Space Corp. Special Forces I: The Darkness of History

By Kevin O'Leary

The Space Corp. Specials Forces was created to defend the borders, trades routes and ships of Earth. This force took only the best soldiers from the best regiments to do the job. Exploring the galaxy was dangerous and soon we accidentally encountered the Uskabar. The massacre of the mining colony at Flaven Prime taught us a valuable lesson, that we were not always welcome. Three members of the Special Forces rescue team survived that day, now eight years later, Captain Fox, Major Pearson and Colonel Hargreves would face the instigator of that massacre, Colonel Caspan. Fox knew one day that this would happen but hoped it would never come. This time Fox would be taking a team of rookies with him, who would be thrown into a world of bounty-hunters, gun-runners, smugglers and politics; he had high hopes that they might survive.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse UK
• Release date: Jun 26, 2006
• ISBN: 9781467017091

Kevin O'Leary

Kevin O’Leary is one of North America’s most successful business entrepreneurs, as well as a star of ABC’s Shark Tank. Kevin founded and built SoftKey (later called The Learning Company), a global leader in educational kids’ software, and negotiated its sale to Mattel for $4.2 billion in 1999. Since then, he has successfully cofounded, funded and sold numerous companies in a range of industries, including storage, entertainment, and finance. Today, Kevin is the chairman of O’Leary Funds and O’Leary Mortgages, and the founder of O’Leary Fine Wines. He is also an avid guitarist and photographer.

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© 2006 Kevin O’Leary. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

First published by AuthorHouse 6/22/2006

ISBN: 1-4259-3268-1 (sc)

ISBN: 1-4259-4032-3 (dj)

ISBN: 978-1-4670-1709-1 (ebk)

Printed in the United States of America

Bloomington, Indiana

Contents

One

Two

Three

four

Five

Six

Seven

Eight

Nine

Ten

Eleven

Twelve

Thirteen

Fourteen

Fifteen

Sixteen

Seventeen

18

Author

One

The Inferno of Life

The planet of Sigma Prime glowed an angry orange in the darkness of space, lit by the blazing sun within its galaxy. Sigma five was a quiet, out of the way border trading post with little or no military importance. This was handy for many of the traders, who did not like to advertise their presence to all and sundry. In orbit around Sigma Prime was a freight vessel, of which at least twenty arrived every hour. They all tended to look the same, unmarked and dull grey from all the space dust and debris that they have picked up on their travels. However this ship had peaked the interest of the Space Corp. and was awaiting clearance to break orbit and set course for its new destination.

Down on the planet surface the captain of the vessel, a long tall thin man with a long scar on his cheek, waited anxiously in a disused part of the station. The area was an old docking bay, which had no camera surveillance equipment, and was put out of action after a failed docking operation killed the crew of a ship in a plasma fire. The abandoned walls were damp and mould was growing down them; a smell of rotting vegetation filled the captain’s nostrils. The glass protection dome was black, cracked and melted by the intense heat of the fire; some pieces of the dome lay on the ground. Rain fell outside and droplets splashed into puddles on the floor, echoing throughout the chamber. The captain looked at his watch again and thought to himself, ‘where can he be?’

Then out of a dark recess a large hooded man edged forward, this was the man whom he had come to meet. The man was a member of a smuggling gang and had been bringing in illegal goods across the border. This type of activity was not uncommon and the Corp. had spent an increasing amount of time trying to eradicate it, but to little or no effect.

Suddenly! Both men turned as they heard a noise; they looked around the neglected bay quickly and stood still as they searched the darkness for the unseen intruder. The captain of the freighter removed his blaster slowly from its holster and put his index finger to his lips, to silence the other man.

He flipped a small night-vision eye patch down over his eye, which glowed green as he pointed his sidearm and fired. A thin red plasma bolt hit the far wall and a small brown rat like creature, scuttled away.

The captain laughed before holstering his gun and flipping his night vision eye patch back up.

Finished making all that noise? said the gang member with a scornful look on his face.

Yeah I have, said the captain gruffly and matched the gang member’s look with a disdainful one of his own.

