We Happy Few: The Leviathan Universe 2138 Read online

  His arms and fingers moved deftly as he maneuvered his ship along the starboard side of the Pegasus. The Bane was a quarter of the size of the luxury liner. Lex grabbed the Pegasus with his docking clamps and pulled the two ships together.

  The airlocks mated. Lex waved his massive dark hand to open a comm channel. “Strikers out!” he growled. A chorus of hoots echoed down the corridor. The pirate raiders stomped to the airlock.

  “Cap’n, they are trying to lock us out. Give me one moment,” said Sparky, the ship’s chief engineer.

  Lex turned to see Sparky’s fingers moving in a blur as he attempted to hack Pegasus’ airlock doors. The engineer had sweat rolling down his face. His eyes darted from screen to screen. Then he whooped in triumph. “Take that you buggers…” he said in his Hibernian lilt. “Captain, we have control.” A tight smirk on his face.

  “Strikers, kill any resisters. Then hold position until I get there,” Captain Lex said into the comm.

  “Aye captain,” Bosun Shred acknowledged.

  The Strikers were all heavily modded. Large, muscle bound devils. They wore nano-suits over their power armor that gave them an even more ferocious look than their extensive body mods already did. Skulls with fiery red eyes were popular among the crew. Striker Hack wore a Cthulhu head with slimy tentacles. Striker Bob dressed a circus clown with an evil smile that dual wielded two large caliber auto pistols.

  “Remember lads, only shoot the resisters,” said Bosun Shred. The five other Strikers in the brightly lit airlock grunted acknowledgments. They bounced and rocked on their feet, like thoroughbreds getting ready to race. They growled and brought their weapons to ready.

  “We should have grenades,” Digg said, matter of factly.

  “Aye, we should,” Hack agreed.

  Bosun Shred shook his head. “No, we want to take this ship, not slag it. I’ll be surprised if the security blokes even have armor.”

  Digg and Hack just grunted.

  The four meter tall airlock slid open. A squad of security officers knelt behind a hastily made barricade. Six Strikers burst in with such sound and fury that one guard bolted from his position and was promptly gunned down by Striker Bob as he fled. The remaining guards opened up with light auto rifles. The pirate’s digitally augmented growls sent deep, inhuman screams of anger echoing down the corridors. Digg and Hack leapt to the front of the pack. They methodically poured precision fire into the guards’ makeshift position.

  One guard on the left took two rounds in the face. His blood and brains splattered some fine artwork on the wall behind him. He was sent tumbling down a flight of stairs leading to the atrium. His rifle clattered and bounced down the stairs alongside him.

  The rounds from the small caliber rifles seemed to bounce off the pirates. The crates that made the hasty barrier at the top of the stairs were splintering under the barrage of the pirate’s fusillade. Three more guards dropped in rapid succession, their weapons and bodies tumbling down the stairs behind them. The last guard on the right jumped up to take a shot. He was sent sprawling as the six strikers all poured fire into him. Barely thirty seconds after it started, all the guards lay dead.

  The pirates took up a defensive stance, with two pirates covering each of the three corridors that led out of the posh entry room. Gun smoke clouded the hall. The smell of cordite permeated the air.

  Bosun Shred took a moment to take in the expensive surroundings. The fine marble floor now splattered in blood looked particularly expensive. Greek columns grew out of the corners connected by finely carved trim. Mahogany wood, fine art and brass light fixtures covered the walls.

  “Ooh. Fancy,” Bob commented as he scanned the hallway for movement.

  “Captain, airlock secure,” Bosun Shred reported.

  “Very well, I’m coming in,” Lex said as he and four more monstrous strikers stalked down the corridor and emerged from the airlock.

  Lex surveyed the damage. “Only five guards?” he asked.

  Bob pointed down the corridor. “Six. I got that one as he ran.”

  “Seems a bit light for a ship like this,” Lex replied.

  ***

  Dimitri Borikov, the head purser, lay quietly at the bottom of the stairs. He low crawled to a rifle lying next to a dead guard and silently checked to see if the magazine still held ammunition. It was eighty percent full. Dimitri picked it up, trying to control his heavy breath and pounding heart.

