Farscape Black Ghost (1)
Rick Mantilla

 

                                                                                                            
Chapter One
 

The alarms rang out like they always did annoying the dren out of him. Nothing new he thought. The ship was approaching the Valerra system, "Wonderful," he muttered to himself. He set the coordinates for the planet Siecom and decided to go into a high orbit so as not to alert the control port and to avoid any recon ships. He wanted to avoid the problem that he had encountered the last time he was here. He made his way back to his quarters.

He laid himself down on his bunk the pain once again reeling from his left hand, it was getting worse. Now it traveled all the way up to his elbow the numbness and the tingling, a reminder of a battle that just won’t fade away. Its funny he thought, anytime he was about to take a job the pain would quickly follow. He couldn’t worry about his superstitions he had to concentrate, curious about what type of job awaited him and what he needed to do to get it done. He closed his eyes and focused on his breathing it was the only way he could ease the pain. He lay there perfectly still concentrating. As it began to subside his thoughts raced in his head, a thousand memories began to flood in all at once, pieces of his life or lack of it flashing rapidly. "No regrets…no guilt," he whispered to himself. The battles, the blood spilled all in the name of survival. His. Not for some noble cause, he had already done that and paid the price for it. Now it was about him and what he had to do to get by. Being an outcast was something that he had become accustomed to. Being hunted by peacekeepers was nothing he worried about. He had been one of them…a BLACK GHOST, the elite peacekeepers used in covert operations. Masters in assassinations, torture, misinformation, and arbitrary "cleansing" of species, these special ops troops tended to work outside normal operational procedures more often than not. He bore their black mark on his upper left shoulder. Only a few ever get to this level of service. Recruited from peacekeepers born into service and put through a battery of psychological and military training, many die before they reach the cycle of ten. He was one of the unfortunate ones.

Black ghosts are the most feared troops in the peacekeeper core living a solitary life by a strict code never interacting with other troops. They always complete their missions no questions asked, even at the expense of their own life, which is expendable for the greater good. Once recruited, the parents of the offspring are "re-assigned" and are never heard from again. Or they are gloriously "killed" in battle. He never knew them and his only memories are fading with time. If he tries hard he can remember the smell of his mother. It does not matter to him now if he ever found them. Like his hand he had become numb. Bored. Wasting his life traveling across the galaxy in a daze. You are in service until you meet your death or when you have reached an cycle when you are "de-ranked" where you are no longer of use. Then you live out the rest of your cycles volunteering for experiments ranging from an enhanced bio military weapons training to advanced breeding where they attempt to breed black ghosts within the ranks. No honors, no recognition. Just a life of brutal service where in the end you are born just to die.

His thoughts lead him back to the day when he betrayed everything that he believed in, the day that led him to use his pulse rifle on his comrades and commanding officers paving the way for his escape to freedom. He grew sick and tired of the carnage, the decisions that high command made and his willingness to follow their orders. It was slowly killing him. For a brief moment he had a thought, a free one and he acted on it. He had been trained all his life to follow orders never questioning them. He always had thoughts; doubts and he always managed to suppress them, but not this time, not on this mission. It all happened so quickly that he does not remember much except the bodies of his commanding officers that lay dead in front of him. He never tried to feel for his enemies but he could not help but feel for his regiment and how he had used them to gain his freedom. Better now that they die by his hands than to die for a foolish cause that high command may order them to embark. He thought he was being merciful trying to justify what he had done.

He was the first and only black ghost to ever break ranks to escape into a life that he had never known. Coming after him would be a priority on their list. Frell, it would always be on their list. But he knew their tactics and methods so he would always see them coming. But they did have resources…deep resources, which meant that they could buy all of the scum of the galaxy to hunt him down. That was his only concern. Being sequestered from the population was going to make it difficult to get help when he needed it. And if anyone ever found out what he was, he knew his death would be a long a painful one. No black ghost had ever been captured alive or dead so any number of species would love to be the first to claim this. He knew that the price on his head would be large and this would be his advantage, they would have to use other channels being discreet talking only to a few. His only chance would be to play a role in their game, to be a hunter, to build his reputation and make contacts in a filthy world that made living in a stomach of a budong a much more favorable place.

The alarms rang out once again signaling that the planet was approaching, he opened his eyes and looked up at the ceiling of his quarters. He looked at his hand and began to flex it, slowly moving each finger until he began to feel the blood flow through. The pain was gone, but the memories lingered. He sat upward with just a dazed look on his face as if he was just caught in a blast. He touched his shoulder and felt the cold armor that protected him…the armor that covered his mark, and thought about the mark for a microt, about what he was, what he had done, what he is now, and what he wanted. He was confused about everything. He pushed himself to get out of his bunk and made his way to the command deck.





