The Incident at Sigma Adamus

A Prequal to Flight From Shadow: Philosopher King #1

Jax Dyson leaned out of the open hatch of the rapid assault transport as it soared hypersonic over the jungle canopy. The transport was running dark in an attempt to avoid detection and the night was illuminated only by the planet’s faint twin moons. Jax’s visor obscured the long dark features of his face. A dreadlock, contained within the helmet, drifted in front of his eye and he shifted his head to move it back out of the way. The target was only a few kilometers away and they would be upon it in seconds. Jax got ready to jump. His mechanized infiltration armor was rated for a hundred meter fall under normal G, and this planet’s gravity was ten percent lower than normal. The fifty meter drop to the surface wasn’t a concern, but he and his squad mates would need to use their micro boosters to bleed off velocity before hitting the surface.

     Then Jax’s eye caught something. A glowing ember popped up off the horizon and grew in intensity. Some instinct for self-preservation lit off in Jax’s brain and he let go of the rail he’d been clinging to with his armor enhanced grip. He fell. A frantic message crackled over his com. It was the Lieutenant.

      “Incoming! Jump, jump, ju…” the voice was cut off by the cacophony of exploding munitions and shattering metal. The sky above Jax lit up in a kaleidoscope of lethal pyrotechnics as the concussion wave ravaged his armor and shot him like a bullet to the surface below. His armor’s micro boosters flared in a desperate attempt to slow his descent. Then, the most advanced shock absorbing nanotech in the known universe expended itself, saving Jax’s life as he crashed through the canopy and embedded himself into the soft soil below.

     He lay there. Awareness that had been driven from him slowly re-emerged, but he still didn’t move. The heads-up display in his visor flickered and glowed faintly showing him a litany of warnings and error codes. He tried to key his com unit and was mildly surprised that the channel opened. Somehow that particular system had survived. But it ultimately proved useless. Coms were being jammed by the enemy so he was not able to get a signal through to the navy warship in orbit. Short range communications for his squad however had been working. The fact that he was now not able to raise any of them likely meant that he was the only one who had survived. 

     Jax reflected on the near death experience just briefly. He wasn’t one to dwell too much on what might have been. He was satisfied in the knowledge that it just wasn’t yet his time to go, unlike his Lieutenant and squadmates. That’s not to say he wouldn’t grieve for them. Jax grieved for every friend or colleague he lost when the proper time came. For now though, there was still an objective to complete.

     He hit the emergency release on his armor and climbed out. He removed his helmet and extracted his battle rifle from the compartment on the armor’s right thigh. He adjusted its grips to fit the ergonomics of a now unarmored hand. The jungle was completely dark save for a faint glow falling through the hole in the canopy he’d just made. He activated the light on the end of his rifle and scanned his surroundings. Here and there his light caught the reflection of amber eyes and they seemed to blink and glow at him. He needed to find a clearing, some place where he could see the sky and maybe figure out in what direction the target lay. He began walking, pushing aside the dense undergrowth.

     He wasn’t sure what type of wildlife inhabited this jungle. It was all of earth origin of course. Humanity had never encountered alien life of any greater order than algae and instead terraformed and imported flora and fauna from the homeworld to their colonies. Usually, they didn’t import the truly dangerous stuff, but he wouldn’t put it past the current occupants of this planet to lace their landscapes with poisonous snakes or something. 

     Jax slowly fought his way through the jungle. It was hard to move quickly. His boots became entangled with roots and his torso encumbered with vines with almost every step. He figured his transport was only a couple of kilometers from the target when it went down, but at his current pace it would take hours to reach. That assumed he was even moving in the right direction. He still hadn’t found a clearing and was only moving in the direction he thought he’d been falling in before the explosion. It was just a guess really, but in the absence of any real information, Jax figured any guess was equally valid. Then, after what Jax reckoned to be half an hour of walking, he finally did find a clearing, and his plans changed. 

     It wasn’t a natural clearing. It was about fifty meters across with a small domed building in the center. It looked like a storage shed. There was foliage carefully placed on top of the structure to conceal it from the sky above. At ground level though, it was obvious and Jax could see a door of some kind flanked by two guards in light armor who sat on crates facing each other. They seemed to be talking though Jax was too far away to understand what they were saying. There was about a fifteen meter gap from the edge of the clearing to the door of the shed. Jax knew he needed to get inside.

     Inside, he might find a communications terminal that he could use to punch through the interference. Alternatively, he might fight a map, guidance system, or some other way to get a fix on the direction of the target location. He was under no illusions that he, alone and unarmored, would stand a chance against the defenses of the target facility, but if any of the other marine squads had managed to reach it, he could rejoin them there.

     The guards didn’t seem to be taking their post too seriously. They were talking and drinking  from small metal cups. So Jax skulked around the perimeter of the clearing, looking for the guard who was taking his post seriously. He found him perched on a branch of a tree, covering the clearing with what looked to be a sniper rifle.

