Escape From Redeem, Rise of an Emperor

Planet: Redeem, Class A Prison World

Regiment 1 had not taken long to travel to Redeem. Their small cruiser needed to be fast to take them to any hostile colony that decided to get rebellious ideas of independence. Along with the on board fighter crafts and drones, they could subdue whole worlds with a compliment of only five hundred warriors. The Regiment was famous for getting to any theatre of war, with a rapidity that would shock an ill prepared enemy. Lord Sebastian Ignatius was glad that he had the best of the best at the disposal of his beloved Regiment.

They had landed in one of their Drop ships close to the prisons perimeter. He was dumbstruck to see what had happened here. The son of Dorn Bruce had turned the place inside out, and now the guards that once ruled here had become his prisoners.

He was further impressed by his close friend’s son, when he had been given a tour of the facility. Caleb had set tasks for everybody. The inmates had been given weapons and tactical training, with the help of young Tristan and Master Kam. It had been only weeks since Caleb took the prison under his control, and already he had turned the once volatile and dangerous criminals, into a disciplined fighting force of some use.

He was their liberator; but this was not the only reason why they loved him. His personality and easy command was infectious. He had suffered with them, and could relate to the pains they had endured here. Caleb Bruce had moved around the place with a confidence of a ruler. His golden war plate made him look like a god, in its shining brilliance. But even in rags the angelic nobility of Caleb shone through. Lord Ignatius had not been humbled by anyone before. Not even President Black who could be extremely intimidating. The son of Dorn did not intimidate exactly. It was more of an overwhelming feeling of joy to be in his presence. He could not quite explain the strange illation.

Like an alpha in a wolf pack, Caleb drew in people as naturally as breathing. ‘Your father would be proud of you young man.’

Ignatius said in a deep baritone voice. The Four of them sat around the Wardens office desk, in a council of war. All had told their tales, and pieced together what had occurred, in the parts they had all played in this interstellar drama.

‘Thank you my Lord. That means a great deal indeed.’

‘I mean it; I would not have believed it, if I did not see what you have done here with my own eyes.’

‘So what do we do now?’ Tristan asked.

All were aware that Caleb had been bred for leadership, but it was Lord Ignatius that was in charge of this war council. Caleb was remarkable, there was no doubting that. But planning matters of war on this scale would be foolish, if they did not let the elite leader of Regiment 1 take charge.

‘I think we should gather our forces, including any others of the Regiment floating around, and strike at our enemies with everything. If President Black has anything to do with this, he will answer as well.’

Ignatius replied to everyone, with cold steel in his voice. They all nodded in assent to this when there was a sharp knock at the door.

‘Yes what is it?’ Ignatius had put his men on the doors and perimeter of the prison. Essentially Regiment 1 was the new guard at the prison. The former prisoners were learning fast from the instruction of the regular soldiers. They were being built into a guerrilla fighting force, as quickly as possible. The soldier that knocked entered.

‘My Lord there is a former prisoner outside, who wishes an audience.’

‘Tell him to wait until we have concluded here, Private Winters. Then I will see him.’

‘He is quite insistent Sir.’ Ignatius turned crimson with rage; he hated to be interrupted. He took a deep breath to shout something in his usual bad manner, when Caleb intervened.

‘Let’s hear what he has to say my Lord, it could be important.’

Caleb did not lead at this small council meeting, but when he spoke, it was with a strange and gentle force that was hard to resist; even for the Lord Commander.

‘Very well young Caleb; Send him in Winters, let’s hear what he has to say.’

The Private snapped off a quick salute, and signalled to the former prisoner standing outside to enter. He looked relieved that the son of Dorn Bruce had stopped a potential berating from his commander.

Franco Montoya walked in confidently, and nodded his head to the men around the table.

‘Hello Franco’ Caleb said to his unofficial second in command of the new prisoner guerrilla force.

‘Franco is it? That wouldn’t be Franco Montoya of the mine hounds would it sonny?’

‘Yes it is Lord Ignatius.’ Franco replied smoothly. It seemed that these two were already acquainted. ‘Sebastian steady.’

Kam cautioned, putting a calming hand on Ignatius’s shoulder.