Are you sure you weren’t followed? asked the gang member, as he looked around swiftly, the feeling of uneasiness spreading over his body.

What do you think I am an amateur? asked the freighter captain, as he grabbed the gang member by the lapels and pushed him against the damp sodden walls, angry at the implication. I’ve been doing this for years. Let’s get down to business and get out of here, the freighter captain demanded. Is the cargo on board?

The freighter captain began to release his grip after saw anger flash across the gang member’s face.

Delivered this morning, retorted the gang member calmly.

Good let’s do this and go. replied the freighter captain, feeling a little more at ease and realising that if the gang member shot him it would not be detected.

Before you rush off to your next appointment, there is the matter of credits, stated the gang member with a terse tone to his voice, and rubbed the fingers of his right hand together to indicate payment was due.

Sixteen thousand was it? enquired the freighter captain, knowing full well that this was not the agreed price.

Nice try but it is twenty thousand, answered the gang member, as he rubbed the knuckles of his clenched right fist in the palm of his left hand and then cracked them menacingly.

Twenty it is, agreed said the captain, as he rapidly dropped his haggling stance for fear of his own safety.

The captain produced a small data transfer pad from his pocket, and punched the transfer into the hand held computer; he then showed it the gang member who checked the transfer was completed before nodding his head in satisfaction.

It was nice doing business with you, the gang member said, bowing his head slightly in mocking reverence.

Yeah, whatever I’m out of here, see you next time I’m in the area, replied the freighter captain.

I look forward to it, retorted the gang member sardonically, as the captain walked away. He then looked around one more time and watched the disappearing figure of the captain walk through the rubble and decay of the landing bay towards an access door of the main complex. He smiled to himself as he considered the profit he has just made on this deal. He then took one long last, suspicious, look around the dank docking bay and headed off in the opposite direction, to another access door on the other side of the landing platform. The two men went their separate ways. However, in the shadows, unnoticed, was a figure huddled against the biting wind and rain, hidden by the vegetation. As he saw the two men depart, he pulled out a small hand held radio from the folds of his robes.

The captain continued to walk through the enormous main facility, which had hundreds of people hustling and bustling their way through this busy port. In the middle of the facility was a huge cathedral like structure, which held a massive glass dome on eight spires of marble; this central facility was where all the bars, the shopping malls and the Central Market Trading Facility were located. The Central Market Trading Facility was where all traders went to buy and sell their goods. The price of the goods were determined by which planet you were on and how scarce a commodity was, for example, if you were on a desert planet the price of water could be the equivalent of precious metals; if you were on an ocean planet with heavy rainfall it would be practically worthless. By shifting the right goods to the right planets there was money to be made. There were other ways to make money too, but not all of them were legal.

The freighter captain eventually arrived at a docking bay where his small shuttle was waiting. The ship took off from the docking area and headed through the dark dense rain clouds straight for his freighter.

The outer docking doors of the freighter opened, the shuttle docked in the darkened bay, the outer doors closed again and the engines of the freighter fired. The ship broke orbit and blasted away from the bright orange sphere in space. At that moment the giant superstructure of the SS Thor, the flagship of the Space Corp., dropped out of hyperspace one hundred metres of its starboard bow and hailed the freighter.

The Captain of the Thor, Mark Boyd stood on his bridge, which was a hive of activity. Sat in the chair next to him was his second in command, Commander Sergi Antropov, he was monitoring the freighter to see if it was powering it weapons or engines.

Freighter vessel, this is the SS Thor, heave to and prepare to be boarded, ordered Boyd, in a strong, confident voice. But the captain of the freighter had other ideas, as he knew that he was out gunned, and decided to make a run for it.

We’ll take the old route through sector twenty-five, said the freighter captain to his helm officer.

Ready to go sir, replied the helm officer, as he finished expertly inputting the coordinates into the navigation console.

Punch it! shouted the captain and the freighter immediately jumped to hyperspace, leaving behind a blue circle of electrical discharge from its engines as it went.

