In my line of work I have used other names, but that is the one name that means the most to me, as it was the family name I was born into when I entered this cruel world. A name that my parents' carried with pride in their ever-so short lives, it is a name that I know they would still say lovingly and with the pride usually reserved for a first born child, regardless of what I may have done in recent years past. Yet for me it also conjures up a mess of bad and painful memories that make up my life, or at least the earliest part of it.
This is my story.
I was born on the independent space freighter train 'Foggy Night'. My parents had their own little shipping company that transported goods and services to most of the known systems. The conditions aboard a freighter are not ideal to raise a family, long trips between systems usually take weeks, even months on end, but my parents did it to the best they could.
That was until I was 6 years old, then everything changed.
We came under heavy Outcast attack as we entered the Galileo System, cut off from the jump gate, and unable to engage the cruise engines due to the shear overwhelming barrage of disrupter missiles that were continually fired at us. My dad, a former banker, turned pilot tried his best to out-maneuver the light attack fighters in order to get to the trade lane. He tried his best but in a freighter train....... They continued to eat away at our shields, our power supply running dry and our nanobots depleted; we were quickly running out of time. Then by shear and blind luck, the jump gate opened and out comes a flight of Paladins, they engaged the Outcasts long enough for us to get into the trade lane and escape.
After that incident my parents decided to not have me on board the ship any more, saying it was "just too dangerous for a young boy to be there." We returned to New London several weeks later and I was told that I would now be living with a family friend, Nikolai, and his family until I was old enough to rejoin my family business.
Several years passed, and I was still told that I was too young, (or immature to be exact), not disciplined enough to go back into space with my family. Apparently the pirates had increased their attacks on any and all transports that came near them. My family had several close calls and had in fact lost several crew members to these attacks. Nikolai, being that he was a member of the local police unit, would send reports to me about my parents once a week, never going into great detail, and only once or twice did I get a voice recording from them. Having never seen them in person since they left me on New London all that time ago, then one day as I was snooping around Nikolai's desk I found a report about a massive cleanup and body recovery operation going on in the Manchester system. Apparently there was a big battle of sorts and every available police and hospital ship was to report there for immediate duty. As I read the report looking for names of those involved, Katarina walked in and asked, no, not asked, but demanded to know why I was going through her husband's personal files. Not having anything to say, I ran.
I was picked up later by the police for violating curfew, and returned "home", where both Katarina and Nikolai were waiting for me. They asked what I had read, and I lied, I told them that I was reading about the local crime report and how many houses have been broken into the last week. They acted like they believed me. Weeks went by, Nikolai gave me a letter from my parents, he looked very sad I remember, the letter was nothing special, but I never got anymore after that for a month. I then found out why.
He was lying on his back bleeding from several fatal looking wounds! His service blaster mere inches from his outstretched hand, a look of dread covered his usually proud face. Just past Nikolai, two armed men, dressed in long brown coats, blood splattered over the front, the look of death etched on their faces.
'NOOO!' I yelled out in his direction. How can this be happening to me? Not when I was about to learn what really happened to my parents.
Nikolai saw me and motioned for me to run away, to hide. I did not move, too stunned by what has happened to my life at the moment. Then out from the dark doorway of the washroom, comes a man dressed in the outfit usually worn by the Molly's, he looked at Nikolai for a heartbeat or two, thinking about his next action. Starting to laugh, he raised his weapon and shot Nik in the chest; still laughing he turned and started to walk away. I ran over to Nikolai's dying body, tears running down my face, with blurred vision I grabbed his service blaster screamed at the Molly to stop. He turned, still laughing, that was until I shot him.
My aim was not as good as I had hoped, my shot was low and hit him in the knee. Tearing it from his body, he fell over, laughs replaced with screams, with threats of my death coming shortly. I fired again and again but missed as my vision was blurred by the tears I had still running down my face. The Molly somehow stood up aimed at my head, and then.............he dropped like a stone in water, minus his head. Behind me was a team of Bretonian Armed Forces Marines, their rifles smoking. I turned to Nikolai and with what strength he could gather, he gave me the password to his computer files.
And with that last action, he died.