‘Do you know this man my Lord?’ Tristan enquired. ‘Do I know him? Oh yes young man, I know him. I was the one who put him, and the rest of his vermin gang here. I wish we had just slaughtered you all truth be told.’

‘Then why didn’t you?’ Montoya said looking genuinely intrigued.

‘Let’s just say, others thought it best to let you suffer here. I agreed then that death was too easy for the likes of you. But now you’re free again, I might have to put my axe to some good use.’

Montoya looked calm at the threat, as Caleb stood between the two men.

‘My Lord, this man has pledged his and his gang to me, by oath I might add.’

‘So?’

‘So that means something to me sir. When I make a deal with someone, I do not break my word.’

‘What if he breaks his word; then what? He wasn’t sent here wrongly like you Caleb. He was sent here because he is a murdering scumbag who deserves nothing short, of a close shave with my blade.’

Montoya spoke up, but not in anger, as would be expected from a hardened murderer.

‘My Lord, it is true that I am a killer.’

‘You see, he even admits it.’

‘Yes I admit it what I am. But will you sir? Are you not also a killer? What makes you so different from me?’

‘I’m nothing like you.’ Ignatius said with disgust.

‘Truly? Do you not follow orders from a commander to execute any threats that stand in your way?’ Ignatius said nothing but stared at Montoya, with pent up violence on his face.

‘I also kill by orders my Lord. If you knew anything about the Mine Hounds, you would know that we do not kill women or children, and if we make an oath we bind ourselves to it. But you do know this. So I ask again, what makes me any different to you?’

‘He has a point you know.’ Tristan said, to the admonishing gaze of Master Kam, who knew the rages of his long-time friend. ‘Tristan stay out of this’ Kam added quickly, hoping to calm things down. Ignatius carried on, like he had not heard the two elite guardsmen.

‘I may be a killer Montoya, but I haven’t burned alive any old men lately. Have you?’

Montoya looked gravely at the Commander. Caleb had obviously told his friends of the murder of Master Tong.

‘That was regrettable my Lord. But just consider this for one moment. When I was a child growing up in the Colombian hills, my entire family were burned in a similar fashion. They were burned by your men, for not sharing crops with the new order. If we are cruel, then it is because you made us so.’

Ignatius did not have an answer for that. Among the tattoos, Caleb could see scarring around Franco’s neck. Whether he was telling the truth was irrelevant, and Caleb’s patience was running out.

‘My Lord Commander, we have all agreed that you are in command of this council of war.’

Caleb raised his voice slightly to emphasize his point. ‘You all know why I was created?’

They all nodded ‘I know Caleb.’ The Lord Commander said gruffly.

‘Then you know I have been created to rule over mankind, and all the colonies?’

‘Yes.’ Ignatius answered simply. ‘My Lord, we have all been betrayed. I am going to embrace my destiny Sir, and I need all of you all to help me fulfil it. I am young, that is true. But you all know what I am capable of. I can hear Private Winters heart beating the other side of that door. I can overrun a class A high security prison single handed. The power in me is growing every second and I can feel it.’

Caleb spoke like a natural leader, and everyone hung on to his every word.

‘It is easy to follow a man because he is powerful. But I ask you to follow me because I am a man who keeps his word. I am a man who knows right from wrong. We will have justice that is certain. But as from now on, we need to be united. We also need a hierarchy of leadership. I place myself in that role, and I ask you all; will you follow me?’

He looked like a god, so beautiful was he in every regard. His voice was like silk. Tristan and Kam stood and placed a closed fist over their hearts in a show of agreement. How could they not follow this great young man? Ignatius looked at Caleb for a moment. It was hard to read the Commanders expression.

‘I have followed the orders of the snake that is General Defoe, for longer than you have been alive. I am sick to death of it, truth be told. Your father was the greatest man I have ever known. It is clear to me now, that you will become even greater than he was. This is because you have the compassion of your mother I think.’

‘So will you let me lead you, and follow my command my Lord?’

‘Of course I will.’ Caleb was relieved by the consensus. The last thing they needed right now was their small band to be fractured before they had even begun.

‘It gladdens my heart that you do. Let this day be the beginning of our quest for vengeance. We either go back to our Presidents rule, or crush it if it is found wanting.’

‘Sounds like a plan to me. Shall we resume our council?’ Tristan said.