     The man, like his supposedly careless companions, wore the uniform of the Sigma Adamus Cartel. The cartel ruled this star system. There was a civil government of sorts but the power lay with the cartel. They were traders of contraband and arms who had recently decided to expand their operations into the professional kidnapping industry. Over the past year they’d managed to purloin a handful of colonial elites from other star systems including one governor. More recently, they’d captured the two young sons of the owner of a major interstellar mining company.  

     They weren’t asking for a ransom for their hostages’ safe return. Instead, they were demanding monthly payments in exchange for merely keeping them alive and spared from torture. That’s when the navy got involved. It had taken months to gather the ships and personnel necessary to mount an assault on the cartel’s home system. Ten marine squads, including Jax’s, had been en route to the target facility where intelligence said the hostages were being held.

     Jax had cut the light on his rifle when he found the clearing. He now crouched in the underbrush below and behind the sniper. Jax adjusted his rifle to use a microthin subsonic projectile designed to take out soft targets discreetly. The sniper wore light armor, but the base of his neck was exposed. Jax said a silent prayer for the man’s spirit and pulled the trigger.

     When the man slumped, he did so quietly. When he fell, Jax caught him and laid his body gently onto the ground. He then continued around the perimeter looking for other snipers. He found none. Then he strolled out into the clearing, toward the still chatting guards. They continued to talk and sip from their cups, oblivious to Jax’s presence. This was not a surprise to Jax since  they were not real guards, but holographic decoys. He re-configured his rifle for an explosive penetrating round and fired several times at the door until it fell off of its hinges. Once it was open though, it became immediately clear that the structure was no shed, but an opening for an underground facility with a set of lighted metal stairs leading downward.

     Presently, four cartel soldiers with rifles came charging up the stairs firing. Jax ducked back and sprinted to the edge of the clearing. He leapt into the undergrowth as soldiers reached the top. He knew though that the jungle would offer scant cover once they began to actively scan for him. He saw the first soldier peek out of the now ruined doorway and train his rifle on the jungle. He began to sweep his gun in a back and forth pattern, trying to find the intruder who’d blown open the entrance. 

     It occurred to Jax that whatever the structure was made of must block scanners since the soldier seemed to have to poke his rifle outside of it to scan. That actually made sense since the whole thing seemed to be designed to prevent detection. And then Jax noticed something else. The two holographic decoy guards were still active, sitting on their crates and chatting away while behind them the real soldier swept with his rifle. Jax noticed that the soldier never pointed his rifle directly at the holographic figures. 

     It was probably just force of habit, avoiding pointing one’s gun at one’s fellow soldiers. The man was likely doing it subconsciously even though he knew intellectually that the two guards weren't real. Jax moved along the ground as fast as he could, positioning himself such that one of the holographic guards was directly between him and the soldier aiming the gun. He had to act before someone thought to turn off the decoy illusion. 

    Sure enough, as Jax got into position, the rifle and its scanner swept harmlessly above him, avoiding the holograms. Jax still had the explosive ammo configured. He lined up a shot through the hologram and the soldier at the door disappeared in a fiery burst. More shots rang out through the door from the remaining soldiers but they were wild and un-aimed. Jax sprinted low across the distance using the holograms and the chaos from his own fire as a blind. He leapt through the threshold, rolling to the top of the stairs and spinning to face the backs of the remaining soldiers who were still shooting out the doorway. One of them managed to turn before Jax shot him, but he never brought his gun to bear. The others died still facing the doorway.

     Jax raced down the stairway, taking them three at a time. His long dreadlocks rippled behind him as he descended, expecting to plow into more cartel resistance any second. However, he made it to the bottom of the staircase unmolested. The scene that greeted him was a small chamber with a door, and a solitary guard standing in front of it. The man was armed, but held his weapon low and to the side. He didn’t seem to Jax like he was inclined to use it. Jax aimed his rifle at the man’s face.

     But as he sighted down the man, he was struck by the abject terror in that visage. Furthermore, the man’s youth started to register with Jax. Man was the wrong word. This was a child that stood before him, a terrified boy. Jax lowered his weapon a little but kept it cautiously trained on the boy’s chest.

     “You can have them!” the boy screeched. He dropped his gun and it clattered on the concrete floor. “You can have them!” the boy said again with even more passion. Jax figured he must have been quite the site for the boy, covered with sweat and vegetation from the jungle and tinged with smoke from the firefight above. But Jax was also confused.

     “I can have… who?” Jax asked.

     “The hostages!” cried the boy like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “We moved them here because we knew you were about to attack our headquarters! But you found them anyway!” Something about what the boy had just said deeply disturbed Jax. Then, he felt as if the bottom of his soul had dropped out.

     “Wait!” Jax said. “Are you telling me that the cartel knew that we were hitting their headquarters tonight!?”

