Delta Force

Vol 7

Vol.7
"Do you copy?"

I stood in the grand hall that we were in approximately 20 minutes ago. A blue glow intruded from the window due to the sheet of ice. I thought the others would be here but I thought wrong. My initial impulse was to continue exploring. At least if this mission was a bust, I could have research to return to headquarters. Twigs snapped beneath me and wind howled lightly in my ears. It smelt like rotten meat and the dust in the air tasted vile. The taste of mass genocide. As I exhaled through my mouth, my breath was a bleak cloud that drifted and twisted in the air until it faded out of existence. The atmosphere was empty, too empty. Judging by the smell of the air, I could assume it was around -5 (or so) degrees celsius. That was with the burning engines from the area we entered from and the heat wouldn't be able to last long at all. I tread carefully to the crash zone through the ruptured, towering arched doors we entered from and look up. I could just barely recognise the sky - the snow storm matched colours with the cavern walls - the only thing differentiating it was the darker colour of the snowy breeze. The entry hole looked relatively small from where I stood: the ship is somewhat a large vessel. "Well, that can't be a good sign. A height large enough to demolish a ship and to make the entry hole look pathetic." I speak to myself and I jump as I hear a recognisable voice interrupt my thoughts. "Speaks to themselves and keeps track of their own history...sounds like Mike," Stela teased, "a narcissist!" Though I'd usually find it annoying, I couldn't help but feel relieved. "You're okay..." I sighed while wrapping my arms around Stela with a tight squeeze. She draws away and smiles then gives a look as if it was obvious she would be okay. "We're here too, by the by" Bruno jokes: Madeleine and Bellerose by his sides. The reunion was quickly ruined by the sound of a voice from Bellerose's telecommunication device. Someone had come to our rescue, but not in the fashion we'd like. "Bellerose, do you copy?" It was a male voice full of demand and seriousness unlike an expected tone of worry. I could only assume we were in trouble. We all shot glances at each other while standing in a circle. "I repeat" he demanded, "Bellerose, do you copy?" I was used to her being referred to as 'commander' but this use of her name would only suggest two things: it was me talking or it was her boss(es). The answer was obvious. "Loud and clear, Addy" She replied playfully - the man was not looking to play around. "Do not mess around with me, girl." The voice snapped, "you will be prosecuted on arrival of our rescue team for infringing the law of article 67." She tutted and rolled her eyes while muttering a remark to us. "Article 67?" I asked, unaware of the galactic laws. "Article 67," Flora began, "commanders and their crew will be charged with the deaths of any soldier compromised due to circumstances caused by their orders. Essentially, we're going to be sent to the intergalactic federation court room for a misjudgement made by those above me. Perfect way to give the idiots immunity." The Intergalactic Federation Court; a courtroom used to charge any and all crimes to anyone no matter age, race or origin. They're notoriously cruel with their sentences and one like this could end me and everything I love. Within seconds, a large dropship loomed over the pit and it's opening hatch slid open, dropping ladders for us to climb up. "Last bit of freedom I suppose." Stela said in her usual epigrammatic manner. Yet, she is right for once. This could be the last time I have freedom and see the ones I love until I die. We each wrap our hands on the ladders and begin to climb to our demise. The ship began to rise and not long after, we had left the crash site. The surroundings were different. The sky was now crystal blue and no cloud had come out to block the sunlight. The storm had completely faded and had exposed the ground below. I took one hand and foot off the ladder to lean out and look down below. The wind ruffled my hair viciously. We weren't the only ones who had fallen. The others we were in charge of met a much more deadly fate. "It all makes sense now." I could make out Bellerose's voice,"how could I not remember...the three of us entered alone and I never questioned the whereabouts of my crew." I looked at her, but she could not face me as if she was ashamed. She bit her lip. "God knows what will happen now." She snapped out of thought and began to ascend up the ladder again. I take one last look below me and sigh. The mountainous landscape was beginning to shrink under my feet and the end of the ladder shook aggressively underneath. I face up towards the ship and start to climb. Soon after, I reach the top and heavily armored men kick me on the ground, my face smashed on the metal kick plate ground; I shiver from it's icy temperature. They forcefully pull my arms behind my back, the sharp movement causes my breath to stifle for a moment. They pulled me up from the ground and shoved me to where the others were standing. "We're in some deep shit" I curse to myself. I look around at the group. Bellerose had her usual expressionless face. Her eyes as dead as a cemetery are slightly covered by her eyelids as if she were asleep yet simultaneously look observant despite only facing the floor. Everyone else looked helpless but we all had one trend in common - we looked like crap. We all had dark stains on our face and