‘Yes we shall; but first I want the Lord Commander to clear the air with our new man. He and the rest of the old prisoners are after all with us. I wish to invite Franco here to our war council.’

‘But what use is he, in a military sense Caleb?’ Ignatius said, still clearly not convinced about the gang member. Caleb looked to Montoya

‘Well Franco, that’s a fair question. What can you bring to this council?’

Caleb already knew Montoya’s worth. He felt it would be better coming from him though.

‘It is true that I have been an active member in the criminal organization, commonly known as the Mine Hounds. This you know, but what you do not, is that I served five years in Regiment 13 as a 1st Lieutenant. I make no exaggeration in saying that I was good.’

Regiment 13, was a small Regiment of snipers that would support other Regiments, or task forces such as the Watch. If what he said was true, then Franco would be a highly prized asset indeed. ‘I don’t believe you Montoya; I would have known if you had been of the Regiment.’

‘Commander, do you know every soldier in your own Regiment by name?’ Begrudgingly Ignatius had to concede. ‘No, but I know most of em.’

‘Most is not all Commander. I served over ten years ago, in war zones that were majorly classified. Probably even to you.’ Master Kam cleared his throat noisily to get everybody’s attention. ‘There is a way of finding out this claim quite easily gentlemen.’

‘There is?’

Ignatius asked, as Kam walked over to a gun cabinet that housed some fine rifles, assumingly belonging to the Warden. He picked up one and inspected the weapon expertly. The gun seemed custom made, and Kam found a box of 50 calibre bullets in a draw, underneath the racks.

They were large bullets for a rifle. But in the guns stock was a piston mechanism that cushioned the impact from the shot. Without it you would probably dislocate your shoulder when you fired. The rifle was well oiled and Kam filled a magazine with six bullets then loaded the gun.

He handed it to Montoya who took the weapon and cocked it, pulling a round into the chamber.

‘So he can put a round in the gun, big deal.’

Ignatius chided Montoya, who ignored the Commander and inspected the guns telescopic sight. Kam opened the glass door that led to the balcony, where Caleb had first seen the Warden and Wellin looking down at him in the freezing snow. Icy winds blew into the office, as the door was opened wide. They all made their way to the balconies edge, crunching the fresh snow under foot as they walked. Fortunately, all but Montoya had pressurised armour on which kept the bodies temperature comfortable. The thick coat the Mine Hound was wearing would have to do.

‘Since the Commander is clearly the one I must impress; I invite him to choose my target, and please make it as hard as you like.’

Ignatius scanned the horizon that was a snow covered landscape, offering few targets worthy of a crack shot from the 13th Regiment. He held out his hand for the rifle and Montoya gave him the weapon. The Commander looked through the scope for a target to hit, and found one happily.

‘Ah, I have the very thing. Here, can you see that.’

He handed the gun back to Montoya, who looked through the scope, and saw straight away what he had to hit. It was a pole that had a blue light on top, about half a mile away from the prisons perimeter. It was probably used to guide in aircraft when the snow was severe.

‘If you can shoot that light out, on the top of that pole, then I will welcome you with open arms to this war council.’ Ignatius said gleefully. The shot was a long one, and in this wind it would take an exceptional marksman to hit the target.

‘Sebastian, even I could not hit that in these conditions.’ Kam protested.

‘It should be no problem for a shooter of Regiment 13.’

Before Kam could argue any longer with Ignatius, Franco brought the gun up, to target the light. The wind died down mercifully, but would still make the shot difficult.

‘How many shots do I get Commander?’

‘One!’

‘And if the Warden has not calibrated his weapon correctly, what then?’ Ignatius growled irritably. ‘Very well; two shots and no more.’

Montoya nodded assent and held his breath. He pulled the trigger in a smooth motion and the guns suppressed barrel spat the round quieter than expected. The weapon was a real beauty indeed to have fired such a round so noiselessly. The light at the top of the post suddenly went out as if somebody had flipped a switch. It had taken only one shot after all.

‘Are you satisfied Commander?’

‘Give me that gun.’

