Planet Killer
The object struck, sinking into the planet’s surface as if it were no more than flesh. First Gunner Maron DeLaurier watched from his monitor on board the warship Malfeasance, ensuring that the readouts he was seeing matched what he had been assured would be the results of the device shortly after impact.
Compression waves spiked and the planet’s magma core super-heated, just as he had been told would be the case. Within moments, he could the see surface begin to crack, streaking red lines that spread around the circumference of the green sphere and then brightened beyond even the monitor’s ability to endure. When the screen cleared, only twisted debris was left of Longain VII, spiraling outward into the black.
Maron heaved a sigh. The Planet Killer had performed exactly as expected, exactly as the egg-heads back at command had said it would. He’d been hoping for a less auspicious result, one that would send the device back to the drawing board and give him more time to plan.
Pulling a small device from his pocket, he hesitated before slipping it into the monitor’s expansion port. He wasn’t committed until he triggered the overwrite sequence, but he couldn’t think of another way to stave off the use of the Killer by warships across the quadrant. Longain VII had been uninhabited, but it wouldn’t be long before the High Command found other targets more to their liking – targets rich in resources and that would not agree to the increasingly aggressive terms demanded by Command of worlds under their protection.
Supposedly, it was the directive of the Oligarch that informed such an aggressive expansion policy, but Maron knew better. A stellar career of service aboard ships of all sizes had given him access to some of the most delicate information in the Formation, and he’d quickly realized exactly who was in charge. Their mission was one of conquest – and if need be, extermination.
He firmed his resolve and keyed in the code to begin the erasure and reconstitution of the data he’d seen. Everyone else on-ship had been told they were conducting routine monitoring of the Ellusian border, and none of the senior staff – not even the Captain – were permitted to watch the testing of the device. They at least were aware of its presence, unlike the grunts who lined the sleeping racks, but had little idea of the destructive power it carried. Only Maron had been trusted with that information, though he’d begun to wish he had been a little less diligent in his duties. He could live without the knowledge of what the Planet Killer could really do.
On-screen, he saw the image of the Killer striking again, but although it pierced the planet’s surface, it flared quickly and almost immediately died. Digital readouts and detectors showed the same data, painting a near-perfect picture of a failed test. So long as Maron could get the Malfeasance away from the area before scans of the newly-formed asteroid cloud could be taken, his superiors back at HQ would be none the wiser. His faked data could earn him interrogation at best if he was found out, and a court-martial and firing squad at worst. But even with his revision of the truth, work would continue on the project – he hadn’t been able to devise a full-stop method yet.
Behind him, the gunnery bay doors slid open to admit Captain Sarls Olsen, veteran of three wars and fully decorated by the High Command. Olsen was known for brutal discipline and most of those who served under him were said to be more afraid of the Captain than the enemies they were sent to fight. Maron found the man a blustering fool, but Olsen had no direct authority over him since he’d been assigned directly by Command. As soon as the ship returned to Formation space, he’d be disembarking at one of the Capital worlds and receive his next assignment.
That didn’t stop Olsen from trying to intimidate his new First Gunner, efforts at implanting fear that were met with amused derision from Maron.
“First Gunner!” The Captain bellowed loudly enough those two decks up must have heard him. “Report!”
“Captain,” Maron said softly, forcing the larger man forward to hear what was being said, “lower your voice. You sound like a braying Hal-jackel.”
Olsen bristled, but said nothing in response. He’d been directed to cooperate in any way necessary, and he was intelligent enough not to disobey Command.
“Are you quite finished with my gunnery bay, Maron?” He asked in a more reasonable tone. “I want to get this ship underway.”
A glance at the large chronometer on the wall revealed exactly what Maron expected. He’d told Olsen absolute privacy would be required until zero seven hundred hours, but could see the digital readout just passing six fifty-five. It was no surprise – the Captain would claim his own chrono was fast if Maron raised the point.
“I have obtained the data I need, Captain Olsen,” he said. “You have been most…accommodating.”
“Indeed,” Olsen smiled as he spoke. “I must say, the performance of your little device was quite extraordinary.”
Maron sighed. Plans had been made for this contingency, but he had hoped not to put them in motion. The second in command of the Malfeasance was interested in a rank elevation, and he understood his obligation in remaining silent. Those at Command were prepared to ensure the new captain of the ship kept his peace, and if he sought to gain further advancement by casting suspicion on his own promotion, he too could be silenced.
The visi-probe was in Maron’s hand and driving into Olsen’s neck before the Captain had a chance to react. Its poison worked swiftly, and within moments Maron had two lies to tell – one about the data he’d recorded for Command, and one about the dead body on the floor in front on him.
He buzzed the Second, who could barely contain his excitement at the news. Maron slipped the adjusted Planet Killer data into his pocket and made his way back to the quarters he’d been assigned – there was no point in any further contact with the crew. He was a First Gunner, not an assassin, and not a spy; a more permanent solution to his problems needed to be found.
- D
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