  He crept up the stairs, being careful not to make a sound. He could hear the movement of the pirates, their heavy boots stomped around and he heard muffled voices. He stole a quick glance. Several monstrous creatures and a large, dark skinned man without a helmet stood in front the airlock.

  Gathering his courage, Dimitri sprang up with the rifle. He pulled it tight to his shoulder and targeted through the holo-sights. He chose the man without a helmet, and jerked back on the trigger, sending a stream of rounds at the pirate’s head.

  The dark man stumbled back, his hand went quickly to his face. In unison, the strikers all turned and fired at Dimitri. Their rounds shredded his head and torso. He fell back down the stairs and finally came to rest on the floor, unmoving.

  The sound of a heavy crate sliding on to the floor caught the pirates’ attention. It was followed by hail of gunfire coming from the forward corridor. Six more guards had taken up semi concealed positions thirty meters down the corridor.

  Striker Hack’s face tentacles squirmed excitedly, as he let out a deep Cthulhu roar. “Bring it on you tossers!”

  Everyone raised their weapons and fired. A guard half sheltered in a doorway took a round through his left eye. Blood splattered the doorframe and wall as he dropped to the floor. Another guard had his rifle shot out of his hands. He immediately switched to his sidearm. The seriously wounded guard had the fortitude to stay in the fight when his rifle exploded in his hands. Lex dropped the guard with a three round burst to his neck and face.

  Lex grunted. He wiped the blood from his cheek, silently chastising himself for his little reverie earlier. A few more centimeters to the right and he would’ve been dead at the hands of some random crewman.

  In short order, the second squad of guards lay dead and bleeding out on the marble floor.

  “Captain, you’re hit,” Digg said.

  “Nothing serious. Bob, Hack, police up these weapons. We don’t need any heroes picking them up.” Lex motioned his hand, a screen appeared in front of him. He opened a comm to his chief engineer still on the bridge of the Hell’s Bane. “Sparky, do we have prints for this class of ship? I need a layout. Where’s the bridge?” Captain Lex asked, wiping more blood from his cheek.

  After a short pause Sparky answered, “Not for this exact ship. But we have something pretty close. Sending the layout to your screens now.” Everyone’s holo screens updated with a 2D map. There were blue icons for the pirates. “I’ll launch some seekers to recon ahead.”

  A dozen little black orbs shot out of the airlock and headed down the three corridors, red lasers mapping the ship’s interior. The first seeker encountered three crewmen; it shot tiny darts that penetrated their skin. The pirates’ display now showed three little red dots fleeing deeper into the ship. As the seekers scanned, more red dots appeared and the 2D map shifted to 3D and labeled areas like engineering, storage, crew and passenger cabins, and finally the bridge.

  “The map is updating, captain,” said Sparky. “I’ve sliced into her network. I’ll have full command authority in the next few minutes.”

  “Keep me updated,” Lex said.

  Sparky acknowledged, and continued with his work.

  Lex pulled up a screen and studied it. “B team, head aft. I want you to secure engineering.” They acknowledged, then raced down the corridor with guns up, howling. He looked to the strikers standing around him. “Let’s secure the bridge.”

  A green path appeared on their holo-maps. The pirates took off at a run.

  A few passengers screamed and ran as the pirates thundere
d down the hall. Hack continued his Cthulhu roar. Digg laughed maniacally. The digital translation of his voice through his suit sent his dark, unearthly roars down the hall.

  CHAPTER 12

  “Look out!” O’Brien shouted. Three black orbs shot onto the bridge and circled the crew. Billy and Colin already had their sidearms drawn and fired at them.

  “Ow! What the hell?” Billy felt a sharp stab to his neck. His hand jumped to the wound. Just a small trickle of blood, but he could feel something digging into him.

  “Trackers.” François said. He was trying to dig one out of his bicep, with no luck. The harder he tried, the deeper it burrowed.

  Billy pointed his pistol at one of the tracker orbs. It bobbed and dipped. Billy grunted as his frustration grew. His aim was either too slow or the tracker was in front of one of his crewmates, either way, he had no shot. His neck stung, with his other hand he wiped off the blood. The pain surged as the dart dug deeper.