It looks like they don’t want to talk Commander, said Boyd sarcastically to Antropov, as he raised an eyebrow. Track the ship, he ordered, before taking his seat next to his first officer. Antropov was hunched over his console waiting for the radar mapper to give the route to the navigation console. A radar mapper is a device used by the Corp. to tell them the jump coordinates and final destination of hyper-spacing vessels.

They have taken the route we thought they would take sir, stated Antropov, with a big smile on his face.

These smugglers are nothing but predictable, answered Boyd, feeling particularly gratified that his hunch had paid off. Hail the drop-ships, He commanded. Antropov turned to the communications officer and nodded his head at him. The communications officer immediately sent the signal to the waiting drop-ships to attack the freighter, which was heading their way. Out in deep space, the ships waited for their prey to arrive with their engines and life support on minimal power, this way they could not be detected by the freighter. A drop-ship is a heavily armoured transport vehicle used by the Space Corp. to attack vessels; either with its heavy plasma cannons, mounted at the front and back, or with its most potent weapon the electro magnetic pulse cannon. The cannon could knock out an entire shield grid of a small vessel or part of a grid of a large vessel. This was so it could lock on to the hull and land troops in their special zero-gee armour.

The freighter came out of hyperspace in front of the drop-ships and they both fired their engines and an electro magnetic pulse. This slowed the vessel down dramatically, long enough for the SS Thor to hyperspace to their location.

Lock on and open fire, ordered Boyd. Two shots only, we don’t want to destroy it, he added.

Weapons ready sir, replied the weapons officer, as he quickly targeted the freighter.

Open fire, responded Boyd. The SS Thor opened fire on the freighter with its massive sixteen-inch pulse cannons and the freighter was quickly disabled. The drop-ships quickly clamped onto the hull of the freighter and cut through its unprotected hull with ease. Meanwhile twelve members of the Space Corp. Special Forces, in their atmospheric pressured zero gee armour, dropped through the dark holes into the hull and straight into a firefight. Weapons fire lit up the blackness of the corridor and the Special Forces team returned fire as the ship sealed the hull braches with force fields.

Quad formation, stun grenades at the ready, take out your objectives, instructed the attack team leader, on his radio.

The team broke up in to four groups and begin to make their way to the bridge, engine room, evacuation pods and crew quarters.

The firefight lasted just five minuets, the teams easily mopping up the undisciplined groups of crewmembers.

The main team had reached the bridge but the doors were sealed. The team’s engineer overrode the command panel for the bridge doors, and the team then threw in a combination of stun and smoke grenades before charging in and firing at the stunned occupants. Once the smoke had cleared and the lights restored, the captain of the ship was on his knees looking down the barrel of the team leaders a pulse riffle. He put his hands up, and they were immediately thrust behind his head and held there by another member of the team as he put his binders on the captain’s wrists.

SS Thor, this is team tango one alpha, bridge and ship secure, said the team leader as he activated his helmet radio.

Good job Major, said Captain Boyd, as he nodded with satisfaction at the success of the mission. Can you get the view screen activated? he asked

The engineer will have it on line in a few seconds, replied the team leader. Back on board the Thor the main view screen began to flicker into life and a fuzzy, slightly distorted, view of the battle damaged freighter’s bridge emerged with the captain of the ship still kneeling on the floor.

Captain, said Boyd, and the freighter captain looked towards the view screen. You are charged with the smuggling of drugs, guns and slaves in accordance with statute one hundred and seventy four of the Illegal Shipment of Goods Act. Your ship will now be taken to the nearest Space Corp. holding yard, where its cargo will be impounded and your crew will be detained for questioning, continued Boyd.

A tractor beam activated from the Thor and the freighter vessel was pulled into the vast main hanger of the Thor. This immense docking facility could hold thirty ships the size of the freighter they had just captured and still have room for twenty fighters. The freighters landing gear extended automatically and touched the deck with a loud thump, which echoed throughout the hanger bay.

The freighter began its shut down sequence and depressurisation procedure as the docking tube was attached to the main access hatch.