Chapter 2


The Valerra system is composed of nine planets each with its own ruling house. They are all traders. The house of Necli on Siecom is the weakest. They have been trying for three hundred cycles to move up in their position among the houses. Lying, cheating, stealing, and murder are not uncommon among the houses but it seems to run rampant in this one. And it’s just not the ruling houses it’s all of the planets inhabitants. Every one of them living a life in which trading whether its information, pulse pistols, slaves, is all for the opportunity to move up in class. The more you have the higher in class you go, living in a society where one’s parents can kill their offspring if they feel that their wealth is a threat. The planets in this system seem content to fight it out themselves without bothering the other nearby systems. Nor has any other system expressed an interest in them preferring instead to use the resources available to them. If it exists and you are willing to pay the price you can probably get whatever you are looking for on one of these planets. Everyone comes here to talk business and to do business since these planets do little to attract attention and is just out of reach of peacekeeper territory. A perfect place to go if you want to lay low and make contacts.

Although each planet has its own military force, they do little to enforce the laws. But they do try to maintain the appearance of formality to keep face. The military commanders of each ruling house have been trying in secret to combine forces to overthrow all the houses in the system but because of disagreements and distrust little has been accomplished. The houses have been aware of the attempted coup and have hired mercenaries to assassinate suspected leaders and have paid other military figures for their loyalty. But the military does like to know who is on their planet and why and have paid informants who gather the information they require. Information is power and if they can use it to their advantage they will. However, those recon ships are another story.

The recon ships are pirates hired by the houses to spy. To see what the ships are carrying and if they pose a threat to them. The arrangement is that if any of the houses suspect that any ship is carrying what they considered "contraband" than the house has the right to keep some if not all of the contents of the ship including its passengers whom sometimes end up as slaves or are sold to the highest bidder. What ever the house does not want the pirates are free to keep which is usually the ship and what ever remains inside. The ships are either modified or sold for scrap which ever is the most profitable. The only ships that are allowed free passage are food freighters and medical frigates. They are identifiable by a special homing beacon that all of the houses have agreed upon. There is a representative of each house present to monitor the loading and unloading of the cargo to ensure that the cargo poses no threat. So far it’s been very profitable for both the houses and the pirates.

He scanned to see if he had received any hails. There were none but a medical frigate attempted a long-range scan but the ship managed to jam them. Great now they are using med frigates to scan. Things are going to go from bad to worse if any of the other houses finds out he thought. He maintained a high orbit until he would receive a coded signal that he would have to secure then enter the cypher key in order to decoded it. Until then he would begin to prepare.

He made his way to the lower level of the ship to where the weapons storage bin was. He affectionately named her sat, Sperian Automated Transport. One of the few remaining ships in her class left in the galaxy that survived the Hundred Cycle War. She was in decent shape after what she had been through. These transport ships were used for rapid deployment of troops and were heavily armed. The ship had four levels including the command deck and a cargo bay that was large enough to hold a recon ship or two prowlers. He made some modifications on her but essentially she remained the same. When he gets to the bin, a massive door separating him and his prized possessions, his lifeline. "Please come forward for retinal scan." He moves his head forward looking straight into the blue light. The scan proceeds as normal. Nothing weird about. "Scan complete. Identification verified. Welcome back commander." The heavy doors opened up to reveal an arsenal of weapons. He already knew what he wanted. He grabs his pulse pistols; two for his holsters around his waist and two for the ones that he would carry on his shoulders. He reached for two plasma grenades, which could be put to good use, should he get caught in a tight scrape it would be his way out. He leaned over to his left and reached for his thermal sensor. A little gift from his days as a black ghost. Slightly modified but essentially the same, the sensor regulates body temperature, after all he was sebacean, but the added little feature is that it also masks heat signature making it impossible for anyone to track him by using thermal and infrared scans. He doubled checked his body armor to ensure that it was in good condition. It was one of his payments from the Canton mining guild that hired him to bring back a miner that had gotten too greedy and tried to smuggle out ores and metals. He knew a good thing when he saw it. The armor gives him excellent protection and so far it’s the only one of its kind and he was never found another individual with this type of body armor. The mining guild told him that they found the armor while mining on Ajorka along with some other artifacts. He always promised himself that one-day he would try to track down its origins. He stopped to think to make sure that what he was taking with him was enough. One of his shortcomings was that he was extremely meticulous. Even his commanding officers told him that this was an asset and a weakness. He laughed it off when he thought this. The ship alerted him that the signal had been acquired and he made his way to the command deck.