  “Damn.” Captain Fenwick held his shoulder. “Don’t dig at them. They’ll just burrow deeper.”

  “Mr. Burton, get the door closed,” Captain Fenwick said pointing at the bridge doors that had opened uncommanded, at least uncommanded by them. Colin set his pistol on the console. He and François worked feverishly to do the captain’s bidding. As he worked, Colin felt the sharp sting between his shoulder blades. He groaned in pain and tried reaching for it, but it was in that spot on his back that he couldn’t reach. He glowered and went back to work.

  “It’s no good captain, ship functions are being rerouted. We are locked out,” Colin reported.

  Captain Fenwick looked up and addressed the ships AI. “Pegasus, lockout command authority on my authorization.”

  Billy looked up. Maybe the second time will be a charm.

  “Unable to comply. Command authorization not recognized,” The Pegasus said in a soothing female voice. “At least she answered this time,”

  Captain Fenwick cursed. He glared at his engineers. “Fix this now,” he growled.

  Colin picked up his pistol again. He spun and lined up his sights on the black orb as it hovered behind him. He crouched low, hoping his shot would go into the ceiling if he missed. His shot went wide. The round hit a light. It sparked and blinked off. His second shot blew an orb from the air. Small bits of it rained down on the pilot’s console.

  “Bloody hell,” Billy swore. He had his pistol tracking the second seeker. His pistol found its mark, blowing it neatly in half.

  It fell to the floor and bounced along, coming to a stop in front of the forward viewport. Francois ran over and scooped it up.

  The last seeker flew in a wide arc around the curve the bulkheads and shot out the door.

  Colin turned, but not in time. “No! Wait—”

  François cried out as the remains of the ball exploded in his hand. He gasped, cradling his bloody stump with his remaining hand. His body shielded the bridge crew from shrapnel wounds. His chest, neck, and face poured blood. He slowly turned to face his mates, slumping to his knees.

  Billy and Pete rushed to him. Pete grabbed a first aid kit from the nearest bulkhead and slid a tourniquet halfway up his forearm and clamped it. The color drained François’s face. His pupils dilated to large black circles. He mumbled incoherently in French. Pete grabbed a small tube from the first aid kit and plunged it into his neck. The pain meds flooded his bloodstream. He let out a long slow breath and relaxed visibly. Pete eased him into a sitting position on the deck.

  “We need to get him to the med bay,” Pete said.

  The sounds of demonic howls and gunfire grew louder. The shrieks of a woman abruptly stopped with a loud thud. Other screams of anger and fear echoed in the distance.

  Billy’s eyes shot to the open door. “I don’t think we have a clear path right now.”

  Colin was busy with the security screen. His fingers flew across several monitors. Access denied. The engineer cursed, and pulled the panel off the bulkhead. Colin pulled out his multitool and went to work. He whooped. “I’ve bypassed the door controls. Closing now.”

  The two doors were hissing towards each other when skeletal gauntlets stopped them cold, and to everyone’s collective horror, slammed them open.

  Two massive black armored skeletons with red, glowing eyes burst through, followed by an evil looking circus clown and something with an octopus head, and a big, dark human with ritual scarring across his face and bald head, bleeding from a wound to his cheek.

  The pirates roared as they surged forward. The bridge crew froze under the onslaught, except Captain Fenwick. He leveled his pistol at the first armored skeleton’s head and pulled the trigger over and over. One fiery red eye blinked out. The striker recoiled, unleashing a demonic howl. The rest of the pirates turned their weapons on the captain and fired in unison. Fenwick flew backwards. Blood, guts, and brains bathed the forward viewport. His body hit the deck with a sickening slapping sound.

  The smell of smoke and blood filled the air of the bridge. And for brief moment, silence reigned. Billy blinked, his eyes grew wide at the horror unfolding around him.

  The big black man leapt forward, his face contorted in rage from behind a large, black rifle. “Drop your weapons,” he growled.

  The stunned crew simultaneously dropped their pistols and put their hands up without being prompted.