A platoon of twenty guards waited at the end of the docking tube till the green light above the entrance indicated that it was safe to walk down the tunnel.

Once it was in place, the red lights in side the tube changed to white and the waiting guards proceeded down it. The hatch of the damaged freighter slid open and the sorry looking captain was on the other side with the team leader.

He’s all yours, said the team leader with a little wry smile on his face.

I think I have a nice little holding cell for him and his friends, replied the captain of the guards sarcastically. If you would like to come with me, you will be staying in the latest prison luxury, that of a six by four cell with bed and lavatory enjoy, He added, as he indicated to the guards to take the prisoners off the ship by pointing up the tunnel. The prisoners were marched away and the assault team walked off down the docking tube giving each other victory high fives while whooping with delight.

Meanwhile back on earth the sun was just coming up over Fort Timpson, the basic training camp of the Space Corp Special Forces. The camp consisted of twenty large accommodation blocks arranged in groups of five around a large central parade square. East of the accommodation centre was the arrivals area and beyond that was the jungle simulation centre. South of the parade square was the zero gee space battle simulators, which consisted of four huge buildings that created a hologramtical environment for training in space. West of the square was the main administration building, which had all the offices for the training staff and housed, amongst others, the office of Colonel Henry Hargreves. He was the Commanding Officer of the Space Corp Special Forces Training faculty, to give him his full title. Hargreves was a tall, self-assured man, with a face that was wrinkled with experience. Although his frame was slight he was a fit and active man and could give as well as he got. He had spent twenty years in the Corp, ten as a field operative, but injury finally put paid to those days and he retired from active duty to take over the training faculty.

The office next to Hargreves’ was occupied by Captain Andy Fox who was the Commanding Officer for overseeing all aspects Special Forces training at the camp. Fox was a career officer with a strong muscular frame and black hair that was going slightly grey at the sides. His muscular build had helped him out of many a tight situation on missions.

His sideways movement to the training fort had come as a surprise to those who knew him, because he had come across as man that liked to be in the action as his record showed. He had been decorated many times for his bravery and led some of the most dangerous missions against the Uskabar during their first abortive attempts to take on the Corp. Finally there was Warrant Officer Mike Hewitt, the man in charge of discipline at Fort Timpson. This bull of man, with twenty-five years experience in the Corp Special Forces was always loud, but like Hargreves and Fox, he was dedicated to the Corp and took pride in turning out the finest troops on any battlefield. Like Fox he had a muscular build but he was shorter and squatter in appearance, and his brown hair had a tendency to poke out under his beret.

In the arrivals area Captain Fox and Warrant Officer Hewitt were waiting the arrival of the new soldiers for Special Forces training. Colonel Hargreves was walking towards them with his black Labrador Bouncer. Colonel Hargreves threw a tennis ball and Bouncer chased after it eagerly, as he continued to walk towards the two men. Bouncer ran back energetically and dropped the now soggy ball at Hargreves feet. Hargreves picked it up and threw it again as he turned to Fox.

Good morning Captain Fox rather a brisk morning don’t you think, said Hargreves sharply clapping his hands together and vigorously rubbing them to get some heat into them.

Should provide our new hopefuls with a sharp shock and if the wind doesn’t I will, Answered Fox, staring straight ahead.

Now, now Captain, give them a chance to get off the bus before your start shouting at them or you’ll scare Bouncer, retorted Hargreves derisively.

I suppose you want me to help them off with their baggage as well, replied Fox in a sarcastic tone, as he turned sharply towards Hargreves and performed a mocking half bow.

Do you know you can be quite prickly first thing in the morning with the emphasis on the first part of the word, announced Hargreves

Well the Army didn’t recruit me because of my winning personality and lovable charm, Responded Fox, after he had stopped laughing at Hargreves little spat.

Thank god for that, you would have failed the course, taunted Hargreves as he turned his head to face Fox and raises an eyebrow.

At that point Bouncer returned breathing heavily but he did not have his tennis ball.