Ignatius said, as he snatched it away from Montoya, and looked through the sights to see if his eyes had tricked him. They had not. Nothing of the blue light was left after the 50 calibre round had hit it. Ignatius smiled big strong teeth, and then bellowed a laugh that was frightening in its volume. He stopped, and threw the gun back to Franco happily.

‘Yes Montoya, I’m satisfied. Only a man of the 13th could pull that off.’

‘So Franco, now that you have earned your place in this small council. What was it you wanted to say to us, before your interrogation?’ Asked Kam, who was impressed with the fantastic shooting?

‘I thank you for your trust. My men and I owe Caleb our freedom. I am honoured to serve him.’

‘Thank you Franco.’ Caleb said appreciatively.

‘I would like to also warn you that I have spoken to the Warden. He has told me that a reserve force will be here in a day or two, because the prison would not have communicated with them. It is standard procedure to launch a full scale assault on the prison, if they do not hear from them.’

The news of an assault would have been a pain for Caleb if Ignatius and the others had not come. But now it was music to the ears of the young Bruce, who felt sorry for the reception the reinforcements would receive.

‘Splendid Franco; if we are to be having guests, then lets prepare to welcome them shall we gentleman?’

Tristen and Ignatius shared an amused look, as they all sat back at the war council table to plan their reception.

***

Ignatius hid his cruiser behind Redeems primary moon, and shut down all power, except from the main sensor array. He wanted to know when the fast response force arrived to retake the prison. He had the Warden on deck. He was in utter shock still, from this invasion on his beloved facility. He had wept when they dragged him from his cell, and spilled all that he knew in a desperate attempt to save his skin from the harsh treatment of the inmates. Ignatius just wanted to jettison the whining scum into the vacuum of space. It was a fitting end for this sick and twisted man.

It was Caleb that had stayed the hand of the Commander yet again. It was strange, but when the boy spoke, it was with power and wisdom. Only a fool would not heed this great young man’s council; and so the Warden lived. He sat miserably at Ignatius’s side, and would only speak when spoken to.

‘If you have lied to us Warden, then I still might send you for a trip outside the ship you know.’

The Warden looked at the big and brutal looking Commander, in all his glory and regalia. The terror etched on his face was pitiful.

‘I have not lied to sir, I assure you. The fast response unit should have been here by now.’

‘Then why have we been sitting on our backsides all day. Where are they?’

‘I don’t know my Lord. This has never happened before at Redeem. Protocol will be in place, but the truth of it is, they will probably be a bit surprised and reluctant to come. After all, it should not have been possible to take over a facility such as this.’

Ignatius was surprised also at how Caleb had brought this snivelling man’s little kingship to its knees.

‘Did it not say on the boy’s papers how dangerous he was?’

‘Yes, and that is why we eventually placed him on a platform, far underground and isolated. It still baffles me how he accomplished it.’

‘Ha.’ Ignatius boomed, slapping his knee with mirth.

‘You didn’t stand a chance with him in your prison you know.’ The Warden lowered his head in shame. All the years making the facility at Redeem notorious for being inescapable and cruel, were now in tatters. If he lived through this, he could wave goodbye to the fat and juicy pension, he had been hoping to enjoy.

The sensors at the ships helm came to life and the large command bridge bustled with excited energy. It seemed their prey had arrived.

‘Bring the enemy on screen Sargent.’

The crystal clear display came to life, and an image of a troop carrier came into view. It was not a ship built to fight space battles; it did not need to be. It carried hundreds of men with one purpose; to retake an overrun prison. They had been stationed at a nearby system a few standard days travel away. They were not regular army, or part of the Regiment. They were like the rest of the guards at the prison; mercenaries, who enforced suffering on another world that mined precious ore to sell on the open market. The prisoners on that world would sometimes flow from this one, if they were deemed worthless enough to be used there.

Ignatius let them pass, much to the confusion of the Warden, who probably thought they would have been blown apart by the superior fighting craft of the Regiment. But The Lord commander wanted the troop carrier they had arrived in; soon he would have it. He knew that with a cold certainty, as he watched the smaller drop ships disembark from the main carrier, and down to the surface of Redeem.

After a while he presumed all of the transport carriers personnel would have landed to make their assault. He would wait awhile to let Caleb and the ground forces overwhelm the mercenaries, before he would take his prize. It was now Caleb’s opportunity to impress him once more.