  The dark man with the facial scars surveyed the bridge, looking at each of the crew one by one. “Which one of you is the captain?” He asked.

  There was a pause as the crew stared dumbfounded at these enormous monstrosities. Finally, Billy pointed to Fenwick’s bloody heap. “He was.” And swallowed hard.

  “Who’s next in command?” The dark man asked, but he knew it was the man that just spoke.

  Another pause. “I am.” Billy swallowed again and fought to keep what was left of his composure.

  “All of you on your feet,” The pirate ordered. They complied, hands still in the air.

  The large armored skeleton stepped back and pulled up a holo-screen. With the swipe of his hand it spun around and showed his face, looking into a virtual mirror. He inspected his dim eye socket. He hit the side of his head a few times. His damaged eye flickered. “Goddamn it. This is some expensive kit. Who’s paying for this?” he spat. He walked up to Francois, still struggling to stand. He pulled out a pistol and put it to the engineer’s head. “You’ll do.” And he pulled the trigger.

  CHAPTER 13

  Attached to the forward lounge of the Pegasus sat a traditional Irish pub. Robert and Doctor Drake sat at the bar. The bar’s mahogany finish shone brightly, Celtic knot work running in intricate patterns across it. It was authentic all the way down to the brass foot rails. The pub was dimly lit with flickering light emitted from wall sconces. It smelled of old wood and thick dark beer.

  A smooth faced bartender tugged on his red vest. “Another round, gentlemen?”

  “Yes, please,” Doctor Drake said with a hint of a slur. The bartender promptly returned with a foamy black stout for the doctor, and a double shot of Imperial Flag on the rocks for Robert.

  “So, you actually approve of that kind of behavior?” Drake asked.

  “No, of course not, but I understand the reasoning behind it.. Each of the Houses has an Imperial mandate to provide taxes to the Crown. In an otherwise perfect universe those taxes would be levied and collected in an ethical manner,” Robert said.

  “Ah, yes, in an ethical manner,” Drake began. “How many times, Robert, were your missions as a platoon commander designed to bring in revenue for your lord? And how many missions were merely to punish some minor lord that had displeased your duke?”

  Robert sighed. “Nearly all of them I believe.”

  “There you have it. We weren’t soldiers protecting the Empire, we were mercenaries collecting revenue,” Drake said drunkenly.

  Robert surreptitiously looked around at the other bar patrons. None were in earshot, unless they had enhanced hearing, which was entirely possible. “
John, perhaps you should guard your words in public,” he said in a hushed voice.

  Drake looked around at the sparsely inhabited bar and shrugged. “Bollocks.” Then he paused and looked around again. “Perhaps you’re right, Robert,” he whispered, trying not to sound conspiratorial.

  The doctor picked up his glass and drained it. “You know, you want to talk about right bastards, I should tell you about my current employers. They are completely soulless men and their agenda...”

  The ship shuddered. Glasses behind the bar hit the floor and shattered. Everyone paused and took in their surroundings. The bartender managed to maintain his composure and appeared to be looking at a holo-screen invisible to the patrons.

  “What the hell was that?” Robert said, concerned. “Did we hit something?”

  “Nothing good, I can tell you that,” Drake replied. He looked like he was calculating something. “That was not a solid impact. It was a concussive blast.”

  One of the bar patrons, an elderly distinguished looking gentleman wearing a fashionable suit walked over to the port bulkhead and opened up a holo-window with the wave of his hand. The wood grain panels disappeared, replaced by a large window looking into space. He gasped. A fearsome looking gunmetal gray cargo ship bristling with weapons was sliding in.

  The dark ship had animated flames licking around the hull. Screaming skulls grew and shrank on its panels, they laughed and shot in and out of the flames. All of the bar patrons were now on their feet, some screaming in terror, while others stood, struck mute.

  A crescendoing whistle rang out over unseen speakers followed by a tight voice, “This is Captain Fenwick. I request that all passengers return to their cabins with due haste whilst we sort this out.”

  A dozen kilometers beyond there was another vessel vectoring in. It had the look of a destroyer, but it was not a design Robert was familiar with. “Dear God,” he gasped.