Let’s go find your ball then boy, said Hargreves, as he looked down at his faithful dog. As Hargreves walked off down the road towards the administration building looking for the dogs yellow ball, a gun grey military bus arrived in compound and an assorted bunch of trainees begin to file off. Amongst the sixty new trainees were Paul Baker, Richard Hammond, Neil Redman, Joanne Lacey, Amanda Townsend and Georgina Masters.

Come on ladies and gentlemen we haven’t got all day get fell in, three ranks in front of the officer as quick as you can, Hewitt bellowed, as he rolled his eyes to the heavens at the lack of enthusiasm to get of the bus. Eyes front and come to attention you know the drill now get a move on, he continued to shout. One of the new trainees was particularly slow getting of the bus and Hewitt seized his chance to impose his authority on this less than impressive individual. Anytime today would be nice, he said quietly. Now move it, he shrieked at the poor unfortunate fellow, which caused him to almost fall of the bus.

Fox meanwhile was stranding impassively at the front of three ranks of soldiers as Hewitt rushed around like sheep dog trying to get them into straight lines. Hewitt then turned to Fox and stood to attention before saluting.

Parade ready sir, stated Hewitt earnestly.

Thank you, Warrant, stand this shambles at ease, replied Fox as he returned Hewitt’s salute with one of his own, in his customary lazy manner. Fox did not mind all the shouting, saluting and parades but he did not live for it like Hewitt did.

Stand at ease, shouted Hewitt.

Welcome ladies and gentlemen to the selection procedure for Special Forces training, said Fox in an upbeat, almost like salesmen tone. We carry out various missions for the World Government, He continued.

As you are well aware there are nasty little aliens out there, who for whatever reason, don’t quite see eye to eye with human beings and at any chance will try to kidnap maim or kill us to prove a point. Our job is to stop them. Through the use of paid informants and intelligence gathering we achieve this aim, he added. Our current enemy is the Uskabar, do not underestimate them, when you have one of them in your sights you make sure you pull trigger, don’t give them a second chance, he concluded in a more serious and sinister tone.

The parade stood still and stared back at Fox, an uneasy silence fell upon the parade and an uncomfortable look began to cross some of their faces. Fox seemed to be lost for a few seconds in another world or time but he suddenly snapped back into this reality.

Well, that’s my little speech over and done with I will hand you over to the capable hands of, Warrant Officer Hewitt, who will get your accommodation sorted and you kitted out for the course, he stated. I suggest that you use the rest of the day to get acquainted with the camp, each other and make sure your kit is in fall working order for the rigours of tomorrow, he added with a dry smile. Warrant, carry on, he ordered.

Sir, said Hewitt, as he snapped to attention and saluted Fox

Attention. Dismissed, Hewitt shouted. The parade fell out and with the continued yelling of encouraging expletives from Hewitt. The soldiers filed of to the supply stores to be kitted out for the course, and then proceeded on to the accommodation blocks. Fox walked back to the administration building with a worried expression on his face, deep in thought. Fox’s previous encounter with the Uskabar was eight years ago and it still played on his mind to this day. Fox shook his head trying to clear it of thought as he strode back to the administration block with greater purpose, giving the impression that nothing was wrong.

The accommodation was a standard army block with one main corridor leading away from the foyer with eight, six man rooms leading off it. On the right of the entrance was a flight of stairs leading up to the next couple of floors. Hewitt stood in the entrance with a clipboard calling out the new recruits names and then telling them which room they were in.

Paul Baker, Richard Hammond, Neil Redman, Joanne Lacey, Amanda Townsend and Georgina Masters you’re in room six at the end of the corridor, called Hewitt, eventually. The new roommates headed along the corridor, to the room, and began to introduce themselves, beginning with Paul Baker. Paul was a tall muscular man who had a commanding presence when he entered a room. He was also a cocky, self-confident individual who could be a little too over confident at times, and this got him into trouble and anyone else who is with him. Paul had transferred from the American One Hundred and First Airborne Rangers Division of which, he had served for three years reaching the rank of lieutenant. He was a captain but his over confidence got him busted back to lieutenant.