clothing; cuts that sat on our skin; rips in our clothing that exposed our skin to temperatures not optimal for summer wear. It was safe to say we were battered and bruised. The Delta Force had been beaten, defeated and soon disbanded. My gaze rotates around my surroundings. It was a normal sized drop ship: an easily disposable, cheaply made model created for war. However, the guards we had been taken in by were heavily suited as if we posed a high threat to them. The guards were also evenly spaced on all sides of us. It didn't add up. We were far from dangerous. My hypothesis would be that these aren't here for us but they're here for their leader. The one who sent them to collect us. Sure enough, a man who seemed to be in such a role entered from the cockpit. The doors lifted up from the ground like fangs of a spider. "Bellerose." The man spoke, the same man on the device. His manner of speech was authoritative and overweening, this was a man that took his role seriously and with high pride; his clothing style supported the idea as he wore an expensive tuxedo. He wore full black other than his blood-stained tie and white shirt that was crafted with the bandages of fallen soldiers. He had cold blue eyes, thick eyebrows, grecian nose and thin lips and snow-white skin. He had a prideful, classic and clean cut full beard that matched the same jet-black colour of his suit and his hair was combed back that was also black but with occasional gray streaks that came with his ageing. His whole attire spoke evil. "Crowley." She shot back. Crowley? The name refers to an occultist who considered himself the "Beast 666". I had heard about it from the classics club from my school. "Allow me to introduce my presence to the new ones." New ones? That asswipe is dehumanising us! "Cray Crowley, admiral of the N.E.E." I notice a frown appear on Stela's face. Does she know him? "Let me elaborate on what's going to happen to your little..." his voice trailed off as he paused to think of his next words,"circus." a disapproving look is slapped onto my face. Circus? "You will all be held at la prison de los pecadores." An unintentional spanish accent intruded his speech as he read the prison name,"you will be staying there until your case in court is decided." No one spoke a word. Stela had no remark and Bellerose no longer teased with playful responses. "Such dim faces," he continued,"you're all thinking that it's stupid and it's unfair, aren't you? I'm afraid rules are rules and besides..." he turned to Flora and winked. "I'm sure there's many people that want a certain commander behind bars." We had been in space at this point. Judging by the surroundings we were in 'el racimo de los caídos'. An asteroid belt of the supergiant roughly one or two galaxies away from the citadel. Not far from our location was another citadel; the most diverse of the three hence the Spanish names. Also home to the Intergalactic Federation. My guess would be that our destination is located somewhere in the belt. It would be optimal due to the large amount of solar power available from the red supergiant in the area - the cheapest form of energy in modern times. Eventually, the ship reaches our destination. My hypothesis was right - the prison is located on an asteroid. An impressive asteroid at that, I'd assume it is just under the size of the Chicxulub crater from old Earth. The establishment stretches to all sides of the space rock. That would make it approximately 6 miles in diameter. This would then mean that this is one of the largest intergalactic institutes in the universe. I wonder what my aunt would be thinking right now if she knew I was here. We landed in a large yard where prisoners of all races and origins were hanging out. For a large facility charging people like us for the deaths of soldiers, it's sickenly laid back. A hatch at the rear end of the ship opened. "Welcome to your new home!" Crowley beamed with a sickening smile. Large flood lights blinded me for a second and a loudspeaker could be heard blaring out the regime in all languages. Guards in front of us and behind escorted us through the yard. Crowley trailed behind us. Our group caught the attention of all kinds of people there. Faces I had seen before like Humans, Nilphils, Goth, Heelvet, Ahea, Oca, etcetera. I noticed their dirty looks from the corner of my eyes. "What are you looking at? You're just as bad!" I snapped in my head. We entered through a pair of doors that lead to metal detectors and many other security devices. "They're with me." Cray dismissed, allowing us to go past with ease. After navigating through long, winding corridors, we found our holding cell that we'd be spending our time in for the next however long. We are shoved into our room and the door is shut behind us. Cray opens the sliding window at the entrance and speaks to us. "Well, this is goodbye for now." A small chuckle exits his mouth, "I'll update you on any news of your court case. Toodle-oo!" He slams the window shut and we're left in a dimly lit room. Our handcuffs unbuckle automatically. I stretch and shake my hand. At the back of the room is a bench made of a single plank of wood that is held up by chains on either side. Above it, is a barred window that allows light and air to come in. In the centre of the ceiling is a damaged lightbulb hanging off a wire. It's constant flicker could easily turn anyone insane. It hardly works as well. I slump down on the bench and wait. But just how long will I have to be here? Forever?