Once on the command deck he made his way towards the communications console and began to enter the cypher key. "Cypher key accepted. Decoding signal. Standby for incoming message," read the console. A voice cracked out, "…Ah my old friend so happy to see you again. I trust that your trip was uneventful?" "As uneventful as this conversation," he quipped. "Same old Traynor I see."

U’ave, the vilest in the house of Necli, always working an angle looking for the edge. He was not so concerned with bringing his house upward in status as much as he was looking to gain power over the entire system. This made him dangerous and someone not to be trusted. But he did have many contacts that have always proved useful. "Everything has been arranged. Shall we meet at our usual location?" he asked. "Fine by me. And U’ave, I’ll know if the items that I requested are second hand so your price better be fair."

"Traynor you know you can trust me. Have a little faith. I’ll will see you in eight arns." He took the ship out of high orbit and contacted the control port.

**
            
"Sperian transport permission granted. Please commence landing procedures and follow flight path to dock 4478. Welcome to Siecom."
            
The ship began its decent and followed its guided flight path. As the city began to emerge he saw that it had become larger. The whole planet was used up. Every piece of available land was either bought, waiting to be traded or was destroyed and in the process of being restored. Food and water were grown and recycled underground mainly because of the layers of the upper planet’s atmosphere had been destroyed due to industrialization. He began to see beautiful buildings pierce the horizon as the city came into view. Ships and support pods swarmed all over the skies. He could see food and water being brought to the surface being loaded onto pods that would head for the docking bay and be loaded onto freighters under the watchful eyes of one of the representatives of the opposing house. He started to feel the filth cover all of him. He hated to feel this way but these people were a means to an end. His survival depended on them.
                
The long tunnel that was the entrance to the docking bays grew closer and he could begin to see the streets cluttered with people hustling about making their little deals. The ship made a sharp right turn and he looked up just in time to see the ship enter the tunnel. He could see the exit a long way off, a perfect place for an ambush he thought. His mind began to race with different scenarios that might happen and he came up with the four most likely: One: a ship could be waiting for him at the end of the tunnel, waiting to fire once he emerged and was clear of it. If that did not happened then any number of ships that were landing or taking off would be able to fire on him. He was not so concerned with the ship taking on the blasts she could take it. What he was concerned about was the pulse blasts that would cause her to be pushed into a number of structures or people, on her current flight path she would have little room to maneuver. And if any of the blasts ricocheted off of her hull he knew that it could hit other ships. If he timed it right he would be able to veer out of the line of fire but a lot of people and things would be singed. Two: They would hit him once he was on the ground and he was out of the ship and on the landing deck. With all the noise on the deck, a sniper with a suppressed pulse rifle would be the way to go. He could to try to escape by blending in with the quickly moving crowd. He wasn’t worried about being hit, his body armor would protect him…but not against a headshot. He knew that in these types of situations, snipers are trained to aim for the head the easiest and most visible part of the body. He had been to this planet before, landed in these same docks,there was no real advantageous position for a sniper to be. Its not unheard of mounting a sniper on a moving ship this would be easy with all of these ships moving about. But this was way too expensive and attracts too much attention. But you never know how high someone is willing to pay to get rid of you. He had to play out the hand that was dealt to him. Three: When he landed and exited the ship the crowd would open fire on him. He knew that he could probably handled three of four of them but if he was caught in a crossfire or overrun then he was in trouble. In which case he would use this plasma grenades and if he was lucky he would be able to escape without killing himself. And lastly nothing would happen. He would soon find out.
                
The ship exited the tunnel and she was in a holding pattern until traffic ahead was cleared. Now is a good a time as any. He grew anxious. He looked out of the cockpit window trying to see if he could spot any ships that looked like they were in an offensive position, he saw nothing. Because of the holding pattern his only field of view was directly ahead he could not see to his left, right, below or above. "Twenty more microts then resume course," the control port blurted out. "Wonderful" he replied. Hurry up lets move, he felt way too exposed like this. Those microts seemed like arns to him. Finally the control port signaled that all was clear to proceed, she resumed her flight path to dock 4478. Still no signs of any ships. He looked out of the left side of the cockpit window and saw the crowds. The sound of the landing beacon went off signaling that the dock was approaching. He took one quicker glance out of the window and saw nothing. One down, three to go.
    
The ship entered the dock loudly, dust spewing in the air as the thrusters fought the gravity. The retro thrusters fired and the ship slowly began to lower herself to the pad. She landed with a gentle thud. Her engines shut down and the sound of coolant being sprayed on her hull and engines started. He saw the ground crew begin to scurry around her. He began a self-diagnostic on the ship and made his way to the landing ramp to inspect her hull wondering what to expect.


 

 

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Copyright © 2001 Rick Mantilla
Published on the World Wide Web by "www.storymania.com"