     “Yes, of course!” said the boy. “That’s why we moved the hostages here! We were planning an ambush, I mean they were planning an ambush! I don’t want it, I don’t want any part of it, I surrender! I just joined the cartel so I could eat! They control everything here! I’m sorry, honest! Oh God, you’ve got to believe me! I surrender!” At that last declaration the boy raised his hands over his head. 

     “An ambush!?” said Jax in horror.

     “Yes,” said the boy. “The whole thing was rigged to explode once you guys got inside, but it didn’t fool ya, you’re here and not there.”

     “Quick!” said Jax. “Do you have a communications system I can use to get through the jamming and talk to my ship?” The boy nodded and pointed to a terminal in the corner. 

     “I have an override code that should let you through the jammers,” said the boy.

     “Then do it now!” yelled Jax and the boy moved to the console and began frantically typing commands to activate it. While he did that, Jax tapped the control next to the door the boy had been standing in front of. It slid open to reveal a crowded chamber filled with men, women, and children, all in dirty, torn clothing and all wearing terrified expressions.  

     “I’ve got a channel open to the vessel in orbit,” said the boy, drawing Jax’s attention back to the console. “I think it’s your ship. It’s the only one in orbit right now.” Jax walked over to see on the screen the familiar face of Commander Sung of the I.S.N. Republic, the navy destroyer Jax and his marine expeditionary unit were assigned to.

     “Private Dyson,” Commander Sung began. The commander probably wouldn’t have recognized every marine on his ship, but Jax had gotten used to the fact that he tended to leave an impression on people.

     “Recall the marines!” Jax said without preamble. “It’s a trap! The target is rigged with explosives! I repeat, it’s a trap! We have to abort now!” Commander Sung’s expression went from one of surprise, to horror, and then to determination. He nodded at Jax.

    “Understood,” said Sung. He turned to face someone offscreen and issued the order. “Abort the mission! Get those marines out of there now!”

***

    Five hours later, Jax sat on an examination table in the sickbay aboard the Republic receiving medication intravenously for a mutant parasite which had managed to infect him while he was  trekking through the jungle. Around him, the former hostages of the Sigma Adamas Cartel were receiving treatment for mal-nutrition, disease, and wounds sustained during their captivity. They had all been recovered and the Republic was accelerating toward the edge of the star system to jump to superluminal. There had been an ongoing space battle between five other navy destroyers and the cartel forces while the Republic slipped into orbit above the cartel’s headquarters world for the rescue operation. 

     Now, the other five destroyers were covering their retreat. There had never been a question of overthrowing the cartel. Their forces were too large and too well entrenched. The Interstellar Navy was not a nation building force nor did it insert itself into local politics. Only the overly brazen crimes of interstellar kidnapping and extortion had brought their guns to bear. The job of the navy was to keep interstellar peace, or something like it, and it had to make plain that certain actions wouldn’t be tolerated, even by the most powerful of criminal enterprises.     Nonetheless, now that the hostages were rescued and the cartel had been dealt a bloody nose, the navy was departing.

     A tall, broad shouldered figure came and stood over Jax. Jax looked up into a face that was all military, surrounding a pair of brilliant green eyes. His shoulder patches bore the rank of major and his hair was close cropped and brown.

     “Private Dyson,” the man said in greeting.

     “Major Forrester,” replied Jax.

     “Or should I say Corporal Dyson,” said Forrester smiling just slightly.

     “Thank you major,” said Jax.

     “No,” said Forrester, “Thank you.” He sat down beside Jax. “Thank you for saving my life, and that of almost the entire unit.”

     “Almost,” said Jax. 

     “I know,” said Forrester. “I’m sorry about your squad. Lieutenant Krittenage was a good officer, a good marine. They all were.” Jax nodded.  “We’ve scheduled a memorial service for them tomorrow at oh eight hundred hours.” Jax nodded again. “Afterwards, I’d really appreciate it if you would come and work directly for me.”

     “Sir?” Jax asked.

     “That was not just uncommon valor you demonstrated down there,” said Forrester. “That was a kind of resourcefulness and quick-thinking that I can use on my team the next time we’re handed a horror show of a mission.” Jax studied the major’s face for a long moment.

     “How close was it down there?” Jax asked.

     “We got out less than a minute before the whole thing went up,” said Forrester. “If you hadn’t gotten word to the ship when you did…” he let the sentence trail off. Jax was quiet for a long moment. There was something earnest in the major’s manner that went beyond simple military bearing. 

     “One more question, Major, if I may,” Jax said. Forrester nodded his head for Jax to continue.  “Why do you do what you do?” Jax asked. Forrester’s didn’t hessitate.

     “Because I am the sheepdog,” said Forrester. “I go after the wolves.” That response brought a rare, savage smile to Jax’s lips. He stuck out his hand and the major grasped it.

     “You can call me Jax,” said Jax.

     “And you can call me Maxwell,” said the major.