I went home; Katarina was out, having not heard the news, so I quickly accessed the computer files Nikolai had given the password for. I found information that surprised me, my mother had given birth to a second son in one of the Tau systems, a brother! I have, had, a brother, why did they not tell me? I kept reading, finding only small bits of info that had no meaning to me anymore. Until I read this part:
-Nik, this is Jennifer. We have almost completed the recovery and identification of all bodies from the battle. There is no match, I say again NO MATCH to your friends DNA. Keep your spirits up my friend. Jen. '
I was excited to read that bit, but there was more to come.
-Nikolai, my friend, I am sorry to tell you this way, but..... We have found a match to your friends DNA among the dead. It was not from a full body, so there is still some hope that they are alive, but even I have to say it does not look good. Their train was completely destroyed, and all escape pods have been accounted for. Again I am sorry. Jennifer. '
That was it, end of file. I left everything as it was, and left.
I enlisted in the Bretonian Armed Forces a year later, with one goal in mind, to be able to extract revenge on those Kusari pirates for what they have done to my life.
The relentless rain thunders from the sky drenching anything below, leaving nothing untouched by its cold wet reach.
'I hate when it rains, reminds me too much of home, or what I used to think of as home. Hmmm, I wonder if Katarina received my last package. Focus Colton; keep your mind at the task at hand.' I think as I look at the data-pad and scroll to find the address of the place the contact wanted to meet.
The smell of rancid food and powerful alcohol floods my senses.
"Uughh! This must be the place." I mutter. I look up into the rain, thinking it beats getting wet. So I step inside the bar.
As I look around, fully expecting to be patted down by the security I notice a sign on the cashier's window. It reads;
THE BLACK FIRE BAR
REMEMBER THIS
YOU HAVE A GUN,
SO DOES EVERYONE ELSE.
"Hey Jackass!" yelled some crack head from behind me, "Ya'll gonna stand there or fraking move inside?"
I turn to the cashier to pay my cover of fifty credits, continue inside looking for a place to sit and to see if anything would grab my attention. After a quick scan, I decide to get a booth. I order a Fizz-pop, since I don't drink the hard stuff, I might as well look like I am. I continue to the back of the bar and get to the empty booth. I casually unscrew the light bulb, no one seemed to notice, and sit back into the shadows, still able to see the entrance, but at the same time giving anyone else a hard time to see me clearly. Good seat, close to the facilities, and the accompanying stench, the two exits are close by for a quick escape if needed. The first is the fire exit only five feet from my booth, and the other is the half window that leads to the side alley - a little small but nothing a shaped charge won't enlarge - now I wait.
I look at my watch, the one thing I took off of Nikolai's lifeless body years ago. I am over an hour early. Good. I like it when my contractor feels like THEY are the ones who need to apologize for being late. Anytime I can power trip is a good one. On the other hand, I hate having too much time to think about why I am here at this place, and how I got to this point in my life.
It feels as though it was so long ago, as if it was another life.
Memories from two and a half years earlier from New London begin to resurface.
The recruiting office looked inviting, how was I to know how different it would be. I stepped inside and was greeted by the receptionist, she had a great smile, filled out the application, of course I lied about my age, then ushered into the Recruiting Officer's office for the interview. A few hours later I felt as though I had been interrogated for a major crime! The Captain sent me to the on-site doctor for a quick physical, now that was torture! I hope to never go through that again! Next up the aptitude tests, timed tests on everything from nuclear science, to navigation, to gardening of all things! The tests were to determine which area of the Bretonian Armed Forces I would best be suited for; it had better be for the space wing. I needed to start getting payback for what the pirates had done to my family. I was told to report to the transport terminal at 0600hrs the next day for my departure to the training facility. That's it. No word on which branch I was to be attending, just "go here and wait for your ride."
I arrived at 0550, scanning the departure board for any clue as to where I was to be sent for training. No luck. That is until a rather muscular, but short man in combat dress made a bee line for me.
'YOUR NAME COLTON? GET OVER THERE NOW! YES, OVER THERE WITH THE OTHER INFANTRY RECRUITS. MOVE YOU FRAKING ASS." He was still yelling as others were making their way into the passenger bay.
Then it hit me'¦What! The Infantry? I was in shock, that was as far from where I wanted, no, needed to be. I tried to explain that there was a mistake, but the Sergeant had none of it.
