’s one things, one last little relic I kept for myself...
Idly, drunk with sorrow, Hakim wandered back into his jumbled home. Not really looking at anything, he more stumbled than walked into his master bedroom. He opened the small vault hidden in his wall with a simple scan of his fingertip, and looked for the item he knew was there. His careers, his quest, lay in ruins. Nothing really mattered now, he had few funds, no ship, no allies, nothing. His shattered mind had only one item to latch on to, one possibility left to it.
The handful of memorabilia, curios and particularly potent weapons had no hold over his mind, only the plain beige cloth in the rearmost section of the small vault. Not bothering to move aside the covering, he walked back outside to the small boat tied to the equally small pier. Taking nothing else, he powered up the engine, pulled out from dock, and chose a seemingly random direction on Vivaporius’s vast ocean, and, for all intents and purposes, disappeared.
_________________
And there's that done. Remember, this isn't the last you'll be hearing of this plot, but it'll be a while before I have the next story arc ready for publishing.
_________________
Praise the sun that brings the dawn of our final doom.
|
Board index
Re: The Shape of Things to Come 