Did you dig that speech that dude gave. I mean lighten, he said in his customary bold manner. Hi I’m Baker, Paul Baker 101 Airborne. He added once everybody’s attention was focused on him.

What all of it, Redman retorted sarcastically.

No I’m just part of it, not all of it. How, could I be all of it? It’s massive, fired back Baker, not engaging his brain.

I know, I was just pulling your leg, replied Redman, letting out a little sigh of desperation.

Ah, there’s that British sense of humour I’ve heard so much about, said Baker with a little laugh suddenly getting the subtlety of the joke.

Neil Redman, Her Majesties Special Air Services, announced Redman offering his hand to be shook. You’re right though, about that last bit of the speech, it seemed a bit funny. You know bit off, there’s something not right with him, he added and looked for others to join in the conversation.

Redman was a man of average looks but his mediocrity hid a very dangerous man on the battlefield. He had four years experience in the regiment and was due for promotion until the opportunity to join the Space Corp. came along. His decision was summed up on his application form it read, ‘I’m looking for something different.’

So who are the rest of you guys? asked Baker, noticing the four other people in the room still unpacking.

Ritchie Hammond, everybody calls me sandwich you know ham, Hammond, ham sandwich. I know it’s childish but it is Pathfinder Regiment of the Para’s, responded Hammond, firstly in his over eager manner. Ritchie didn’t know why he was there he had just filled in an application form that was given to him. Although a lieutenant Ritchie was not a man that tended to ask many questions because often he did not understand the answers. Ritchie was another man mountain that tended to sort out arguments with his fists and this accounted for the amount of reprimands on his record.

Next to introduce herself was Lieutenant Joanne Lacey. Jo, Royal Engineers, she said, in her straightforward no nonsense manner as she held out her hand and shook Baker’s hand strongly. Although Jo was a small woman her size belied her physical strength, and the power of her handshake took Baker by surprise. Jo was a feisty, clever girl who had learnt to give as good as she got, being that she worked in a very male dominated world of the engineers and grew up with three older brothers. Her fiery red hair matched her quick temper and many an unsuspecting person had come off worst when using a poorly chosen comment.

Townsend stood in the corner impassively watching the proceedings from a far. This was her way she liked to evaluate people before she let them into her inner circle of friends. In many respects she was the exact opposite of Lacey especially physically. Townsend was beanpole tall and gangly with it but despite this awkward look she, like Lacey, could show incredible physical abilities and was crack marksmen too.

Mandy, Royal Marines, she said and held out her hand as Baker approached her.

Last to introduce herself was Lieutenant Georgina Masters, George, US Marines, said Masters, in her Californian accent, as she strode purposefully across the room and shook Bakers hand nearly pulling his arm out of its socket.

George? repeated Baker back to Masters quizzically.

It’s short for Georgina but I hate that name, so it’s George. O.K., insisted Masters forcefully.

Yeah, O.K., Take it easy. George it is, replied Baker defensively. Masters had a hard time with her name as it sounded upper class and detested anyone not calling her George. Masters was a pretty girl who did not seem to fit the military profile. This also annoyed Masters as many thought that because of her looks she was a blonde bimbo type and had no brains. However this could not be further from the truth during her training she had finished in the top three of every discipline on the course. Baker finished putting the last bits of his kit into his locker and noted that everyone else had finished too, Well as we’re squared away here I suggest that we go find a bar and have a few beers, as I don’t think we will have a chance for a long time. He prompted.

Everybody looked at each other and nodded in agreement; the team left the room and headed for the one and only bar located on the campus. It was not much to look at, and the beer was not even that good, but at least it got them out of the accommodation for a few hours.

The next morning, at six o’clock, Hewitt strode from the administration block with a self-satisfied smile on his face and headed straight for the accommodation blocks and stood outside. He then looked at his watch, the trainees were meant to be outside and ready to go, but due to their night of drinking they were late. This made Hewitt even more pleased as now he not only got to disturb the trainee’s beauty sleep, but he also got to shout at people with headaches. Hewitt walked into the block and was met by total silence; he looked around, and then started to kick the doors of each of the rooms open. The doors flew open with a loud crash