"GET ON THE TRANSPORT YOU PUKES. YOU ARE NOW ALL INFANTRY RECRUITS!" He lowered his voice and then said,
"You are now mine."
That last remark was the scariest thing we heard him say, not in what he said, but how.
Over the next six months I was taught everything there was to be taught on how to "Close With, and Destroy the Enemy" from the instructors at the training facility. We were worked to exhaustion six days a week. On the last day we expected rest, we were wrong. The day was spent cleaning and readying everything for the next week of training, we never had more than a few hours to ourselves each week. Before we knew it graduation was around the corner. We had started with a class of a hundred and ten, but with failures, injuries and even a couple of deaths, we only had thirty-nine left to advance to the next step in our military service. Surprisingly I finished in the top five of my class, wow, I never thought hatred could work so well for someone. I was looking forward to seeing action with a front line unit, like the Dublin Devils, after all a top five placing had to have its perks.
When I received my orders after graduation, I had to question life. I mean just how much did the universe hate me in recent years? First it was the posting to the Infantry, which I dealt with it as a different way to get the payback I deserved, but this, I might as well just quit and become a civilian again. The unit I was to go to was the 179th Regiment of the Bretonian Combat Force, also known as the Crimson Lancer Highlanders; they were stationed on Planet Cambridge, as a reserve unit!
Six months have passed and I was promoted to the rank of Corporal. I spent my spare time learning the basics of space combat, even going up in a Crusader a few times. Still hoping to make it as a combat pilot I put in several requests for transfer to the Space Marines. I was denied each time.
"We need your experience, and where you are most needed Cpl Colton." Is the common reply I got, sure, like they cannot get anyone else to learn what someone in the Quarter Masters can do, I mean it is just a stores position! A couple of months later we were still classified as a reserve unit, with no chance at seeing any real action in the near future.
Or so we thought.
About 7 months later we received orders that we were to immediately go to Leeds, and await further instructions. I was thinking, finally some action. I had no idea how right I was going to be.
We were in orbit around Leeds in the Drop-ship 'Pandora's Box' awaiting our orders, when we were attacked from the planet's surface. Major MacMurphy had the pilot take us down to the surface to avoid the anti-ship missiles; he gave us our orders as we descended.
'Lancers listen up! We are here to search and destroy a suspected Molly base on the planet surface. The enemy is dug in and has fortified their position. Their morale is very high, and is heavily armed. We will be the spearhead for this assault; the Dublin Devils, Kings Royal Marines, and the Oxford Crusaders will follow in as soon as we get a foothold and secure the L.Z. Our morale is equally high and we have space superiority, so remember your training listen to your commanders and we will win this fight. Good Luck.'
And with that order, my first day of combat began. And it could also be my last as a Corporal in the Highlanders, and as a member of the Bretonian Armed Forces.
*Glass smashing and people yelling fill the air*
A fight in the bar grabs everyone's attention.
Snapping out of a day dream, I draw my CS-21 Heavy Blaster, ready to defend myself, and then I realize that the fight is at the front door. Putting my weapon away I shake my head.
"Stay out of the past Colton. It's the fastest way to get one self hurt or even killed." I mutter to myself.
In the scuffle I see someone that I feel I should know. He looks familiar somehow. Even with his cybernetic implant covering part of his face, I can't help but shake the feeling that I know him from somewhere. He takes a seat at the side bar station and orders a drink, and immediately looks in the direction of my booth, only to see an empty seat.
In the commotion, I ducked out to what they would call a washroom in these parts, dark dingy complete with piss and crap all over the place, but since most cybernetic eye implants can most likely see into the darkness of the shadows, I do what I have to remain unnoticed. That is until my contact makes their appointment.
As I wait for a few minutes, I watch as this mystery man, who is wearing a very noticeable red Rook chess piece on the back of his black jacket, has gone from the bar and has moved to the other side of the building. I notice that he moves with the caution of a skilled warrior, yet tries to hide that in his seemingly clumsy stagger. His final destination places him just out of my direct line of sight from my vantage point. I start to wonder:
Did he see me?
Does he know me?
And most importantly in my new line of work, is he here to kill me?
For now I will continue to sit in my shadowy booth wondering what and when the answers to those questions will be made clear.
Looking at Nikolai's watch, I notice it is only thirty minutes until my meeting.